#so we tapered me off of it

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

here's a fun fact: there were 114 jews in sunderland in 2001 (this was the only year i could find census data); the chances that roy billetted with a jewish family are like. vanishingly small. and i don't think he was canonically intended to be jewish but if there's no jews in a story i will add them (add us), and i really do think there's something about the alienation of growing up jewish away from any sort of jewish community that's very resonant with his arc. because he moves hours away from home and then he loses his grandfather — loses the person who was implied to be his primary caregiver, who had things left to teach him and never got the chance: how to ride a bike, but maybe also how to set a seder plate and build a sukkah and taper off caffeine the week before yom kippur once he's old enough. you can't pick up judaism through osmosis, is the thing, not unless you're around other jews. so he grows up five hours away from home and the school holidays, the holidays from football, never line up with his holidays so he doesn't celebrate; starts to forget what he would have been celebrating, or how. but then he comes back to london and phoebe's shit dad fucks off for good, and his sister decides they're going to raise her jewish. and it's fucking awful, having to learn his own culture from books and from his sister, pushing down the resentment that it's ingrained in her the way it isn't — the way it maybe never will be — in him, but he doesn't want phoebe to grow up feeling the way he did. and so he learns.

[fantabulisticity]

tfw you go off of your PPI agent medication to see if your body can learn to be Normal and then during the taper-off course of meds your bowels go back to being wildly unpredictable and then 24 hours after the last taper med you have diarrhea after being constipated earlier in the week 🥰

[one-winged-dreams]

Person on my unused old WoW rp tumblr that tried to rp with me like twice and has never had a single meaningful conversation with me: Do you still want to be friends? You barely talk to me anymore :(

[mutalune]

Me a few weeks ago: I’m going to be on tumblr more and answer messages and -

Life: actually great news! You’re mentally ill in the not-funny way and we have to change your meds again

Me: ah right I don’t get to do things I like I forgot

[nomairuins]

also my dads become a spam head 👍👍

[solemntitty]

me, feverish, sweating, staving off even worse withdrawal symptoms: ok you son of a Rainier bitch

[runa-falls]

something new

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+)

cw: smut, afab!reader, fluff :3, grinding/dry humping, pussy-job, creampie, 'outercourse', soft boyfriend!mig

w/c: ~2k

a/n: rewrite of my old fic bc i need it with miguel. if you read it before ignore it ;^) mig looks like this fanart by @xynnoix

----

You’re lounging on the sofa, legs resting in Miguel's lap and sitting in comfortable silence, when you decide to proposition him.

“I saw this video online and…I wanna try something with you.” He briefly looks up from his spider-pad, attention perked at your soft-spoken voice.

You beam at him from across the couch, an innocent smile slapped on your face as your lashes bat nicely against the tops of your cheeks.

Miguel simply shakes his head dismissively, “Cariño, we’re not doing any more MMA techniques.” He swiftly turns his attention back to his work, pointedly ignoring your childish pout. “You got hurt last time, remember?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, “First, I didn’t even twist my ankle during the match! I literally slipped down the stairs when we left the training area. Secondly, that’s not even what I’m talking about!” 

“Ok, then what is it? WWE moves?” He asks teasingly, eyes still focused on the screen.

“Actually…I wanna try outercourse-- i-is that how you say it?” You talk about it so casually that he doesn't even realize what you’re saying until he plays it back in his head a few times. The finger that was working through several urgent emails slows down as you continue to ramble. 

“...Like pussy-jobs and grinding, I think. I don’t exactly know the technical terms that are involved, but it looked hot–” Your voice tapers off when you realize he’s looking at you.

His darkened gaze concentrates on your thighs that are unintentionally rubbing together as you recall your new interest. 

You know that look. His glaze-over eyes, furrowed brows, and tense body mean one thing: he’s interested too. 

Despite how worked up he is, Miguel manages to gently place his tablet on a side table before slowly wrapping his fingers around your ankles on his lap.

“So you want me to fuck you without actually fucking you?” 

“Y-yes...?”

He hums, turning his whole body to face you.

He fluidly pulls your body down to lay flat on the couch in front of him, barely leaving any room for him to sit. You feel his hand tap the side of your thigh.

“Open up for me, baby.”

Your loose shorts hike up your thighs as you obediently spread your legs for him, kneesbending to make space for him to scoot closer to you. The pale pink fabric displays a dark splotch over your center, evidence of your arousal and lack of underwear underneath. Miguel tauntingly raises an eyebrow when he notices.

“Aw, is your pussy already leaking for me?” Your breath stutters as he lightly glides his finger over your covered cunt.

“J-just a little.” Your thighs threaten to close when you feel him prod shallowly against your entrance. He groans, noticing how his movements encourage your slick to soak through the flimsy fabric of your shorts. 

You whine as you feel him pull away.

“Such a juicy slut for me.” He rasps, pushing himself closer to you so his head hangs over yours. Your head swims when you breathe in his comforting scent, he's so close, but you need him closer. Your body instinctively attempts to press up against him.

“Gimme a kiss, cariño.” 

You immediately obey, wrapping your arms around his neck and locking your legs over his waist, effectively pulling his warmth into your space. He leans in and gently brushes his lips against yours, taking time to breathe you in as your gaze locks with his. 

A breath is caught between you as you gaze into each other’s eyes, drinking each micro-expression on your face. Miguel lets out a soft sigh, "You're gorgeous."

And the intense mood breaks. 

You pull away to lightly giggle into his chest, a soft blush blooming from the edge of your neck to the tops of your cheeks. He matches your smile, watching with amused eyes as you react to his flattery.

Somehow he can still make you feel unbearably giddy despite the months you’ve been dating. 

You look back up with a crooked smile, “You’re pretty too, Spider-Man.” 

Miguel dips his head in and captures your lips in his. He’s gentle at first, slowly savoring your lips with small nips and caresses. He runs the tip of his tongue over the edge of your bottom lip, trailing a line over the sensitive skin, then pushing further against your mouth.

You whine when he licks into your mouth, coaxing your tongue to mingle with him, to taste your mixed flavor of lust.

Your back arches when he presses a finger flush against your throbbing clit. it simultaneously sends warm ecstasy down your legs and up your spine, and you can feel your center pulsing, craving more. 

Miguel leaves your mouth as he moves further up the couch to fit himself between your thighs. His forearms support his weight next to your shoulders as he gently lets his hips rest against yours. You can already feel his stiff cock twitching persistently between your bodies.

“Is this okay?” He asks, voice husky as he considers you under him.

Your eyes blearily blink up at him before you give him a shy nod, already looking thoroughly fucked out with your mussed hair and pink lips. He experimentally pushes down against you and starts to grind himself into your body with controlled strokes. 

The rough texture of his jeans digs deliciously into your softness, barely subdued by the thin fabric of your shorts. Pleasure zips up your spine as he involuntarily ruts against your clit with each shove of his hips. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, attempting to smother your cries into his skin.

“This what you wanted?” He growls, body hot and heavy against yours. 

You feel yourself grow infinitely wetter, warmth spreading over your inner thighs. You whine as he twitches against you, your body hypersensitive to everything around you.

“Mm, fuck.” He feels your slick slowly travel through the thickness of his jeans. 

He can barely hear your wrecked voice over the sound of his jeans rubbing over you and the couch rocking against the wooden floors.

“Wait.” 

His hips stutter to a stop, “Wait?” Miguel's eyes look worried as he searches your face, wondering if something went wrong.

“I-I just want more.” You bite your lip nervously as you stare back at him, feeling guilty that you scared him.

The tension in his body slacks quickly, like cool water rushing down his back. “More?”

You nod sheepishly, “Uh-huh.” 

He climbs off of you and kneels on the floor to your side, “Ok, can you show me?” His voice is soft and patient as he speaks to you.

He watches as you shove your hips upwards to tug off your shorts before throwing them to the side. You do the same with your tank top, then settle back into the couch cushions.

Your legs squeeze together as your sensitive nipples tighten when exposed to the cool air. You look over at Miguel who’s admiring your bare body next to you, “You too.” He immediately pulls off his shirt and shoves down his jeans before rejoining you. 

Miguel kneels on the couch and pushes your legs up to reveal your dripping pussy, leaking messily from your rutting session a few minutes ago. He slaps himself over your warmth, spreading your slick over your cunt and watching it drip down to your ass.

“Such a pretty pussy.”

Before you know what’s happening, he positions himself against your entrance and tries to push into your cunt, tip slowly slipping into you with ease. He groans as your cunt instinctively sucks him in, walls fluttering as he begins to stretch you. 

 “No–wait, that’s not what we’re doing!” You simultaneously scoot away and squeeze your legs together once you catch on to what’s happening. 

“What-”

“Outside, Mig, remember? Only outside.” You push up and lean against the couch arm, hair poofed adorably around you. “Here, I’ll show you. Lay down where I was.” You direct, moving off the couch to give him enough room.

“Okay.” He takes your place, cock bobbing with his movements as it stays desperately hard for you. You bite your lip as your eyes trace the happy trail that graces his lower stomach. God, he's delicious.

You straddle yourself over his hips, admiring how delectable he looks below you, hot and ready for you to climb on. He watches you with anticipation as you position yourself his erection that rests against his stomach. 

His breath hitches when you sit your full weight onto him, the pressure makes him throb against the seam of your cunt. You experimentally rub yourself against the silken skin of his cock, barely holding yourself up on your knees to make it easier to move. He groans as you spread your warmth over his cock and the bottom of his muscled torso. 

“So wet for me, baby.” He looks up at you with heavy eyes, his top lip barely covering his protruded fangs. His hand squeezes the top of your thigh when you lock eyes.

