#me: *tears* we'll draw it

[retconomics]

Evil people in love >>>

[zu-is-here]

their backstory

the song's deeper version

ah right the moon ;w;

[tadpole-apocalypse]

Wip 🫠

[a-s-levynn]

"I'll tear the fibre from the filament / I'll be the limit of your light again" A Series of Small Offerings - II/7 - day15

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

decided to rewatch oli's christmas song stream from last year and remind me again why the fuck oli/sausage is a rarepair again. he sings no less than five romantic songs about sausage (admittedly two of those are just different versions of santa, baby). one of them is him and sausage singing baby it's cold outside together. oli literally left heaven to find this man. what. what am i seeing that everyone else isn't hello.

[candy69gurl]

MISSING MOM? NAH

PAIRING Step dad!Gojo Satoru x gn!reader, Step dad!Toji Fushiguro x gn!reader, Step dad!Nanami Kento x gn!reader, Step dad!Geto Suguru x gn!reader, Step dad!Sukuna x gn!reader, Step dad!Shiu Kong x gn!reader, Step dad!Hiromi Higuruma x gn!reader, Step dad!Kamo Choso x gn!reader [seperate]

SYNOPSIS You've been missing your mum on Mother's Day, but stepdad is here to help you feel better. So he offers you his titties to suck on some consolation

WARNING stepcest, pre-established relationship, comfort, m!nipple sucking biting pinching, m!cumming in pants tits & hands, f!nipple playing and sucking, dry humping, handjob, reader asking for milk (Heian Sukuna lol), m!masturbation, m!overstimulation

NOTE this one's requested by my dear @imhellakawai.. We're just girls (with daddy issues) ... I laughed a lot while writing this.. Some people may find the contents unpleasant. Simply block and move on; please do not make disparaging remarks about me or report my post; if you do, prepare to get trolled by my moots. Please read the warnings and do not do this at home (duh).

◈ SATORU GOJO

Gojo enters the house. He's just returned from a mission. A mission on Mother's Day, of all days, had been a particularly cruel twist of fate. But it's not the praise or adrenaline that he's met with. Instead, the sound of sobbing fills the room as you pounce on him, your cries tearing at his heart..

"Hey, hey, baby," he says softly, kneeling in front of you. He gathers you into his arms, hugging you close. "It's okay, I'm here now."

You cling to him, the sadness and longing for your mother clear in your voice. "I miss mommmmmmmmm, pls daddy .. I need mommy," you wail, your body shaking with sobs.

He picks you up, cradling you in his arms as he blindly stumbles through the house, murmuring comforting words. "I know, I know, baby. It's tough without her. But I'm here for you, okay? I'll always be here for you."

Once he reaches your room, he closes the door behind him, enveloping you both in privacy and quiet. He lays you gently down onto your bed, following after you to sit beside you.

His hand reaches out, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek, wiping away the tears that continue to slip down. "You don't have to be sad," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "You have me. I'll be here for you, every step of the way."

Knowing that he can't replace your mother, Gojo draws strength from the idea that he can be there for you in his own way. He can't change the past, but he can make the present and future as comforting as possible.

Gojo scoots over next to you on the bed, gently laying you down. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his body, feeling your warmth and softness against him.

His heart aches for you, knowing how much you miss your mother. He kisses the top of your head, whispering softly, "I'll take you to your favorite restaurant tomorrow, promise baby. I'll spend the whole day with you. We'll go to the park, maybe take a walk through the city, and have as much fun as we can."

His voice is soothing, his promise of tomorrow's happiness a balm for your wounded heart. You start to relax in his arms, the weight of your sorrow lightening as he whispers sweet things in your ear.

"Sleep now, baby," he says, his hand gently stroking your hair. "I'll be right here."

Gojo drifts off to sleep, exhausted from his mission and the emotional weight of the day. He's still wearing his uniform, which now seems to serve as a barrier between him and the comfort of sleep.

In the middle of the night, your eyes flutter open, your sleep disturbed by the sight of Gojo, still and serene, his features soft in slumber. A pang of love and tenderness fills you, making you want to make sure he's as comfortable as possible.

Quietly, you reach out, your fingers working at the buttons of his uniform, unfastening it bit by bit. You're careful not to disturb him, your movements gentle and calculated. Once you've freed him from the confines of the uniform, leaving him in just his shirt and trousers.

You nestle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in deep, the scent of him enveloping you. Your hands slip under the hem of his shirt, resting on his skin. They travel up his neck, then down to his chest, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscles.

The sensation of his skin under your touch ignites something within you, a desire to explore, to connect. You unbutton his shirt, revealing his firm chest. You glance up at him, gauging his sleep. He's still deeply unconscious.

With a newfound bravery, you lean forward, your tongue darting out to trace the curve of one of his nipples. The sensation is electric, a shiver running down your spine. You close your lips around it, sucking gently, your tongue teasing it.

His hand comes up, wrapping around the back of your head, pulling you closer. His fingers thread through your hair, a soft moan escaping his lips. His other hand slides down your back, gripping your hip firmly.

Gojo's reaction spurs you on, your mouth traveling between his nipples, your tongue playing with them. You're lost in the sensations, the taste of him, the warmth of his skin. You're learning, but more than that, you're basking in the intimacy of the moment.

Gojo suddenly bursts into laughter, the sound filling the room. "Baby, what are you trying to do?" he says, the amusement in his voice apparent.

You pull back, flustered, your cheeks turning red with embarrassment. You realize he's awake now, and you hadn't even noticed. "I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.." Your voice trails off, unsure how to explain your actions.

Gojo's expression softens, his hand cupping the back of your head. "Baby, you've been missing mommy so bad that sucking on daddy's nipples is making you feel better?" He doesn't scold you for what you've done, for taking matters into your own hands. Instead, he pulls you back against his chest, his tone gentler now.

"Go on," he murmurs, his fingers tangling in your hair. "I'm liking it." He presses your face against his chest, encouraging you to continue. The approval in his voice, the warmth of his body, it calms the storm within you, reassuring you that you're not in trouble, that he's happy to share this intimate moment with you.

You resume your actions, your lips and tongue worshiping Gojo's nipples. Your eyes remain locked on his face, watching in the dim light as his cheeks flush with color, his pink petite nipples hardening beneath your touch. Your gaze drops, noticing his bulge against his pants, the outline of his erection straining against the fabric.

As your mouth works on his nipples, his hands reach down, rubbing at himself through his pants. You notice the way he's whimpering, twitching under your ministrations. You seize the moment, pushing him onto his back before climbing on top of him. Your hips grind against his hardening member, your mouth still busy on his nipple.

Gojo whimpers, trying to tell you to slow down, but you take it as encouragement, sucking even harder. Your tongue flicks over his nipple, and you gently nibble at it. You switch to the other nipple, repeating the motions, teasing him.

He tries to pry you off with his hands, gripping your hair gently, but you're determined, not letting him stop you. You pinch both nipples, twisting them between your fingers. Gojo arches his back, cumming through his pants, the evidence dampening the fabric.

Gojo gasps, his eyes wide, "Oh my, what a bad girl you are." Despite the teasing tone, there's an underlying sense of pride, of admiration, in his voice.

You purr, satisfied with the reaction you've elicited. You scoot closer to him, pressing kisses to his cheeks before snuggling into his arms. The warmth of his body envelops you, the rhythm of his breaths lulling you into a peaceful slumber. This time, you sleep soundly in his embrace, the ache in your heart starting to fade away.

◈ TOJI FUSHIGURO

The day stretches on, your sadness a tangible weight. Mother's Day is a cruel reminder of the loss that haunts you, the constant ache palpable as you sit on the couch, your phone providing a window to the world of mother-daughter relationships.

Toji notices your distress, the wetness on your cheeks and the tremble in your shoulders, but he remains silent, giving you space while he goes about his own business. It isn't until you let out a soft whimper that he can't bear your pain any longer.

"Come on ya, don't be a cry-baby now," he says gently, his voice a gentle reprimand. "You're much older." His tone is laced with affection, the concern evident in his eyes.

You cover your face with your arms, the humiliation of being seen in such a vulnerable state bubbling up inside you. "I'm sorry," you mumble, trying to hide your shame.

Toji approaches, his large frame casting a shadow over you as he sits down next to you. He slides an arm under your neck, pulling you onto his thighs, your head resting on his lap. His hand starts to work its way through your hair, a comforting and gentle gesture.

"It's okay," he reassures you, his thumb stroking your temple. "It's normal to miss her. I miss her too." His words are a balm, his touch soothing as you allow yourself to be consoled, the weight of the day slowly lifting.

Toji gently removes your hands from your face, taking the opportunity to wipe away the tears that cling to your eyes. His gaze is filled with compassion, the understanding in his eyes a testament to his own grief.

Without warning, you pull his head towards you, your lips capturing his in a tender kiss. Toji is caught off guard at first, but he returns the gesture, the comfort of human connection a balm for your sorrow.

You move from kissing his lips to the scar near his lips, your lips lingering on the familiar mark. When your sobbing subsides, you pull away from him, the desire for retribution sparking within you.

"You called me a cry-baby!" you retort, your voice tinged with indignation. In a sudden burst of energy, you pounce on Toji, straddling him on the couch. Your hands reach for his sides, your fingers dancing in a feeble attempt to tickle him.

Toji smirks, his hands wrapped around your waist, thwarting your efforts to tickle him. "It's true, you are a baby," he teases, the mocking light in his eyes intensifying.

Determined to make him pay for his mockery, you shift your focus to his chest, your teeth finding purchase on his nipple through his black tshirt. The action is bold, the bite hard enough to leave a mark.

Surprisingly, instead of the expected yelp, Toji lets out a low moan, the sound hanging in the air between you. The unexpected reaction leaves both of you momentarily stunned, the implications of your actions heavy in the room.

Toji releases his grip on you, clearing his throat awkwardly. You look at him, confusion clouding your expression, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

With a swift motion, you raise his tshirt, exposing his chest, and immediately set about sucking on his nipples. His eyes widen, his composure slipping a little at the sudden, intense attention you're lavishing on him.

Despite his attempts at restraint, Toji's arousal is evident, his erection straining against the confines of his pants. The way you tease him, alternating between sucking and licking his nipples, is tantalizing, making it increasingly difficult for him to ignore your advances.

Then, without warning, you take it a step further. Your teeth bite down on his nipple, following it up with a painful pinch. The resulting sound that escapes Toji's lips is a mixture of pain and pleasure.

The line between what's acceptable and inappropriate has been crossed, and Toji can no longer hold back. His hands grab you, forcefully pulling you off his chest and forcing you onto your back. Without hesitation, he lifts your shirt, exposing your sensitive breasts.

"Quit, brat. Now it's time for payback," he growls, his voice laced with a mix of dominance and desire. His mouth descends on your nipple, his tongue flicking against the hardened nub while his hand reaches for his pants, freeing his erection.

He strokes himself leisurely, his gaze never leaving your flushed face as he continues to suck on your nipples.

You moan softly, the sensations coursing through you leaving you breathless. You attempt to pull him away, but Toji remains resolute, his mouth firmly latched onto your nipple.

As his hand works his cock in tandem with his mouth on your chest, the tension between you builds. Your moans grow more desperate, the pleasure-pain of his actions leaving you both bewildered and intoxicated.

Finally, the dam breaks. Toji lets out a shuddered groan, his seed spilling onto your chest. The warmth coats your skin, the result of your actions etched on your body.

He releases hsi grip on your body, his breathing heavy, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of satisfaction and awe. The intimacy of the act is undeniable, the world beyond the confines of the room fading into insignificance.

You stare at the mess he's left on your tits, the implications of your actions sinking in. The dynamic between the two of you has shifted, the boundaries you've pushed a testament to the newfound uncharted territory you now occupy.

You sigh heavily, the weight of your grief bearing down on you once more. "Ghhh, I miss mom," you say again, your voice tinged with bitterness.

Toji lets out a frustrated sound, his hand coming up to slap his forehead. "For the love of God, shut up," he groans, his tone laced with exasperation.

◈ NANAMI KENTO

You tiptoe into Nanami's room, your eyes red and puffy from crying. He looks up from his book, concern etched on his face, as he notices your state. He sets the book aside, rushing to your side. Nanami kneels before you, placing a hand on your knee, "Honey, sweetheart, why are you crying?"

Your voice shaky, you tell him. "Today's Mother's Day, and I miss mom." Tears stream down your cheeks once more, the pain of missing your mother overwhelming you.

Nanami's eyes soften, and he feels a pang of sadness for your loss. "Come here, sweetheart. Tonight, you're sleeping with me. We can cuddle the pain away." He helps you up, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close.

