kxgumi

[kxgumi]

Clingy man is always /chefs kiss/

Trying my hand at angst, I don't like this but here you go fjsjfdj

Gojo misses reader and is a mitski fan here, sfw, 1.6k words

Satoru knew he was clingy, he knows he can be overbearing with you at times and you've constantly reassured him that it's one of the many qualities you like about him; you even called it cute and compared him to a lost kitten. However, the longer you're gone, the more stressed he gets, thoughts of worry plague his head if they go unanswered for too long—how you are doing? Is everything going smoothly? Did you eat a full proper meal? Are you sleeping well? He never had to worry for long because he would get an answer the next time he sees you, which would usually be the next few hours or the next day.

When you told him about a trip you had to take out of town to visit family and stay with them for a while, he only smiled and helped you pack as anxiety rattled in his chest— as if trying to bring your attention to it. he chooses to remain silent about his worries even after you tell him you'll be gone for over a week, even if every bone in his body is telling him to trap you in his arms and beg you to stay.

Clingliness be damned, he loved you too much to remain separated from you for over a week, let alone a day.

Dread crept at the back of his mind as you explained your trip, why you were going and when will you leave and return, the entire time Satoru tried to listen his mind would wander and begin to memorise your features as you spoke— the shape of your lips, the crinkle in your eyelids, the structure of your nose, god, did he tell you look beautiful? He couldn't recall if he did today.

".. so don't expect fast replies, okay?"

The dumbfounded expression quickly took over Satoru's features as he sat up, he remembered he mentioned he would call or text you if he gets lonely but after that his brain tuned out his surroundings as if preparing itself for a week of loneliness.

".. repeat that for me, Baby? Please?"

"I said the service is pretty bad at my grandparent's place, so don't expect fast replies."

Ah. He was in hell. He had to watch and help you pack, pretend as if this didn't bother him so you wouldn't cancel for his sake, he even saw you off and kept his goodbye short; a simple kiss, hug and a promise for you to stay safe and call him if anything happens. He would have been proud of himself had he not known how lonely the house would be without you.

For the first three days, the phrase "its just under two weeks" became a mantra Satoru would mutter to himself— from the moment he opens his eyes in the morning feeling the empty space next to him, the phrase is echoed in his head. He made the mistake of preparing two cups of coffee in the beginning forgetting you were off with family, that simple mistake triggers a domino effect; it causes him to remember to contact you, he checks his phone and finds messages sent from you in the wrong order, courtesy of terrible service.

Leaving the house did nothing to alleviate the anxieties floating in his mind about you, whenever he passes by a cafe he has to purchase your favorite item off the menu, this time he had to stop himself and double back from the door remembering the meal would rot away in the fridge before your return. Spotting anything remotely related to your interests activates a knee-jerk reaction where he turns to gesture and mention it to you, looking for the spark that would light up your features in excitement— but alas, you were not here.

The days were longer, the nights were colder, Satoru's love blooms whenever he's near you, and yet now that he's alone, his heart is heavy; an overgrown garden.

The week was over. It was finally over, and yet the torture continued. You specifically told him you'd be gone for over a week— he once again repeats to himself "just under two weeks.." Satoru feels tired, and he doesn't know why. Through his meals and activities throughout the days, he would usually share them with you. He wonders if you felt the same exhaustion.

Just as his eyelids began to weigh down from the exhaustion, his phone released melodious chimes. Satoru grunted in annoyance and sat up in the cold bed, tempted to crush the phone in his hand— was he not even allowed to dream of you?

'LOML💘 Calling...'

His heart soared to his throat, everything he wanted to say to you, threatening to spill out before he even tapped the green button. He hurriedly answered and brought the phone up to his ear.

"Hello? Satoru?"

"... Baby? Can you hear me?" He immediately wanted to make sure of the call's quality. He won't be swindled by fate.

