#fem!y/n

[cheralith]

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

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

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

word count ; 8.5k

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

parts ; one two three four (tba)

THREE YEARS AGO

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

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

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

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

At least in his case.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did they tell you to say that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, Mr. O’Hara.”

“No parents?”

“I moved out, so no.”

“Not even pets?”

“None.”

“... perhaps friends of sorts?”

“...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to be like Miss. (Y/N).”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But in his daughter’s eyes… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gabriella’s smile grew wide before she happily announced,

“You’re her knight in shining armor!"

PRESENT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That a parent is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then it hits him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What if you didn’t even want children? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He attempts to reason with himself. 

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

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

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

…

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

But it’s nearly impossible.

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

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

Would he be able to cope with such a—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel…

His name rings aloud in your mind for a moment.

Miguel…

Miguel…

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

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

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

… you know in your heart that it just is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[littlereaderxfandoms]

L.B.L.

Request (by @spencers-bookworm): Hi! I seen you wanting requests so what about spencer x bau!reader were reader has a bad day at work and ends up hiding and regressing in a storage cupboard or something. Spencer comes and finds them, comforts them and takes them home to have some much needed caregiver and regressor time.

I also just want to say I love your blog so far and really appreciate what you're writing as I feel there's never enough x reader age regression fics.

Little!reader x CG!Spencer (+ BAU team + precinct people)

Summary: Your day goes horribly horribly wrong and Spencer has to intervene.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort (?)

Length: Around 1k

Nothing was going right. First, you spilled your coffee all over your white cotton shirt. Then, you found out that you forgot your go bag at home. Then, you had to borrow a shirt from Morgan because none of the ladies were in yet, and nor was Spencer, which was very embarrassing. And then, you got a stern scolding from Hotch for forgetting your go bag at home when you needed to immediately leave for an urgent case where even the briefing would happen on the plane. If that wasn’t bad enough, the other detectives and police officers at the precinct were picking on you whenever you were alone.

It was no surprise that you broke down. And it was especially no surprise to Spencer because he knew that you haven’t had the chance to regress in quite a while. So when he got back from the latest crime scene and Emily told him that you were in the storage closet because you needed some space, he knew he had to intervene.

You looked up with teary eyes and called out when you heard the door to the storage closet being turned, “I’ll be out in a second!”

“Sweetheart,” Spencer spoke, seeing as the closet was locked, ”can you let me in please?”

You sniffled as you thought for a second before shuffling forward to open the lock, letting Spencer open the door as you sat back, barely able to hold in your tears and sobs.

“Oh darling…” Spencer quickly locked the door behind him, sitting next to you and pulling you into his arms.

“Daddy…” Your voice cracked as you whispered before letting go and sobbing into Spencer’s chest, clinging to him.

Spencer shushed you lightly, letting you cry, and held you close. Once you calmed down to just sniffles, he pulled back a little to look at you, gently wiping the last of the tears away.

“Better?” Spencer whispered, prompting you to nod in response, not wanting to speak. “Come on, let’s get you to the hotel.”

You whined lightly at that, standing up with him. “Still have work…”

“Baby, I’ll talk to Hotch. We are taking an LBL.” Spencer unlocked the door, ignoring your whines and protests against taking the leave.

In your entire 2 years at the BAU, you have made sure to always be prepared and make sure to take regular regression breaks so that you don’t ever have to utilize a Little Breakdown Leave. To you, they are just embarrassing. These leaves are designed to help littles and caregivers take a leave from work in case the little has a breakdown before or at work. While you always tried to be nice and helpful to those at the office who have had to use them, you never really got over how it felt embarrassing for you to be having a breakdown.

Hotch was quick to approve it, letting Spencer drag you back to the car and to the hotel against your wishes to keep working.

“Why don’t you want to just take the leave? It doesn’t have to be embarrassing sweetheart.” Spencer held your hand softly as you sniffled at your protests being ignored.

“But it is! Especially when you are already considered dumb by others!” You exclaimed angrily. You didn’t want the detectives and police officers at the precinct to think that they were right about you not being able to work because you were a little.

“Excuse me?” Spencer looked surprised. “Who said you are dumb?”

“The detectives and the officers at the precinct…” You mumbled, already feeling worse at just thinking that. You didn’t notice Spencer clenching his jaw in anger as you looked out the window.

“Listen up baby.” You looked at Spencer with wide eyes, a little surprised by the stern tone. “Nobody, and I mean nobody has the right to call you dumb. You are smart, strong, brave, and everything that those stupid men aren’t. Just because you are a little, doesn’t mean that you aren’t all those things. You hear me?”

You nodded before realizing you needed to speak up, “Yes daddy…”

“You don’t get to do that either. You don’t get to talk down to my baby. Capiche?” Spencer glanced at you, holding your hand in a tight, comforting grip, making you smile.

“Yes daddy.”

Spencer kissed your cheek once he parked the car. “I love you, sweetie. Remember that and the fact that you are better than every single officer and detective we had in the precinct today.”

You smiled a little, feeling better but still not the best. But you knew that it would take time to get over their words. You were more sensitive than most littles in the bureau, so Spencer too knew that it would take some time before you felt confident again. He remembered the amount of time it took him and the team to get you out of your shell and see your confidence.

Spencer took you back to your room, helping you get a bath. An hour later, you were both comfortably cuddling on the bed, watching a movie as Spencer fed you mac and cheese with chicken nuggets and fries.

Having had the time to regress and recharge that night, you came into the precinct feeling much better than the day before. The pep talk you got from Spencer also helped you a lot with regaining your confidence, at least around your team.

It also seemed that Hotch must have had a talk with the detectives and officers as they didn’t make any more comments around you, whether you were alone or not. It didn’t take long for you to figure out where the others had been stuck the day prior and help solve the case on the very same day, proving to the detectives and officers just how valuable you actually were.

It was safe to say that you had much of your confidence back by the time you got on the jet to get back home.

[caram3ll0tr1x]

She's mine!

Fyolai (Fyodor, Nikolai) x fem!reader Smut/18+ Fingering+Threesome+A little Fyolai gayness+etc (I will not sit here and try to list whatever sexual shit I've written in this that has a name) My knowledge of the BSD characters derives mostly from what people talk about, so if their characteristics/personalities are off, I apologize. Again, the writing is a little rushed.. -Trixie 🌸

Nikolai pulled you onto his lap, grinning like a child that had just recieved a new toy. Fyodor rolled his eyes but let him take you without objections.

"Y/n! Y/n!" the excited male said, tugging on your shirt. 

"Hm?" you said, tilting your head towards him. 

Nikolai smiled wildly, pushing your hair out of your face and holding your chin up. "Can I kiss you?"

You answered with a nod and were pulled into a passionate kiss with no sort of indication. You quickly rightened yourself, wrapping your arms around his neck. His lips parted slightly and his tongue nudged your mouth, suggesting you open it. When you did, you felt your saliva mix with his as his tongue traced your lips, your teeth. 

Your hair was pulled back and mouth clamped itself around your neck, sucking. Fyodor's legs slowly wrapped around your waist as he made himself comfortable on Nikolai's lap as well. A sort of guttural moan vibrated in your throat as hands groped at your chest. 

Nikolai pulled back, raising an eyebrow at the man sitting behind you. "I want her to myself!" he whined, crossing his arms. 

Your wiped at your mouth, deciding you didn't feel like having your face being covered in saliva. The two men bickered, fighting for you. You were indifferent about this as it was something quite normal that happened nearly every time you were around the two. Perhaps even when you weren't. 

It was irritating, however, and you found yourself growing impatient as Fyodor's hands dropped from your breasts. You scooted off of Nikolai's lap and untangled yourself from Fyodor's legs—an action that did not go unnoticed by the two. They stopped suddenly, and almost synchronizingly pulled you back onto them, forgetting their arguing for a moment. 

"Where are you going, little dove~?" Nikolai asked, hugging you to his chest. "Don't leave just yet!"

Fyodor made a noise of agreement, scooting closer to you on Nikolai's lap. He tangled his hand in your hair and pulled your face to meet his, kissing you deeply, not letting you go. Your body was twisted in a way so Fyodor could kiss you but your body was facing the other way, towards Nikolai who tugged at the waist-band of your shorts. 

"Mm," you groaned, as his hand made its way down, lightly pushing on your clothed cunt.

"Needy slut," he whispered, slapping Fyodor's hand away so he could kiss you. 

Fyodor grumbled and pulled your waist towards himself, biting your neck lightly. You gasped in surprise, your body leaning towards the brunet. Nikolai blubbured as Fyodor took you into his own arms, away from the albino male.

"Don't hog her like a pig," Fyodor spat, turning your head to kiss him. 

You ignored the way they glared at each other, deciding you wouldn't let their disagreements ruin your pleasure. You tugged on Nikolai's arm, pulling his hand back towards your crotch. You let your mouth explore Fyodor's, taking in his breath. 

Nikolai giggled as you made him touch you, finding it childishly amusing. His hands danced over your pussy expertly, eventually pushing your shorts off of you as you started getting impatient.

Fyodor peppered your neck with kisses, lifting your shirt and kissing your back. Nikolai pulled your shirt over your head and Fyodor played with the straps of your bra for a beat, then unclipped it and let it fall onto your lap. 

He cupped your breasts from behind, massaging them tenderly. You pressed your lips together, muffling your moans, as Nikolai kissed your stomach. Fyodor lifted his hand to part your mouth. "Don't hide it," he said, whispering in your ear. 

You shivered but nodded, letting out a gasping whimper as Nikolai—whom you'd nearly forgotten about, as Fyodor had taken your attention—slid his fingers into your clit, pushing your underwear to the side. 

"'S so wet," he murmured, his fingers roaming freely. 

You clutched onto Fyodor's arms, then, clenching your lush pink walls around Nikolai's hand. "Fuck," you moaned, closing your eyes tightly. "Why are your fing..ah~!" Your back arched slightly as the two fingers he'd inserted parted in a scissoring act. 

Fyodor nibbled at your ear gently, almost assuringly, his hands continuing to knead your breasts. Nikolai giggled, pushing a third finger through. "What were you saying, my love~?"