You cling to him, grateful for the comfort he offers. Nanami leads you to the bed, gently laying you down. He adjusts the covers, tucking you in before climbing in beside you. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against his chest. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling safe and comforted by his presence.

Nanami begins to hum a soft tune, caressing your hair gently. The rhythmic motion lulls you into a sense of calm, your sobs subsiding. You nuzzle closer, enjoying the warmth and security his embrace provides. As the night wears on, his reassuring touch and the sound of his heartbeat slowly lull you to sleep, your heart heavy, but not quite as broken.

Feeling safe and snuggled against Nanami, you begin to drift off to sleep. Your eyes flutter closed, but something catches your attention. As you lay against Nanami's chest, you notice that his shirt buttons are ajar, and his nipples are exposed.

A shiver runs down your spine as your mind wanders what if I- and without a moment's hesitation, you lunge forward, getting on top of him. You wrap your lips around one of his nipples, sucking gently. Your tongue flicks against it, and a soft moan escapes your lips.

Nanami's grip on you tightens, momentarily stunned by your sudden, bold action. His brow furrows, but he allows you to continue for a few moments before whispering, "Do you miss mommy this bad?"

You pause, unsure of how to respond, but the wanton desire you feel doesn't abate. You nuzzle against him, smiling into his chest before continuing your play with his nipple.

Nanami's hands travel to your hair, gripping it tightly as he lets out an involuntary moan. "Gosh… stop now, tis' too much," he commands, his voice thick with desire.

You ignore his plea, unbuttoning more of his shirt to expose the other nipple. You switch to that one, sucking it hungrily as Nanami's moans grow louder. His breathing quickens, and you can feel the need building in him.

"Sweetheart, I c-can't anymore," he begs, the desperation in his voice unmistakable. You look up at his face, smiling devilishly as you see the strain in his pants. You realize he's on the verge of losing control, and he frees his cock, stroking it gently as you continue to suck his nipple.

Nanami's moans grow louder, and his breathing becomes more erratic. You can feel the tension in his body, and he finally cums, moaning as he strokes himself. You continue sucking even after his orgasm subsides, enjoying the reactions you've elicited.

Nanami pries you off this time, his hands firmly but gently removing your mouth from his nipple. "What the hell were you doing?" he asks, a mixture of amusement, surprise, and arousal in his voice. You look up at him, your eyes full of childish innocence, before planting a kiss on his nose.

You giggle, snuggling close to him once more, your arms wrapping around him. You drift off to sleep, nestled against his body, content in the afterglow of invasion of his nipples.

◈ GETO SUGURU

The day's significance weighs heavy on your heart, a constant reminder of the void left by your mother's absence. You resist the urge to break down in tears, not wanting to burden Suguru with your sorrows.

Yet, as the day progresses, the weight of your emotions becomes too much to bear. Suguru notices the change in your demeanor, his keen senses picking up on your distress.

Confronting you, he demands an explanation for your unsettled state, refusing to be brushed off. You hesitate, unsure of how he'll react. But in the end, the yearning to share your feelings with someone overwhelms your fear.

Your voice wavers as you confess your longing for your mother. The confession hangs heavily between you, the vulnerability on display a stark contrast to the usual power dynamic.

To your surprise, Suguru doesn't scoff or mock you. Instead, his laughter is tinged with sympathy, a rare display of emotion from him.

"It's alright, Y/N," he says, gently guiding you into his embrace. "I know what it's like to miss someone. Even sorcerers lose their loved ones."

His arms wrap around you, comforting you in a way that is both unexpected and welcome. The warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart meld with the rhythm of your own, creating a temporary haven from the world.

The tears you've been holding back finally spill over, the weight of your sorrows lightening with each drop. In this moment, your monkey status ceases to matter, and you're simply the non-sorcerer girl he loves the most.

As tears stream down your face, your fingers tighten around his gojogesa. When you finally glance up, you're met with Geto's unexpectedly kind gaze. "You know.. I'm a bit like your mother too, don't you think?" he gently suggests. You shake your head, unable to comprehend. He then adopts a playful pout, asking, "Why do you need your mother when you have me?"

You wipe your tears, your fingers leaving damp trails across your face. Caught off guard by the kindness in Suguru's eyes, you hesitate before responding.

Your thoughts whirl, searching for an answer to his question. "I don't know," you admit, your voice small and unsure. "It's just..." Your words trail off, unable to articulate the feelings that bind you to your mother.

Suguru pouts, a childish expression that softens the severity of his features. His gaze remains fixed on you, waiting for you to continue.

Your gaze lingers on his chest, drawn to the unseen nipples beneath the fabric. You swallow, a faint blush creeping up your neck. Your eyes focusing on the area you've found out, your curiosity piqued by the hardened nubs nestled beneath his clothing. Swallowing hard, you gather your courage and ask, "Can I touch these?"

He chuckles, the sound pleasant in your ears. Suguru unties the sash of his gojogesa, letting it fall open to reveal his bare chest. "Go ahead," he encourages, his voice low and commanding.

At first, you hesitate, the proximity to his skin making you feel self-conscious. Slowly, you reach out, your fingers trembling as they brush against his nipples. The sensitivity of the flesh causes his body to shudder.

Encouraged by his reaction, you apply gentle pressure, watching as his nipples react to your touch. They harden further, a stark contrast against his smooth skin.

Suguru's eyes close, the pleasure evident in the soft moan that escapes his lips. His chest rises and falls with every breath, the intimacy of the moment overwhelming.

Your curiosity leads you to act without thinking, your lips capturing one of his nipples. The sudden warmth and wetness surprise Suguru, his hand instinctively moving to caress your hair.

He holds back a surprised laugh, allowing you to continue. As you suck gently, his breathing deepens, his body reacting to the unanticipated stimuli. The sensation of your mouth against his nipple proves to be more sensitive than he'd imagined, and he can feel the stirrings of arousal in his loins.

His cock starts to swell, the fabric of his clothes straining to contain it. The hardening flesh presses against your thigh, a testament to your newfound skill.

Suguru's hold on your hair tightens, the pleasure coursing through his body making it difficult to form coherent thoughts.

The sensation of his erection sends a thrill up your spine, causing you to giggle sheepishly. Suguru returns your laughter with a smirk, his eyes heavy with desire. With quick movements, he pulls your top off, revealing your own breasts.

His large hands cup your breasts, fingers tracing circles around your nipples. You squirm under his touch, attempting to dislodge his hands. But his grip is firm, refusing to let go.

"Why did you stop?" he asks, his voice low and commanding, tinged with a hint of playfulness. "Don't you want to feel what I am feeling?"

The question piques your curiosity, and you press your mouth back onto his nipple. As you suckle, Suguru mirrors your actions, dragging his fingers across the other nipple. They continue to toy with your hardening nubs, the sensations building with each stroke.

The rhythmic and insistent play continues, both of you immersed in the dance of pleasure. The intensity escalates, culminating in a sharp intake of breath from Suguru as he reaches his climax.

His fingers tighten around your nipples pulling and pinching them, his seed spilling onto his clothes. The sudden combination of pleasure and pain from his grip makes you nibble on his nipple, the dual sensations intoxicating.

As the waves of ecstasy subside, both of you pull back, panting from the intensity of the encounter.

Bashful, you hide your face in his chest, the intimacy of the situation leaving you flushed and breathless. Suguru's fingers trail along your spine, a gentle caress that soothes your nerves.

In the moment of quiet, he asks, "Do you still miss your mom?"

Your voice is soft, tinged with a hint of sincerity as you respond, "N-no... not that much. Not when you're around."

A gentle chuckle emanates from his chest, and you can't help but join in. The shared laughter is a moment of vulnerability, healing the longing you have for your mother.

◈ RYOMEN SUKUNA

Today is Mother's Day, and the emptiness of missing your mother looms over you like a dark cloud. You feel lost, and the void inside your heart seems to stretch and grow, making you lash out in frustration. Uraume tries to comfort you, but it's no use. You're consumed by your sadness, and you begin to yell and scream, throwing a tantrum.

"WHERE IS DAD!" you cry out, your voice raw with emotion. Uraume, sensing your distress, tries to follow you, their small hands reaching out to you as if to calm you down. But you're too lost in your grief, and you keep running, your feet carrying you further and further away from the comfort of the temple.

You don't notice where you're going, your emotions driving you forward. Suddenly, you collide with a solid surface, the force of the impact knocking the wind out of you. As you regain your breath, you look up to find Sukuna squinting down at you, his expression unreadable.

"What did I tell you about screaming?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous. His four arms fold across his chest, and his eyes bore into yours, waiting for an explanation.

You frown, tears streaming down your face, "D-dad," you start slowly, your voice cracking. "I want my mom too, Uraume can't be my mom, I need my real mom. I'm so, so lonely." Your words come out in a rush, the weight of your emotions too heavy to bear alone.

Uraume sighs heavily as they approach Sukuna, their small hands fidgeting with their robes. "Lord Sukuna, she has been throwing her tantrums the whole day. I am tired now... you have to take care of her now," Uraume complains, their voice heavy with exhaustion.

Sukuna nods, his eyes never leaving you. He reaches down, his four arms wrapping around you, easily lifting you from your feet. You continue to throw your tantrums, hitting his back as hard as you can with your fists, but he remains stoic, unperturbed by your outburst.

As he carries you to his room, your sobs slowly die down, replaced by heavy, shaky breaths. Once inside, he gently sets you down on the bed, his eyes never leaving you.

"Listen, brat," he begins, his voice stern but laced with a hint of concern. "You don't get to throw tantrums just because you're my child."

But before he can finish, your emotions get the better of you again, and hot tears spill over your cheeks, tracking down your face. You bury your face against his chest, your body shaking with each sob.

Sukuna's eyes soften, and he kneels down beside the bed, allowing you to hide against his hard, muscular form. "Now now, don't cry, brat. I'm not scolding you. I'm just trying to-"

But his words are cut off as you suddenly latch onto one of his nipples, your lips wrapping around it, sucking it into your mouth. You cling to him, your grip tenacious.

Sukuna watches you for a moment, a mixture of surprise and amusement flashing across his features. His hand reaches up to gently stroke your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as you continue to suckle on his nipple.

"Ah, that feels nice, brat," he says, his voice a low rumble. He pulls back slightly, giving you better access to his chest. "Do you want to suckle like this, little one?"

You nod, cheeks drying as you continue to suck on his nipple, your mouth warm and wet against his skin. Sukuna relaxes, settling onto the bed, and you nestle against him, your body finally still as you find comfort in this primitive act. In the dimly lit room, you hold on to Sukuna, his heartbeat slow and steady beneath your cheek. As you nurse on his nipple, the sadness that had gripped you earlier begins to lift, replaced by a sense of warmth and security.

As you cling to him, your body still, you finally muster up the courage to ask, your voice small and muffled against his chest. "Daddy, can you... can you milk?"

Sukuna can't help but let out a booming laugh at your request, the sound echoing through the room. "You're missing your mother so much, huh?" he chuckles, the sound soft and amused. "I'm not her, so I cannot milk.."

He leans down to kiss the top of your head, his lips warm against your skin. "Go back to sleep now. You'll feel better tomorrow. And I promise, I'm not leaving you."

He nestles you closer, his strong arms wrapping around you, and you snuggle into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body, the beat of his heart, and the safety of his presence. His voice is a soothing lullaby, and soon, your eyes grow heavy, your body drifting off to sleep.

Sukuna's other arms wrap around you, his fingers gently massaging your back. "There, there," he coos, his deep voice soothing you further. "You're safe with me, little one."

The night stretches on, and you continue to suckle, slowly drifting off to sleep, your body lulled by the rhythm of his heartbeat and the comfort of his touch. For now, the emptiness of missing your mother fades into the background, replaced by the love and protection of Sukuna.

◈ SHIU KONG

The day drags on, your spirits dampened by the weight of your sadness. Today, of all days, feels like a cruel reminder of your loss. The celebration of motherhood is a painful sting, a wound that's reopened by the simple act of remembering.

Shiu senses the shift in your demeanour, his eyes sympathetic as he joins you on the couch, throwing his half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray. You're lost in your thoughts, staring blankly at the TV screen, when he speaks, breaking the silence. "It's a tough day, isn't it?" His voice is gentle, a stark contrast to the usual tone of authority.

You nod, your eyes brimming with unshed tears as you clutch a pillow close to your chest. "I miss her," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. The pain of losing your mother is a constant companion, one that fades with time but never truly disappears.

Shiu's response is immediate, his arms wrapping around you once more, pulling you onto his lap. His hand strokes your hair, an attempt to soothe the ruffled feathers of your heart. His kisses dot your forehead, a tender display of affection.