A small piece of your hair sways over his forehead with each movement of your hips. As you grind over him, the head of his cock nudges delectably against your clit causing you to clench around nothing every time it hits you.

You pathetically puff out breaths as your stomach tightens in heat, eyes already threatening to roll to the back of your head. Lewd wet sounds lick between your bodies as you fluidly slick yourself against him.

Your thighs shake as you get closer to the edge, hips slowing down as the white-hot pleasure ripples through your body. Miguel licks his lips and takes initiative, canting his hips upwards in sync with yours, slipping himself more firmly against you.

He pulls your arms off of his chest and gathers them behind your back. Your spine arches prettily for him, ass stuck out behind you. In this position, you’re forced to surrender yourself to every push of his hips and slip of his cock.

It’s electrifying. You cry out when your orgasm pulls you under its firey wave. Your thighs clench around his hips as your body trembles above him. The sparks refused to flicker off as Miguel continues to rut against you, body tenses as he meets his end as well.

He thrusts one final glide of his cock through the soaked petals of your cunt before abruptly pushing into you, overwhelming your senses with the painfully exquisite sensation of being stretched all at once.

He growls as your warmth wraps around him, fluttering prettily as he shoves himself deep inside.

He stutters inside of you, pushing himself incredibly deep inside of you as he cums and cums, filling you to the brim. A satisfying warmth pools at the bottom of your stomach as he paints your walls, soothing your weak body as it recovers from your orgasm.

You collapse onto Miguel's body, ignoring how unbearably hot it is as your bodies try to cool down. His heart beats heavily next to yours and everything slows down. He hums under you, gently stroking a hand against your back .

You don’t know how long you lay there, enjoying each other’s company, but you're half awake by the time Miguel gets up, with you, boneless, in his arms. 

“How does a bath sound, mi vida?” You lazily look up at him as he carries you to the bathroom with ease. His voice is still so...sultry.

“Am just I weak or something?” Your voice rasps harshly, “How are you not fighting the urge to pass out right now?”

He nuzzles his face into your body, pecking a kiss against your sweat-stick throat. “I could actually go again if you'd like..."

[diorchids]

morning sex with simon ‘ghost’ riley.

you and ghost fooled around all night, not having sex, but just touching everywhere. you’d fallen asleep with his body wrapped around you, loud snores in your ear.

the next morning, simon woke up to find you still asleep in his grasp. his cock, now fully hard again, throbbed against your ass through your clothes. he tried to ignore it, but found it impossible.

“morning,” your voice all raspy and low. his fingertips lightly dug into your hips.

simon looked down at you, his heart racing. "morning," he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. he tried to move away from you, but his cock twitched again, betraying his arousal. he couldn't believe what was happening to him.

“need you bad, si.” your voice only giving him an even more erect cock. you’d almost broken your neck to look up at him, still facing away.

ghosts heart raced as he looked at your sleepy, sultry gaze. his cock twitched against your ass again, betraying his desire. he had never wanted anything more than to fuck you in the morning, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

that’s how you ended up getting stretched out perfectly by him.

“so fuckin’ tight, doll," he groaned, thrusting his hips forward. he couldn't believe how good it felt to be inside of you.

“go hard, s-si. be fuckin’ mean.” you cried out.

he couldn’t say no.

he thrust harder and faster, feeling you tighten around his cock. his hips moved in a steady rhythm as he lost himself in the sensations running through him. he reached down and began stimulating your clit, and you responded with a moan.

your legs trembled as you arched under him, giving him more room for his cock to explore.

simon smirked and leaned in closer, whispering against your ear. "you like being fucked this early, no?" he continued to thrust harder, his cock stretching you further.

you nodded carelessly, his words going in and coming right back out with the quickness.

he leaned over you, pinning you down with his weight as he pounded deep into your sweet cunt. he increased the speed and intensity, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. he slammed into you over and over, his cock twitching inside of you.

“f-fuck, si. feels so good, baby,”

“yeah?” he smirked and gripped a handful of your hair, pulling back. your eyes welled with tears as you cried out loudly. the room filled with mewls, cries and, moans.

“you like that, huh?" ghost moaned, leaning in to nip at your neck. he felt the head of his cock swelling deep inside you, and it sent shivers down his spine. “love it s’ much, si. put your babies in m-me..”

you cried loudly, gripping the messy and crinkled sheets to anchor yourself and stop your tears. “so big, b-baby, gimme your load.”

you tapered off about wanting his cum deep in your cunt, pushing yourself onto him, only being left with more pain. your legs trembled as you tried to tell him so thrust gentler.

he growled lowly, his hips slamming into yours in a rougher rhythm. "you wanted me to be mean," he panted, his free hand moving to grip your other cheek.

you were a mindless idiot now, unable to form a single coherent sentence. “c-cummin.”

“there we go, love. cum on my cock f’me.” simon encouraged, his voice rough with lust. as you neared your climax, he thrust deeper, hitting that spot inside you again and again, his own orgasm building rapidly.

he felt your tight muscles clenching around his cock as you climaxed, your juices fell onto the bed under you while simon bit his lip to stifle his whimpers. he loved seeing your arousal.

and with a final thrust, he let go, filling you up with his seed. he groaned loudly, his hips jerking roughly against your plump asscheeks.

you were a complete mess, eyes rolled back as drool spilled from your lips. you thrashed and shook under his large body.

“easy, love," simon panted, his grip on your hair and cheek loosening slightly. slowly, he pulled out of you, his cock still twitching as it slipped free.

maybe morning sex could fit into your schedule.

[neil-gaiman]

hi neil. i've held off on writing this message for a bit because i didn't know if i could get it out or not.

i work in a senior healthcare facility. not a nurse or anything, i actually just serve food to the residents, but it's given me the ability to get to know a lot of the people that live there. because of this, i was able to befriend a wonderful lady named sally. she would always come talk to me while i served up the meals, and we'd have nice chats. she spent most of her time reading books, since she didn't like to do many of the activities with the other residents, and since she loved books with mystery and suspense, i loaned her my copy of american gods, thinking that she'd enjoy it. and she did! i loved it when she'd come talk to me about the chapter she'd just read, our little chats about wednesday, just everything. i was happy that she liked the book.

our chats kind of tapered off after awhile, and we didn't talk as much. she's had my book for well over a year now, which i hadn't minded, but she eventually started picking up our chats again, about the book. but she was talking about how she had just started reading it and that she was really interested in it so far. i came to realize some time later that sally was actually just finally showing signs of dementia, which was saddening for me to hear, but it's one of the heavy realities of working in a facility like this. she had always struggled with some memory and speech issues, but i'd always chalked it up to her older age.

anyway. i am saddened by this onset, but at the same time, i am also finding some strange comfort in knowing that she will come up to me at breakfast, wanting to talk to me about american gods, because she's forgotten that she's already read most of it, and she just reads the first few chapters over and over. she doesn't leave her room without it, she brings it to the table with her every day. when she leaves the facility with her family for an outing, she brings it with her. i am just. so comforted knowing that your book i loaned her a year ago is a source of joy and delight for her, and continues to be so over and over. i know i'll never get that book back, and i won't ever try to get it back from her, even if she stops reading it. i want her to keep it.

i now have a streak regarding losing my books that you've written, i'm two for two now, haha

idk. i'm just really kind of overwhelmed today by all the emotions surrounding it and i'm just happy that you wrote something that she likes so much, and that we talk about it even though she doesn't remember that we've talked about it a dozen times before. i love each and every chat with her so much, and i want to keep having them with her for as long as i can. thank you for your work.

Some of the happiest hours of my life were spent with a friend with advanced Parkinson's dementia, sitting on his porch with him, both of us reading. And he read the same few pages over and over and it was okay.

[hattiestgal]

If you don't mind my asking, how do you go about drawing fat? :3

JUST THE EXCUSE I WAS LOOKING FOR

So, for me personally, a lot of the time when I draw fat characters, I'm not looking to specifically capture the specifics of fat as much as the feel of fat. Bulkier, rounder shapes in the right places that has a feeling of weight to em! A lot of that is intuition and simplification at this point, but it all works on the same frame as just any ol' person. Like take this-

For example. This is the basis for any body shape, not just the more average one that it may imply. Sure- it can be that average body shape:

But also a fat one too!

And a big part of that is knowing where fat usually tends to bunch up on the body, so lets take a look piece by piece! (Please keep in mind this is very simplified, and not completely precise in some parts)

THE FACE: Cheeks (in purple) and especially the chin (in light blue) are the places where a lot of the fat is gonna wanna gather and round out on your face! Additionally, theres a small pocket of fat beneath the cranium on the backside of your head. It's small, but it is there. I believe fat can build up elsewhere like the bridge of your nose and forehead, but generally speaking, you're gonna have a whole lot more buildup in other places first.

THE TORSO: A lot of the fat built up on the torso is gonna be sent to your tummy. More cushioning for vital organs, mostly out of the way, it just makes sense. Additionally, the lower backs fat builds up and joins with a patch of fat on your sides that forms what is typically referred to as the love handles to make that double belly look. Along with this, the immediate next target for the torso is the breasts, followed by the upper back!

THE ARMS: For this limb, a VERY notable amount of the fat present builds up on the tricep and bicep areas, lessening once you get towards the flexor and extensor areas. You can almost think of the arm as a sort of triangular shape, wide side starting from the shoulder and tapering towards the hand, which itself mostly builds up fat around the back of the hand and the fingers. The shoulders themselves don't build up too much fat unless you got a lot

THE LEGS: And finally, you can think of the legs having pretty similar curves to what you're probably already used to thinking. The front of the thighs getting a big buildup, along with the back of the calves, the other parts being flatter in turn. As far as the feet go- similarly to the hands, the top of the feet, along with the heels get most of the buildup, as fat on your soles would impede mobility. The glute, hip and crotch area will also especially build up fat, lending to the same triangular shape that you can see in the arm!