You huffed in slight irritation, though with a small touch of pleasure laced through it, and pouted. "Your.. fingers are so fucking long," you whispered, flinching as he pushed a fourth finger through. 

"Is this too much?" he purred, kissing your lips with a harsh bite. 

You shook your head, burying your face in his shoulder. Fyodor placed kisses down your spine, making you tremble. He reached your hip-bone and stopped, suddenly, placing both hands on your hips. 

Nikolai shifted his fingers in you, pushing carefully, without pity. You let out a gasping moan, your legs tightening around his hips. Fyodor traced the curves of your body with his careful, flitting hands, roaming over your thighs. 

You trembled as Nikolai continued to finger you in an almost hurried way. He kissed your jaw, continuing to slip his fingers in and out of your pussy. You moaned, feeling your body melt in his actions, moving on it's own accord. 

Fyodor cocked an eyebrow and said, almost threateningly, "Are you going to let me have her for once?" 

Nikolai rolled his eyes. "You had her last time, Dos-kun!" 

"So? You took over after half way through!"

Nikolai pouted. "Fine.."

Fyodor gave him a smug look, though you were barely paying attention in your lewd mess of moans and groans. But then Nikolai abruptly pulled his hand away and you whined desperately. 

"I was close..!" you said, a look of dismay and lust drawing your features. 

Fyodor fumbled with his clothes, pulling them off of himself until he was completely bare. He sat back down on Nikolai's lap and turned your towards himself. He grabbed your thighs, holding your inner thighs against his palms as he lifts them up and spreading them apart, showing your glistening cunt. 

His erect cock throbbed against your pussy, making you feel more want than before. His eyes scoured your body, drawing lines you couldn't see. His mouth curled in a smirk and he pulled you in for a kiss, your legs sustained up with his arms. 

"How are you feeling today~?" he asked, not in concern but more in question of how hard he must go on you.

Nikolai huffed impatiently, wanting you and waiting for something to happen. Fyodor ignored him, his gaze fixed on your flushed, panting face.

"Do whatever.. just start," you mumbled, wanting desperately for it to start but not wanting to beg—not unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Good answer," he purred, letting your legs fall and positioning his cock near your pussy. "Hm.. must we use lubricant? You're already so wet.."

Nikolai smiled suggestively. He opened his mouth and lead Fyodor's hand to it. 

Fyodor raised an eyebrow but said nothing more, dipping his fingers into Nikolai's mouth, swirling it around and gathering his saliva into his hand. Then, he coated his erection with the sticky liquid, groaning under his breath as he did. 

Nikolai looked pleased of himself to have helped and watching in anticipation as you braced yourself. Fyodor placed the head of his cock to the folds of your clit, pausing for a moment. He looked you in the eye, gazing at your expression, then slammed into you with a grunt making you practically scream. 

Nikolai's hands wrapped around your mouth as Fyodor continued fucking you mercilessly, muffling your whimpers. Your pussy tightened around Fyodor's dick, and he gripped tightly onto your thighs, straining to get comfortable. 

"Fuck.." he groaned, his pace still fast, aggressive. 

You tilted your head back into Nikolai's arms, gripping onto Fyodor's shoulders. You tried to bite the albino's hands but he pulled them away with a dignified huff. 

"Naughty girl," he said, bating at your head. 

You didn't respond, gasping for breath as Fyodor continued, not having minded any of that. His hips moved quickly, pushing further into you, somehow, with each thrust. Nikolai grasped at your hands, pulling them behind your back as a matter of pettiness, annoyed you'd tried to bite him. 

You struggled to free your arms but your body was weak and hot with both pleasure and pain and you were unable to. Nikolai, using his hands to hold both of yours, started kissing your neck, doing similar to what Fyodor had been, giving you hickey's along your body. 

You moaned at mercy of the two men, your back arching as you felt yourself close to stimulation, your legs shaky. Fyodor didn't stop when you came, as he never did; he often ended up prioritizing his own pleasures than tending to you.

Nikolai bit your shoulder, making you shudder, trying to move away. He ignored you, releasing your hands to wrap his arms around your chest and play with your tits, fondling them. Fyodor thrust into you rather hard, suddenly, and you whimpered. You felt him release into you and both your bodies seemed to relax then. He didn't pull out just yet, however, though his cock grew soft. He pulled you in for a kiss and Nikolai decided he wanted to join, so when Fyodor pulled away, he kissed him, leaving you sandwiched in between the two. 

Nikolai turned you around, then, and you noticed a bulge in his pants. You swallowed and Nikolai smirked, following your gaze. "Hope you don't mind getting pregnant, love," he whispered. 

You felt Fyodor's bare arms wrap around your shoulders and you leaned against him for support, knowing that wasn't what you were going to get. You could already feel his cock erect, again, and pushing against the plush of your ass. 

Nikolai's smile grew. "Because I don't think your medication will work now."

[thedarkcircuswritings]

Heya, can I get Shadow Milk Cookie headcanons as a husband with fem!reader?

Being married to you would be the best thing in his world. Shadow Milk planned all of the wedding for you, but golly, seeing you in that beautiful wedding dress that day still takes his breath away. He feels like the luckiest man alive as he stands at the altar with you, making sure the cookie making this official doesn't screw this up. He puts a blue-gemmed bracelet on your hand and you put a golden one on him, and when it's time to kiss the bride, he immediately pulls you in, blue strings appearing around from behind you as he then dips you down for a passionate kiss. Living with Shadow Milk will also be somewhat of a luxury. While he's out tormenting cookies and working in the theater, clown cookies come to your every beck and call. You're like their queen, as you are also Shadow Milk's. When he's able to come home, he'll easily sweep you up off your feet, cover you in kisses, and he'll do whatever you'd like from there. Witches above, he's so lucky to have you. Marriage almost isn't enough, as Shadow Milk hopes that one day, he can bake his first child with you.

[arminsumi]

omg omg this is specific but innocent virgin armin with a soft dom reader AND CL¡TS???? poor baby hasn’t seen a girl naked before and he just wants to make her feel good :((

PHEW 🥵

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Kitty Kat

Oneshot | MDNI | Armin | ♪

⚠️Cws; spicy spicy SMUT 🌶️

Notes; fem!reader, college au

⚠️💦Smut cws; 'pretty boy' nickname for Armin, 🐱eating, humping (the mattress and ur 🐱) he accidentally cums in his pants, accidentally slipping just the tip in, cumshot on🐱

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do... I mean, I-I haven't done this before." Armin admits. His whole face reddens and he keeps his gaze lowered.

"Aw, that's okay. I'll guide you through it." You say, reaching for his t-shirt and grabbing it, pulling him in for a kiss.

His brain short circuits when he feels your lips. He can hardly believe that this is reality. It takes him a few seconds to kiss back. He positively melts into you, whole body leaning in for this kiss he's been craving for so long.

See, Armin's been the shy boy you sit next to during lectures.

He tries not to look at you too much, because just a glimpse of your body can get his pants tightening. There's been too many times where he's had to scoot the chair in closer to the desk to hide his hard-on.

And when you lean close while exchanging notes? He's throbbing, his mind is going wild, and he's visibly shaken up. You have to smile; he's so sweet and innocent that you just wanna eat him up.

You totally expected him to freeze up when you asked him to come back to your dorm room after class for a 'study session'. He blinked and hesitated, then stuttered out a 'o-okay' and followed you across campus like an excited puppy.

When you start pawing at his chest and pants, his heart races and his mind melts. He has no idea how to say it, but he wants to touch you so badly. You have no idea how many nights he's spent awake daydreaming of this.

In his daydreams, he was always on top of you, but there you had him underneath you, pressing your chest onto his. He wasn't complaining at all, just whimpering while you kissed him so tenderly. His hands very timidly felt you up, he was so calculating with how he touched your body.

Each time you tilt your head into the kiss to deepen it, Armin lets out a soft whimper and squirms his hips into you.

He's hard. Really hard. You can feel him start to throb.

The poor boy really needs relief, but he wants to make you feel good first. So he eagerly asks what you like, and his eyes glitter when you tell him your favorite things. "I-I can do that..." he mumbles shyly.

He freezes up when you undress in front of him. His brows are all raised and his blue eyes blown wide. "Have you never seen a girl naked before?" you giggle, teasing him a bit.

Armin gulps, "N-no... this is a first..." he admits. He tries not to gawk as you take off your bra.

"You've got a bit of a tent there, Armin." You point out.

"Huh! Oh... sorry... y-you're just really pretty. Too pretty for me..." He chokes.

You roll your eyes and take his hands into your own, guiding them onto your body. God knows he didn't have the guts to make that move himself.

The second you let him put his lips on your body, he's tasting you like a starved man, drooling and impatiently kissing everywhere like this is the only chance he's getting.

You gotta assure him a few times that he can take his time, because you're not going anywhere. He gulps and slows down.

He might be an innocent boy, but his hot, impatient kisses feel more erotic than any others you've experienced.

Armin's skin is flushing a cute pink while he kisses down your tummy, just like you told him to do.

He comes to a halt at your panties, and looks up at you like a lost and confused puppy.

"U-um, I'm not sure what to do..." He mumbles.

You smile down at him, his heart flips, "Well, what do you want to do?" you ask.

"I don't know... I-I want to do what makes you feel good?" he replies. There's too much he wants to do, how is he supposed to choose?

"M'kay, then play with it." You instruct him, pressing your clothed pussy lightly against him. He feels excitement get caught in his throat, and he nearly chokes on his own saliva. Is he drooling?

After a moment of awed hesitation, he gulps and timidly presses his lips to your plush lips.

He licks stripes through your panties up your lips to your clit, and he seems to really get into it. Especially when you start moaning in response and moving your hips against his face.

His lips grow hot and wet, and you pull your panties aside so he can lap at your juices. You almost want to tease him and call him a puppy right then because of how he behaves.

Armin moans while eating you out (he's just the type 😌) and looks up at you for reassurance of what he's doing with his tongue. He's always cute, but he's especially cute when he's nuzzled between your thighs like this.