"Oh, thank god- I've been trying to get a hold of you all week! How are you? Is everything okay? I'm so sorry I couldn't contact you." He could hear chatter in the back. "I'm with my cousin. We drove out to this convenience store, and the service is pretty good!— I mean, yeah, it's a little far, but..." You took a breath, speaking too quickly for your lungs to handle."I'm so happy I get to hear your voice, Satoru..!"

everything he wanted to say, you were saying it for him, Satoru knows he's clingy but when you return his clingliness it makes him believe that he was made for you— that he was truly loved by you.

Suddenly, the stress he felt from worrying about you, the overbearing silence of loneliness, your affections pouring to him through the phone, all of these factors shattered him; a sob choked him.

".. yeah - me too..!" Satoru hiccuped as he tried to wipe away forming tears. He can't be upset now. He has to be tough for you.

You didn't miss the sniffle that followed, setting your soda down in the cup holder of the car. You sat up briefly. "Honey? What's wrong?" Your cousin silently signalled they'll return into the store, not wanting to overhear a lover's quarrel. "Did something happen?"

Satoru shook his head, forgetting you couldn't see him. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. "No - no, I'm fine.. I'm just really happy to hear from you."

Silence filled the call, a moment ago he was preparing himself to yell at you, cry to you, beg you to come home— now he didn't know what to do with himself as he had everything he wanted listening to him on the other end.

"... Hon? I'm really sorry." He hated how you knew just what to say when he began to crack. "I love you, I promise I'll be home soon, okay?"

You love him. You love him. He felt guily; he finally had a chance to speak with you, and he cried and made you feel like the bad guy, made you apologize for wanting to spend quality time with family, does he even deserve you at this point?

"... okay." Is all he can muster, Satoru always sounds so full of life— but now he just sounds defeated, as if faced with a foe that he couldn't damage or evade whatsoever. It broke your heart.

Satoru traced shapes into the covers that he practically kicked off him when he saw your nickname flash on his phone screen, he began. "Baby?"

"Hm? Yeah?"

".. when you get home, I'm gonna be more selfish with you." His tone was serious. He couldn't help but smile when he heard you laugh. "You're already selfish with me!"

"Hey, I've been very emotionally vulnerable recently, okay?" Satoru felt like the usual dynamic of your conversations is slowly seeping back. It felt right, like finding something he thought he misplaced.

"I'm not complaining, hon. I actually love it." He heard you shuffle a bit. "I think you deserve to be a little selfish. You've been so good for me lately, haven't you?"

Of course, he should've expected this from you; you're his smart girl. Of course you would notice how strained he seemed before you went on your trip.

"I thought I hid it pretty well.."

"Satoru."

".. what?" He grew wary of your unimpressed tone. He didn't slip up, did he?

"You were listening to Mitski all week." Ah, your shared music subscription gave him away.

"She perfectly puts my emotions into words, okay? So sue me!"

"I know, hon! But you were listening to First Love / Late Spring. What was I supposed to think?"

The conversation continues, from Lyricism to current routines to favourite cafe desserts. For the first time in a week, Satoru felt safe and comfortable enough to sleep.

Your conversation lulled him to a sleepy state, he could hear you shuffle and move about, he could hear the car start, your family commenting on your dynamic with him, even if the sound was minimised as the phone speaker was only moderately audible, as long as he could hear your voice then he was happy.

"So, either Wednesday or Tuesday..?" Satoru asked groggily after you explained your situation.

"Yeah - I'm hoping Tuesday, but we don't know yet, I'll drive back to the convenience store and tell you once I know." It sounded like a joke, but he knows you would do it.

"Baby- no, I can wait, I swear—"

"Can you, though?" He could hear the smile in your voice, Satoru let out a breathless laugh.

"... nah, I don't think I can."