"I love you," he says, his voice soft and sincere. The words carry a depth of emotion, a promise that despite the circumstances, you are not alone. "Baby, I can do your mom and dad both, okay? Come on, what will make you feel better?"

Your gaze falls on his chest, his nipples pressing against his shirt, the sight momentarily distracting you from your sorrow.

Your hand hesitates, hovering over his chest for a moment before rising, your fingers tentatively brushing against his nipples. Shiu's eyes follow your movement, a hint of confusion coloring his expression.

The words tumble out, pleading and vulnerable, "Can I… will you let… me suck on them, please?" The request is unexpected, a confession of a secret desire, born from a place of grief and yearning.

Shiu's eyes widen, a perplexed expression crossing his features. However, he recovers quickly, nodding as he sits up, pulling his shirt over his head. His chest is revealed, smooth and toned, his nipples a darker hue against the pale skin. "Alright, go ahead. If that will make you miss your mom less."

His words linger in the air, the consent given, the door now open to your desire.

Your heart races as you lean forward, your lips parting as they close over one of the hard nubs. Your tongue flicks out, teasing the sensitive tip, the sensation of skin against your mouth unlike anything you've experienced before.

The taste of him, faint and slightly salty, is a shock to your senses, your mind hazy with the exploration of new territory. As you focus on the task, the ache of missing your mother begins to fade, replaced by a newfound sensation of comfort and intimacy.

The act is strange and all-consuming, your fingers tangled in the fabric of Shiu's pants, the sensation of your lips and tongue on his nipple sending shivers down his spine. His breath hitches, the unexpected turn of events stirring something within him.

His hand rests on your head, gently guiding you as you explore, the touch a mixture of reassuring and possessive. Shiu's body tenses, the involuntary reaction to the sensation you're providing.

The room seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you, connected by the intimate act, the chasm of your loss temporarily bridged by the strange comfort found in the act.

His voice comes out gruff, a mixture of embarrassment and awe in his tone. The admission is unexpected, revealing a side to him you've never seen.

You watch him, unblinking, sensing the shift in his demeanor. The layers of authority and strictness seem to falter for a moment, replaced by vulnerability.

"It's okay," he reassures you, his hand caressing your head gently once more. "It's just, you're awakening feelings I haven't felt in a long time." The confession is startling, the admission opening a door to a world previously unexplored.

The implications of his words swirl in your mind, the weight of the admission leaving you feeling a little shaky. The intimacy between the two of you deepens, the shared secret a bond unlike any other.

You continue your exploration, the newfound knowledge fueling your curiosity, the two of you falling further into the abyss of your connection.

As you continue your sensual ministrations, you become aware of Shiu's attempts to thrust his hips against you, a silent plea for more. Your curiosity piqued, you release his nipple from your mouth, your hands deftly navigating the path to his growing erection.

The feel of his hardness in your hand is electrifying, your fingers curling around the base, your thumb stroking the sensitive head. Your lips return to his nipple as your hand works in tandem, the dual stimulation driving him wild.

His breath hitches, his body arching into your touch, the restraint he's been exerting slipping. Shiu's whimpers fill the room, his need for release palpable. His fingers bury themselves in your hair, clinging to you as you drive him closer to the edge.

Finally, it happens. His body shudders, his hips bucking into your hand as he comes, the warmth of his seed coating your skin. A wave of relief washes over him, his grip loosening as he slumps back into the couch.

You release his nipple, your lips wet from your actions, your hand cradling his spent length. The intimacy of the act hangs heavy in the air, the boundaries you've crossed looming in the aftermath.

The scene is one of vulnerability, a shared secret now binding the two of you in a way that was previously unimaginable. The intensity of the moment is palpable, a new world opened by your exploration, your actions irrevocably changing the dynamic between you and Shiu.

◈ HIGURUMA HIROMI

You're sitting in your room, the dim light of dusk seeping through the curtains, painting shadows on the walls. Today, Mother's Day, should be brimming with warmth and love, but instead, it feels hollow and icy.

To compound matters, Hiromi, your stepfather, who should be offering solace, is absent too, absorbed in his work as usual. You know he's out there, tackling cases, serving justice to others, but in doing so, he's left you here, isolated, submerged in sadness. While a part of you comprehends his dedication to his job, right now, all you can feel is fury and bitterness.

You want to unleash your frustration on him, to question why he's not by your side, why he's prioritizing work over family on such an important day. But instead, you find yourself curled up on your bed, tears streaming down your face, the pain in your heart escalating with each passing second.

Hiromi returns home, greeted by an eerie silence. Something about it unsettles him, and he makes his way to your room, curiosity piqued. The moment he opens the door, he hears your quiet sobs, and his steps falter.

"Y/N?" he calls softly, his heart beginning to race.

You're curled up on your bed, tears streaming down your face, your posture tense with anger and sadness. Hiromi hurriedly rushes over and wraps his arms around you, lifting you gently from the bed in a warm embrace.

Your tiny hands attempt to push him away, your voice trembling with emotion.. "Put me downn! Leave me alone!"

Hiromi sets you back on your feet, but he doesn't move away. He waits, giving you space to compose yourself. "Why, baby?" he asks gently. "Why are you crying?"

You glare at him, wiping your nose roughly with the back of your hand. "Tis' mother's day, and you were not here for me." The words come out harshly, your tone betraying the vulnerability beneath. "It's not fair. No one ever thinks about me."

Hiromi's heart aches as he listens to your accusations. He reaches for you, gently pulling you close once more. "I'm sorry," he says sincerely, his voice a soft murmur against your hair. "I should have been here with you."

You tense up at his touch, unsure whether to lean into him or resist. He waits patiently, giving you time to process your emotions. "I know today is a difficult day," Hiromi continues, his arms still wrapped around you. "But I'm here now. Let me make it up to you."

Hiromi takes off his suit and crawls into bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you lay on your side. "I'm really sorry for not being here for you today. I promise to make it up to you from now on."

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead, then another to your temple. His lips trail down your neck, and he inhales deeply, taking in your scent. His words are a soothing whisper against your skin.

"I love you, and I'm always here for you, even when I'm not. You're my little girl, and I want to protect and care for you, always."

As he continues to shower you in affection, your anger starts to dissipate, replaced by a warmth in your chest. An idea forms in your mind, one that surprises even you. "Can I suck them, Daddy?" You point to Hiromi's nipples, catching him off guard.

His eyes widen, but there's a flicker of curiosity and desire in them. "I should take a shower before," he says, attempting to brush off your request.

Without giving him time to change his mind, you're already leaning forward, unbottoning his shirt, your tongue already tracing circles around one of his nipples. He's caught off guard by your boldness, but it's clear he's enjoying the sensation.

Hiromi's hand threads through your hair, fingers sifting through the soft strands as you lavish attention on his nipple. "Mmm, Y/N..," he breathes out, his voice thick with pleasure. "S-shit" His other hand slides down your back, his fingers kneading your flesh and pressing you closer to him. You smile against his skin, feeling in control for once.

As you continue to lavish attention on his nipple, you can't help but feel a jolt of satisfaction from the way he arches into your touch. His chest rises and falls with heavier breaths, signs of arousal that spur you on.

Hiromi's hand tightens in your hair, his grip firm yet gentle. "Is this my punishment?," he whispers, his tone laced with playful admonishment. "But I can't deny I enjoy this."

Determined to make him suffer your playful punishment, you suck harder on Hiromi's nipple, nibbling on it gently. His moan fills the room, and you can't help but smirk against his skin.

"Fine, fine," he gasps, his voice thick with desire. "You win. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'll take a day off just to spend it with you."

A triumphant smile spreads across your face as you pull away from his chest. Hiromi's admission of defeat is all the reward you need. "I'll be back after taking a shower," he tells you, his voice a sultry rumble.

Pouting, you lay back down on the bed, your mind already racing with ideas for the day he's promised you. You can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of spending an entire day with your stepdad.

As Hiromi heads to the shower, his thoughts aren't as chaste as they should be. The way you'd worshipped his nipple, sucking and nibbling, has left him aroused. He tries to quell his erection, his hand wrapping tightly around his cock.

His other hand moves to his nipples, lightly pinching them as he strokes himself. The shower's warm spray hits him, and Hiromi lets out a ragged sigh, giving into the pleasure as he continues to stroke himself, each motion a reenactment of the sensations you'd provided. He moans, his hips bucking slightly as he paints the shower tiles with his release.

Once he's cleaned up, Hiromi steps out of the shower, a satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He finds you sleeping peacefully in bed, a sight that fills him with affection.

Carefully, he dresses, then crawls into bed. Wrapping his arms around you, Hiromi rests his chin on top of your head, breathing in your scent. His body is lulled into a deep slumber by the soft rise and fall of your chest against his.

The thought of leaving you again is no longer an option. The memory of your playful punishment lingers, a reminder of how much it meant to you to have his undivided attention. Hiromi vows to make the most of the day he's promised you, never daring to leave you alone again on such a precious day.

◈ CHOSO KAMO

Choso was in the middle of his usual routine when he heard your soft sobs. He drops everything and rushes to you, finding you in tears. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, wrapping his arms around you.

You tell him that it's Mother's Day today and that you miss your mother. He feels your pain, and his heart aches for you. "You miss your mom, huh?"

He cradles you close, cooing softly as you cry into his chest. "It's okay to miss her. I do too, you know. She was a great woman." Choso strokes your hair, trying to calm your sobs. "She'd want us to be happy and continue living our lives." Even his eyes well up with tears, but he holds them back.

When you finally stop crying, Choso leads you to your room, a comforting smile on his face. "Alright, sleep baby. It's night time, and you need to rest."

He turns to leave, but you stop him with your request, "P-please stay with me tonight".

Choso's eyes soften as he understands your need for comfort. "Of course. I'll stay with you tonight, little one."

He lies down beside you, making sure you're tucked in and comfortable. He wraps an arm around your waist, his hand resting on your hip, giving you the feeling of security. "Go to sleep. Daddy's right here," he whispers, closing his eyes to keep vigil over you while you drift off to dreamless slumber. He's never felt so protective and nurturing towards another person, but he's always willing to do it for your sake.

Afte a while, you turn to face Choso, seeing him awake as well. He notices your distress and gently caresses your head. "Not sleeping yet?" His voice is soft and comforting, trying to reassure you.

You shake your head, admitting that you can't fall asleep. Choso cups your face, looking you straight in the eye. "Come on, baby. You don't need anybody else when I'm here. You're safe, and I'll always protect you." He tries to sing softly, but it's more of a hum. Your laughter at his attempt to serenade you makes Choso blush, and you kiss him on the cheek, your hands roaming his chest.

The thin fabric of his shirt reveals hardened nipples, and you can't help but notice. "They're hardening," you whisper, your fingers brushing over them. Choso's eyes widen, unsure of what you're referring to. "What?"

You grin at his confusion, leaning in closer. "Your nipples." With that, you take one into your mouth, sucking gently through his thin shirt. Choso gasps, the unexpected sensation sending shivers down his spine. "Y/N..." he murmurs, unsure of how to react. He's never experienced anything like this before, and your intrusive thoughts have led to a new discovery between the two of you. Choso's body is reacting in ways he doesn't fully understand, but his protectiveness and care for you haven't wavered.

Choso's cock twitches as he lets out a soft moan, whimpering like a baby at the sensation. You're enticed by his reaction, pushing his top away to suck his nipple directly. He arches his back, a string of curses escaping his lips. "G-goddammit, fuck! Hngh!" His body tenses as he accidentally cums in his pants, panting heavily.

Surprised by his reaction, you straddle him and continue sucking his nipples, your hands stroking his slicky shaft, now free from his pants. Choso gasps, feeling a heightened sensitivity. "Baby, no more. I get it. You miss your mom. Now stop," he whimpers, his hands attempting to pull you off. His efforts are in vain.

You continue to play with his cum-covered cock and lick his neck, moving back to his nipples. Sucking them as if you're a milk pump, you enjoy the reaction you're getting from Choso. His body writhes underneath you, a mix of pleasure and discomfort.

He's never experienced anything like this, and the intense emotions he's feeling are growing. Despite his attempts to stop you, he's also enjoying your attention, the line between pain and pleasure blurred.

Choso's hips thrust against your hand as his fingers wraps around your head, urging you to suck his nipples harder. Your other hand pinches his other nipple, tease his earlobes. The sensory overload is too much, causing him to cum again, this time all over your hand.

You pull your mouth away, both of you breathing heavily. You giggle, feeling a sense of satisfaction from your actions. Choso looks at you, panting, as if you're a devilish baby. He can't help but laugh along with you, the tension breaking.