While you arch your back and enjoy yourself, he's grinding his hips into the mattress to try and relieve himself. He's so sensitive that he cums in his pants when he hears you moan his name.

He listens to all your guidance, when you tell him to kiss or suck or lick he's immediate to respond.

At first it feels like he has no idea what he's doing when he slips his tongue inside your hole, but he quickly figures out what makes you feel good.

And he gets really into it, he presses his hot lips flush against your skin, trying to get as deep as he can.

"Rub it with your thumb, pretty boy, like that – mhm, there we go, that's it." you sigh. He's quick to learn how to play with your clit.

You taste so good it's making his head spin, and your moans encourage him to keep going even though his tongue feels tired and his dick is straining against his wet pants.

He brings his lips back to your clit, kisses it and sucks at it, soft lips nipping a little. He tries all sorts of ways to lick it, until he figures out how you like it best. "Fuck, keep doing that, 'm gonna cum." you whimper, body curving and rolling on the mattress almost artistically.

He savors your orgasm, feeling every tremble of your hips on his face. You squeeze your thighs around his head, feeling his soft blond hair tickling your skin. He moans against your sensitive clit while you ride your high out.

You make a delicious mess all over his lips and he licks it up slowly, savoring the taste of you. There's a shiny sheen on his cheek and chin when he pulls his face out from between your thighs.

You're breathless, shaky and sweaty, a dripping mess, but you want to satisfy him, too.

"Come here." You beckon for him, and he paws his was up to meet your face.

He rests his cock against you and boy, it feels heavy.

"You did so good," You coo at him, giving him a deep kiss. You can taste yourself on him, he thinks that's just so hot.

Armin whimpers into your mouth when you squeeze your thighs around his waist. You pull away and smile at him.

"You seem pretty worked up. Wanna rub against me and get your relief, pretty boy?" You ask, looking him in the eye.

"Y-y-yes – y-yes please..." He replies in a shaky breath.

He squeezes his eyes shut in pleasure when you buck your hips up against his. He's never even thought about the idea of having his dick squished between your body and his own.

Breathy curses fall from his lips as he begins rubbing against you.

He swallows sharply and buries his head in the crook of your neck. His arms wrap around you shyly, and his hips start rocking back and forth needily to satisfy himself.

You help him slip his cock out of his pants. Even the act of you unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans makes him whimper.

He doesn't waste time, he starts grinding against your pussy hard.

He's so hot it's scalding to the touch. You can feel the shape of his cute mushroom tip, and a very noticeable big vein running up his length.

"I-is this okay?" He asks unsurely, grinding his cock right between your soft lips. You can feel him pulsing against your sensitive clit.

"Mhm, it feels good, keep going." You tell him shakily.

He clings to your body tight, completely intoxicated by the feeling tingling throughout his dick with each thrust. There's a wet sheen on his cock, it feels so messy. All the sounds you make have him obsessed.

His tip dips inside you with one accidental thrust.

"S-sorry!" He whimpers into your ear.

"It's okay." You giggle, "I don't mind." you assure him.

He keeps clumsily slipping his lil mushroom tip inside, letting out an erotic moan into your ear each time. It's a total accident, of course, he's too innocent to be doing it on purpose.

"Why not hold it and rub it into my clit?" You suggest cheekily.

He gulps and does just that.

You can feel the curves of his tip rubbing over your clit. He focuses really hard on figuring out a pattern you like, and goes at it until you're arching your body against him.

He doesn't stop until you cum again. "C-can I cum on you? Is that okay?" he asks. His cheeks are so pink, he's so breathless and uncomposed it's cute.

"Mhm, go ahead, pretty boy, cum anywhere you want." You tell him, and he melts hearing you give him that permission.

He lets out a high-pitched cry that's just too cute, you have to refrain from giggling. He almost sounds like a cat.

His creamy release shoots out all over your pussy and thighs. He has to pull back and watch in awe, mouth erotically agape and lungs exhaustedly panting, as his cum drips down your skin. It's way better than any of his daydreams.

"D-did I do okay?" He asks breathlessly.

"You did really good, Armin, really good." You tell him, and he's so happy to hear that. He has a small proud smile on his face.

[hopelesslyromanticgay]

An Americano Please PT. 7

Word Count : about 2K

TW: Percy🤮, mental health, and descriptions of malnourishment (not ED related) and smoking(not done by anyone in first person)

Jenna's POV (finally)

Oh my god she kissed me. She actually kissed me!

I can't believe I've known her for two weeks and I'm already down this bad. 

The walk home from Y/N's apartment isn't a bad one, just a few blocks away, so when I get to my complex, Percy, my other costar is waiting for me in the lobby.

"So, how was your walk with that girl?" he asks, implying so much with his tone.

"Really nice," I smile, unable to hide my excitement.

"Cool, cool. Emma tells me you all went for pizza together?"

"Yeah, we would have invited you but you were filming."

"Maybe you can take me there some other time. Anyhow, tell me about the walk?"

"Well if you really want all the details..." I start.

"I do," he interjects.

"She and I kissed," I confess, a blush rising in my cheeks.

"Congratulations," he says, his tone coming off a little forced. It's been pretty clear from the beginning that he has some form of feelings for me, but I've made it clear I'm not interested in anything more than friendship.

"Well..." I say awkwardly, "I'm gonna go up to my apartment, get those few hours of sleep."

God that was so awkward.

...

My wake-up alarm blares, causing me to jolt awake. 4:30 already?

I rub the sleep from my eyes, slowly making my way out of bed and into the shower.

My driver comes to pick me up at 5:15, there's no time to visit Y/N for coffee today.

I'm in the makeup trailer by 5:30, getting my hair done as soon as I arrive.

"Morning Jenna," Joy smiles from across the trailer.

"Hello," I wave.

"Percy tells me you had a lot of fun last night," Georgie winks from a few chairs over, his gorgon headdress being carefully placed on his head.

"He told you that?" my jaw drops in disbelief. Georgie nods. Wow Percy, That's really none of your business to share.

And look who it is, Percy Hynes White walks into the trailer.

"What the fuck Percy!" I exclaim, "you told them I kissed Y/N?"

"Jenna, I need you to sit still so we can get your eyeliner right," the makeup artist tells me.

"Okay, give me one second."

"Yeah, I told him, so?" he rolls his eyes

"Percy, it's my right to say who I kiss. Not yours."

"Well last I checked I had the right to freedom of speech," he retorts.

"Look, I don't want to start a fight, Percy," I say, trying to be calm, "but you can't do that again."

"Okay, fine," he sighs exasperatedly, "I won't go around telling people about your stupid barista girlfriend." He dramatically exits, slamming the door behind him. What a diva.

"To be clear, guys, she's not my girlfriend," I clarify.

"Not yet anyway," Georgie winks.

"Don't get my hopes up."

Every day of the week my schedule piles up more and more.

I have cello in between shoots, fencing after work, and archery with Percy every few days. 

It's Saturday already and I haven't seen Y/N once! I hope she doesn't think I'm ghosting her.

I just got onto set and immediately I'm rushed into the costume trailer to get into my fencing gear. It's such an action heavy day and I already feel so light headed. I want to tell the director that I can't do it. I know it will just absolutely destroy me, but before I can get a word out, I'm practically pulled onto set.

My breakfast of a small fruit salad churns in my stomach. I can't so much as focus for twenty seconds as the stunt choreographer starts to debrief us on the scene.

I look over at Joy, the person I'm fighting in this scene, she seems to be taking everything in perfectly.

My head starts to ache with dizziness.

"Jenna, are you okay?" the AD asks.

Say it's fine. Like you always do. Be easy to work with.

"I- I think I n-need to sit down," I stutter quietly. My legs practically give away the second a chair is brought over to me.

The on set nurse is quick to bring me a glass of water which I drink gratefully.

"Are you feeling nauseated, Jenna?" she asks me.

"No, just a little lightheaded," I force a smile.

"You look a tad pale, did you have breakfast this morning?" she inquires.

"Yeah, I had a fruit salad."

"Is that what you have every day?" she asks.

"More or less," I answer truthfully.

"That's not nearly enough protein and nutrients for someone with a schedule like yours. Do you ever have eggs?"

"No, I'm a vegan," I explain.

"Oh right, well in that case you need to find a way to get more protein and iron or else it's only going to get worse," she tells me.

"O-okay," I say. God Jenna, you've really messed up this time.

"You should go home and get some rest, I'll get the producers to move your cello class to tomorrow."

"No!" I exclaim, "I need to do this!"

"Jenna, I can't let you do this today. You need to rest and recover."

"No, I need to be on set!" What kind of lead in a show DOESN'T show up to set when she needs to be there. What kind of person does this make me?

"Jenna, you need to rest. How about a compromise, you can do your cello lesson, but you need to go back to your apartment and get rest."

"Fine," I sigh, disappointed in myself.

"Do you have anyone who can take you home?" she asks, "all of our drivers are on break right now."

"No," I say half heartedly. I could ask Y/N, but I don't want to burden her. I don't want to burden anyone.

"Okay, let's get you to your trailer and you can lie down there for now." I nod cautiously. Standing up is worse than usual. Immediately, I can feel myself getting dizzy.

We walk back to my trailer, I find myself lying down on the couch. My head spins with worry What if production is delayed because of me?

I hear a knock on my trailer door, "Hey Jenna, it's me, Emma.

"Come in," I say happily. I love being around Emma. She's such a positive person.

"Joy says you're not feeling too good."

"Yeah, I guess," I say.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she sits down next to me, "you wanna talk?"

"It's just a lot," I confess, "all of these classes, and shoots, and work in general. It's just so much. And now I have to change what I'm eating because apparently I'm not getting enough nutrients!" Tears start to fall down my face.

"Hey, I've got you," she soothes me, stroking my hair, "it's gonna be okay."

It's about then that I slowly fall asleep.

Y/N's POV:

God, I hope I didn't fuck up with Jenna. The last time I was Tuesday night when we kissed. I haven't even gotten a text since.

I'm scared, what if she doesn't like me anymore?

"What's got you so upset? " Nessa asks between drags on her cigarette. I cough on the smoke coming from it.

"I just wish I could talk to Jenna," I admit.