[kxgumi]

Sukuna as a civilian always amuses me lol

Jjk flight attendants

[kxgumi]

Jess is the type of a wing woman you need. Telling your good traits to your crush so they keep thinking of you🤭

★ 彡 GIRL DAD. ✧ MIGUEL O'HARA [ 2 ]

series ✮ miguel and gabi are grocery shopping on one weekend. he didn’t think he would run into you in the grocery store. you look different from your work life and it’s an opportunity for him to take a good look at you.

tags ✮  modern au, single dad miguel + afab teacher reader, found family, slight angst, eventual romance + smut. divider creds: cafekitsune.

wc ✮ 2,250

Miguel knows that it's that time of the month for grocery shopping. It isn't his favorite thing to do, but he understands it's a necessity. He finds himself in the supermarket with Gabriella on one of the weekends. He’s buying the essentials for himself and his daughter: food, something for himself, and anything Gabriella might want. While the world around him buzzes with people, Miguel focuses intently on his shopping list, eager to check off each item.

He's not alone on this trip; his good friend Jess Drew is with him. She has her own list, shopping for groceries for her growing family. They always help each other out, supporting their families. Without Jess, Miguel doesn’t think he could manage as a single father, and he’s grateful for her presence. There are things Miguel feels inadequate discussing or understanding when it comes to Gabriella’s needs. Sometimes, he makes mistakes with his daughter, but he tries his best to be a good father.

“This brand is good for chicken broth,” Jess says, holding up a package to show him. He glances at the brand’s name, taking note. “Have you also thought about what type of chicken you’re planning to cook with?”

Miguel thinks for a moment before answering, “A mix of thighs and drumsticks. I might throw in some wings too.”

“Chicken wings cook faster than thighs and drumsticks, so don’t be surprised if the wings break into pieces,” Jess advises.

“Daddy,” Gabriella calls, and he turns to look at her. She holds out a cereal box with labels like ‘delicious,’ ‘nutritious,’ and ‘cravingly good.’ He hasn’t seen this type before, but he can guess she’ll ask if he can buy it. “Can we try this?”

“Of course, mija. It can go in the trolley,” he says, taking the box and placing it in the shopping cart. Gabriella skips ahead happily.

Alongside Jess, Miguel continues gathering items from his list while keeping an eye on Gabriella. He ignores the side glances from mothers and women who pass by, noticing their interest in him.

“Hey,” Jess says suddenly. “Gabi, isn’t that one of your teachers?”

Miguel hadn’t processed her words when Gabriella yells a little louder down the aisle. Her voice catches the attention of people by the fridge section, who glance between her and him. He looks up to see Gabriella running ahead towards someone he doesn’t recognize at first. When they turn around, his eyes widen.

“Miss [Last Name]!” Gabriella exclaims, waving in your direction. Confusion on your face turns into a bright smile as you recognize her. You embrace Gabriella in a hug, nearly stumbling backwards from her enthusiastic greeting. “Gabi, hi! I’m glad to see you here.”

Miguel watches Gabriella break away from the hug and hears her ask, “Do you come to this Target store often?”

“I do,” you nod. “I needed to buy a couple of things before heading home.”

In that moment, you lift your gaze and lock eyes with Miguel. He doesn’t register what Jess says when he spots the smile forming on your face. Gabriella calls for him again, breaking his attention momentarily. “Daddy, look who I found!”

“Hi,” Miguel greets, letting go of his cart and walking towards you and Gabriella. His mind buffers a bit as he takes a good look at you; you're in leggings, workout sneakers, and a seamless fitness jacket, with your hair pushed back neatly.

If he hadn’t met you before, Miguel wouldn’t have believed you’re a middle school teacher; you look so different compared to the casual yet professional outfits he remembers. He can’t tear his gaze away and prays he doesn’t appear to be gawking. “It’s been a while.”

“Hi,” you say, your eyes finally meeting him. “It has been a while, almost three weeks, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Miguel nods. He’s been counting the days since he last saw you, and three weeks feels like an eternity.