You both collapse into each other, exhausted and satisfied. The night air envelops you as you fall into a deep sleep, the events of the night unfolding a new connection between Choso and you. His protectiveness has blossomed into something deeper, subtly changing the dynamic between the two of you.

dividers from @/cafekitsune

[ssahotchnerr]

could we maybe get some momfriend!reader and jack dynamics, maybe from before her and Aaron were even together?

something special

<333 cw; fem!bau!reader, very tiny blood description (& yes i know you're supposed to wash a paper cut right away but for the sake of the setting and aaron being cute i didn't include that step 😭), mentions of haley, mutual pining

"whatcha drawing?" you asked mid-writing, your pen flying across your paper but still finding the opportunity to peek over.

"spiderman and superman." jack replied happily, switching from a red to a blue crayon. "see, they're teaming up to fight the bad guy because he keeps doin' crimes."

about an hour or so ago, jessica had dropped off jack at the bau. long story short; she was called into work urgently and with aaron in a meeting, you were quick to volunteer yourself to keep him company. rather than cramming into the small space of your desk, and jack potentially hearing conversations or details not fit for a six year old, you've made home in the roundtable room. you could work, jack could color.

you had also fired off a quick text to aaron; letting him know jack was with you, a brief synopsis of the situation and where he could find you both once his meeting concluded. it had, and he was about to join, but found himself pausing outside the door, listening to your easy, lighthearted conversation for just a moment.

when it came to you and jack, there was just something about it. something extraordinarily special.

"i see," you nodded along to jack's words, an encouraging smile on your face. "that's really good. since when did you become an artist?"

"since always." jack grinned proudly.

"then you have to promise you'll make me a drawing soon. my desk is pretty boring, i need something to brighten it up." you held out your pinky, eyebrows raised. "promise?"

"i promise." jack linked his pinky with yours, and turned back to his masterpiece with renewed vigor.

a sense of warmth filled aaron's chest, the ends of his lips turning upwards into a faint smile at the natural bond you and jack had developed so quickly, over the course of a few weeks. deciding it was as good a time as ever to join, aaron reached out to fully open the door when a wince-gasp came from jack, stopping him.

"oh no," your head turned. "paper cut?"

jack nodded meekly, grimacing as his gaze shifted to you. his big, sweet eyes were tearful, "it stings."

"can i see?" he offered his hand limply, hanging downwards at the wrist. you cradled his small hand in yours; it was just a tiny cut - no more than a few centimeters, a faint line of red gradually seeping to the surface.

"hm, well," you huffed a breath, turning his hand face-up face-down - vaguely exaggerating the examination. you got up to retrieve the first-aid kit stationed in the room, aaron sidestepping a bit to keep out of potential view. "i think luck was on your side today, i don't think we'll have to amputate this time." you spoke with an airy tone, quick to bring light to the situation. it worked, jack stifling a laugh as you retook your seat. "nothing a bandaid can't fix."

there was the click of kit opening, a slight shuffle of what sounded like paper.

"and don't tell anyone i told you this," you applied a bit of ointment onto the bandaid before wrapping it onto his finger - not too tight or too loose, all to avoid cutting off circulation and to let the wound breathe. "we gotta keep extra band aids around because your dad always seems to get one himself."

"dad gets paper cuts? really?" jack's eyes widened in surprise.

just as his son, a breathless chuckle exited aaron; that wasn't necessarily true, but your intentions were clear: cheering jack up.

in addition, the last time he had heard someone talking to or interacting with jack like this - empathetically, attentively, motherly, was, well... haley.

it touched the usually unattended part of his heart that had been vastly empty since the divorce. since that one, horrible day. while the emptiness still lingered, you had made a pull at it. for a moment, you had healed it, even.

again, there was just something special about you. and again, the only way aaron could describe it was extraordinary.

"really." you nodded convincingly, tossing the little plastic scraps into the nearby trash bin, giving top of jack's hand a consoling pat. "it happens all the time."

aaron mentally rolled his eyes at that, a smile itching at his lips.

jack picked up his brown crayon, pain forgotten, eager to get back to his drawing. "i'm gonna draw daddy and put a bandaid on him. he's a superhero too, y'know?"

"yeah," your smile was rather bashful, your tone of voice so admirable it caused a blush to rise in aaron's cheek. "i know."

[luveline]

if your still taking requests I would like to request reader scraping their knees and tasm!peter patching her up and it’s a lot of lovely tension:))) maybe r not being used to people touching them without bad intentions.

I hope you are having a lovely time right now and are taking care of yourself<3

thank you lovely! ♡ fem, 1k

Peter's droopy eyed when you knock, less so when he gets a good look at you. Blood leading like twin snakes from the grazed ache of your knees and staining your socks, tears lining your eyes and shiny in the sun, you're embarrassingly sad. He doesn't give you shit for it, the opposite. 

"Fuck," he says, his eyes widening with a familiar concern. "Shit, what did you do?" 

"Uhm," you say, though you know, but you bit your tongue on the way down and everything hurts, "I fell. Someone bumped into me coming out of the subway." 

Peter holds his hands out, thinks better of it and steps down over the door jam to take your hands and pull you forward for a hug. He smells like apple jack cereal and his hair is still wet from an early morning shower, a walking poster boy for brown-haired, brown-eyed sweethearts everywhere, but you still seize at his tight hold. 

He murmurs a sorry and leans back, assessing your gaze, so close that you can see the trifecta of his pinprick beauty marks, one in the shadow of his brow, one under his eye, and one closer to his nose. 

"Come on. We'll clean you up." 

Peter ushers you inside, his fingertips brushing the small of your back. You walk into the kitchen, every surface clean, the wooden dining table decorated by one empty coffee cup and one half full. His cereal bowl has been washed and left to dry on the rack, next to what must've been his Aunt May's plate. 

"May's in work already?" you ask him.

He hums, turned away from you, a slip of his long, shapely back exposed as he reaches for the first aid kit sitting on top of one of the cabinets. "She said to tell you thank you for the flowers last week." 

You panicked so much beforehand. What do you bring for your not quite new friend's mom when you meet her for the first time? You've known Peter for a few months but never had the good fortune to meet May until she demanded it, your bouquet a weak offering. You'd wanted her to like you, because despite your fight or flight whenever he gives you a quick shoulder rub, any ounce of affection, you really like Peter. 

Said flowers draw your attention as Peter helps you up onto the counter. You turn away from him, trembling hands forced under your thighs, and count the petals of a wilting carnation one by one as he washes his hands quickly in the sink beside you before laying out the sterile bandages atop their plastic coverings. "I'm gonna wipe the blood off," he says. 

You're past saying no, I can do it myself. You already let him help you up. The time to protest is passed. 

"Okay." 

He takes your wobbly voice for nervousness, and you are nervous, but not the way he thinks. "I'll be careful," he says. "You don't have anything to worry about." 

Strange but not unheard of for Peter to be so serious. You nod jerkily, waiting for his touch. It doesn't come for a while, and you brave meeting his gaze to find out why. 

His eyebrows are sewn together in concern. His hands land on your thighs, and, to your surprise, you aren't apprehensive. You relax as deft hands draw mirrored lines up and down the outer sides of your legs, leaving a generous distance from the beginnings of your shorts. "Maybe you can take some advil first, if you're worried." He eases your legs apart as he steps into the space between them, his eyes unfailing where they meet yours. "It'll hurt less. I bet I could get some topical numbing cream–" 

"It's not–" You peek down at his chest. "I'm not worried about my knees." 

"Oh. Good," he says, hand coming up to your elbow. He holds it so tenderly you wonder how you ever thought he might have a propensity for anything but tenderness. "You look really nice, under all the blood. Is that weird? That's probably why you fell, you couldn't just walk around looking that nice. Throws off the balance of the universe." 

You laugh softly. "These are my best socks." 

"I can see that!" He squeezes down from your elbow to your hand. You've never been touched like that, half massage, half reassurance, just squeezing you to squeeze you. Laughter livens his tone, "I'll get you new socks." 

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to." 

You struggle to breathe as he cleans your knees. Between his murmuring, It's okay and Almost done, you've no time to feel worried. 

You've time for other things, like this. He turns between your legs and slides a hand under the other, fingertips pressing into the soft underside of your knee as he works a thin layer of disinfecting ointment into your scratches. He continues his murmuring, apologies and lamentation alike. "Sorry. Don't want you catching rabies from the pristine streets of Queens. I mean, fuck, sweetheart, you made a real mess. How hard did you fall?" 

You swallow a lump that feels fit to choke you, worse when he tilts his head ever so slightly your way, face an inch from yours, less. 

"Hard," you say weakly. 

He misses the implication (your first stroke of luck all day), smoothing a large square of gauze over your knee and securing it with medical tape. "It's nothing a day on the couch can't fix. I'll make you breakfast too, free of charge." 

"Thanks, Peter." 

He rubs the skin above your knee. "You're welcome. One horrendous injury down, one to go." 

His touch feels even softer the second time around. 

[sincerelyyycece]

hey, are u still there?...good.

Y/N inevitably finds themselves settling into James's backburner.

note: modern au, inspired by niki's song, "backburner.", lily evans is briefly mentioned, here's what i promised you guys mwa mwa!

sincerelyyycece © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

Y/N had always been the "backburner," the second choice, especially James’s second choice. She was the one he turned to when his first plans fell through—the one who was always there but never the priority. She was used to it and had grown comfortable in the role.

Right now, she's sent at least 15 messages to him.

Hey?

Can we meet up? I have some great news to tell you.

Hellooo.

You're probably busy. Text me when you can.

James?  Did something happen?

Nevermind, I'm probably overthinking it.

I'll just tell you here.

I got the internship :)

Delivered. Gazing at her screen, she sighed with a sense of familiarity. This repetitive pattern felt more like a routine or a game to her. The 'How long till he talks to me again?' Game, as she calls it. Setting her phone aside, she sought distraction from the mundane task of doing laundry.

A moment later, her phone chimed, drawing her attention. With a swift motion, she turned towards it. Hastily, she wiped her damp hands and cleared her throat before uttering, "Hello?" On the other end, she could hear faint shuffling before a familiar voice greeted her, "Hey, Angel." The affectionate nickname warmed her heart. "Just got your text. Congratulations!" he exclaimed. A soft "thank you" escaped her lips in response. His greeting sent a wave of warmth through her. "Apologies for not replying sooner. I was with..." He paused, clearing his throat. Her mood dimmed at the mention of another name. "With someone. I was with someone.”

Lily, always the first choice, James's top priority, the standard against which she measures herself. "Yeah, sure," she responded, lacking enthusiasm. "Mm-hmm," he trailed off. "So, do you want to celebrate? We could go out to eat or stay in and watch a movie," he suggested. "I'm not really feeling up to it right now. I'm pretty tired." There was a rustling sound on the phone once more. "Look, if this is about earlier, I apologize, alright?" he said. "Lily had some things going on and wanted to meet up, so we did." There it was again. Everything revolves around Lily.

"Um, yeah, I understand," she stuttered, trying to articulate her thoughts. "It's not that, James. I'm just exhausted from chores," she explained, glancing subtly at her unfinished laundry pile. "Y/N, come on. Let me make it up to you," he pleaded earnestly. "Pretty please," he persisted. She shook her head, amused, and relented, saying, "Okay, okay." Through the phone, she could hear his small yet enthusiastic 'yes.' "Order some takeout. We'll have a cosy night in with a movie," she suggested. "Yes, ma'am. I'm on my way," he joked lightly. "Take care." With that, she hung up and returned immediately to her laundry task.

Following that day, they continued hanging out. She pondered over the abrupt shift in their dynamic. It was uncharacteristic for her, yet she relished every moment spent with him. He delighted her by taking her to places she longed to visit and presenting her with gifts tailored to her preferences. He seemed to be doing everything right. However, as she prepared for a movie night tonight, a disheartening text message appeared on her phone. Hey, something came up. I have to reschedule. Sorry. She sighed, feeling a tinge of disappointment. Perhaps she should have anticipated this turn of events.

Sure, we can reschedule. she replied, her eyes brimming with tears. As they cascaded down her cheeks that night, she found herself immersed in a sea of sorrow. The following morning, she anticipated a message from him, but none arrived. Disheartened once more, she resolved not to reach out again. Days turned into weeks, with silence echoing his absence. It seemed as though he had vanished from her world. Or so she believed. Suddenly, her phone interrupted her reading, and without lifting her gaze from the book, she answered, "Hello?”