"Man, just chill, it's normal to go a few days without talking to someone."

"Yeah, but normally if the last interaction was a kiss, it means that relationship is over," I point out.

"Just chill out, okay, acting's like, a hard job."

"Fine," I say, getting up, "I'm gonna drive home. See ya tomorrow."

The walk from the coffee shop to my car is less than two minutes. I only drove to work today because I was coming from Nessa's apartment and didn't want to leave my car there.

As soon as I get into the driver's seat, my phone starts to buzz with a call from a number I haven't seen before. Curious, I decide to pick up.

"Hello, is this Y/N?" the voice behind the phone asks.

"Yes, who is this?"

"Hi! This is Emma from Tuesday night, Jenna's not feeling well today, and I was wondering if you could drive her home from set?"

"Shit, is she okay?" I inquire. Fuck, I hope everything is alright!

"She'll be fine," Emma assures me, "can you drive her?"

"Sure, is she okay with that?"

"In all honesty, she's asleep right now and I found your number on a piece of paper on her counter."

"Isn't that an invasion of privacy?"

"Shut up, I was doing what I thought was right."

"Okay, fine, I'll come pick her up, but I don't want her to be surprised to see me."

"Deal." I hang up the phone. This day just got a lot more interesting.

I pull up to set about thirty minutes later to see Jenna and Emma waiting for me. I can see immediately what Emma meant by Jenna not feeling well.

There were heavy bags under her eyes, but the rest of her skin was so much paler than usual. I could see her twitching a bit, and it seemed like she was struggling to stay alert. Seeing her like this immediately replaces any resentment I may have had for her for avoiding me with pure concern.

"Hey there," I roll down the window to talk to them.

"Thank you so much for coming," Jenna says, smiling weakly.

"Here, let me help you into the car," I say gently, getting out to open the passenger seat door for her.

"I'll let you two be on your merry way then," Emma says cheerfully, "Feel better, Jenna." Leaving me and Jenna alone in the car together.

The silence between us is anything but comfortable. The radio went to static from low signal, and neither of us know what to say.

After a painfully awkward twenty five minutes, we pull up next to her apartment. 

"Can you help me up?" she asks, clearly a little embarrassed. I smile, and offer her a hand which she gratefully takes.

"Thank you so much, I don't know how I can repay you."

"Consider it a random act of kindness." She laughs a little.

The two of us walk to the elevator quietly, not really knowing what we could possibly say.

"So what's got you feeling so sick?" I ask curiously.

"Not getting enough protein, I guess."

"Oh that makes sense. Film sets probably don't have the best vegan options."

"On that, we can agree," she laughs weakly. The door flies open, revealing Jenna's apartment floor. I've never been in her place before.

"I'm right down the hall," she directs me.

I nod, and start walking with her.

She quickly disappears into her room to put on some more comfortable clothes, coming out in sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

"Here, let's get you some food," I say, bringing her a pb&j sandwich, "I know its not a gourmet meal or anything, but peanut butter's really good for you."

"Thank you so much," she smiles, "I don't deserve you."

"Hey, don't say that," I say. 

"But I don'ttt," she whines, "I don't talk to you for days after kissing you and yet you come to take care of me as soon as you hear I'm not doing too good!" 

"Jenna, please just eat your sandwich," I laugh, "we can talk about it when you're doing better."

She nods, "okay."

A few minutes later, she's done with the sandwich, and I can tell she's getting tired.

"Hey, do you wanna try to get some rest?" I suggest. She nods quietly.

I help her up from the couch, and guide her to her room.

She goes to the bed to lie down, pulling the covers over herself to stay warm

I turn to leave, my plan is to go home, but it's quickly thwarted.

"Can you stay?" she pleads, "I don't want to be alone."

"Sure," I smile, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed. She slowly repositions herself to be cuddled up to my side, laying her head in my lap.

"Good night, Y/N/N," she says softly.

"Good night," I smile, kissing her forehead. 

I can see her vibrantly blushing in the dim light of her room. She's just so insanely cute.

I run my fingers through her hair, trying to soothe her. It doesn't take long before she fully falls asleep.

The two of us are gonna have a lot to talk about when she wakes up.

[blackopals-world]

I find Vil x Yuu/MC so good because it’s literally like

“Do you know who I am?!”

And with all the brutal honesty of your mom in the dressing room, Yuu just says: “No”

That sounds fun I could work with that if you don't mind my personal touch.

"Hey! Pretty boy, stay out of my garden!"

~Vil x Gardener!femYuu~

Vil had been searching high and low for a certain plant needed for his potion but luck was not on his side. The greenhouse was picked clean and there was no appropriate substitute.

The more wooded areas of campus would probably have a strand of it. Vil asked Rook and the hunter pointed towards where the old abandoned dorm was located. Many wild plants had made their home there.

To Vil's surprise he found a rather lush garden of vegetables and flowers. In it he found the plant he was looking for, fresh rampion.

The beautiful purple bellflower with the perfect leaves to make salve.

Vil guessed to owner wouldn't miss it as they wouldn't need it and what use would it be to stay here without purpose.

That is what he believed. Unfortunately, it was not shared as a fat tomato came flying to hit him in the face. The juicy fruit left a mess on him and his clothes.

"Theif! How dare you!" A voice yelled over the garden

Standing in the row of tomatoes was a girl on the shorter side with cheeks as red as her fruit.

"How dare yo-" Vil started as he wiped the tomato pulp from his eyes but was quickly silenced.

"How dare I?! How dare you!" She put her hands on her hips as she raised her voice "You have some nerve pretty boy to take from my garden! It's bad enough to have those Savanaclaw brats snatching my catnip and herbs! Now it's Pomefiore's boys stealing."

The girl was clearly fed up and before Vil could say a word he was snatched up by the ear. Despite the clear height difference she easily dragged Vil away as he indignantly tried to protest.

"Excuse me! If you-OW- listen to me!" Vil tried to escape her grasp but she was strong and her grip was like iron.

"I don't listen to thieves." She stated as she dragged him across campus back to the Pomefiore dorms. "I'm taking you to your housewarden and having him deal with you. I'm going easy on you just this once."

"Don't you know who I am?! I'm Vil Schoenheit! Pomefiore's housewarden!" Vil felt the crazed gardener's grip go slack for a moment only to tighten even harder.

"That makes it worse! How dare you try and steal from me as a housewarden! So you think you can push me around?!" The irrate girl glared daggers into him. "I don't care who you are! I don't want to see you in my garden again."

With that she let go of him and stormed off.

Vil returned to his dorm bewildered and speechless. Rook appeared shortly thereafter and mentioned something important.

"There is this girl that stays in the old dorm. Very feisty and strong as an ox. She is as sweet as a little dove though and bakes great blueberry pie. I've had the pleasure of trying some. As long as you don't go messing with her plants she's like honeycomb." Rook sang her praises as Vil rubbed his sore ear.

True to his word the girl "Yuu" was as soft a butterfly wing on a normal day as she flitted about in her garden.

Vil didn't know whether to hate her or not. He wanted to look down on her for her loosely tied hair, dirt covered hands, and red burnt face. The way she stood after being hunched over her garden beds and streched her back from the labor made her beasts look enticing as sweat fell down her chest. He had to hold back his blush.

"She was a nothing more then a work horse" he tried to convince himself. "Wholely unfitting to be called a woman."

Shame was a powerful motivator.

She was completely unconcerned with him on the other hand. Epel had become her companion in the field when they had time after classes. Often times he'd stay over for dinner and take back leftovers much to Vil's ire.

Jealousy burning in him. She had such a soft side for them but to him she paid no mind. She smiled sweetly to them. She coddled them. She made wreaths of flowers for them. Laughed, soothed, cheered for, and adored other them but not him. Never him.

Yet, she still cared. She still would save treats for him. She may not let him have free range of her garden just still gave him anything he needed from it. She would still get him and not avoid him.

But swallow his pride he must if he wanted something from her. If he wanted her attention he didn't have it. She had little need for a useless pretty boy. Rook could hunt, Epel could farm but what could Vil offer her? His looks? His fame? What could she do with that?

He tried offering her a beauty treatment to her but she shot him down.

"Something like that would be wasted on me. I don't need to look like a beauty queen anyways, even if I could." Yuu said taking her basket of gardening tools inside and promptly closed the door.

Vil's heart ached hearing her say this. Someone like her was worth more then the most flawless diamond. She was like a million diamonds glittering in the sky with the strength to match.

Surely, he could do something for her, and prove his worth.

Vil shook his head. He couldn't believe he was thinking this. He found himself unworthy of her when it should be the other way around. He once considered himself above all others as he rightfully should, but now he is clamoring to be this woman's passing thought. How low could he sink? How high was this prize?

Vil fantasized about her. Thoughts of just being with her. The warmth of her sun-kissed skin that was not fair in the slightest. Nestling in the softness of her middle and breathing the scent of herbs and flowers from her hair. He wondered if she thought of him the same way.

Unknown to him the girl shared in these desires too ashamed too admit. Her thought were of that prissy pretty boy who thought the world owed him something. Her face burned to think of his smug smile. The touch of his hands were probably as soft as velvet unlike her's who's was callused and rough. His lips were surely just as soft. But he wouldn't want a girl like her. He'd want someone classy and proper. He'd ask her to change for his sake. Yuu couldn't do that.

One afternoon as Yuu clipped her white roses she felt a hand on her cheek. It stung as a thumb brushed her cheekbone.

Tsk "You managed to sun burn yourself again." Vil scolded pulling out a vial of clear liquid.

"Stop, I'll be fine. It's only a bit of sun. I'll be fine." Yuu tried to pull away but Vil held firm.

"You should be concerned. Sun damage is bad for your skin!" Vil continued as he rubbed the solution onto her face.

"So what, I'm ugly anyways. I'll just become and old hag earlier just like I act the part." Yuu successfully pulled her face face away from him but his arm circled her waist and pulled her foward again.

"Don't say that! Don't ever say that!" Vil yelled as he held her. "You are many things. Brash, loud, and as stubborn as a mule; but you are also kind, quick-witted and you have a strong sense of justice."