A big thing to note with fat is that it tends to taper off towards joints. Your knees, elbows, shoulders, hips, and all the other places are gonna have significantly less fat so that you remain mobile and flexible, as that's important!

Now that we have an idea of where fat builds up on the body, you might have something that looks kinda like this

Which yes, does demonstrate a solid understanding of the places fat builds up, lacks the weight you're probably trying to convey, which brings us to out next point! Fat is well... heavy! Gravity is what gives fat much of it's shape, especially as you tread towards larger and larger bodies.

This is demonstrated really well on the arms especially-

Those big ol' bits of fat'll really start to sag when left hanging, and they will squish like hell if they run into something. I like to think of these bits of fat as big ol' ovals that squash and stretch depending on if there's an obstacle in their way or not

These are the important shapes to remember when it comes to the weightiness of fat! If you take all of this into mind, you should be getting something a lot closer to that shape you've been after!

Oh, and always remember that fat bodies come in all variety of shapes and sizes! Play around with a whole lot, and seek out all the resources you can! it'll really lend to your knowledge when it comes to this kinda stuff!

And as I always recommend when it comes to learning art- look at what your favorite artists do with fat bodies. See what you really like about the fat bodies they draw and try to replicate it in your own work, I promise you it's one of the most helpful things ever.

This is like the most basic of basics when it comes to drawing fat bodies though. If there's any additional thing about fat bodies, or maybe you want clarification on something, don't be afraid to ask! If there's enough to cover, I'll make an addition to this post!

[perdidit-vulpes]

.

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 6) part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

-

And they say if it sways, you have to cut it off at the root.

You repeat that to yourself when you catch the way you glance out the kitchen window again, surreptitiously watching John. It’s hard to pull your eyes away. He walks over to the well to fetch water for you to do the dishes, the chore you’d elected to take when he offered you the choice between that and feeding the horses. It’s a fair compromise since you balk at the thought of getting anywhere near either of those beasts. 

Watching him bend over the well to lower the bucket down, his muscled shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and suspenders drawing tight against his back, makes you bite your lip. Then scowl. Then pull the curtain shut to block out the view.

You have to cut any gentleness off at the root. 

When he comes back, you step to the side without a word to let him pour the water into the wash basin, hot water from the teakettle and lye soap making the water already in the pan sudsy. In a sense, it’s not any different from anything you’ve done back home; the same two pans for washing and scalding, the same cake of soap, and the same dish towel to dry the dishes off at the end. The only difference is the man that pours the cool water into the basin to make it more comfortable for your hands. 

“I’ll be out back,” he tells you, before grabbing you around the waist and pulling you in close to press a close-mouthed kiss to the side of your head. You only scrunch your nose a little. “When you’re done, come get me. Got business in town.”

“Why do you need me to come with you?” you ask, lips cresting into a pout without a thought. You’d never considered yourself a bellyacher, but it’s almost second nature around John. “I can…I can stay and clean the house.”

“You saying I keep a messy home?” John asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You look pointedly down at the dirt he tracked into the kitchen after fetching the bucket of water from the well. “It could do with a spit shine.” 

That gets a laugh out of him, a bellow from deep in his belly. It shakes you to your bones. 

“Darling, I’ll be honest with you,” he says, turning you to face him before folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t trust you not to bolt like a runaway horse, and you’ll only wind up putting yourself in danger if you try to make a run for it out here.”

That expression makes your stomach twist. “Good to know you think of your wife as some scared filly.” 

“You talk a whole lot for a woman who’s been over my knee. Do we need to repeat that?”

When his tone goes stern, you lose the wedging piece of candor keeping you upright. Eyes widen and then narrow. He’s been patient despite your loose tongue, but when that patience slips, you can see the steel underneath his gentle exterior. It’s the true root of him. 

You clam up under his stare, sullen and begrudging. Smooth your dress down to have something to do with your hands. You’ve forgotten your place again. Side-stepped it out of intimacy or misplaced trust or naivety or forgetting, again, for the umpteenth time, that the world is not a place for women that open their mouths. So you keep it shut, trap every festering word behind your teeth. 

He must not like something he sees painted on your face because his brows draw closer together, frustration brewing anew in his eyes. The longer you stay quiet, the more irritated he grows, his nostrils flaring wide. 

“See that you come get me as soon as everything’s squared away in here,” John bites out, pointing a single, blunt finger at you. “Else I’ll come get you myself.”

And we wouldn’t want that, you think, surly. You hope it swims across your eyes. Blooms on your face. Perhaps it does. 

The lines around his mouth and eyes grow more defined when he smiles. His whole mustache moves with his smile, every part of his face expressing his satisfaction. It’s beyond infuriating. He taps you on the nose with his knuckle before leaving out the backdoor, not sparing you a backward glance. You nearly shake with indignation. 

It’s hard not to watch him out in the paddock while drying the dishes though, not with him set against the gilded sun. You inch the curtain slightly open, just enough of a gap to peer through. The Stetson shadows his face when he tilts his head up towards the sky, the hard edge of his jaw the only thing that meets your gaze. It’s not the first time you’ve seen a man out in the fields or pastures, but most of those have been at a distance, removed. Glimpsed briefly through the window while your train barreled on past acres of farmland. 

John cycles through the morning tasks of guiding the horses into the paddock by a lead fixed to their halter, replenishing the food trough, and fetching more water from the well to fill the water trough. His horses are striking in the sheer size of them; muscled shoulders and legs, and well-padded flanks. Most of the horses you’ve seen out west haven’t seemed nearly as well-fed, many whittled down to rib and hip bone. 

It says something about him, but you’re not ready to confront exactly what. You turn your attention back to the dishes, scrubbing the last of the dried butter and eggs at the bottom of the pan. It takes a little extra grit, but cleaning is a familiar chore—it’s one you’ve done all your life, what got you into this mess in the first place. 

You don’t like what you find when you finally venture out of the house to track him down. 

“I’m not getting on that thing.” 

You put your veritable foot down with that, arms straight and stiff by your sides, more out of worry than annoyance. You do also give a little stomp for good measure, but you’ll chalk that up to reflexes should John inquire. 

He doesn’t. Just stares down at you with unimpressed green eyes that haunt your days and nights now. Tells you without telling you that you’ll get on that horse, willing or not. 

It’s not for a lack of beauty that you can’t quite shake the nervousness they elicit in you. Buttercup, the one that John saddled up and now waits patiently to be mounted, keeps her head low as if sensing your disquiet, curiosity glimmering in her coal black eyes. Not even the animal curiosity of is this a friend or foe, but the curiosity that comes with pure trust, almost intelligible that way. 

John runs his hand down her smooth, buttery flank. “Did you enjoy yesterday’s walk?”

“I didn’t hate it.” Truth be told, you’d hardly been of a mind to notice it at all. Though your legs still ache from the walk back to John’s house, the walk itself had not seemed especially grueling in the moment. The mind can put aside quite a bit when it has something else to focus on. 

“Well, I’m not too keen to repeat it.” He leaves it at that, tightening a strap on Buttercup’s saddle in such a purposeful way that your shoulders tense. 

“I could meet you there,” you say, a touch desperately. Your stomach turns when you think about hoisting yourself up onto Buttercup’s saddle. It doesn’t seem possible. It’s not something you’ve ever done or ever considered doing. You remember horror stories of stableboys back home trampled under their hooves and stomped to death, kicks so powerful that they could break a fully grown man’s ribs or cave in his face. 

“My wife isn’t gonna wander into town by her lonesome like some vagrant,” John says disdainfully, almost scoffing. Insulted by the whole idea. “And you’re sure as hell not staying here alone, darlin’.”

“Well, figure something else out because I am not getting up on that thin—” You cut off on a yelp when he circles around you and abruptly lifts you up. Your head rushes at the sudden motion, legs flailing beneath you. 

“Quit squirmin’ like a damn barn cat. Little hellion,” John grits out, guiding your heel into the stirrup. “C’mon, you’re just side saddling, so you only need your butt on the saddle.” When he sets you down lightly onto the saddle, you stop wiggling around, acutely aware of the thousand pound horse beneath you. “There we go—that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” 

“I hate this,” you hiss, fingers clamped tight over the pommel. 

“Aw, darlin’, don’t go insulting Buttercup like that,” John chuckles, replacing your foot in the stirrup with his own.

You sit there stiff as a board, perched precariously on the saddle as he hoists himself up behind you. His sheer proximity doesn’t register right away. You’re too concerned with the moving beast under you, its ribs expanding and contracting with each breath. Unlike you, John is more than comfortable sitting astride the horse, not a smidgeon of tension in his body. You suck in a horrified breath when you feel him readjust himself before settling down more comfortably. 

He reaches around you to grab the reins, a sharp whistle signaling the horse to take her first stride forward, looping around the side of the house. Even the slow trot threatens to buck you off at first. You lurch forward with each step, certain that you’ll slip right off the saddle and onto the dusty ground below until John loops an arm around your waist and pulls you to his chest.

You grow stiffer in his arms somehow. Despite sleeping in the same bed the night before and sharing far too many kisses for your comfort or virtue, being pressed up tight against a man never gets easier. Perhaps if you’d been married for longer than a single day you’d be more at ease with the notion, but as of yet, it comes as a shock to the senses every time. 

You carefully avoid the thought that other married women wouldn’t be still in possession of their maidenhead so many hours after their wedding night. That’s none of your business.