"Hey, are you still there?” echoed the familiar voice in her ears. Pausing, she glanced at the caller's ID. 'James :)' flashed on the screen. With a soft hum, she replied. His sigh reached her ears before he responded, "Good." Once more, she felt relegated to the sidelines in his priorities or had she truly ever moved from that place? Despite the familiar sting of disappointment, Y/N responded, "Yeah, I'm still here, James." His sigh of relief was almost audible across the line, and for a fleeting moment, she felt herself soften.

"I'm sorry, Angel," he murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of regret and something else she couldn't quite place. "I've been...busy." Busy, always busy. But she knew what that meant. Lily. Yet, she found herself replying, "It's okay, James. I understand." She knew she was settling for less, allowing herself to be on the backburner once again. But the truth was, she couldn't help it. She was drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, willingly choosing to dance on the edges of his life, even if it meant getting burned time and time again.

So, she swallowed back the hurt and disappointment, offering him a smile he couldn't see. "We can catch up soon, okay?" She suggested, her voice steady. There was a brief silence before he answered, "Yeah, that sounds good. I'll see you soon, Angel." With that, the call ended, leaving her with the familiar echoes of his promises. She sat alone in the silence of her room, her heart heavy yet hopeful. As she closed her eyes, she knew, deep down, that she was still James's second choice, his backburner. But for now, for better or worse, that was a role she was willing to play.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Flag

Frida Maanum x Emma Lennartsson x Child!Reader

Summary: Frida gets a surprise

There's something about the atmosphere at Borehamwood that Frida likes. Maybe it's the pitch or the changing room or something else. But, secretly, Frida thinks it's the fans.

They turn out in droves, filling the stands and lining up for hours to get in.

The fans are perfect and the signs are funny too.

Frida likes the flags the best though. It's not often that she sees a Norwegian flag in the stands. Plenty of English flags and Ireland flags too (Katie seems to have a never ending amount of fans from Ireland flying over just to see her play).

It's always a nice day to see a Norwegian flag in the crowd. They don't even have to be the big ones hanging over the railings or the ones that fans would give her to wear around her shoulders.

Any flag, big or small, was always welcome to see in the stands.

Frida thinks they make her play better. She sees it and she almost always scores a goal or assists someone else's.

Just like today.

She'd spotted it in the second half, a little handheld flag being waved over by the seated area. She thinks a kid is holding it but it's too far away to properly see.

But the ball was at her feet and then suddenly it was in the back of the net and, as Frida celebrated, she knew it was seeing her flag that got her through it all.

She sees the flag again when the match is over, waving back and forth.

She follows the flag to a little hand. The hand to an arm. The arm to an Arsenal shirt. The Arsenal shirt up to two chubby little cheeks and those chubby cheeks to a very familiar face.

Frida's moving again before anyone can stop her. Stina tries to talk to her but Frida doesn't wait. She's not meant to hop the barrier but she does.

She takes the steps two at a time before reaching the little girl with the flag, crushing her into a hug.

"Hi, Mama," You whisper against her.

"Hi, squishy," Frida says to you. She lifts her head up to rest her chin on your head, looking at Emma. "Hi."

"Hello," Emma chuckles," Good surprise?"

"The best surprise."

Frida releases you but you don't move, happy to curl into her body.

"Did you see my flag, Mama?" You ask," I bought it just for you!"

"I did see it, squish," Frida says. One arm wraps around you again while the other reaches out for Emma. "I scored that goal for you, you know."

You giggle. "Silly, Mama. You don't know we were here!"

"But I saw your flag," Frida insists," And that made me score my goal. Thank you, squish."

You smile at her, a big smile that has Frida raining kisses down on your face. "It was a good goal, Mama. Mummy was very happy."

Emma's face goes a little red at that but Frida doesn't care about teasing her right now, more than happy with you in one arm and Emma's hand in her own.

"I'm glad," Frida says, looking down at you again," I'm glad my girls are happy."

"I'm always happy to see you, Mama!"

She isn't quite sure why but Frida chokes a little, trying to force down her tears so you don't notice but you do.

"Mama," You say," You're crying."

"Happy tears, squish," She assures you," I am very happy that you and Mummy decided to surprise me."

"We woke up very early," You say to her," And then we got on a plane."

"It's been a long day," Emma agrees. She draws you away from Frida and you go willingly. "Go and get changed and we'll head home."

"Come with me," Frida blurts out.

"Home?" Emma asks in amusement," I assumed we were already doing that."

"No, I mean to the locker room. I don't think I can cope being separated now."

Emma bounces you on her knee. "Would you like that, squish? Going into the locker room with Mama?"

You nod, head bobbing up and down. "Yes, please."

Emma gets up and settles you on her hip so you're comfortable. She keeps her fingers threaded with Frida's as she's guided through the halls and into the locker room.

Most of the girls have already come in so Frida's one of the last and everyone stares when she leads you and Emma in.

You've met the Arsenal girls before but you're not too familiar with them because you live in Sweden with Mummy most of the time, going with her to practice at Linköping.

So, you get put in Mama's cubby as she changes. She makes silly faces at you while Mummy talks to a few people she knows.

Mama was wearing a red Arsenal shirt like yours. She always gets you a new one whenever the new kit launches so you can match.

You don't see Mama in person a lot because her life is in England but she always calls every night to read you your bedtime story. She does all the voice correctly and she always makes you laugh.

You like that you get to have your favourite stories read to you in person tonight.

"Ready to go, squish?" Mama asks.

"Yes, Mama. We going home now?"

Frida beams at you. "Yes, we're going home."

[villainousauthor]

Villain hums thoughtfully as they circle around Hero, who's currently staring off, looking despondent.

"They should have come to rescue you by now." Villain speaks in a matter-of-fact tone, their eyes burning into Hero.

"They should have...I thought they would have by now." Hero looks to the ground, trying to fight the burning in their throat, the sting of their unshed tears.

It's been weeks since Hero was taken, and so far, their team hasn't even attempted to come for them. Hero kept telling themself it was only a matter of time, but the more the endless days and nights at Villain's hideaway blur together, the more they realize the truth. Help is not coming.

Villain lets out a noise of frustration and stalks towards Hero again.

"They should have by now! Where is your team? They're your allies, are they not?" Villain rakes a hand through their own hair, looking to Hero for an answer.

All Hero can manage in response is a half-hearted shrug. Villain's frown deepens, brows draw down into an expression of irritation.

Noticing Villain's anger, Hero looks up at them defiantly, trying to fight the urge to cry still yet.

"If keeping me here this long really bothers you, you can just let me go. I don't need you rubbing it in that my team isn't coming." They try to make their words as biting as possible, but they can't help the wobble in their voice.

Villain lifts a brow, surprised by Hero's words. "I'm not upset with you, and I'm certainly not complaining about keeping you to myself," their words were smooth and deadly, tone dropping as they spoke, "But your team? I have half the mind to tear them apart right about now."

Sauntering forward, they use their arms to back Hero in against the chair, leaning closer. "I'm furious at them for abandoning you to my devices. If I was any other villain, or if I was any less fond of you, do they even know what would have become of you by now? They don't care about your fate at all."

Lip trembling, Hero can feel the tears they fought against so much finally beginning to run at Villain's words. Sniffling, they try to hide their face, hide their weakness as their shoulders shake. They've been abandoned. The thought threatens to suffocate them as they try and hold back sobs.

"Oh love," Villain's voice was a soft coo now, spoken closer to their ear. A strong but gentle hand goes to Hero's wrist, prying their hand away from their face. Villain's face is inches away from them now, meeting their tearful eyes, looking at them with an emotion they can't place.

Villain brings a finger up, wiping a tear from their cheek. "Don't cry, love. You're safe here. I'll take good care of you since your hero friends evidently can't." They softly murmured and pressed even closer.

"But-" Hero tried to speak but was quickly cut off by a finger to their lips.

"Shhh...don't worry about it. I'll make sure they pay for the pain they caused you," Villain runs a thumb across their lower lip, fingers caressing their jaw. They tilt Hero's chin up gently, not letting them look away or hide their crying. They lean in close, kissing a tear away softly. Hero tries to turn away yet again and feels Villain's hand tighten ever so slightly, but they lean back, voice still gentle as they speak again.

"In the meantime, we'll make sure you're comfortable. You'll be staying with me for a while."

[opluffys]

Leading Score-

somethin quick, posted first to my archive. pls let me know if there are any errors or if it copied weird. pls enjoy <3

tags- size kink, size difference, creampie, vaginal sex, rough sex, desk sex, fem reader.

2.3k words.

-Ghost x Reader-

-smut/nsfw-

As you had graded papers from your young students, you idly hummed as you noted how most of the scores had went up. Regarding spelling, it had been some of your kids weaker points, but after practicing with them one on one, they had gotten better, much to your pleasure.

"Done!"

You looked up from the monotonous tone of black on white, quickly writing a red mark next to the misspelled 'contree', you smiled warmly and took Joseph's paper.

"That was quick, sweetie. You could've taken until your daddy came to pick you up." You said, looking down at his exam and clicking your red pen.

"I'm fast." He smiled, sitting back in his small desk and chair, kicking his legs wildly as he awaited your feedback.

And however badly you wished to give him a full twenty out of twenty on his exam, spelling was one of the things that Joseph had struggled the most with. You knew he wouldn't improve overnight, which is why you were hopeful for tonight.

Even though it wasn't parent-teacher conference night, Joseph had been chirping, 'my daddy is picking me up today, and then we'll get ice cream.' before hearing a cacophony of envious groans. It had you laughing, yet hatching a quick plan to discuss Joseph's struggles with his father. You already had a small packet labeled 'trouble words' to give to his father, hoping they'd be able to practice over the long weekend.

Seeing as Joseph had been bored at his desk, you called him over to give him some puzzles or colouring sheets to do. He eagerly thanked you before returning to his seat, noisily scribbling on the paper.

Quickly finishing grading his spelling errors, he'd gotten a thirteen out of twenty. It'd been a wild and vast improvement from his other exams, but you knew he could do better.

You stood up and walked over to Joseph's desk, ruffling his hair and placing a small lollipop on his table. "You did better, honey. But I want you to practice more, can you promise me that?" You crouched down to his level, talking to him in a soft and understanding tone, a warm and inviting smile on your face. It had made him feel comfortable, not scolded, not 'do better', no. He'd wanted to do this on his own, seeing as he had nodded furiously, telling you that he'd do perfect on the next one.

You took his exam and walked outside of your classroom, leaning against the wall and waiting for Joseph's father to show. School had been finished for a while, the extracurricular activities ending early due to the extended weekend.

Out of your peripheral, you'd seen a tall figure walking towards your class. He had caught your eye easily, since the man was extremely tall and well built. As he'd gotten closer, you noted how he wore a balaclava with a skull pattern over the material. An interesting, choice to wear to an elementary school, but to each their own, you supposed.

"Mr. Riley, before you take Joseph, can we talk about how he's doing in class?" You inquired, quickly checking on the adorable child idly drawing on his papers before continuing the conversation with his dad.

"I'm not his old man." He said, voice low and gravelly as he held your stare.

Before you were able to ask what his relation was, he quickly replied that Joseph was his nephew.

"Oh! Then you must be Simon." You smiled, resisting the urge to tear your eyes away from him, seeing his dark eyes change expression for a moment, wondering how you knew who he was.

"Emergency contacts." You quickly added, chuckling awkwardly. He only offered you his cold stare, waiting for you to continue. "Well, if it isn't too much trouble, can you relay this to Joseph's dad for me?" You timidly asked, the tall man's presence causing you to feel skittish.

He gave you a curt nod, his shoulders relaxing as he stepped closer to you, looking at the paper in your hands. "Joseph struggles a lot with spelling," You almost choked on your words as you felt his arm brush against your shoulder, attempting to find your words once more, "as does his classmates. But I know he can show further improvement if he can practice at home." You showed him Joseph's test, his hand connecting with yours briefly before he took it in his larger one.

He hummed lowly, reading over his mistakes. "I have a packet of tough words for him that he'll need to practice," You went back into your classroom, hearing Simon's impossibly quiet steps echo behind you.

"Honey, your da-" You caught yourself before making the mistake, "uncle, is here." Though, you didn't really need to tell him, seeing as Joseph shot up from his seat to run over to Simon, hugging him tightly.

"Hey kid." His voice was soft, still low and rough, but that was just how he'd always sound. Seeing such a thing made your heart melt, having to quell the want to 'aww' at the sight unfolding, the huge man embracing such a tiny child endearing yet comical.

"It was nice to meet you." You said, handing Simon the packet, "And you," You laughed, looking down at Joseph, "keep your promise to me."

"I will!" He happily beamed, a toothy grin shining up at you.