Vil hugged her tightly as he spoke.

"I wish I could say, I regret taking from your garden. That I'm still mad you dragged me by the ear like a child. Or that you threw a tomato me. But I don't, not for a moment because I got the meet you. And you are so wonderful, for no other reason than that you are you." Vil took in a breath before he said the next part to steady his heart "I'm not going to be cliché and say I like you because you treat me like a normal person. Trust me, there are plenty of people who already do that and that's not enough to consider someone special because anyone can do that. You are more then just some girl who humbled me, you are a rose growing in concrete. Beautiful, resilient, and unexpected. And I love you."

Yuu felt something warm trail down her cheeks as tears stung her eyes. He hugged Vil close the her as she buried her head into his shoulder.

"Thank you...thank you." She whispered breathlessly.

Note: Don't steal Rampion. A witch will demand your first born and lock her in a tower. On another note I love Vil but I don't believe he would fall for a someone just because they treat him like a human it's not a trope I'm fond of. I think it's more complex then that. Simply telling someone they are pretty doesn't make them fall in love it help but it's more then that.

[shunchitaro]

Chishiya x Fem!Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst (TW: Reader!Death, QueenofHearts!Reader, lazily made drabble) Romantic [REQUESTED]

["Two lovers met Two strangers left"]

"I'll go"

They turned to Chishiya, who was standing calmly with a stoic expression.

There was one last game, and everyone was either too injured or weak to continue. Chishiya was the only one that was able to go, so he volunteered.

Climbing up the building stairs, he got to the roof. He swung the door open to see a white open garden house and white rose bushes surrounding the area. He saw some colored balls and some other targets, and came to a conclusion.

"Croquet?"

"You are correct! Now- Chishiya?" The bubbly voice had switched to one of shock, and Chishiya looked up too, seeming unfazed.

"Y/N? I did think you would be one of the face card games"

Y/N stood before him in a long black dress with white accents, holding her mallet.

"How did you-"

"10 of Hearts. During the game I couldn't see you anywhere, I couldn't even detect you on the CCTV. You must've hidden during the entire game, no? Just like Mira"

Y/N suspected he would know. He was Chishiya Shuntaro after all.

"You shouldn't be here. You have five minutes to leave before the game starts."

"Why? You think i'm going to lose?" Chishiya asked in a deadly calm tone.

"It's either you die or I die, I wish for neither."

"Someone has to win to get out of here, Y/N. Clearly you should have thought of that before choosing to be a face card, right? One.. and two. One of us dies, and it's our choice." He pointed out.

'The game has begun'

Y/N didn't want to play the game with Chishiya. It wasn't because she didn't want him to die- he'd easily be the one to survive, but that was the thing.

Either one of them was going to die, and Y/N knew it would be herself.

"All you have to do is play three rounds of croquet with me" She returned to her cheery nature, grinning at him in an unsettling way.

Chishiya grabbed a mallet without a word, beginning since Y/N had given him a chance of going first. The male had never held a mallet before, yet he managed to hit all holes and goals in the first round.

"My turn~!" Y/N sang to hide her nervousness, winning the first round along with him. They both won the second round, and the time Y/N feared had come.

She stifled a fake yawn, leaning on her mallet. "Ah, I'm tired. Why don't we sit first? Have a cup of tea?" She gestured to the table in the open garden house. Chishiya's eyes drifted to the table with an incredulous look on his face, but he went towards it without a word.

She sat as well, pouring him a cup of tea.

"Cut to the chase, L/N. If I play this game, do we get to leave? How were we even brought here?"

She sipped her tea peeking at him to see he was staring, not even touching his tea.

"This is all a simulation"

"What?"

"You are merely nothing but robots. We're testing the IQ and EQ of the robots we made, and you are one of them. You just don't realize, because we inserted a microchip into your brain that tells you that you are human, and it programs you by default. You won't know you're a robot, you'll think you're perfectly human."

"You aren't serious are you?" He asked, unsure.

She laughed, pouring herself another cup. "I was kidding. What I really meant was that I am your psychiatrist. You got called in to my office since you kept hallucinating about that kid you weren't able to give the donor to. I've been giving you medication, but the effects is that you are imagining you are in this world, when really none of this is happening."

He was silent, not knowing what to say as he glanced at his unfinished cup of tea.

Yet again she was laughing, finishing her cup of tea. "Oh goodness, it was all a joke. Don't worry Chishiya, you haven't gone insane."

He gave her a sour look, getting up. "I'm not falling for your tricks. Let's play the final round and end all of this."

Y/N felt a tremble in her heart as she slowly got up to oblige. She knew he wouldn't fall for any of it, and the last time she would see him would be this very moment. She knew it was either her or him, and all she wanted was to extend her last moments with him a few minutes longer. She took her mallet and paid extra attention to him as she watched him play, remembering this would be the last time she could ever be with him.

His round finished and she went forward with her mallet, going as slow as she could. When she was going to make her last move, she paused.

"I have something else to tell you" She spoke up, and she glanced up to see his bored trance staring at the ground. He sighed in frustration hands still tucked in his pockets. "Look, just give up already. I'm going to win, so there's no point in trying to lie to m-"

"Did you know that I love you, Chishiya Shuntaro?"

His head shot up at her sudden confession, searching her eyes to see if she was lying. She smiled sadly as she walked towards him, he didn't move away which relieved her.

"When I first met you at the beach, I didn't think about you as anything more than someone I had to stop from winning games. Then when I got closer to you, I couldn't help it. When I was first asked to be the Queen of Hearts I agreed, I had nothing to do with my life anyways. But then I met you.." She laughs painfully. "It's a pity now that I can't stay with the person that helped me find my purpose.. just because I made a stupid decision."

He looked at her eyes, and she noticed how his expression softened. "You changed my view.. of people." He began. "Before you came, I didn't care anymore. After my patient couldn't get his donor.. I decided that the only life I should care about was mine, because either way people die and getting attached just makes it worse. Then.. you. Because of you, I cherish people. Kuina, Arisu, Usagi.. even you."

She looked up in surprise, searching his eyes to see if he was playing around but he wasn't.

She chuckled softly, caressing his cheek as tears brimmed in her eyes. She didn't want to ever let go of this moment, but she knew that the games had to end. "May I..?" He asked softly, and her eyebrows knit in confusion. "What are you doing?"

"Asking for permission to kiss you."

She nodded slowly, and it felt euphoric as he leaned in to kiss her. It was soft and gentle, as if he was scared that he wouldn't be able to pull away from her. He pulled away and she felt her lips tingling, making her smile sadly.

"I guess it's time."

She went back in position and hit the ball, letting it go into the last hoop. Chishiya didn't show any emotion as she looked at him once more, smiling brightly. It didn't seem sad, it seemed carefree and genuine.

"Thank you for playing with me, Chishiya Shuntaro."

He flinched slightly as the laser went through her head, and he caught her before she hit the ground. He could hear fireworks in the distance, but all he could think about was her final words to him. He caressed her now cold and pale face, the ghost of a smile still etched on it as a small tear dripped from the side of her face.

He stood up, picking a fresh white rose from one of the bushes and took her hand, wrapping it around the stem as he kissed her forehead.

He wanted to believe that he just kissed her as a parting gift, so that she could die peacefully without having to endure any pain before she met with death; but he knew deep down that he too had loved her, and only just realized. He knew that he too had slowly fallen for her back at the hotel but he hadn't said anything, fearing he would be attached.

He knew that her last moments spent with him were short, but it was just enough for him. It was enough for the both of them to share their love for one another.

He held her close to his chest, closing his eyes and inhaling her scent for probably the last time ever. He knew that somehow, if they return to the true world, he would forget her.

He didn't care because he knew that eventually- even if just a bit- she was a lost memory waiting to be found.

He knew he'd find that memory somehow, and fall in love with her all over again.

Author's note: I'm so sorry I took so long to finish this request! I had writer's block and I'm glad it's gone again :') Anyways I ran out of idea halfway through the story, but I hope the story is still enjoyable and that it still makes sense. <33

[etherealtearss]

smau #1

timothee chalamet x fem!y/n smau

warnings: everything is lowercased, and maybe some mispellings

yourusername

liked by zendaya, tchalamet, and 31, 806, 457 others

yourusername goodbye to euphoria season one! filming with the cast was a lot of fun and we hope those who were old enough to watch and understand enjoyed the show! we are praying for another season but nothing is final yet! i hope to be back on set soon! love sent from - y/n n/n❤️

randomperson394 i can't even see her face and she still looks gorgeous😫

genahyhena bro that last episode? girly had me in tears

paxfax281 RIGHT!? literally almost passed out from the stress

timotheexy/nfan1093 let's pray for season two🙏

yourusername 🙏🙏🙏

timotheexy/nfan1093 AHHH!! YOU RESPONDED - HII Y/N

liu238 she literally has a breakdown every 2 episodes, how is she this liked?

haily/n12 stfu. had more depth then kat😤

tchalamet

liked by yourusername and 39, 129, 290 others

tchalamet acquired the girlfriend from her last day on set and she slept the whole way home 😪😐

yourusername i was tired ☹️

tchalamet i know, la chérie

berrie012 look at her bunny mask, it's cute

fable23 i literally want to be her

alexademie bring her back, timothee

tchalamet no❤️

mamal/n aww🥺

yourusername mom, please, stop commenting on timothee's insta

y/nfanpage13

● ○ ○

○ ● ○

○ ○ ●

liked by yourusername, tchalamet, and 33, 340

y/nfanpage13 explain how love is fake if y/n l/n and timothee chalamet have been crushing (used lightly) on eachother since they were 4 and 5, started dating at 14 and 15, and are still together in 2019 at 21 and 22. They are the literal embodiment of the word.

angel03 if they break up, i will cry

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

y/nfanpage13 OMG YOU NOTICED ME! I LOVE YOU!!

diana99 SHE LIKED IT TOO

Liapaige26 HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LIVE MY DREAM

yourusername posted on her story! 4m ago

[melancholypancakes]

Warning: curse words, lower volume if necessary I tried to get the audio perfect but it got too loud

The audio is from the musical If/then but I mainly got the audio from this video.