The two of you navigate into town at a slow canter, allowing you to gradually acclimatize to the gait of a horse. Part of you remembers riding horses when you were younger, but that was a lifetime ago, long enough to shake the memory from your muscles. These days, you can barely remember the hands holding you steady, the ones that would’ve lifted you up onto the horse and helped you back down. Those people are faceless in your memories. 

John stays silent at your back, only tightening his hand around your hip when you slip the slightest bit when Buttercup picks up the pace, heading towards the familiar sight of the sheriff’s office. It draws a quick squawk out of you, neatly masked by a fake cough. His chuckle at that rumbles through you, clearly not buying it. Another lesson in humiliation. 

You manage not to flail as much when he gets off the horse and helps you down, even though you’re still not used to being manhandled so, particularly not in front of the townsfolk milling about and glancing over with undisguised interest. 

“Are you working today?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you while John ties Buttercup’s lead to the post outside the sheriff’s office. 

“Don’t exactly get many days off when you’re the only sheriff in the county,” John replies. “We’ve got a few deputies in every town, and a couple here, but it ain’t an easy gig.”

“How many deputies have you got here?” 

“Just the three. Simon, John, and Kyle. You met Simon the other day.” 

His name draws up the faint memory of the masked deputy from your wedding ceremony. “I remember,” you say flatly. There’s no lost love between you and anyone involved with that sham of a wedding. 

“Don’t hold that against him,” John smiles. “He’s a good ole boy. Can’t fault a man for following the boss’ orders.”

Watch me. You glance away lest he see that thought etched across your face. 

The town is bustling with activity this late in the morning. Steps and floorboards creak under the weight of boots coming and going. A man going by in a horse-and-buggy whistles sharply when he cracks the reins, his horse puffing out a low, frustrated grunt. 

Men hustle past you decked out in leather chaps and waistcoats, spats covering the half-boots of those not decked out in tall, spurred cowboy boots. There are far less women scampering about town than men, particularly not so close to the sheriff’s office, but you keep finding your eyes drawn to them. 

John grips you under the arm and swiftly pulls you back when you narrowly sidestep a mound of horse droppings left uncovered in the middle of the road. The smell only hits you a second later. 

“Well, that’s lovely,” you remark, deadpanned, putting your foot down deliberately a good distance away. 

“Wouldn’t need to complain about it if you just watched your step.”

“You know, this really would’ve been a nice day to just stay home,” you mutter, chastised enough not to say something sharp in return. 

While the smell makes your nose wrinkle, you have to admit that the air here is far less pungent than back home. In general, this bucolic town is far more pleasant in certain respects than the city you’d left behind in a haste. 

“Where do you want me to wait for you?” you ask, turning to face him now at the front steps of the sheriff’s office.

He frowns. “Wait for me?”

“While you work, I mean. Surely you don’t mean for me to sit inside all day twiddling my thumbs while you work.”

His mustache twitches with a smile. “Thought I’d show you around first—get you acquainted with the locals.”

The idea of mingling with the townsfolk doesn’t appeal to you, but you also can’t think of a good enough reason to refuse. Especially with the curious glances already being sent your way. You duck your head to stare down at your boots when you spot a group of other women clustered together and whispering to each other, their eyes trained on you. Somehow you’ve gone from being furniture in a room to being a source of local gossip, and it’s almost hard to believe that you miss being ignored. 

When you look back up at John, you find him still staring down at you, waiting patiently. Up close, the sunlight almost turns patches of his beard gold; he has a smattering of moles across his face, not the blush of freckles but rather a few dark spots by his nose. Aside from the tuft of hair under his bottom lip, his chin is mostly bare, and when he smiles, his whole face moves with it. You have to blink to snap yourself out of it. 

Your upper lip curls involuntarily when you say, “So you want to help me make friends?” 

“Well, seeing as I know most of ‘em, figured I’d be a help.”

“The job’s really not all that busy then, huh?” You really wish you could learn to shut your mouth, since it keeps getting you in trouble, but the barbs roll off your tongue so naturally. Luckily, it seems to amuse him now more than it did early this morning. 

“Guess life isn’t as exciting ‘round here as it is back in the city, but it has its days,” John chuckles. “Now come on; I’ll give you the tour.”

For some reason, you hadn’t pictured the town being quite so big, but during your walk, you realize you’ve vastly underestimated the true size of it. Though not anywhere near as ostentatious as the cities back east, the sheer breadth of it eclipses anything from back home. It’s spread out on an incomparable scale, the mountains in the background stretching out along the horizon like the skeletal remains of a giant long since dead and decayed.  

It’s not the ramshackle town you envisioned when you stepped off the train the other day, despite the wooden facades and their brightly painted signs. You almost wish you had more time just to admire the craftsmanship, but John leads you from store to store like he’s on a mission.

He seems most interested in towing you around like some prized mare, all trussed up and clean from your bath the night before. You meet so many people that their names and faces all begin to blur together. The worst offense of all is that it makes you lean on John for support, looking up at him again and again for reassurance whenever you can’t answer a question or your answer triggers a moment of awkward silence. 

Those moments come aplenty too. The few people nosey enough to ask you about your life back in the city find themselves on the butt end of a cheerfully delivered lie from John. It unnerves you at first, seeing how comfortable he is with lying. He doesn’t even hesitate for a second when recounting your previous life as a schoolteacher in Connecticut prior to your engagement.

Perhaps it’s not a lie though. You don’t know the extent to which he and his original betrothed corresponded. Certainly not enough for him to suspect you of not being her, but maybe she’d spun him that story. Or maybe it had been the truth. All this time you’d thought that John had been swindled by some con artist using desperate men to fund her lifestyle, but maybe somewhere between here and Connecticut, there’s an unmarked grave with the corpse of the woman that John had intended to marry. 

That makes you feel guilty somehow, like you’ve taken something not meant for you. Even if you hadn’t wanted it—in fact, been forced into taking it. 

You swallow that thought when John leads you into the general store. Your eyes bug at the sight of a blonde haired woman in khaki cloth knickerbockers stocking the shelves, who turns at the sound of the door creaking open, the sharp look on her face melting away at the sight of John.

The warmth in her face infuriates you more than it should. You have no right to feel this way—or, some right, but you resent the fact that you do as well. 

“Hi John,” she greets. Her voice is deeper than you anticipated, springtime crisp like a babbling brook. 

“Laswell,” John greets, scooping his arm around your side until he can palm the side of your hip, dragging you in close. You stumble into him, catching yourself with a hand on his chest. Your neck and face go hot when Laswell’s eyes turn on you, curiosity glinting in them. 

“Your lady finally showed up then,” she surmises. “I’ll be honest, I was starting to think you made her up. Told the boys to think about forcing you into an early retirement.”

John huffs at that. His fingers tighten at your waist when Laswell says your lady, as if the words alone make it fact. Speak it into being. The metal burns against your ring finger. In a sense, it is fact, despite the subterfuge. You wonder if it would hold up in court, but out here, it’s real enough. 

“Well, she’s very real, as you can tell.” He gives you a little shake with the hand on your waist. “Say hi, darlin’.”

If looks could kill, yours would be pit-viper venom. You’d leave behind a festering puncture mark and a body in the throes of envenomation. “Excuse me?”

Your attitude might come at a cost this time because he looks unamused at your back talk in front of an audience. “Darlin’.” It’s said like a warning. 

You bite your tongue instead of lashing out. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Kate Laswell; I own this little shop,” she says, introducing herself and stepping forward to hold out her hand. You have to step forward to take it, pulling you out of John’s arms. It feels familiar being on your own, certainly more natural than being constantly at John’s side the way you have for almost two days now. It’s also a bit cold after having John’s warmth at your back or side at all times. 

There’s a moment when you realize that Kate is the first person you’ve had to introduce yourself to, John having introduced you to everyone else you’d come across. It hovers on the tip of your tongue when you realize that you could just say your real name, and you find yourself torn between setting it free and the odd fear of John’s reaction. 

You chicken out at the last second, giving Kate the same name as the one John introduced you by to everyone else in town. 

“He might growl like a bear, but you’ll get used to that,” she says, winking.

You frown. Awfully familiar talk for someone who isn’t his wife. Why should she know that? 

You make yourself push that thought away, reminding yourself again that it doesn’t matter. It’s none of your concern. 

“He’s been a gentleman,” you croak instead, smile so thin that it might as well be a grimace. 

A shout from the bar across the street startles you, drawing your attention away from the conversation. John stills too. A series of raised voices puts him on alert, and then someone inside the bar must fire a gun because the violent crack of one makes you scream, the noise pulled involuntarily from your chest. 

“Stay here,” John growls, his pistol already drawn. He’s out the door before you can respond, darting across the street towards the bar and shouldering the door open so hard that it rattles in its frame. You watch everything happen through the window of the general store with your heart in your throat. 

“Good Lord,” you whisper, hand over your mouth. Kate stands beside you in a similar manner, her eyebrows pinched in concern. 

The thought doesn’t even occur to you that now would be the perfect time to make a break for it, with John busy across the street. Your feet are rooted in place; you doubt you’d be able to take so much as a single step towards the door. 

There’s precious little that you can see through the grit-lined bar windows, not as dusty and dirty as they are, but you can hear the commotion from inside. Raised voices and the sound of breaking glass. It makes you flinch, heart galloping at an even faster pace. Like harness horses on the Freehold Raceway. It’s not long before you see a large, masked man hightailing it down the road towards the bar, dust clouding around his boots with each heavy step. 