You waved the two goodbye, turning to go back into your class and continue the long trek of finishing up your students papers. You had also wanted to enjoy your weekend, placing work on the back burner as you got lost in endless glasses of wine.

•

Never in your years of teaching had you ever expected a parent-teacher meeting to end like this, never.

Bent over your desk and crying out as you felt Simon behind you, large hands on the fat of your hips as he slammed into you. Your hands grasped at the edge of the wood desk, glossy eyes popped wide open as you felt his fat cock stretch you open inch by delicious inch.

How you two had went from talking about Joseph's amazing and impressive progress in class to him whispering the most vile things in your ears, an impressive feat. But you'd be a filthy liar if you hadn't been thinking of you and him in this very position.

"Simon..." You moaned, laying your tear stained cheek onto your desk, wetting any loose papers that remained. You almost sobbed when you felt his big hand slap your ass harshly, rubbing in small circles to soothe the stinging supple flesh.

His hard and toned muscles were flush against your softer back, his masked forehead pressing against your shoulder. His deep grunts and groans were right into your ear, having you squeeze him tightly, dragging him in deeper. Just the fact that he was so big had you unraveling on his fingertips. His hoarse and low voice telling you to be a 'good girl and push yourself against the desk.'

What else could you do but oblige?

"Fuck, you're tiny." He cursed, accented voice directly against your ear, his deep breaths and sounds repeating in your head again and again. You lost your words, brain just muddled thoughts and him in your head. You just mewled in response to his words, already aware of the fact that the differences in sizes between you two was evident. Evident in how his entire hand seemed to swallow the skin at your hip whole, how his shadow enveloped your own, he was just so big.

Tears continued their flow down your heated cheeks as you felt his dick assault your insides. Wet and warm walls clamping down on him with a vice-like grip, the hot sliding of his cock deep inside you having you cry out to him. Your blouse had been bunched up and held by Simon as he anchored himself to it, his hold on the fabric tight as his pace never faltered.

Your mixed sounds had been heard, skin against skin reverberating around the walls. Your heat taking him in and out hung embarrassingly in the room, your sounds louder as his hips continued to meet your backside. He watched, mesmerised at seeing your body recoil in response to his movements, how despite your smaller stature, you took his large girth, in fact, you'd wanted more.

The feeling of being stuffed to the absolute brim, or rather well past it, had you seeing stars. You don't remember the last time you'd been fucked like this, so raw and primal like. Losing your ability to form cognitive thoughts, the only thing that you'd been able to say was quiet, meek curses and affirmations.

To further your pleasure, he snuck a hand under you, pressing hard on your abdomen, pressing your insides against his cock. You almost screamed, his hot hand against your stomach had you reeling, your pussy squeezing his cock tightly at his touch.

"So good," You sobbed, knuckles blanching at how harsh your grip had been, he was so deep inside of you, too far. You wondered if you should curse him, as no other individual would surely match him in bed ever again, shattering your expectations of any other man permanently.

Your back had arched as you felt your high quickly approaching, sobbing when you felt his flushed head kiss flush against your womb, having your painted nails claw at the wooden desk. Crying his name out in broken sobs, stringing your words together pathetically as he unraveled you with his cock.

His hands around your soft body tightened, hearing the threads of your blouse rip, it's buttons loosening from its rightful position and scattering onto the ground. It'd been one of your favourites, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care, not with such a huge cock splitting your insides, having you yell out to him like a mantra.

When you felt him slam directly into that spot nestled within you, that bundle of nerves that had you seeing double, you nearly screamed, burying your head into your folded arms. You had to bite your wrists, you throat growing raw at all of your screaming, muffled whimpers spilled from your lips, eyes watering as you felt him ram into that spot with unknown precision.

He took both of your hands in his lone one, using your own wrists to hold onto while he continued to fuck you into the desk. "None of that, wanna hear you." He huffed, groaning when he felt you squeeze him tightly at his words.

You quietly moaned, your aching throat unable to produce sound at this point. Your fingers clasped and laced with your opposing hand, making it easier for him to hold onto your wrists. Grounding himself against you, his pace sped up, his length slamming into you over and over, it was too much, too good.

Your teary eyes etched closed, that familiar knot deep in your abdomen beginning to loosen, disentangling with every drag of him inside. Your gummy walls tightened around him, that pressure within finally ridding, just feeling pure bliss. Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, rough waters eventually calming as your slick trickled down your spread thighs.

"That's it, take it," He cursed lowly, feeling your velvety heat clamp down on him, "doin' so well for me." You had no choice but to lay there and take it, take him. But you'd lay yourself down on any surface if he had asked you to, offering him your all whenever he'd commanded.

He assisted you in riding out your orgasm, your excess arousal making it easier for him to fuck deeper into you. He still trapped both of your hands in his singular one, garnering you unable to move properly without the assistance of your hands. His other hand had been attached to your hip, absentmindedly squeezing the fat of it every few thrusts.

You whimpered his name, your senses being thrown into overexertion while your nerves felt fried. His stamina was impressive, as you were normally used to a quick and disappointing fuck where only one of you had finished. He'd actually taken your own pleasure into consideration, that in itself had been surprising.

You felt his thick and heavy cock twitch inside your wet heat, hearing him curse deeply. His thrusts were sporadic and random, yet they still had your back arching.

You felt his masked forehead press against your bare shoulder. He deeply groaned as he shallowly thrusted into your wet and fluttering heat, spilling himself deep inside of you, painting your insides the prettiest of white.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, feeling him soften inside of you as he pulled out with a pained hiss. You had been slightly saddened at the loss of warmth inside of you, biting your bottom lip in fear that you'd accidentally blurt out something lecherous.

He assisted you in redressing, apologising at ripping your blouse. He offered you his large sweatshirt, covering majority of you. His scent was intoxicating, you had half a mind to lead him onto your spin chair, seating yourself down on his cock and using him for your own pleasure. But you just thanked him, rolling the sleeves up as you adjusted the scattered papers on your desk. You'd come back to clean in the morning, it was still the weekend and you had wine to attend to.

After ensuring you were dressed adequately, he walked you out and into your own car. He stared deeply into your endearing gaze, before a single question left his covered lips.

"What'd he get?"

You couldn't help but smile, turning the key into the ignition and hearing your old car sputter to life. Your hands loosened around the steering wheel before turning back to him once more,

"Twenty out of twenty."

[imjustagirlinthisworlddd]

"Just one more, please?"

Dom!Newt x Sub!Reader

summary : Newt is determined to pleasure you after a whole month but you're already begging for him to stop

warnings: this is pure smut, so please don't interact if you're a minor. you have been warned!!!

"newt, please, i can't do it anymore." you twitch as he overstimulated your core.

"you've done more, baby." newt pecked your tear-stained cheeks. "just one more, please?" he speed up his pace, trying to finish faster.

"i can't." you whine, sobbing out and curling your arms around his shoulders. "newtie, please." suddenly he speed up his pace even more faster and messily, making you turn into a moaning mess under him as you keep saying his name, begging for him to slow down.

suddenly he stopped his pace and pulled out, leaving just his tip inside of you.

"newt-"

"love, your making this so hard for me if you keep on calling my name so sweet like that" then he pushed his entire length inside you, his hips continue its fast rocking motion from before; determined to draw one last orgasm out of you.

"take a deep breathe, alright, angel? i promise you'll feel so much better later, hm?" he reasures you

"but-"

"just one more then we'll go do what ever you want, love" he added.

[byproducts-of-my-imagination]

Everyone Hates Todo Except You

The best part about Todo is that you don’t have to put yandere in front of him because his normal behavior already screams delusional and obsessive.   You cannot convince me that he doesn’t sniff all your things as soon as you’re not looking.  He’s just so intense.  I love this man, need to catch up on jjk.

~1k words. Thank you to whoever requested this and I hope you enjoy!

At the Kyoto branch, nobody really bothers sticking their nose in Todo’s business.  But when there’s an enormous mound of trash bags outside his room that just keeps getting bigger, concerning glances and eyebrow raises no longer cut it.  Normally his antics earn a side eye or two, but lately it’s been a little much, even for him.  At the breakfast table the next day, the girls decide to draw straws to see who has to tell him to move his shit.

“It’s not fair!  Why do I have to do it?”  Miwa groans, cursing her bad luck for the thousandth time.  

“It is fair, you just happened to draw the short straw now go deal with it!  We'll back you up.”  Mai grins, knowing full well she rigged it.

Kasumi Miwa would rather be doing literally anything else at this moment.  She timidly knocks on the door, and says, “Todo?  Could you move all this stuff please?  You’re starting to block the hallway.”

“Yeah I’ll get to it whenever I get the rest of this junk cleaned up.  Don’t worry there’s no food waste so there shouldn’t be any smell.”

“B-but Todo…. It's been almost a week now…”  The only response was the muted sound of shuffling.

Miwa looks back in defeat at her so-called “back up” as they peek from behind the corner.  Their best bet now is to get one of the boys to convince him.  And if they fail it’s straight to Utahime-sensei.  

Todo looks at his room, emptier than it’s ever been.  He knew this was the likeliest outcome.  Takada-chan was a beloved idol, and even if she liked him back (which he thought she might have at some point) there was no way she could be with him.  He knew, but it doesn't mean it hurt any less.  There were years of carefully collected merch, thousands of dollars being stuffed into trash bags to be thrown away.  But instead of the despair he carefully denied for years, he didn’t feel any loss throwing away all the autographed posters and pictures.  No, he had something much better now, someone who could actually be with him in this wretched, boring world.  He had his wonderful, gorgeous, beautiful, perfect in every way girlfriend.  And while you weren’t aware that you were destined to be with him yet, he would make sure you’d know soon.  As soon as he finished purging his space of Takada-chan (it wouldn’t do to have pictures of an old flame) he’d confess.  

A few days later he was tying up the last trash bag, ready to enact his plan.  He asked you to meet him under the largest tree in the forest on the edge of the training field.  Several hypothetical scenarios floated through his mind, and he focused on the one where you’d enthusiastically said you loved him back and then he married you and had many children.  As he neared the confession site, Todo felt yet another arrow go through his heart as you came into view.  I’ll never get tired of seeing her.

“Todo, is everything okay?  What’s up?”  A shiver ran down Todo’s spine, goosebumps rising.  God, even your voice was perfect.

“I love you.  Promise me, y/n.  That we’ll spend the rest of our lives together.”  He got down on one knee like a proposal, looking up at you like a devout follower.

“Todo… I don’t know about the rest of our lives but why don’t we start with a date?  I like you too.”  While you were a bit taken aback by his forwardness, you brush it off as Todo being Todo.  You never disliked his honesty and unabashedness.

“My girlfriend!! I knew you felt the same!”  A single tear ran down Todo’s face.   

Back to the dorms, it wasn’t long before everyone found out and congregated at your room to badger you with questions.  

“Ugh that gorilla?  You guys are dating now?”  Nishimiya asked, firmly believing Todo to be an improper and inadequate boyfriend.  

“I thought he only had eyes for that idol Takado or whatever,” Miwa chimes.

“It’s Takada,” Mai corrects, not able to make eye contact with Nishimiya’s suspicious glance in her direction. 

“We’re dating now!  He just asked me out, and he’s really good to me.” you reply, thinking of how Todo insisted on carrying you back to the dorms, gently setting you down before running off saying he needed to ‘prepare’.  

“You can do way better than Todo, trust us.” The girls all nod in agreement.  However, Todo is outside your room balancing a tray of perfectly cooked lunch and a cold pitcher of water.  

“What are you guys talking about?”  he knows already, but wants to hear them say it to his face.  

“How y/n is too good for the likes of you.”  Mai minces no words for Todo.  With the uncomfortable tension rising, the Kyoto girls hastily make an exit.  

“My love, I made lunch for us.  I know I am not handsome, or come from wealth and a good sorcerer family like some of our classmates.  But I will be devoted.  I will never stray from you, I’d die if you asked me to.”  he says, as he sets the meal on your small desk, pulling out utensils and napkins.  His normal confidence seems to waver a bit, and it seems that not even Todo is immune to worrying about what other people think of him.  

“Todo, don’t worry about what they say and please don’t say you’ll die for me.  I like you a lot, I wouldn’t have accepted your confession if I didn’t.  I also think you’re quite handsome.”  

“You love me back?”  he whispers, kneeling at the edge of your bed, looking up at you.  While it’s a bit too early to tell, Todo’s hopeful, reverent look has you obliging him. 

“I do love you back.”  He embraces you, and you can hear his heartbeat in his bare chest.  It feels good to be loved so wholeheartedly, and you’ll give him all the love you have to repay him.  