I also, love this animatic and how I drew my y/n :)

The animation shows how angry Y/n when she found out the truth about Mark and she loved him in this life.

She couldn’t believe how he fool her and trick her into loving him, making her forget the timelines and the love she had for Damien.

It’s hard to tell if Actor! Mark truly did loved Y/n because she most certainly loved him even if it was fake she actually cared about him.

After realizing everything was a lie that love was faded Y/n had finally opened her eyes to see it was all a façade…

[zymruk]

Love dive

Concept: I listen to music while I write and once the music or song stops, I stop writing. Wether the story is done or not.

Theme: Movie theater date

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

song choice: love over hip-hop, money over love- Noahjooda, Basick

Today was Natasha and your's date day of the week. You two were supposed to got to the movies, and you were, you two just didn't know what to go see. Either the action filled movie which you wanted to watch; or the horror movie which was Nat's pick. You didn't mind going to see her cmovie hoice but at the same time wasn't it the same thing you two did, all the time? You were decided on watching the action film.

Five minutes later the two of you were seated in front of what looked like to be a cheap copy of "I saw the devil".

[blueparadis]

when you sit on his lap, legs spread apart from each other, folded and glued along his thighs your dragon!boyfriend knows that it is time for some "instinct inspection" or as you like to put it but he knows that it will eventually end up being much more than that; it always does: either end up him getting hard when you are done or you hurt yourself spilling blood in drops. tsk, what a waste!

but today, it is going to be more than that. . .

"Say ahh," you would order, just like other days, before grazing your index finger against his fangs. At first, it does not grow, you just feel the sharp edge of his fangs on your supple skin. what a tease you are! It grows when you pull away your hand and adjust on his lap for a better grip and angle.

"Bad manners," you would say whenever you spot him letting go of his human form. he even remembers hearing that when he lowly growling in front of strangers who were following you the other night but at times like these, when the whole world is busy, when no one is looking at you two—he can let go of it; that carefully crafted camouflaged self to fool your kind and let his dormant side take over.

"It is just a bite," he would say after sucking your blood from your wrist as he held your arm by the wrist. But it is kind of frustrating, don't you think? how you are sitting on his lap, checking if he has hunted any animals or eaten your kind or not. And when you see he has been such a good boy, slowly learning to control his habits and instincts, don't you think it's a little unfair when you don't reward him? He licks the trickling blood along your hand from up your elbow to your wrist; you can see two dots, fairly distanced and round but somehow it does not hurt.

To think that you would teach him about 'control' and 'instinct', what a naive human being you are.

Even though you are still sitting on his lap, one of his hands holding yours from where he freshly sucked your sweet blood and your other hand is holding his yet you feel something tightening around your belly. You do not stop him as his tail wraps around your body, his eyes slowly getting to glow, his skin changing, shining but before he changes completely you kiss him, kiss him with full might as if you will do the moment your lips part from his.

And when you pull away, he just takes deep breaths and says, "One more time," gulping he adds, "Please," now how could you turn that down even though he has been quite rebellious.

[suguruplsr]

i feel like a small kink-that-isn’t-such-a-kink-but-i’m-calling-it-a-kink that kento has is watching you squirm from overstimulation.

specifically your hands during sex.

“move ‘em.” kento grits out, voice shaky as he fucks you from behind. you whine at his command, ignoring it and holding onto the blanket underneath you just a bit tighter. he watches how your fingers crunch the fluffy fabric, body trembling once he gives you a thrust that rubs your g-spot. you mewl, head falling onto the bed with a force on the back of it. his larger hand slides from your head down to your chin, turning it sideways against the bed. “what did i say sweetheart?” he mumbles, halting his movement. his soaked cock stays full into you, wet and sticky cum mushed around where you two meet. you whimper, trying to push back. his tip nudges where you need him, but your wanton moan is greeted with a spank of your ass.

“you’re not listening, hm?” kento quips, rubbing your hot ass cheek and leaning down. your back further arches, “s-sorry, just..” you try to explain yourself, but the teetering moans leaving you as his dick rocks into you do you no justice. “my baby’s so needy..” kento smiles, kissing the side of your cheek, his peppered kisses going down below your jaw, a slick of wetness in its wake. “c’mon sweetie, let go f’me.” he coos in your ear, fresh regal cologne filling your senses. you purse your lips, following his words obediently and letting your hands relax. you didn’t even realize how hard you had clutched onto the bed, hands aching a bit and fingers red.

swiftly, your face is turned straight into the blanket, hands pulled behind you and wrists locked by just one of your lover’s hands. without words, kento begins pounding your cunt how your need it, loud squelches and sounds of the mess that you two have made. your whines and moans fill kento’s head, his eyes stuck on how your ass jiggles with each thrust into you. the skin slowly brightening with juices that leave your soaping pussy. however, his view trails up, feeling your wiggling fingers scratch at his hand. god, you’re so cute. even if he can’t see your lewd expressions, he just knows you’re losing every bit of sobriety you had left, letting yourself go dumb on his cock. your fingers stretch before digging into his skin, but with the thick head of his cock angling just too good, they widen again, matching the sound of your higher moans. “please! please! please— make me cum!” your words rip through you, sobbing and shaking. kento groans, he can get used to studying you like this..

[caram3ll0tr1x]

Shy shy shyy -////-

(sub) Sigma x (dom) fem!reader Smut/18+ Little degrading+Comfort sex+Riding+etc. I've never written Sigma before so apologies if his personality is off- -🌸

You smiled at Sigma, running your hands through his hair as he spoke. He was telling you about his day at the casino like he did nearly every time he saw you. You found it endearing, though, especially with how much he cared for it.

He turned to you then, and said, "Also, someone tried to have sex with me today. I told them no and so they left. But it was one of the usual's.. What if they don't come again?"

You froze. "They tried what now?"

"Oh, it's nothing," he insisted. "They only asked me to. I told them I was taken!"

"Can I know their name?"

He narrowed his eyes. "If you don't kill them," he said slowly.

"Never mind then," you sighed. Then, you turned him around and promptly kissed him. When you pulled back, he looked surprised. "What?"

"I wasn't expecting that," Sigma said, nuzzling you.

"And I wasn't expecting your customers to get so fucking friendly with you!!" you shot back, crossing your arms.

"Why are you going back to that? I love only you!" he whined.

You raised an eyebrow. "Really? So your dirty little self wouldn't rather fuck someone than lose your beloved casino?"

He huffed. "I said no to them!!"

"Sure, I bet after 5 rounds of sex," you said, rolling your eyes.

Sigma stared at you, hard. "Do you want me to have sex with you to prove myself?!"

You smirked. "Would you do it?"

He hesitated. "Yes," he decided. "I would."

Only two minutes later he found himself bare naked and pinned under you. You kissed his neck and his collarbone, peppered his stomach with more and ran your tongue down his thigh, making him shiver with pleasure.

Sigma was, in fact, a virgin. Something you did not know yet. And so he was nervous, apprehensive, and curious. He didn't know what to do, didn't know anything about this.

And so when you took a chance and thought perhaps that he might have a degradation kink, you were not expecting the depressing look on his face that took over his features when you did.

"Oh, no, no," you murmured, kissing his cheek.

He pouted, sniffing. "I thought I was trying to prove that I would only want to be with you," he whined. "Why are you saying that? Am I doing a bad job?"

You kissed his nose gently and rubbed his cheek. "It's called degredation, love. Some people have a degredation kink," you explained. "I guess you don't."

"Kink? No," he said, slowly. "I never thought about kinks."

"No? You've never had sex before?" you asked curiously, sitting up from your position on his thighs.

He propped himself up and averted his eyes shyly. "No..." he admitted, shaking his head. "You're my first."

You found yourself falling more in love with him at that and smiled sweetly. "Awee, I'm honored to be!!"

"Do you not find it irritating I know nothing?" he asked, confused.

"Of course not. I can teach you everything anyways." Your (e/c) eyes shined and his gaze lifted up to your face.

"Then can we continue?" he said, flushing at his own question.

"Right away, dear~"

Sigma's moans and gasps filled the room as you bounced slowly on his cock. He was sensitive, you found, and had already broken his composure the second your hand found itself on his erection.

You toyed with his hair as you rode him, finding the action comforting to yourself. He didn't seem to notice, though, too overwhelmed by the newly found pleasure he was experiencing.

"I'm- I'm going.. I.." he whimpered, his back arching beautifully as your pace increased.

"Cum?" you finished. "Do it, love." You smiled and ran a finger down his stomach, playing with his nipples slowly. "Come on.. Cum~"

Sigma's eyes met yours and his face, flushed red and beautiful, contorted as you slammed your body back down onto his cock. He let out a string of curses which ended in your name as he came into you, his body slumping down when he finished.

You kissed his stomach and said, softly, "Well done, baby."

"I did good?" he asked, his words warbled and tired.

"Beautifully."

He smiled. "I'm glad."

[thedarkcircuswritings]

Could I get Dark Cacao Cookie x fem!reader, and they're married? Reader is Dark Choco's mother and is still upset what happened between him and Dark Cacao.

"Neither of us wanted to do it... Yet we did." You were the queen of the Cacao kingdom as long as you could remember. You married the sweetest cookie you have ever met, Dark Cacao helped to make the kingdom prosperous and strong despite the conditions and even baked a healthy baby boy. The heir to the throne: the prince in all white. And you loved him, your wonderful Dark Choco. You loved him as much as a mother could. You loved Dark Cacao as much as a wife would. You loved your kingdom as much as a queen would. Dark Cacao may have a scar on his chest, but you will forever have the scar of grief on your heart. Your husband is in frigid isolation with his advisors, your son is off to the darkness and evil, and your kingdom struggling over an influx of monster attacks. You know your son loves you. You know your husband loves you. You know your kingdom loves you. But everything still seems taken away from you. You sit on a throne, and for what? What are you without your king and heir? It's so cold in this kingdom. It's so cold to be a queen.

[arminsumi]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ CONFESSION

badboy!goth!Eren x innocent!fem!reader ♪

You and Eren attend the same church. After mass, you find yourself tempted into a confessional booth with him.