You recognize him almost instantly as the man from your wedding, the one that signed your marriage license. John’s man—Simon. He nearly takes the bar door off its hinges when he throws it open, barely in there a second before he and John come out each with a man in hand, both already handcuffed and looking roughed up They drag them stumbling down the dirt road towards the sheriff’s office, Simon half-dragging another man whose white button-down is slowly saturating with red blood oozing out of a gunshot wound in his belly.

“Shouldn’t they call a doctor for that man?” you ask Kate in a frantic voice, whipping around to face her. 

She nods. “They probably will once they’ve got the four of them locked up. Doctor probably heard that anyway—he’ll be on his way, I bet.”

“On his way already?”

“There’s only one doctor around here. And not much else sounds like a gunshot.”

“Does that happen a lot around here?” You don’t know why the thought makes you nervous, but there’s a cramp in your belly and a sweat building up on the back of your neck and your hands itch to grab something. When you swallow, it almost doesn’t go down. 

“It’s not uncommon. I reckon it’s not something you’re used to?”

You purse your lips. “I’ve seen a dead body before.” You don’t know why that comes out so defensively, like a slight that’s been levied against you. There’s no easy way to dispel the myth in everyone’s mind that you come from a life of comfort and ease, with delicate hands fit for delicate work. You curl your hands into fists at the thought, conscious of the old scars and calluses built up over years of scrubbing and cleaning. If she were to look down, she wouldn’t see the well-kept hands of a lady. 

When Kate quirks an eyebrow, you realize that your response had nothing to do with her question. “Well, look at you.”

When John and Simon disappear into the jailhouse, the door swinging shut behind them, you sway on your feet for a second, feeling oddly unbalanced. Something about the sight of the man’s blood leaves you feeling woozy, taking the chair that Kate offers you when she sees the way you rock back on your heels. 

“Let me get you something to drink,” Kate offers, brows now furrowed sympathetically at the pathetic sight you must be. “I’m sure you got a little fright thinking of your husband facing down a man with a gun, but I’m afraid that comes with marrying a sheriff. There’s danger everywhere, you know.”

What you don’t say is that your lightheadedness came not just from the sight of the man with the blood leaking from a wound in his stomach, but the grim look on your husband’s face as he carted away the man responsible, eyes hard as steel. No sympathy for the man in his hands. Only another criminal to be tossed away in a jail cell. The punishment for making another man bleed.

Your hands shake in your lap, but you don’t say that. Instead, you smile weakly and take the glass of water from her hands when she comes back from filling it at the sink. “You’re right. Just a little fright.”

[missmatchablossom]

summary: being megumi's babysitter has two benefits: you get to hang out with an adorable kid, and you get to work for gojo satoru. when gojo finally asks you on a date, the two of you drop off megumi to uncle nanami's for the day while gojo spoils you. but your megumi's separation anxiety might get in the way :')

a/n: megumi is 4-5 years old and is super attached to you. very fluffy and sweet, smutty at the end with soft top gojo. cursing, female reader.

tags: @gojonegs @brevnaaa @sad-darksoul

You busied yourself in the kitchen, preparing a bunch of snacks for Megumi to take for his day with Uncle Nanami and Yuji. The preschooler stuck to your side like glue - always wanting to be next to you or within your line of sight - so you settled him on the sofa where he could still see you.

“Anything else you want me to pack you, my love?” you asked, waiting for Megumi's usual request for extra strawberries. When he didn’t respond, you walked over to his spot on the couch where he was sitting with his chin tucked to his chest.

“Megumi? What’s wrong,” you asked gently, noticing the tremble in his bottom lip.

“I wanna go too,” he said quietly, rubbing at his eyes. You knelt down to his level, holding his hands in yours.

“Ah, you don’t want to go play with Uncle Nanami and Yuji?” you said softly.

“I stay with you,” he said, his voice wavering with tears. It shattered your heart to pieces, and you struggled to keep your own eyes from watering.

You sat next to him on the couch, lifting him into your lap. He hugged you tight, burying his face into your chest like he usually did when he was sad or sleepy.

“I promise you will have so much fun. Uncle Nanami told me Yuji has been bugging him for a playdate with you too! I hear you’re going to the zoo today,” you said, rubbing his back in soothing circles as his sniffles quieted.

You pulled back so you could look into his eyes.

“Gojo and I are going to have our own playdate today, but the places we’re going won’t be fun for you,” you reasoned, smoothing his wild raven hair back.

“I’ll let you in on a secret though,” you said cheekily, leaning forward to touch your forehead to his.

“I really like Gojo. But I love you the most,” you said, your voice tapering off to a whisper at the end. 

Finally, Megumi smiled - so adorable and happy that you were second guessing your choice to drop him off at Nanami’s today.

“Wow! Megumi smiled! You know what that means right,” you said, mirroring Megumi’s growing smile with one of your own.

“Kiss attack!” you yelled, assaulting his cheeks and forehead with kisses, causing him to laugh loudly- the kind of free, unsupressed laughter that only little kids could make.

The sound of footsteps approaching in the hallway caught your attention.

“That must be Gojo! Why don’t we try scaring him?” you said, giggling as Megumi nodded eagerly. The two of you crept over to the side of the door, crouching right out of sight.

As soon as Gojo opened the door, you both jumped up in front of him, yelling nonsensically. Gojo being gojo, didn’t flinch at all, and instead greeted you both with one of those annoyingly beautiful, nonchalant smiles of his.

“Next time you wanna scare me, try to keep the giggling down. I could hear you both from the end of the hallway,” Gojo said, ruffling Megumi’s hair.

“Lame,” Megumi muttered, and you looked away to smother your laugh. You’d never heard him say that word before, but you’d definitely heard Gojo say it a few times.

“Oh yeah? I’ll show you what’s lame,” Gojo said, scooping up Megumi into his arms. Megumi squealed with laughter as Gojo tilted Megumi down, chanting “uh oh, uh oh, uh oh” until the preschooler was completely upside down.

“Okay okay! Let him breathe,” you said, smiling as Gojo righted a very rosy Megumi in his arms. He finally paused to look at you - and I mean he really looked at you, his eyes traveling up and down your body appreciatively.

It was the reaction you’d hoped for - you were all dressed up for your date after all. But it still made you blush insanely.

Gojo smirked to himself, leaning his head down to whisper something in Megumi’s ear. Megumi tilted his head in confusion, turning to face you as he told you “He said you’re pwetty.”

Your cast your eyes up to Gojo, who was already smiling warmly at you. You couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips either. 

“What’s pwetty?” Megumi asked, looking adorably confused in Gojo’s arms.

“If you say someone is pretty, it means looking at them makes you happy,” Gojo explained, though he was looking at you while he talked, making your stomach do those familiar summersaults it did whenever you had his attention.

Megumi’s eyes widened in understanding, immediately turning his attention back to you.

“Megumi thinks you’re pwetty too,” Megumi said, making your heart swell again. You thanked him, leaning up to kiss his cheek, then swiftly planting one on Gojo’s.

Gojo looked stunned for a second before he broke out into an even bigger, brilliant smile, the kind that made him look young and carefree.

~

The three of you arrived to Nanami’s place quickly, Gojo carrying the bag you packed while you and Megumi held hands.

As soon as the door open, Yuji came barreling towards Megumi, practically knocking him over with the force of his hug.

“Megumi!!! We gonna see tigers today!!!” Yuji yelled.

You and Gojo shared a look, the two of you holding back laughter at Megumi’s annoyed face.

“Yuji, how many times have I told you to greet people properly,” Nanami chided. Yuji apologized, quickly greeting you and Gojo before he dragged Megumi inside. 

Megumi followed him, but stopped in his tracks to turn back and look at you.

“You come back?” Megumi asked, in such a small and uncertain tone that you had to take a deep breath to fend off the impending tears.

“Yes my love, I promise I’ll be back. Now go have lot’s of fun okay?” you said, watching as he nodded, wiped at his eyes, then turned join Yuji.

“Hey, why aren’t you worried if I’ll come back?” Gojo added, calling Megumi’s name a few times. Nanami chucked as Megumi completely ignored him.

“He’s quite fond of you. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him,” Nanami said, smiling warmly at you. You didn’t have a single doubt it your mind that he wouldn’t, but it didn’t stop the wave of sadness washing over you when it finally hit you that you’d be apart. Even though you had only been his babysitter for a couple months, you loved that kid like he was your own.

“Oy, why are you addressing her at not me?” Gojo said, but was again ignored.

“Thank you Nanami. Let me know if when you’d like me to watch Yuji for you, free of charge,” you said smiling as you peered inside, seeing Megumi and Yuji absorbed by Nanami’s fishtank.

Nanami thanked you, and Gojo ushered you out the door before you could cling to Megumi again. 

The short walk back to the car was quiet - until you began sniffling. Gojo stopped in his tracks, turning to look at you as he chuckled in disbelief.

“Are you crying?” he asked, gently cupping your cheek in his hand.

“Maybe,” you sniffed, traitorous tears gathering in your eyes. He laughed to himself as he swiped the tears off your cheeks.

“Ah, and here I thought Megumi was the one with the separation anxiety,” he teased.

“I can’t help it! I just love that kid, okay?” you said, joining him in his laughter as your tears slowed.

“I know you do. And I am very grateful for it,” he said, adopting a low, affectionate tone as he swiped off the last tear off your face.

“But I’m gonna ask you to just think of me today, because I have been waiting ages to have you to myself,” he drawled, planting a soft kiss against the back of your hand.

~

Gojo Satoru did not hold back when it came to dates. Not that you’d expect anything less, but you certainly didn’t anticipate what he had planned; wine tasting, dinner, and the arcade. Except he booked the most extravagant wine tasting, reserving an entire floor of the winery for the two of you two of you. And he chose a rooftop dinner at sunset at the most exclusive restaurant in the city, where the chef prepared a special tasting menu just for the two of you. And he completed the date with a trip to the local arcade, which he completely booked for just the two of you to enjoy. You couldn’t recall ever having that much fun, let alone on a first date.