[madwomansapologist]

blossoming alone over you

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: It doesn't matter what their first impressions of you were, they certainly did not expect you to be so important in their lifes. And as the days passes, each one of your companions need to understand a simple fact: they love you. They all love you.

warnings: it's 31st december. i'm drunk. song "pink on the night" by mitsky for wyll. song "working for the knife" by mitsky for astarion. song "abbey" by mitsky for shadowheart. companions (wyll, astarion, shadowheart) x druid!tav. background cast (karlach, kagha, halsin, lae'zel, gale, cazador). tav is used as a nickname. wyll stuttering. astarion seeing draws of himself because he fucking deserves it. shadowheart falling for a druid that can turn into a wolf.

Trust betrayed, secrets spread, lies disguised as facts. That's how life works. It gives you hope, then crushes it front of your eyes. It let's you reach your goal, just to rip it out from your bare fingers.

The cruelty of life is the ultimate sign that gods do exist. There must be a higher being watching its puppets pathetic attempts of conquering an unreachable happiness. There are other proofs, but that's the easiest to perceive.

And they were used to it. From the renowed Blade of Frontiers to the pale elf hiding in the shadows: they all knew what to expect from life. Dishonest agreements, stolen hearts, the cold embrace of loss. Life is painful, so they shielded themselves from any harm.

But not you.

At first they assumed you were naive. The things Shadowheart thought to herself when you reached for a hand stuck in a portal; or how easily Astarion deceived you when he thought you were a mind flayer; even Wyll judged you from time to time.

You let your guard down easily. Instead of protecting yourself, you were helping others. Instead of using your teeths and claws to get what you wanted, you preserved nature.

But naive you were not. You may have trusted them too easily, but you weren't blind. You knew when a question was a order, when a joke was a threat, when a smile was just sharp teeth showing.

You discovered what Astarion really was and demanded he wouldn't maim anyone that didn't deserved it. You convinced Wyll that the evil he so wanted to tear apart was a victim. Saw right throught Kagha's distorted teachings, don't matter how alluring they sounded.

To turn a foe into a friend was your instinct, but you were not hesitant to solve problems with violence if it was needed. And sometimes you even got pleasure from it.

Wyll will never forget your face after finding out about Kagua's deal with the shadow druids. You didn't even allowed the party to rest. All your party received from you was an order to clean the ivy from their weapons.

"Shouldn't we focus on freeing Halsin? He must understand Kagha better than us," Wyll pointed. "You're a druid, but that doesn't mean the groove sees you as one of them. But they will hear Halsin."

"She can hear me," you slammed your staff on the ground, giving strength to your certainty. It pulsed with energy, and its glow matched the beat of your heart. "Or she can die. I can grant her mercy, but I won't give her time."

Wyll felt his body getting warmer, Shadowheart's impressed whistle reached his ear. "O-Of course," he cleared his throat. "After you."

"We'll purge some rats," you smirked at him. It didn't feel threatening. "Can I count with your blade?"

"Always," Wyll answered you, staring at your back. He could stare at your back all day. And he meant it.

Seeing that you weren't naive, Astarion came to a conclusion about you. Meanwhile the Blade of Frontiers stopped seeing your benevolent acts as a signs of impulsivity, the pale elf saw them as a mask. Something meant to cover what others should be paying attention to instead.

After all, who would suspect that something is rotten when the scent is sweet?

You're beautiful. Astarion admit it. Your laugh reverberates through the forests, your tiredness calls for aid, your eyes attract and soothe. Beautiful faces can make up for dirty minds, soft words can hide the lack of a heart, pretty acts are easier to see than destructive intentions.

You're just like him. Astarion sees it, clear as the sea. Your delicate smiles and his gaze full of lust are just as fake. Your sweet words and his dirty innuendos are both rehearsed. In need of this party, it's not hard to understand why you two would act to ensure they don't ever leave.

When Shadowheart cures you first, Astarion's invisible reflection occupies your eyes. When Lae'zel attacks monsters aiming at you, he's your shadow. When Gale puts more food on your plate, Astarion can see his smile on your face.

He wouldn't be surprised to find out that you both look the same.

One may say that your corrupt intentions are nothing compared to the good you've already done, but Astarion is not so idealistic. Sin stains your good deeds, he can see it. You depict yourself as someone better than them, better than him, but that's just your depraved plan to survive.

And he can't blame you. It's working perfectly.

Astarion may despise you for being as dirty as himself, but he respects that part of you. He trusts your plans, your combat skill, your magic. You're good on what you do. Screaming instructions to help during fights, discovering hidden passages, trading for better weapons.

You're not a good person, but there's a reason for why you survived this far. You're competent. That Astarion can respect. That's why he's constantly trying to get on your good side. You are smart and strong. Maybe strong enough to rip Cazador apart.

And if you haven't realize that Astarion is putting on an act to win your heart, than the shame is on you for not realizing that you both are the exactly same thing.

But you had to show him how wrong he was.

At midnight you approached his tent with your sketchbook. Astarion thought you wanted a distraction, using your drawings just as an excuse to talk a bit. Gods know he was dying of boredom before you appeared.

"I didn't knew you were so talented, darling," he praised you.

Illuminated by candles, Astarion let his guards down. Instead of just saying the right thing at the time, Astarion was really impressed at your skills.

It must be nice. To be able to create things with your bare hands. Sometimes he cry at the start of a good book. He don't know why, but it must be because he too would like to be making things. Astarion thinks that creating is the ultimate sign that you're alive, instead of just surviving.

Maybe one day he can become a poet.

"I can't help but notice that you have a muse," it was clear someone had attracted your gaze. Maybe a dear friend you miss, or perhaps another competitor for your attention. "Should I worry about being replaced?"

Astarion expect you to flush, but all you did was to get... softer? You seemed to shrivel up.

Your mouth dried up. He doesn't even recognize himself. Astarion don't even remember how he looked like.

"That's you, Astarion," you told him. "And that's a gift. You helped a lot these past months and... All I'm trying to say is that I'm grateful."

It was the first time you saw Astarion in silence. Paper by paper, he admired your drawings. Do they look bad? You've spent a lot of time training to be able to create something worthy of his beauty, but you admit they're not perfect.

Or maybe it isn't the quality. It's the fact that you spend so long drawing him. How many hours did you spend on those sketchs? How many hours did you spend glaring at him from your tent? Does he feel ofended? Invaded?

"That's how you see me?" Astarion whispered.

You barely heard his words.

"Yes, Astarion," you licked your lips. "I know some can be..."

His hand on your thigh stopped the rant you were about to go on. His bloody eyes were sharp. Just like the day you first met him, his dagger against your throat. Astarion looked pleased, but not happy.

As if he discovered being right about something he rather not be.

What you gave him... this is a treasure. So many drawings, so many angles, so many poses. How many centuries has it been since he last saw himself? How many since Astarion forgot his own face? Sometimes he touches his face, trying to picture it, but his imagination isn't good.

You gave him something priceless.

And when something is priceless that people discover how sunk in debt they really are.

"And now you want me to pay you back," his husky voice made shivers went down your spine. His nails scratched lightly your skin, drawing shapes on your thigh. "Don't you?"

You jumped from your spot, getting away from him. You were flushed, but not in a good way. "From where I came from," you breathed in. You sounded offended. "Something that puts you in debt isn't a gift."

As you turned over to go to sleep, you felt that if you didn't say what you really thought you would end up exploding. You know you don't have the right to speak about his life, but that didn't stopped you.

"Cazador made you believe that you have to sell yourself to be worth of anything, but he's wrong. He was wrong since the very start. We'll lacerate that monster for what he did to you. And that I promise you: it won't be fair. Cazador don't deserve fair."

You felt your nails digging the skin of your palms. "That was a gift. Get used to it."

Maybe Astarion was wrong about you. And maybe he was wrong about himself.

Merciful, but not weak. Gentle, but not naive. Pleasing, but not manipulable. You were a walking question mark. Whenever they thought they understood what you were, you proved them wrong. Not impulsive. Not manipulative. Not stupid.

Until they came up with a word that described you too perfectly. A word that didn't need any buts or explanations. One that everyone cognize, but that isn't used often. That don't deserve to be used often.

You're kind.

It's in your nature to be considerate. You help others because you can. No. Wrong. And that's something that Shadowheart still don't really understand: you help others because you can, so therefore you should.

She has only one goal in mind. Shadowheart needs to make to Baldur's Gate with the mysterious artifact in safety, and if she does everything right... maybe her Lady will grant her what she truly want.

But you make Shadowheart forget about all that.

She must be discreet, she did that her whole life, and still Shadowheart finds herself talking about her goddess to you. Her mission depends on her going straight towards Baldur's Gate yet there she's, following you as you try to solve everyone's problems.

Shadowheart didn't even noticed. She didn't made a rational choice to open herself to you. She just did it. Almost as if you were fundamental part of her forgotten past and her heart couldn't do nothing but to trust you.

You impervious into her prayers. Invaded her dreams. Burned your mark inside her mind. Your name feels like honey on her tongue. Like a sweet treat that she can never get enough of.

You tempted her, luring her with your determination and grace, and Shadowheart proved herself sinful once again.

If only you had judged Shadowheart for her loyalty to Lady Shar. Asking her what her favorite flower is. Listening to her opinions. Even when she was nothing but distant and cold, you were sweet. Toothaching sweet.

Shadowheart was hungry. She'd been hungry for her whole life. Starving for something easy. Something raw. Something more than a beautiful concepts. Something real. And how could a starving person ignore a banquet?

She can't. Shadowheart couldn't. But she should've. Damn, she should've.

You're testing her faith. Constantly. Every smile, every vulnerable look, every act of protection. It's like you're trying to compete with Lady Shar for the control over her mind. Sometimes it feels like you're winning.

She was admiring the sky without stars when the wolf came. All it took was a sight to paralyze her. Shadowheart had a mace, but the weapon was useless in her trembling hands.

The giant beast, wool pale from the moonlight, foamy drool dripping from its fangs. In a golden glow that being of darkness transformed into something.

Into you.

"It's just me," you whispered to her, eyes wide with worry and blame. "I didn't... You're safe. You're fine."

She forced herself to unclench her jaw. "Don't tell any of them," Shadowheart hissed as soon as she knew she could speak without stuttering. "Let this fear I have stay as a secret."

"As you wish," was what you said. No questions, no jokes, no provocations.

You went back to rummage through lost boxes and barrels in the ruined village. You had goblin's blood staining your face, but it didn't seen to bother you. "I wish I had a bag of holdings," you murmured to yourself.

Shadowheart was grateful. Either you decided to change the subject to cease her embarrassment or you just were this easily distracted, it still meant something. Her flushed cheeks went unnoticed.

She leafed through some damp books, trying to find something useful. "Embrace loss," she murmured to you. Now your attention was back on her. "We'll never let you have one."

You gasped. "Moon, why is that?"

Shadowheart ignored how breath turned into a difficult task when you used that new nickname.

"Face it, Tav," she called you by the nickname Gale created to you. "You are a compulsive hoarder. I've seen you keep a rotten apple in your pocket."

"I thought it could be useful!"

Shadowheart smiled. She did not even realized she was smiling. "I bet you did."

You have a soft spots for battles you can't possible win, protecting people in need and turning foes into friends. And apparently you are their soft spot.

Part 2!

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Warnings: depictions of blood/blood kink.

Mean Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

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Miguel isn't the type to ever be smitten. He's not the kind to stare after some pretty girl that gives him eyes, and he's not the kind to flirt around. Ever. And he was pretty sure you were going to be just another of the many spiders he's worked with.

You're not. He's head over heels for you.

Funny, witty, persistent. You take no shit from anyone. Not even from him. You've never been afraid of him, when he snaps or yells or makes his usual snarky comments, you don't even blink. You cross your arms, level his gaze, shift your weight to one of your hips and call him out. Calm and collected, your voice full of authority and confidence, and it always manages to shut him up. He'll purse his lips and turn away from you. Then you know you've won.

Not today.

Today, you walked away first. He yelled at you in a fit of rage even though the issue hadn't even been your fault.

"Miguel. Take it easy,” you tried to calm him down. “We'll fix this. We always do.”

“The fuck would you know? All you do is make more of a mess.”

“No. I don't. I'm here to help.”

He scoffed. “Help? You're useless. All you ever do is annoy everyone around you. No one stands you.” His eyes had met yours and he'd snarled, “Everyone hates you.”

And you knew it wasn't true. But it still hurt. You'd clenched your jaw, eyes narrowing at him. And then you turned around and walked away.

No one saw you the rest of the day.

Guilt has been eating at him all day. He's in his bedroom, pacing from one side to the other, hands tangled in his hair, sharp teeth digging into his lower lip.