⚠️Cws; mdni, SMUT, sacrilege, religious themes (Catholic), 🌶️🚨this some nastyyy smut, very unholy smut, sacrilege + sinning kink, light humiliation kink, corruption kink, 'slut' and 'angel' nicknames, lowkey bruising (thighs, tight gripping), size kink, unholy dirty talk, defloration, blowjob (deepthroating), unprotected sex (creampie), semi-public sex (in a church's confessional booth), implied clothed sex

Wc; 4.2k

Eren was that boy who all the church moms frowned upon and forbade their daughters from talking to. To them, he was the example of a soul corrupted by sin. They upturned their noses and looked away, appalled, when he had the audacity to sit a Sunday morning mass.

But all their daughters secretly crushed on him. How could they not? He was devilishly handsome. Brooding eyes. Gothic style. Long hair. Black nails. He was audacious, hypocritical, shameless, provocative – offensive, even, with a silver cross dangling from his neck.

Some mothers gossiped and debated him. Was he attending out of mockery? Was he absorbing even a shred of the Bible as it came from the preacher's lips? His interlocked fingers and wide-spread legs repulsed them. They called his heavy-eyed stare 'soulless'. To them, he was the serpent that they needed to protect their Eves from.

"There he is again!" Your mother frowned, turning away from her friend. "He's just standing there, what is someone like him doing standing around a church for? He has to be a creep!"

You walked into said church. Mass was just about to start. Eren gave you a long, desirous look-over. You wanted to smile at him but had to do it discretely under your mother's speculating gaze.

"G-good morning..." you greeted him shyly. "Morning." he replied in his deep, trilling voice.

You made sure to walk as slowly as possible past him so he could get a good look, which wasn't as surreptitious an action to him as you thought; nothing could be put past Eren's attention. He sniffed out your crush on him long ago. He knew very well the effect he had on innocent girls like you.

"Quickly, quickly, Y/n, why did you walk so slowly past that creep? You know he's been eyeing you out since you got out of the car." your mother furrowed her brows at you. You shrugged. "Never mind, did you bring my scarf – thank you, angel. Let's follow inside."

You shuffled into church with the rest of the people. Your mother was complaining about your skirt being too short, and your shirt being wrinkled; meanwhile your skirt reached knee-length, and your shirt was freshly ironed this morning. She fussed with your clothes, insisting that they somehow tainted your pure image. She didn't want her little angel looking enticing to any lurking devils.

She just about choked from shock and repulsion when she saw Eren was behind you. Everyone was lining up at the holy water font to dot the symbol of the cross on their body with their fingers. You looked back at Eren very briefly and flashed him a smile. He paid you an interested look in response, slightly smirking back. Your heart palpitated excitedly. Mother aggressively grabbed your shoulder and forced you to look straight ahead. "Don't look at him." she hissed, "Listen to me, angel, I don't want you associating with people like him, alright?" you nodded obediently.

Eren was smirking while eavesdropping on you and your mother.

He waited for the two of you to move ahead, walking languidly in succession, and came to a brief stop at the holy water font. Like you, he dipped his fingers in and made the sign of the cross. But unlike you, he did it nonchalantly and lamely, like how one might do the action of plucking a stray hair from their clothes.

A fluttering excitement rose in many girls hearts when the man their mothers disapproved of sauntered into view. When he kneeled to the statue of Christ, he bore his dark eyes up at it. The mothers scrunched their noses at him. They couldn't be completely blamed for regarding Eren so lowly; anyone witnessing someone dressed in funeral-like attire at a cheery Sunday mass would think that their kneel to Christ was a deliberate act of mockery.

You struggled to keep your gaze lowered when Eren walked past the row you were seated in with your mother. His cologne wafted across to you, setting your already smoldering soul aflame with desire. You only glanced up once, just once, but you met his eyes; and that small moment created a tension between you and Eren to last the entirety of the Mass, despite him being sat far behind you.

Though you were unbearably tempted to look behind your left shoulder, you kept your eyes fixed on the sight of your rosary draped over your fingers, hands folded on your closed bible.

When you spread it open, your bookmark wedged in between the pages of Psalms immediately caught your attention. You hadn't opened it since your last attendance to Catechism, when you left it on an empty seat to quickly shuffle through your bag. What was scribbled on your bookmark made your heart pang excitedly; poor handwriting spelled out:

Care to meet up in the confessional booth next Sunday after mass? ♥️ Eren

The stale silence of the church was punctured by the preacher's reverberating voice, but you didn't hear a word of what he was preaching.

You gave in and shot a look behind your left shoulder. Eren was sat a few rows behind you, his eyes unwavering from the preacher. He could feel that you were looking at him, so he smirked. You looked at him until he removed his attention from the preacher and put it on you instead. Such a languid, sweeping movement of his brooding eyes.

Communicating during mass wasn't an idea that your mind dared to trespass on, not for fear of earning concerned glances from others, but for fear of being condemned by your mother besides you.

In that moment, however, she was fully absorbed in what the preacher was saying. Completely absorbed. You wouldn't have been surprised if she ignored the sound of someone being murdered in the courtyard right then. So you gutsily flashed your bookmark at Eren, smiling shyly, to communicate to him that you got the message.

He cockily wettened his lips and flicked his brows up at you in response. Then he slid down his seat in a deliberately comedic way to amuse you. Everyone thought him to be such an intimidating menace, but there he was; putting a humored smile on your face. He thought you looked so pure – too pure. He wanted to taint that purity, it's all the thought about during mass.

The preacher called for a moment of silent prayer, and you turned your attention away from Eren. Following suit with the others, Eren closed his eyes and bowed his head in prayer, thinking hard about the image of your legs spread wide for him.

In his mind, he was stood leaned up against the confessional booth wall. Your innocent gaze was fixed up at him adoringly while you were on your knees for him.

This fantasy intensified as mass went on, while the preacher melodiously spoke. Eren stared at the back of your head, his eyes were roaming hungrily over any bit of you that was in sight; your shoulders, your hair, your neck – the cross clasped around it. He wouldn't have been surprised if hell opened up beneath him right then and swallowed him whole for his filthy thoughts.

Mass felt like it dragged on for you and Eren, since all you and him anticipated was embracing together in the confessional booth. While everyone else rose from their seats and slowly left the church one by one, you two remained behind. You excused yourself to your mother, saying that you wanted to go to confession after praying a little longer. She was so happy to hear that, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Before leaving, she scowled at Eren a few rows behind you, who pretended to be readying himself to leave. "Don't you talk to him behind my back... I expect you to be home in time for dinner." she warned.

You nodded obediently. As soon as the church was vacated and quiet, you and Eren came to each other. He smirked and teased you, "Hey sinner. Mind if I come to confession with you?" he asked, just to be sure sure that you wanted this. You nodded eagerly. Eren almost felt bad because of how cute and neat you looked today – he was going to destroy that.

Soon you found yourselves giggling into a confessional booth. No priest was on the other side.

"My mother doesn't want me talking to you..." you told Eren in a hushed voice.

"How surprising." he replied sarcastically. "And why, pray tell, is that?"

"Because... because she said that she doesn't want me going to confession more than I already do..."

"Oh... really?" Eren looked at you both desirously and amusedly. "Tell me, what kind of sins is someone like you repenting for?"

"Many sins..." you stuttered. "Like, um, using the Lord's name in vain. Disrespecting my mother, h-having impure thoughts..." you trailed off, not able to think of any more.

He scoffed a little. "I'd love to add a sin to your list that's actually worthwhile to confess."

"Wh-what d'you mean, what kind of sin?" you asked eagerly.

"Get on your knees, I'll show you."

Eren loved witnessing a pure, religious girl like you lowering onto her knees before him. You looked up at him, face levelled with the zipper of his black pants.

"Don't get shy on me, angel." he said when you looked hesitant at his bulge. "Hm... I'll bet that you've never done this before, huh?" You nodded. "Yeah, I-I'm a virgin..." you confessed nervously, hoping that your revelation wouldn't turn him off. His pants were visibly tightening right before your eyes, and you were achingly curious about what a cock looked like. You kept your mind so sacred that you hadn't even touched porn in your life. "A virgin, huh? I can change that if you want." Eren offered deviously. You looked up at him with big eyes, "Y-yes please! I-I want to... I want to d-d-do that with you..." you replied, nearly choking on your saliva. Were you really that excited that you were drooling in front of his crotch? Eren smirked and let his hand come to your cheek.

He began stroking it back and forth with his thumb.

"Okay, angel, I'll take care of you. Promise you'll listen to whatever I say, m'kay? You can tell me to stop any time."

You nodded happily. "Good girl." he cooed quietly, "I want you to take off my pants for me – nice and slowly. Can you do that?" you immediately squeaked in response, "Mhm!"

You raised your hands to the hem of his pants, resting them there lightly. Your finger went for the button of his pants. The unbuttoning sound seemed so loud in that tiny, quiet booth.

When Eren noticed that your finger hesitated on the zipper, he murmured at you, "Need some encouragement?" he asked. You nodded in answer, so he brought his big hands down to help you out. His touch was firm and blissfully warm.

Eren languidly pulled his zipper down himself as you watched with bated breath. He dipped his veiny hand into his pants and stroked himself behind his pants while you watched anticipatorily. You ached for the barrier of his pants to be gone, but lacked the confidence and courage to rid it yourself. "You look so pretty when you're on your knees for me like this." Eren admired.

Your senses perked up when he pulled his length out. A compelled laugh fell from his smirking mouth when he saw your eyes go big. It poked you on the cheek, smearing precum across it. It was firm, no, it was rock-hard. Warm, no, scalding hot – hotter than your cheeks were when you laid eyes on it.

Eren heard you swallow. "Well someone's excited. Wanna open that impatient mouth f'me? That's it – good girl. Wider." he encouraged, pressing his tip inside further and further. He stifled a moan. "Just a little more..."

His big hand came to the back of your head, fingers nestling in your hair, further encouraging you to take more in your mouth. Eren let out a small hiss when he felt your soft, wet tongue press up against the underside.