“I’m so glad we bumped into you,” Gabriella says with a wide smile, her brown eyes shining with excitement.

You smile at his daughter and playfully ruffle the top of her head. When your eyes meet Miguel’s once more, his throat tightens as he suppresses a hitch. “How have you and Gabriella been since we last spoke?”

“We’ve been doing well,” Miguel replies, his eyes lingering on you. You look almost unrecognizable and well—great, in fact. His mind fills with thoughts of what your life might be like outside of school—a life he isn't aware of but believes must be beautifully content. Which might explain why he thinks your face glows when he looks at you.

“Hey, girl!” Jess says suddenly, approaching you. Miguel watches the two of you embrace in a tight hug. “You look real good, lovely.”

A sheepish smile appears on your face. “Thank you. Just got back from the gym,” you say, glancing between Jess and Miguel. “Are you two doing grocery shopping together?”

“Daddy is planning to make the food Auntie Jess always makes for me after school,” Gabriella explains.

He nods. Miguel considers himself a decent cook, but now that you know he’s preparing a meal, he can't help but show off a little about his culinary skills. He presses his lips together at the sight of your intrigued eyes, noting how your mouth curves into a smile. “I’ve always wanted to try and make your recipes, Jess.”

“Only if you trade me some of your delicious baking treats,” Jess counters.

“I’m altering the marble cookie recipe next week with a new cocoa brand,” you say. “I’ll give you a free sample.”

Jess grins and glances at Miguel before looking back at you. “Have you tried Mexican food before?” she asks. “I can’t remember if you have.”

“Oh,” you look at Miguel with a smile. “Unfortunately, I haven’t had the chance.”

“Mexican food is the best!” Gabriella exclaims proudly.

“You know, if you’re interested in trying some, Miguel is your guy,” Jess says, grinning knowingly at Miguel. He realizes she’s up to something. “He makes amazing Mexican dishes.”

“Oh, really?” you turn to look at Miguel.

Miguel nods, almost stammering—he never does, but he nearly slips up this time. “I can. Let me know your preferences, and I'll do my best to make a dish for you.”

“We can trade,” you say, your eyes lighting up with joy. “You cook a Mexican dish, and I’ll bake something for you.”

“That sounds like a good proposal,” Miguel smiles, his mouth curving into a grin.

Your gaze holds his, creating a moment of calm despite the busy retail environment. You look at him in a way that makes him pause, his chest thumping, and throat tightening, but not unpleasantly. He can’t get over how different you look. How good you look on this mundane Saturday afternoon. His eyes inadvertently trace the curves of your hips and waist, hidden behind the shade of his glasses.

“I should get going; I have another commitment,” you say apologetically. You step back, snapping Miguel out of his thoughts. “But it was nice to see all three of you, especially you, Gabi.”

Gabriella smiles at you despite the conversation ending sooner than Miguel had anticipated. “See you at school, then, Miss [Last Name]!”

“Bye, Gabi,” you smile and wave at her. “And goodbye, Jess, Miguel. I hope we run into each other again.”

“See ya later, girl,” Jess says with a wave. Miguel is so deep in thought that he doesn't notice Jess’s departure until he feels a light nudge on his forearm.

Blinking behind his dark shades, he quickly recomposes himself and nods in your direction. “Hope to see you again soon.”

“I hope so too,” you reply, beaming at him and waving one last time.

Miguel watches you walk away from the aisle. Gabriella chatters about your baking and how excited she is to try a new recipe from you. You're still on his mind when he turns to Jess. “She loves baking?”

“Her baking is to die for. The marble cookies she makes are my favorite,” Jess sighs contentedly. “I hope I get to eat some before I deliver the baby next month.”

Miguel lingers at the spot where you stood, your presence like a vivid memory. The thumping in his chest settles, yet he can't shake off the sensation. You're still in his thoughts when Gabriella calls him to come down the shopping aisle. He hopes to see you again because, after all, the third time’s a charm, right?