The two of walked leisurely, fingers interlaced, happiness from the evening practically emanating off of you.

“So, how’d I do?” Gojo asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“That was the most amazing date I’ve ever been on. I can’t believe you did all of that for me, as a first date,” you said, the disbelief and wonder evident in your voice. Gojo’s rich laughter filled your ears.

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” he said confidently, giving you a boyish grin before he winked.

You gaped at him, because how could this be him getting started? Before you could question him more, he stilled.

“We’re here,” he said, guiding you inside an incredibly well decorated building.

“Here? I thought our date was over,” you said in confusion, following him as he pulled you further inside. The two of you were immediately greeted by workers dressed in immaculate uniforms. You recognized this place as one of the fanciest - and most expensive - hotels in the area.

“You didn’t forget the promise I made you last time, did you?” Gojo whispered in your ear, eliciting a shiver out of you. Oh, you remembered.

“Free your schedule next week. Megumi’s gonna spend a day with Uncle Nanami, and I’m taking you out on a date. And we’re gonna end the night in my bedroom, where you can be as loud as you want.”

Except this wasn’t his bedroom. 

You looked at him in shock as he led you to the penthouse suite. It was a gorgeous space - a breathtaking view of the city, a lavishly made bed covered in rose petals, a stupidly enormous hot tub. But none of it drew your attention more than Gojo himself, gazing at you like he was going to devour you.

“Gojo, this must have cost a fortune,” you said, gulping as he took slow, deliberate steps towards you.

“Baby, I am filthy rich - this is nothing. I hope you have expensive taste, because I plan on spoiling the hell out of you,” he purred, and you knew he absolutely meant it.

You were suddenly aware of just how close he was to you. You could see the silver specks sparkling in his gorgeous eyes. Smell his intoxicating cologne. Hear the minute shift in his breathing. Part of you wanted to runaway from his attentive, heady stare. But another part of you wanted to bask in his attention, to revel in in.

“Are you gonna keep standing there staring, or are you finally gonna fuck me?” you said breathlessly, watching the way his eyes darkened and his lips parted.

He closed the distance between you, tilting your chin up as devoured you with desparate, open-mouthed kisses. 

He bent down, lifting you up so his hands gripped your ass, your legs wrapped around his hips. You ran your hands across him greedily, shamelessly exploring his body from the soft skin of his collar to the silky strands of his hair.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, steadying you on his lap. You broke the kiss, gasping as he tugged you flush over his erection. Your dress had ridden up - leaving only the thin fabric of your underwear and his slacks separating the two of you.

“See what you do to me?” he murmured against your skin, trailing kisses down your jaw. He slid his lips lower, niping and sucking against a sensitive spot at the base of your neck while he ground his hips against you. You threw your head back, moaning as he lightly bit down at the same spot, grazing you with his teeth.

“You are so beautiful. I love hearing you moan,” he praised, laying you on the bed so you were flat on your back.

He didn’t give you time to catch your breath before he slid the straps of your dress down, kissing each inch of exposed skin until he reached your breasts. He stared at them appreciatively, humming to himself in satisfaction before he took your nipple into his mouth. You whined and writhed as he swirled his tongue against your sensnitive peak, sucking on you as he drew circles against the sensitive skin on your hip.

You lifted your hips up to grind against his ever-growing erection, desparate for friction. He moaned with you in his mouth, drawing back to tease you with a devastating smile.

“Someone’s impatient, hm?” he said lowly, rolling his hips against you. You could only moan in reply.

Suddenly, he moved himself off of you. You jerked your head up to complain, until he roughly pulled you to the edge of the bed, sliding to his knees before you. You soft gasps turned to pants as Gojo lifted your thighs over his shoulders, positioning himself perfectly between your legs.

“Can I go down on you?” he asked, placing slow, open mouthed kisses on the insides of your thigh.

“Please,” you begged, unable to keep your hips from lifting off the bed. Gojo gripped his hands on either side of your hips, pressing you down into the bed.

“Then stay still for me like a good girl,” he said, pressing a kiss against your clit through your already soaked underwear.

He flickered his eyes up to you before he yanked your panties to the side, licking a slow stripe up your core. You cursed as you threw your head back, tangling your hands through his silver locks. Gojo closed his eyes as he fucked you with his tongue, alternating between dipping his tongue between your folds and sucking on your clit. He moaned as he palmed himself through his pants, like he was the one drawing pleasure from eating you out.

“I could cum from the sound of your little whimpers and moans,” he said, eyes glazed over, lips swollen and dripping. The way he looked nearly send you over the edge.

You jolted up as you felt him drag his finger lightly across your core.

“May I?” he asked, eyes nearly black from the pleasure. You nodded your head, barely holding back a scream as Gojo slid his finger inside you, curling up as he sucked on your clit at the same time.

You came harder than you’d ever before, the wave of pleasure so unbearably sweet it had you gasping for air. Gojo brought his fingers to his mouth, closing his eyes as he sucked them clean.

“You taste as sweet as I dreamed,” he praised, moving forward to kiss you. You lazily kissed him back, reaching down between you to stroke him through his pants. He broke the kiss to moan in your ear, low and desparate.

“Can I fuck you now?” he asked, trailing kisses across your breasts. You nodded, the post-orgasm daze making you feel light and warm.

Gojo reached for a condom, but you stopped him with a hand on his.

“I’m on birth control. You can fuck me raw,” you said, enjoying the way his eyes hooded.

“If you keep talking to me like that, I’ll come in 2 seconds,” he warned, making you giggle. Your laughter turned to gasps when the head of his cock pressed against your entrance, slowly sliding to the hilt, reaching the spot that made you whimper.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he cursed, pressing his forehead against yours as he slid his cock in and out of you. You scraped your nails down the smooth skin of his back as he quickened his pace, his hips wetly slapping against the back of your thighs as he drove into you.

“You hear that? You’re fucking soaked for me baby,” he panted, not bothering to cease his thrusts. 

It was too much - his filthy praise in your ear, how deep he was hitting, the way he swiped his thumb over your clit as he fucked you. Your second orgasm seared into you, and you bit into his shoulder as you came down from your high.

“You are so pretty when you cum on my cock,” he said, kissing across your jaw.

You lightly pushed on his shoulder, a silent plea for him to give you a break. He complied right away, pulling his still very much erect cock out of you.

“Now, will you please sit on the bed so I can ride your cock?” you said, batting your lashes at him as you smiled.

He closed his eyes as the words came out, rolling his jaw as if he could barely contain himself. 

“Fuck yes,” he murmured, moving to sit with his back against the headboard.

You crawled over to him, positioning his cock over your entrance as he steadied you with his hands on your hips. You indulged yourself in the way he threw his head back, murmuring a slow curse as you sank completely onto him. He moaned each time you sank back down onto him, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as you quickened your pace.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” he moaned, the grip he had on your hips becoming deliciously painful.

“Fill me up,” you said, smiling sultrily as he let out a string of curses and filthy praises. Barely a second later his hips bucked up as he came, spilling his warm seed inside you where it belonged.

If you thought the normal Gojo was attractive, sex-dazed Gojo was sinfully sexy - a feint flush over his porcelain skin, lips pinked and swollen, silvery hair in disarray, and a satisfied smile on his face. 

You collapsed onto him, laying your head on his chest as pulled you closer. You both stayed in each other’s arms until you both caught your breath, relaxing as you cuddled. 

“Oh my gosh wait what time is it? Don’t we need to pick up Megumi soon?” you said, sitting up suddenly.

“Relax baby. We have some time left,” he soothed, pulling you back into his arms. 

“Still thinking about my kid, even as we’re laying naked together with my cum still inside of you?” he said, suddenly popping your tit into his mouth. You yelped, smothering a moan before he pulled back, laughing.

“He just popped into my mind, I promise. You’ve had my attention this whole day. I can’t even begin of thinking how I could repay you,” you reassured, pressing light kisses against his lips. 

“You can repay me by going on another date with me. I already have it planned and booked so you have to say yes,” he said, trailing soft kisses against your shoulder as you giggled. You stood no chance against this man.

Definitely not when he princess-carried you to the bathtub. Not when he sat behind you, gently brushing his hands over your body as he cleaned you up, not letting you lift a finger. Not when he blow-dried your hair for you. Not when he laid out a comfortable set of clothes to change into - consisting of one of his crewnecks and yoga pants. Nope, no chance against this man.

~

When Nanami answered the door, his eyes immediately took in the obviously over-sized sweater you were wearing. He gave you a knowing smile, sending a blush to your cheeks as you avoided his eyes.

As you and Gojo walked inside, you noticed how abnormally quiet it was. The reason why became abundantly clear as you spotted Megumi and Yuji cuddled up on the couch, completely knocked out.

“They were very hyper at the zoo today. I’m surprised they didn’t fall asleep sooner,” Nanami said in a hushed voice, smiling warmly at the two boys. He showed you the pictures he took of the two throughout the zoo: Yuji and Megumi in matching tiger headbands, Yuji and Megumi walking while holding hands, Yuji sitting at the top of an enormous elephant statue, Megumi starting wide-eyed at the giant panda exhibit. You had Nanami send them to you immediately, already planning to get the pictures printed out.

You turned to show Gojo the pictures, but he was knelt down besides the two boys. He wore an affectionate smile on his face looking between the two of them before he smoothed Megumi’s hair back, gently patting his side until he stirred.