Though he tried to sneak himself into the back of your throat, you gagged on his dick immediately. "Quiet – quiet, angel." he moaned, feeling your throat constricting around his tip. " 'don't want someone to hear us, do you?"

After giving you time to recompose, Eren wiggled his hips to get himself back in your throat. His tip pushed past the back of your throat and got you choked up, you had watery eyes and a sniffly nose in no time. Eren slid himself fully inside, your lips hit the base of his cock. Your head felt full, so you made an overwhelmed expression; Eren groaned at the sight. "Too much?" he asked, you struggled to nod in reply, so he reluctantly eased out of your throat, the pressure slowly relieving.

He slipped his cock out of your mouth, a mix of saliva and precum wettened it deliciously. You sputtered and coughed. He swallowed desirously. Seeing you in such a state because of him had him throbbing and pulsing. There was a stream of fresh precum running out of his swollen tip. It caught your eye. You folded your hands on your lap and opened your mouth wide, willingly and expectantly, so he eagerly slipped his cock back inside your mouth.

"Oh, fuck," Eren feathered. "That's it, angel – that's it. God damn your lips feel like heaven around me, y'know that? You feel fucking heavenly. Keep sucking, don't stop – don't get shy on me now, angel. 'Feels so fucking good."

Eren was losing it over the sensation of your lips suctioning around his fat cock. He felt himself throb each time you slid your hot lips down his length and felt his precum splurge out onto the back of your tongue when you slid back off. The sinful sound of you amateurly sucking him had him unfolding. You know how long he's thought about this? Too long. During so many choir practices, Eren would observe you from afar, paying no attention to Armin's tiny gospel talk. He watched your lips as you gracefully sang a holy tune with the others. Now those lips were wrapped around his cock in the confessional booth.

Eren felt his blood thrumming in his veins. His whole body flushed and subtly shook under the influence of your mouth. "Jesus," he took the Lord's name in vain under his breath, "You're making me feel so fucking good, Y/n, don't stop." he breathed. "Faster, angel, suck it faster – that's it, just like that. Look at you, so obedient, following whatever I say like I'm your fucking God, huh?"

Eren brushed the hair clinging to your wettened cheek. Each time you had sloppily pulled off his cock for a breather, it hit your cheek and glided across it, leaving a streak of wetness. When it slipped out again, he grabbed your cheeks, and lowered himself to your level for a hasty kiss.

Unbelievably, that kiss of his felt more sinful than sucking on his cock. He was feverishly tasting your tainted lips.

"Angel," he murmured in a heavily lusty voice, that obscene scent fanning against your face from his lips. "Stand up for me, 'wanna fill you up."

You got to your feet in an instant, eager to finally live out the impure fantasies that you once guiltily confessed to in that very confessional booth. Eren's big hands felt up your sides, squeezing and digging into your flesh, not like a lover, but like a devil.

"Get on my lap." He commanded, sitting on the wooden stool. You didn't hesitate to, and crawled right onto his warm lap while he softly moaned at the sinful atmosphere between you and him.

Eren smirked when you looked up at him with such excited, lustful eyes. "What's the matter with you?" he teased, "Looking at me like that's gonna make me want to ruin you. So stop it."

"I-I don't mind..." you responded inaudibly. Eren heard it loud and clear, but he needed to hear you say that again. "What was that, angel?" he called your nickname in such a saccharine tone, it almost felt laced with a condescending undertone.

"I-I said I don't mind if you w-wanna do that... I want it..." you repeated for him. His lips twisted into an attractively devious smile. "I'm sorry, I must be hard of hearing. Could you clarify what you want?" he asked in such a deep voice it was almost sinister. His hands wove through your hair and pulled it so that you were forced to look up at him while you spoke. "I want y-you to r-ruin me, Eren." you admitted. Oddly, it felt cathartic to admit that so honestly and vulgarly.

"Alright angel," Eren whispered against you. He looked you in the eye, you almost caught a glimpse of your coming sins in his pupils. "I'm gonna fuckin' ruin you."

He definitely upheld his promise. You sighed as you willingly let him sink himself inside your tight, wet pussy. Eren felt like his senses heightened when your hole clenched around his bare cock. "Loosen up, 'mmm fuck loosen up – I can't move if you're this tight." he complained, enjoying every bit of your pussy suffocating his hungry cock. You felt yourself clinging to him tighter than you ever clung to your fingers when you indulged in your solo acts in your bedroom. You'd be lying if you said you didn't squeeze and rub your thighs back and forth for friction during mass, when your head was full of Eren.

He wasn't just uncomfortably big; he was testing your limits with each inch, stretching you out so much that he smirked, knowing that you'd feel so empty when this was all done and over.

His thumb came to stroke your cheek and wipe the fat tears sloppily spilling out of your eyes. His cock had a naughty curve about it, and you could really feel it by how his tip applied pressure into your gummy walls. "Take a deep breath f'me. Let it out. There we go... fuck, do it again. Breathe i-in – fuuuck – 'n let it out again." Eren melted through his sentence while your pussy unclenched, little by little, to permit his cock deeper and deeper with each releasing breath. Eren held your body so tightly, it felt like he was never going to let go for the rest of his life now that he had you right where he wanted.

The mothers at church were so right about him. He was, really, just a sinner sniffing out a pure girl to ruin. You could sense that from the moment you came across him one rainy Sunday at Catechism. The lustful and brooding nature of him enticed you, tempted you, each day more and more until you finally ended up here; bouncing in his lap, muffling your erotic moans into his hot mouth, letting his dick beat against a spot your fingers could never reach, making you feel better than you ever have in your life. Eren loved seeing you unravel the more you felt him. He witnessed your holiness slip completely when you accidentally came, pussy gushing around him, tight hole convulsively tightening and untightening in pure bliss.

"Eren," you mewled, barely able to climb down from your high, pawing at his firm chest as you continued to bounce your pussy on his cock. " 'y-you said you were gonna r-ruin me... wh-why am I doing all the work."

He laughed devilishly, "Sorry, I just wanted to see how badly you wanted it." he admitted. When Eren took control and thrust up into you, it took everything you had to not scream. "Oh my G-God, Eren." you whimpered terribly, encouraging Eren's hips to rut against you harder. The sloppy squelching sound grew louder. You could be so glad that no one was in earshot for now, because that sound carried through the whole church along with your unforgivable moans.

Eren smirked up at you, big hands gripping your hips while he fucked up into your pussy. He licked and nipped at your lips, indulging in a filthy makeout session while you crumbled under the feeling of good sex.

You still retained some slivering flame of innocence behind those lust-corrupted eyes, and he wanted to smother it. His fingers dug into the plush of your skin like he was trying to bruise them. He'd be lying if he said that he didn't intend to do that; seeing you at the next mass or Catechism meetup knowing you had bruises on your thighs from a good fucking drove him wild.

You felt him licking a long stripe up your neck and let out a strangled moan; his tip was stubbornly rubbing a gummy spot deep inside your pussy that made you gush messily all over his lap. You felt your orgasm nearing. Just the buildup felt so intense that you started shaking.

"Fuck me 'n fill me up with your cum 'Ren, please please please!" you pleaded nastily, Eren felt proud that he smothered that last bit of innocence in you. "F-fuck me like I'm your slut!"

Eren let out a long groan in response, "God damn, angel, 'm gonna cum if you speak to me like that. I don't even have a condom on."

"I don't care, 'wanna feel your cum inside me." your voice strained.

"Fuck, alright, get off 'n get on the floor for me, angel."

You lifted off his fat cock and laid facing up on the cold floor. Eren took one look at you laying compliantly there and chuckled inside. He knew that you would have followed any of his commands in that moment.

He grabbed your body and guided it into position hastily, not letting more than a few seconds go by without plunging back inside your heat. "Look at that, you're creaming all over me. You like getting fucked on the floor like this? Hm? Bet you do." Eren humiliated you with a devilish smirk. Strands of dark brunette hair shook back and forth as he rutted his hips against you at a feverish pace. No matter how deep his cock hit, or how fast he plunged in and out of you, or how tightly you squeezed him, Eren couldn't be sated. He almost over-exerted himself with how much effort he put into fucking you there on the floor in the confessional booth.

"Oh, angel, 'm gonna cum." Eren announced suddenly. His high crept over him slowly, building up languidly in his body, it felt almost threateningly good. And you? You were an utter mess underneath him, hands holding onto his arms and gripping onto his muscle for dear life.

He sped up his pace. You watched as his silver cross swung back and forth in front of your tear-stained face. He let out a strangled groan before stilling inside you, burying his cock almost uncomfortably deep in your pussy. You completely came undone and felt your tight ring of muscle tightening and untightening convulsively around his fat cock. The sensation of him shooting a hot load inside made your head spin. You sweated so badly that you were sure it was visible through your white shirt. You felt like the biggest sinner in the world right then. An exaggeration, maybe, but perhaps your feeling was justified considering you just lost your virginity in a confessional booth with the boy your mom told you not to dare talk to.

Eren's heavy frame loomed over you. He withdrew slightly to alleviate his weight on your body. The golden cross between your tits gleamed in his eye. The both of you were panting so hard, it felt for a moment that neither of you would ever be able to catch your breaths again.

"E-Eren..." you called out his name weakly when you could finally speak coherently again. "I n-needa get home, m-my mom's gonna be mad I've been out so long."

Eren looked down at you, eyes flitting between your breasts and pussy. Then he finally raised his gaze to your face; it astonished him how you glowed with the same purity as before, even while naked and laid on the floor with a creampie inside you.

"Yeah, get going. Your mother's probably thinking the worst happened to you, like you lost your virginity in a confessional booth or something." Eren chuckled, sliding his cock out of you as slowly as possible to make sure you felt each inch.

A silence hung in the confessional booth while you and him dressed up. You buttoned up the collar of your shirt dress and pulled your cardigan over your shoulders, positioning your cross so that it showed clearly. You looked at him nervously, "E-Eren?"

"Hm?" he looked at you while buttoning and zipping up his pants.

"C-can we do this again sometime?"

His red lips curled into a devious smile. You felt his cum drip down your inner thigh.

"What a perfect idea. You could use another confession."