*****

It’s Monday afternoon, and you're in your classroom when Jess Drew stops by as she waits for Gabriella to finish her soccer practice. You feel the tiredness settling in after a long, hard day of teaching and looking after your students. Even though school hours have ended and most of the students have gone home, your workday isn’t over. You still have papers to grade, a classroom to tidy up, and lesson plans to prepare for tomorrow.

“Oh, thank goodness for these,” Jess says as you place a Tupperware of freshly baked cookies on your desk. It always makes you happy to see a smile on someone’s face when they enjoy your baking. “Thank you so much.”

You hear the Tupperware open and know that Jess is taking a bite of your cookies. A contented groan fills the classroom. “You always know the way to a person’s heart.”

Her comment makes you smile sheepishly. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Jess.”

Jess continues to enjoy the cookies, groaning softly with each bite and calling them ‘perfect as always.’ While she treats herself, you reorganize the paperwork piling on your desk. Your plan for the rest of the afternoon is to grade the students’ papers before heading home, avoiding bringing work into your personal time.

“So… tell me. What did you think of Miguel O’Hara the other day?”

“Miguel?” You look up from the papers to Jess. Pressing your lips thoughtfully, you say, “He’s a good father. I can see why Gabi looks up to him so much.”

Jess hums, “Anything else?”

“Nothing else,” you reply, a little unsure of what she means but suspecting the direction of the conversation. Her growing smile makes you chuckle nervously. “I just think he’s a good person who loves his daughter very much.”

“Miguel isn’t seeing anyone, by the way,” Jess adds, raising her hands when you give her an unamused look. “I’m just saying.”

“Jessica,” you sigh, a nervous smile forming. “I won’t take it as a chance just because he’s available.” You wonder if Miguel had been married before, but quickly dismiss the thought. “I care about Gabi too much to risk making her uncomfortable or hurting her feelings.”

“I understand,” Jess smiles kindly. “But I don’t think you could upset her. She looks up to you a lot, you know? You’re one of her role models. I think she loves you as if you were one of her guardians.”

That brings a smile to your face, thinking about Gabriella. Teachers shouldn’t have favorite students, but you can’t help yourself with her. She’s the sweetest girl you’ve ever met. A bright, beautiful child who will grow up to be an amazing young woman. Miguel is fortunate to have such a wonderful daughter. “Well, I do my best to set a good example for the kids.”

“You are a great example,” Jess adds. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

You smile and return to grading the papers. It’s not just her words that make you think about the O’Haras. You recall the unexpected encounter at the store and Miguel. It's been three weeks since your first meeting, and a small part of you hopes the universe will bring another chance to see him again. Yesterday was unexpected, but you’re not complaining because, well, the universe listened to you, didn't it? Even though you were a bit self-conscious about possibly smelling of sweat from exercising, the way his eyes followed you is a thought you can’t shake off—you swear he was checking you out behind his sunglasses.

“He is handsome, isn’t he?” you admit, a smile curving at the corners of your mouth. “With his shades, I mean. Although, I have seen his eyes before. They’re brown, right? But they looked lighter under the lights—almost red when I first met him.”

“He is your type,” Jess grins, laughing softly when you call her out.

“I’m not going to lie, I think so too,” you say, shaking your head, amused by the conversation. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to pursue him.”

“You think he’s your type? Girl, he is exactly your type,” Jess insists.