“Time to go home Megumi,” he said softly. Megumi reached his arms towards Gojo, not bothering to open his eyes as Gojo lifted him into his arms. The two of you thanked Nanami as you walked out, promising to host the next playdate between Megumi and Yuji.

Once you reached the car, Gojo made quick work fastening Megumi into his carseat without waking him, draping his jacket over Megumi before opening the passenger door for you. You thanked him with a kiss, promising to come inside his place to tuck Megumi in before you went back to your apartment.

The preschooler slept quietly as you carried him to the apartment, barely moving as you laid him in his bed and pulled the blankets over him. Only when you pressed a kiss to his forehead did he wake up, blinking up at you sleepily. Suddenly, his navy eyes were welling up with tears as he wiggled out of bed, nearly launching himself into your arms. You hugged him close, patting his back as he sniffled. 

“You were so brave today going to the zoo with Nanami and Yuji. Did you have fun?” you said, rocking him gently as his cries settled. He nodded, gripping your sweater in his little hands.

“We go together next time?” he asked quietly. You squeezed him even tighter against you.

“Yes, lets go together next time. We can play your favorite games tomorrow, okay? I’ll be here when you wake up,” you cooed, kissing the top of his head. 

“Don’t go,” Megumi said, beginning to cry once more. You tried rocking him to sleep, murmuring promises of all the fun you’ll have together tomorrow, to no avail. Gojo walked into the room, sitting on the bed beside you.

‘What’s all the fuss, Megumi?” he asked, swiping some of the tears off Megumi’s cheeks.

“No go,” he managed to say through his tears, sending sharp pains through your heart as his cries shook his little body. 

“It’s been a while since he spent the day apart from both of us. It must have really shocked him,” you said, guilt stabbing into your chest.

“When I first brought him home, he never cried at all. He’s really lucky to have someone he can miss so much now,” Gojo said lightheartedly, bringing a smile back to your face.

“Why don’t you just sleep over?” he asked. You snapped your eyes to his, searching for the usual amusement in his eyes that let you know he was teasing. But there wasn’t any.

“Are you sure?” you asked tentatively. Cuddling Megumi while you slept and waking up to Gojo sounded like a dream come true.

“I’m sure. Only if you’re comfortable with it, I know it would make Megumi happy,” he said, patting Megumi’s back. “And it would make me happy to wake up to you,” he added at the end, the sincerity in his tone making you smile like an idiot.

“Okay, I’ll stay. You hear that Megumi? I’m gonna stay with you the whole night!” you said. The preschooler finally lifted his face from your chest, looking up at you with watery eyes.

“Stay?” he mumbled, wiping at his eyes.

“Yup, I’ll sleep next to you in your bed okay?” you said, cupping his face in your hands. Megumi finally stopped crying, nodding his head as he calmed. 

“I’ll get some extra pillows for you,” Gojo said, moving to get up. Megumi stopped him with a small hand on his shoulder.

“No, stay too,” he said, reaching his arms out towards Gojo. Gojo chucked in disbelief, taking Megumi into his arms.

“I’m touched Megumi. I thought you only missed her,” he teased, but the warm smile on his face gave away how truly pleased he was about it.

Megumi shook his head, clinging onto Gojo’s chest so cutely you wanted to take a photo.

“Let’s all just sleep in my bed together then,” Gojo offered, lifting his brows at you as he smiled. 

“Together?” Megumi said, looking between the two of you. Ah, now you for sure couldn’t say no. Not that you were going to.

“Yes baby, we’’ll be sleeping next to you the whole night, so you don’t have to worry okay?” you said, scooting close so you were flush against Gojo’s side.

Megumi finally smiled, hugging the two of you as much as he could. Gojo turned his body, enveloping both you and Megumi in his arms. You felt tears prick against your eyes as you were overcome with a wave of happiness. This is where you belonged, where you always wanted to be.

You fell asleep peacefully, cuddled up with your back against Gojo’s front and Megumi asleep against your chest.

~

check out the part 1 to this fic if you enjoyed this! :)

[monarchberrysblog]

𝔡𝔬𝔫’𝔱 𝔭𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔦𝔱

+18 Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: I fantasize about it all the time; if you were mine, I’d give this pussy to you nine to five by tonight.

You never wanted to go to work; you just wanted to get to work. After Miguel gets a haircut and gets something new, you decide to test it to see if you can still get a good grip.

Trigger Warnings ⚠️: switch!Miguel (duh), a bit of praise (from Miguel), size kink, cunnilingus (f! receiving), humping, Miguel breaks a couch 😏, breeding kink towards the end, unprotected p in v sex, and wrap it before you tap it. (OOC MIGUEL) if I missed any, let me know!

Word Count: +1.6k words

Author’s Note: Hi, hi, hi! I am somewhat notoriously bad at writing smut, but here we are! I want to improve on it and give you all a well-cooked meal, which is switch! Miguel. (I think the man is a submissive; this is my headcanon that I believe in.)

To my girlies who love submissive men who have the prettiest moans and groans 💌

Miguel didn't want to admit it but damn it, he loves it when you ride him. The way your legs trembled, the way you slammed your weight down into him, feeling his bulbous tip getting bullied into your cervix. The man loved it when you took control.

He loves it when he holds you; you are light, but the moment you're on top? The man caves in and begs for more.

This unlocked something in him by simply trying something new on a lazy, rainy Thursday evening…

“The barber did well with your hair…” You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling how soft it was under the pads of your fingers. “Why the taper fade?” You adjusted yourself on the couch where the two of you cuddled and shared a blanket. “It just became a nuisance to deal with after a while. So why not? Something new.”

As you spoke, you could feel a sense of longing. "Imma miss it; I'm not gonna have any leverage to grab when you're eating me—" You expressed, but suddenly stopped when you realized he was staring at you intensely. You could feel his gaze piercing your soul, focusing mainly on your eyes. Feeling embarrassed, you cleared your throat awkwardly and shifted your attention to the TV, which was playing softly in the background. “Sorry.”

Miguel shrugged nonchalantly and focused on the dramatic telenovela on the TV screen. "You never really were the type to grab onto my hair," he admitted. "You always seemed to prefer grabbing onto a pillow, or sometimes a blanket, maybe even your shirt, but that's about it." You lifted your head from his chest, surprised at how observant he was. "How on earth do you know that?" you asked incredulously, a tone that sounded forced. "I just do," he replied confidently. "I can tell you that you tend to whine a lot before you finish."

“Please, I don't whine when I come.” You scoffed before you covered yourself with the soft blanket you two shared.

“Yeah, you do, cariño.”

“Don't push it.”

/

You rolled your eyes back in ecstasy, feeling the wet muscle against your entrance, lightly giving it kitten licks, making it a point to flick at your clit. The man lapped at your juices and slurped up the clear arousal like it was the final meal of his life. Your hands grasp onto his hair, grinding your clit against his nose, moving your hips down towards the top of his nose.

“You're so cute, even with that little clit waiting to get suckled on…” You felt him grab your hips, and his thumb ghosted against the bundle of nerves, immediately feeling something slip out of your entrance. He pulled away from your warm and wet entrance and slipped his ring finger in, feeling your gummy walls flutter at the sensation.

“There you go, you're doing perfect. Take deep breaths.” He hummed, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“Spit on it…” You demanded, squirming your hips. “Not just yet, cariño.” He shushed you, pulling his fingers out and licking the clear arousal off. His tongue lightly probed at your fluttering hole a bit and slowly pulled away. The way your walls contracted, begging to be filled with his length, was enough for the man wanting to cave in.

“We’re going to do something different, cariño.” He breathed to you before he managed to toss you around on the couch, eventually with you on top and him below you. “Come on, put yourself to work.” He demands, feeling your soft, wet pussy against his aching cock.

Reaching down, your hand finally found his length, and you felt yourself playing with it more than anything. You tapped the tip against your entrance, excited to sink into his girth. “No, no, I don't think you understand. I don't want it to be inside just yet.” He pauses for a moment before he moved his hips away from your needy, wet entrance.

“I want you to grind on it.” He breathes out.

You hesitate before you let his cock go, allowing his length to land against his happy trail and lower stomach. Adjusting yourself and placing your hands on his shoulders, you slowly moved your aching core up and down his cock, feeling your clit get the right amount of friction. A quiet moan escapes your lips while the veins down his cock rub against the pearl of nerves. “There you go, cariño…” Miguel groaned out, feeling your arousal coat against his aching length.

“Put your whole weight down; none of this squatting bullcrap.” He grabs you by the hips and pushes you down; you feel his dick in between your folds, causing a gasp to escape. Before even having the time to get yourself comfortable, the hold he had on your waist while he moved you up and down against his length felt as if you were withering under his control. A familiar, warm, tight sensation builds up in your lower stomach before you erupt out a loud, whimpering moan.

“Does that feel good? Do you like that?” He heaves, still guiding you closer and closer to your orgasm. The way you trembled and made a whimpering sound was an indicator for Miguel. “All you gotta do is feel good for me, understand?” You nod, dumbed down by the arousal. The tension was almost palpable and thin, like a threading needle waiting to be snipped off by the sisters of faith with their sharp scissors.

“Aww, you can't speak? Is my girl getting dumbed down by grinding herself on my cock? Qué sucia. Dímelo, ya lo quieres?” His words sounded like venom—sweet but intoxicating venom escaping from his tongue and lips. The only response from you was a moan while you moved your hips after Miguel seized his movements. “¿Lo quieres?” He groans out, feeling his cock lubricated by your arousal.

“¿Quién te hace sentir bien? Dímelo fuerte, cariño. Quién.” He seizes your movements, not letting you reach your first high for the night. “You…” You breathed out. “Fuck, damn right you are…” Your fingernails dug into his shoulders, creating little crescent indents on his skin, but the man didn't care.