“Fuck,” he growls at himself. He doesn't want to, but he's going to do it anyway.

You're sitting on your bed, a cigarette between your fingers. You exhale the smoke slowly, wiping away a tear that rolls down your cheek.

A portal opens in your room and you sigh. You're expecting Peter to show again, fully intending on comforting you again.

Instead, Miguel shows. When you see him, surprise rushes through you, but you're quick to mask it.

“Took a wrong turn, did you?” you say flatly. You take a drag from your cigarette and he frowns.

“Didn't know you smoked,” he mumbles, not waiting for an invitation. He steps closer to you and sits beside you on the bed.

You hum.

He swallows his pride. “That's not good for you, sabes. It'll kill you.”

“Yeah, thanks, dad,” you spit. “Is that what you came here to do? Point out all my mistakes and tell me how I'm gonna die?”

He sighs. “I'm trying to apologize, kid.” That stuns you into silence. “I...overstepped.”

“Understatement,” you mutter, putting your cigarette out.

He huffs silently. “This is fucking ridiculous,” he sighs. “Look. I didn't mean what I said. I was...upset. You-you know how I get when things don't go my way. And it...It was a low blow. I'm sorry.”

You blink at him. “Say that again?”

He throws you a glare, but sucks it up. “I'm sorry,” he says between clenched teeth. “I didn't mean it, alright.” He huffs a thick sigh, looking away from you, his gaze focused straight ahead. “And it's not true anyway. It was a cheap lie.”

You smile slightly, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I know that. I'm too much of a likeable person.”

He turns to look at you, that sharp gaze making you freeze. Your breath hitches, mouth inching open, and his eyes fall to your lips.

You swallow, drawing his eyes to the dip of your throat. He meets your gaze.

“Miguel...” Your voice is a soft, quiet sound. A low purr that makes his blood rush south.

“Ven acá,” he growls, huge hands moving to cup your face. He pulls you closer, kissing you roughly, sharp canines poking your lower lip.

You gasp, palms pressing to his chest. He kisses you rough, hungry, like he's been aching for you all this time.

His hand slides from your cheek to your neck, down your arm to your waist. He tugs you closer, your leg pressing against his.

Your hand finds one of the buttons of his shirt and starts fiddling with it. He smirks against you, hands moving to your hips to drag you onto his lap.

He makes a low, contented sound against your lips when your clothed core rubs against his hard cock. He slides his tongue into your mouth, tasting the cigarette you'd been smoking.

Your hands hold onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin slightly. Almost instinctively, your hips start grinding on his, a whine leaving you.

He grunts slightly, starting to guide your movements in small circles, your clit rubbing against the thick tip of his cock, making you jerk in his grasp.

“Princesa,” he hums, “let me make it up to you.”

You meet his gaze. His pupils are blown wide, eyes darkened with lust. You don't even have to _think_ about it.

“Alright,” you say. “As long as you don't leave me waiting.”

He chuckles lowly. His hand moves to your thighs, thumbs caressing the inside of your thighs, inching higher until he's rubbing your cunt through your jeans.

You exhale softly, swallowing hard. He pops the button open, unzips your jeans, his knuckles grazing against your soaked folds.

You quiver on top of him. “Miguel.” It's a soft sigh, a breathless plea for more.

He dips his mouth into the crook of your neck. His tongue is warm, wet as it drags over your pulse.

He lifts you slightly, helping you out of your jeans before pulling you back onto his lap. His rough fingers caress you through your panties, gathering your slick until his fingers are dripping with it.

He raises his fingers to his lips, licks your arousal off. You blush as you watch, a wave of desire crashing over you and flooding your senses. He can barely contain himself at your taste.

He wants to toss you onto the bed, bend you over it and fuck you hard and fast. He wants you on top, wants to make you bounce on his cock until you're crying with ecstasy. He wants to tie you up, watch you squirm as he makes you come over and over and over, making sure you feel nothing but pleasure.

He pulls your panties aside, his digits quick to find your clit. You barely have time to react when he's already rubbing the nub in tight circles, his sharp teeth dragging over your jaw.

You whine, hips bucking, thighs tightening around his hips. “Fuck,” you hiss, eyes shut tight.

“I'm sorry, princesa,” he says. “Didn't mean to make you feel bad. Never meant to hurt you.” He nibbles your shoulder, his fingers pulling away from your clit. He tugs your panties and you lift your hips to take them off. Instead, he holds you down against him and tears your panties off.

You gasp at the sound of the thin fabric tearing, and he chuckles. “Después te compro más, princesa.” I'll buy you more later. “Don't worry about it.”

You nod. “Yeah, alright.”

He considers throwing the ruined panties aside, but he ends up tucking them in the front pocket of his jeans. He knows he's going to find a bunch of uses for it on those late nights he can't fall asleep.

He runs his fingers up your slit, spreading your folds and tracing your slick entrance with his middle finger. You shiver and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip.

“Princesa,” he groans, “look at how wet I've got you. You pretty, pretty thing...” He kisses your jaw, sharp teeth grazing your skin. He slides his thick middle finger into you, feeling your soft walls clench around him.

You moan softly, a breath leaving your lips. Your nails dig into his shoulders, a shaky exhale escaping you. “Miguel,” you say quietly, beginning to move your hips against his hand. “Ahh...”

He slides a second finger into you and grunts at the sound you make. He curls his fingers, pressing against your g-spot and making you whimper. His thumb catches your clit, drawing neat circles on it.

“Princesa, there's something I wanna teach you,” he says against your shoulder. “Want to make you feel something new.”

“Yeah?” you question, breathless.

You can feel him grin against your skin. “Has anyone ever made you squirt?”

You shudder. “No,” you reply, eyes fluttering shut. “Never.”

Miguel smirks. “Then it'll be my pleasure to teach you, princesa.”

You shiver, whimpering lowly. His fingers touch every right spot, with the perfect pressure and rhythm.

He pulls his face back a little so he can see you, his eyes watching your every reaction. He admires the way you tremble, your plump lips open as moans and whimpers leave you.

His eyes glisten with a predatory lust that has you shivering. And then he kisses your mouth, hard and hungry, almost bruising your lips with his. He licks you, his tongue sliding into your mouth to taste you.

You whine softly, legs quaking, and he moans lowly, a deep rumble in his chest that makes your arousal spark.

He slightly grazes your lips with his sharp canines, making you gasp, and the sound sends an animalistic heat through his body. Almost involuntarily, he bites your lower lip, hard, not only bruising the soft flesh, but also drawing a little bit of blood.

You hiss at the sensation, the pain adding to the endless flow of pleasure within you. He licks at your blood, groaning at the taste of it.

You move a hand from his shoulder to the hair at the back of his head, tugging at the soft locks there. He growls out a moan, a sharp breath leaving him. “Princesa,” he says lowly, as if in warning.

You whine in response, your hips beginning to stutter against his hand. You can't breathe right and you're trembling almost violently. You can feel your orgasm nearing, growing within you like a balloon of warmth low in your stomach.

He can tell you're close. His eyes shine as he watches you, his cock twitching as your velvet walls clench around his fingers.

“Come on, princesa,” he says lowly, leaning closer to your ear,licking your earlobe. “You can do it for me, yeah? You can come for me, can't you?”

You nod, moaning. “Yes...Mhmm!”

“Muy bien, princesa,” he praises, eyes darkening. “Almost there, aren't you?”

You whimper, trying to reply. But the sensation within you is dizzying, stupefying. Your orgasm grows closer and closer, making your every moan nothing more than a pathetic little whimper.

And suddenly a new sensation takes over you, growing deep in your womb and spreading to the rest of your body.

“Miguel—” You don't get the chance to say anything else to him. Your body shivers and your orgasm is suddenly dragging you under, your eyes fluttering shut.

He gasps softly as you come, your body shaking as you squirt onto him. He can't glance away, can't stop moving his fingers. He just keeps going, stuck in a trance as he watches your arousal gushing all over him.

You whimper when the pleasure becomes too much, one of your hands racing to grab onto his wrist weakly.

“Miguel, 's too much.”

He stops his movements then, eyes rising to yours. “Oh, princesa,” he says, voice rough and deep. “You did so well. So good, cariño.” He pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean as you watch.

You lean towards his ear and whisper, “Miguel, please, fuck me.”

He shudders as your breath caresses the skin of his neck. “Say it again,” he orders quietly.

You grin. “Miguel, fuck me. I want you inside of me. Need your cock in me.”

“Dios,” he grunts, eyes shutting as his cock jerks in his pants, eager. “Esa boca tuya, princesa...Tienes carita de ángel y aun así...” That mouth of yours, princess...You have an angel's face and yet... “Capable of being so, so dirty. It drives me fucking crazy, princesa.”

He picks you up, placing you face down on the bed, one of his hands on your hip while the other one pushes you down against the mattress.

You gasp, back arching as he teases your raw, soaked folds with a finger.

He keeps his eyes on your cunt before moving them to your ass. His hands splay over the soft flesh, kneading it and squeezing it before he delivers a soft slap to it. You whine and his lips curl into a slight smirk.

He undoes his pants eagerly, pushing his jeans off, his underwear falling away with them. His cock springs free, the tip glistening with precum. He's so hard, he can't believe the way you affect him. It's insane how easy it is for you to turn him on and make him forget about everything else.

He runs the thick head of his cock between your folds and you shudder, hips jerking away before pressing back against his in search of more.

He holds tight onto your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he slides his cock into you.

You mewl at the sensation, gummy walls stretching to their limit, your legs trembling as he fills you to the brim. You gasp softly when the tip presses against your cervix and then some. You clench your hands around the bed sheets, your eyes shut tight.

“Fuck,” Miguel groans, his eyes locked on your cunt and how his entire cock has sunk deep into you with so much ease. “Oh, princesa, you've no idea how much I've wanted this.”

You whimper in response, not really able to say or do anything else.

His thrusts start out slow, measuring how much you can take while giving you time to adjust to his size. But soon, when he feels you're wet enough and you're rolling your hips against his in a desperate plea for more, he starts going faster, harder.

Your entire body quivers with each thrust, the breath leaving your lungs accompanied by little whimpers. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he fucks you, and you're absolutely certain that you are going to pass out from the ecstasy.

“Princesa,” Miguel grunts, “I wanna try something else with you. May I?”

You nod, moaning out a squeaky, “Yeah,” as he keeps going.

He smirks, one of his hands leaving your hip to grab your hair and tug it hard, forcing your back to arch even more. He leans down to you, his chest against your back. You feel his lips on your shoulder, slowly trailing up to your neck, and then his teeth graze over your skin.

His sharp, sharp canines, send shivers down your spine. You shudder out a breath as he slightly bites you, the tip of his teeth digging into your skin.

He bites down a little harder, the pressure gradually increasing until his teeth sink into your flesh. You shudder, crying out as a shock of pain slices through you.

Miguel groans as blood starts flowing from you, its taste invading his senses. He licks your blood, reveling in the taste, and then he kisses the small wound he's inflicted.

You whimper, the pain adding to the pleasure and making your body shiver. You can feel the bliss within you growing into an unbearable entity within your womb, and you can't take it anymore.

“Miguel!” you whine, eyes fluttering shut, stars dancing behind your eyelids. “Miguel! I-I can't—! Fuck!”

“Shh,” he coos. “It's okay, princesa. Respira.” Breathe. “You're almost there.”

You cry out, biting down on the duvet to keep yourself quiet. Still, your little sounds echo in the room, growing louder as you reach your release.

Your orgasm tears through you, destroying whatever little was left of your composure. You shudder violently, body falling limp against the bed.

Miguel gasps as your cunt tightens around him, your arousal gushing out onto his cock. He keeps his hands on your hips, holding you up as your legs falter and give.

He thrusts into you a couple more times and then he comes, spurting his load deep into your pussy. You mewl weakly at the sensation, truly fucked dumb, and you can't do anything but feel him fill you up.

He grunts softly, grinding his hips against yours lightly before pulling out.

The two of you stay there for a moment, breathing heavily, bodies shaking from the shared effort. And then Miguel's quickly taking care of you.

He helps you onto your bed, laying you down gently and pushing your hair out of your face. He cleans you up with a towel, gathering your combined release with the soft material before tossing it in the laundry basket. He helps you into his shirt and he slides a pair of clean panties onto you.

Then, he lies beside you, his fingers tracing your skin, his eyes stuck on the way his shirt is too big for you because he's huge.

You cuddle up against him, your nose nuzzling into his chest. He smiles softly. “Am I forgiven, princesa?” he asks quietly, caressing your jaw.

You smile up at him, sleepily and pleased. “Yes. You absolutely are.”

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