Slowly, Miguel sat up from where he lay down and decided to help his girl. “Here…” His hand reached down to his length, with his fingers holding onto the base of his cock. “Spit on it.” You demanded once again. “Eager, aren't we?” He mused before he spat down, and you felt it land on your clit, causing him to rub his thumb against it slowly, allowing your clit to be doused in his spit.

“C’mon, ride me. Ride me the way I like it.” You felt him tap his now-doused tip against your entrance before you grind yourself into his length, earning a moan for the both of you. “Jesus, your so fucking tight and small.” He groaned out. “Are you trying to make me come—” You felt your knees immediately regret the position, knowing that you're going to be the one to do a lot of cardio for this overstimulated man.

While bouncing on his cock, you felt his grip on your hips tighten, almost as if you were going to slip away from him. “There you go…” Miguel heaves out, soon pulling you into an embrace. “Let me fuck it in you, stay still…” He breathes before you slow your movements down to a halt.

The sound of skin slapping and your loud moans crescendo filled the living room space while being held onto a tight embrace and feeling his cock pumping inside you. Your whimpering cries became more noticeable as your cries went in sync with his harsh thrust. “More…” You whined out, feeling your fingernails dig into his skin; the fast-paced thrusts soon turned sloppy, with his cock sliding out of you every once in a while. “You're killing me, neña…” Miguel groans quietly, keeping up with the rapid, uneven pace, creating a wet, slapping noise.

“C’mon, let's finish together, make me proud.” Tears began to form, and some rolled down your cheeks while you kept up with the overstimulation and with how his tip aggressively bullied at your cervix. “More…” You demanded, moving in sync with his harsh thrusts.

As you were getting your guts rearranged on the couch by Miguel, you couldn't help but notice the creaking sounds coming from underneath the both of you. It seemed to be getting louder by the minute as if the old piece of furniture couldn't bear the weight of two people anymore. Just then, a sharp crack echoed through the room, causing you to jolt and lose your balance. Miguel, however, seemed unfazed by the noise and rolled his eyes as if he was used to it. He continued to keep up with the rapid movements, brushing his happy trail against your lower stomach. “I'll get a new couch soon…” You wanted to laugh at how nonchalant he was being bit the only sounds you can produce is a loud, needy moan instead.

The sounds of whimpers, moans, and cries were palpable; knowing that the two of you would get a noise complaint from neighbors, you didn't care. “Yes! Yes!” You squealed, feeling your climax slowly building up. Clear liquid gushes out, while a loud moan is the last sound you can produce deep into your chest. “Please let me breed you, fuck, I'm gonna breed you, cariño.” He pants to you, thrusting his cock into you, earning another orgasm from you and a splash zone on the already collapsed couch. “You feel so good…”

The way you felt him twitch inside you, along with his rapid rhythm slowly coming to an end. The pullout was swift, with some of Miguel’s remnants seeping out of your fluttering hole. “Good girl…” He rubbed his hand on your hip lovingly, seeing his semen oozing out and onto the fabric of the couch. A kiss to your lips brought you back to your senses as you happily returned the kiss and calmed down from your high.

“The couch…”

“I needed a new one anyways.”

[musclejedi-tameem]

Chase was nervous going into his first year of college. Especially since he didn’t know who his roommate would be. When he met Alex for the first time he was annoyed by the stereotypical jock bro he was but tried to make the best of it. The two got along surprisingly well though and the first few weeks of school were good. Until one weekend when Chase complained to Alex that he had nothing to do because his date had cancelled on him. “We’ll you can always go to the party with me bro. I’ve been trying to get you there for weeks bruh. C’mon you love it!” Chase was unsure about going, he was shy and not really a party person. He also didn’t want to be around a lot of frat bros, which were most of Alex’s friends. But he reluctantly decided to give it a shot. Alex was excited but the next day before they left he told Chase that he needed to “fix something’s” before he could go to this party. Chase wasn’t sure what that meant but then Alex handed him a strange bottle and told him to drink it. Chase asked what is was but Alex said “don’t worry about it bruh. It’s just a little pre gaming.” So figuring it was alcohol Chase drank it. The stuff smelled nasty and burned all the way down his throat making him cough. “What was that shit bro?” He stopped as he noticed his voice sounded off, deeper and bro like. He was even talking like one now! He groaned as his body began to shake and his skinny body expanded with muscle. Big thick pecs pushing his shirt off them as his biceps did the same. His back widening and going down to a tight v taper. His abs were growing in a getting nice and defined as his legs thickened along with his ass. He let out and even deeper more sensual moan as he felt his dick grow longer and thicker in his pants. His balks swelled and dropped lower too. Full of new jock testosterone. He finished his transformation with his face becoming sharper and a stubbles beard filling in his jaw line as his hair hit a touch longer and slightly curly. “Hey you ready to go party bro?” Alex asked him. “Fuck yeah brah! I was born ready! Everyone is gonna dig this hot bod tonight bro. I’m so fucking horny!” Alex laughed as his former nerdy roommate was becoming a jock bro like him. “Oh yeah bro they definitely will love it. And you know that I do. Here I’ll help you out quick before we go.” With that Alex tan his hands down Chase’s firm muscles and gave him the best hand job he’d ever had. Bros take care of each other after all and these two would definitely have more “fun” together before the Semester was done.

[hotyanderedaddies]

Spending the Night with Your Yandere Vampire Boyfriend

[Yandere! Vampire x Human! GN Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

You've been with your new boyfriend for a few weeks by now, and things were developing really quickly. Much faster than any of your previous relationships.

Your new boyfriend, whom you playfully call Daddy, recently revealed to you that he's a vampire which was a total shock to you.

Well, maybe you should've caught on when he'd only come around at night when the sun was down, you never saw him eat any food, he seemed to avoid garlic at all costs, and he was super pale... and he had vampire fangs.

A total surprise.

Either way, you weren't too scared when Daddy revealed his "secret" to you.

Daddy is perfect boyfriend, honestly.

Daddy knows all of your likes and dislikes, and even loves all of your hobbies. The two of you share the same interests in books, movies, video games-- everything!

And you better since he spent such a long time following you around, studying your every move. Watching. Waiting.

Daddy is a pure gentleman, always treating you with the upmost respect. He virtually worships the ground you walk on, treating you like you're his precious treasure.

Because you are his. All his. And only his.

Daddy really seemed to walk straight out of a daydream, rescuing you from such a dreary life of working retail and attending boring college classes. He really helped to lift you up, especially after so many of your personal relationships seemed to have tapered off once you'd started college.

He only got rid of those who would try to take you away from him. Honest. He did it all for your relationship.

So when the two of you were on one of your dates at Daddy's house, he suggested that you stay the night (well, the morning). He had some sleep aid that he could give you to help you fall asleep during the day; although, dating a vampire was kind of throwing your sleep schedule out of whack.

At first, you were a little nervous since the two of you hadn't done anything past making out, but with one look at the eager face Daddy had, you melted.

"Sure, Daddy," you smiled.

Daddy's smile stretched out his handsome face, and his vampire fangs even poked out.

He grabbed you by the hand, his cool fingers interlocking with yours, as he led you up the stairs to the bedroom. You've never been up to his bedroom since the two of you almost never made it past the couch, so you were a little excited--

The bedroom door swung open and in the middle of the room was the "bed".

"A c-coffin?" you stuttered, your stomach falling to the floor.

"Of course, Darling," Daddy chuckled, dragging you closer to the coffin. "I'm a vampire after all. What did you think I slept in?"

"A bed...?"

"But then how would I keep the sunlight off me?"

...oh.

The coffin seemed to be standard-sized (you've been to one or two funerals, so they weren't completely unfamiliar to you), and it was lined with a clean, white satin that looked incredibly soft to the touch.

But it was a coffin!

And your frantic human brain couldn't help but associate it with death! Hell no, you weren't getting in that thing!

"Um, Daddy?" you mumbled, uncertainty drenching your small voice. "M-maybe we could rush to my apartment to use my bed and I'll put up some curtains?"

Daddy's smile disappeared, quickly being replaced with a deep frown. He narrowed his red eyes in your direction, tightening the grip he had on your hand.

"We won't make it before the sun rises," he growled, his voice deep and curt. "Now, get in our coffin."

When you hesitated, Daddy lost his patience, wrapping both of his steel arms around you. The vampire was much stronger than you are, so he had absolutely no problem forcing you into the tight confines of the small coffin.

Daddy crawled inside right after you, grabbing the lid and slamming it down with a bang. An audible click sounded out, and you were trapped in the dark coffin.

You couldn't see a thing thanks to how dark it was.

The coffin was so compact that you could feel multiple sides-- the back pressed against you and was rather soft, but you could also feel the one of the sides and the top touching you. It was enclosed all around you, trapping you, leaving almost no room for you to even move or wiggle around.

You could barely move.

You could barely breathe.

But there was a cold, hard feature inside the coffin with you, and it snaked both of its large arms around you and roughly yanked you into it.

Daddy buried his nose in your air and moaned loudly as he inhaled your scent.

"Calm down, Darling," he cooed. "Daddy's here. Daddy's got you."

Your heart raced in your chest and you felt dizzy from your panicked hyperventilating.

"It's okay, my sweet darling," Daddy continued to whisper into your ear, keeping you trapped against him. "I know it's a bit of an adjustment, but it'll be worth it, I promise."

He pressed his cool lips against your forehead.

You tried to squirm away, but he was tight against your front and the side of the coffin was tight against your back.

There was no room to move away.

At all.

You're trapped.

"Get some sleep, Darling," Daddy yawned. "I love you."