Groaning, you playfully hide your face in your arms on the table, grumbling shyly at her teasing. Miguel O’Hara stays in your mind throughout the afternoon. Even when the topic shifts, your thoughts keep flickering back to the single father of your student.

save and track for new posts and updates with: #𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝓭𝓪𝓭 (miguel o'hara)

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[kxgumi]

Boy, I'm so glad I found this series. Single dad Miguel always got me in a chokehold

★ 彡 GIRL DAD. ✧ MIGUEL O'HARA [ 1 ]

series ✮ miguel is stuck in traffic on the way to pick his daughter up from school. he doesn’t usually do this and knows that he is running late. when he searches for his daughter at school, there’s where miguel meets you in class when he got a little lost.

tags ✮  modern au, single dad miguel + afab teacher reader, found family, slight angst, eventual romance + smut. divider creds: cafekitsune.

wc ✮ 3,147

Miguel remembers why he avoids driving around the city in the late afternoon. He stares out the front window with a frown and a bored look. One hand grips the steering wheel, while the other props up his arm next to the door, supporting his face. It’s typical Nueva York traffic: cars honking, drivers speeding and flouting traffic regulations, and pedestrians oblivious to their surroundings.

Miguel sighs in frustration. He can’t believe his friend Jess goes through this every weekday afternoon just to pick up the kids. It's taking all his patience not to hit his palm on the wheel and tell the drivers in front of him to move. But Miguel endures the traffic, despite his irritation. Minutes pass like hours, with the cars inching forward. When he checks the time, it’s ten minutes to four in the afternoon. The only thing keeping him sane is reminding himself of the purpose of this entire trip.

Gabriella’s school should be a few buildings away from the traffic.

A smile crosses his face at the thought of her. His daughter. The only person he cares about in the entire universe. His bundle of light and joy. As much as he loves his daughter, Miguel rarely picks Gabriella up from school after three in the afternoon. His job as a geneticist isn't as flexible as it seems. It’s a nine-to-six job, five days a week. Despite the long hours, Miguel makes every effort to spend time with Gabriella either before he goes to work, after work, or on the weekends.

But today, he’s breaking the routine. He’s picking up his little girl from school. And Gabriella doesn’t know he’s coming.

The traffic finally eases. The cars in front of him start to move. Miguel seizes the opportunity to drive forward. He maneuvers steadily through the busy road until he reaches an urban area that’s familiar to him. Miguel continues driving through the streets of Queens until he sees Gabriella’s school and comes to a stop.

Miguel gets out of the car and locks it behind him. When he looks at his watch, it’s already four-thirty, and he's definitely late. He glances at his reflection in the car window. Dressed in casual blue denim jeans, a white shirt under a black leather jacket, and black sunglasses that hide his eyes, he looks like a typical father picking his kid up from school, not like a man who just got off work.

Miguel hasn’t visited Gabriella’s school in a while. The last time he was here was for a parent-teacher conference. As he enters the school building, he’s unfamiliar with the layout. The quiet, peaceful setting is devoid of students or teachers. He didn't expect the main area to be so vast and isn't sure where to go to find his daughter. He decides to wander around, hoping to find his way.

The hallways grow eerily quiet as Miguel walks, feeling he's farther away from where he should be. School buildings have always been like mazes. He doesn't recognize anything familiar. Unsure of his direction, Miguel considers calling his daughter for directions. But he decides against it, wanting to surprise Gabriella when she finishes soccer practice.

Maybe a teacher in one of these classrooms can point him in the right direction. Surely, not all the teachers have gone home for the day.

Miguel looks down the hallway and decides to try the door at the farthest corner on the right. He’s not sure why he chose that door, but he has a feeling someone might be in there who could help him. Or at least, he hopes there will be.

Miguel knocks twice before turning the doorknob. When he opens the door, he pokes his head into the room, seeing that it’s an empty classroom. A frown appears on his face, disappointed. Looks like he'll need to find someone else.

He’s about to close the door and leave when he hears a voice. “Hi, can I help you with anything?”

Miguel still doesn’t see anyone. But when he steps further into the classroom, he spots a woman behind a desk he didn’t notice before. The person turns around, and Miguel finally sees her—sees you.

You seem preoccupied, and he must have interrupted you. The locker behind you is wide open, filled with stacks of papers and boxes. He guesses you were in the middle of organizing when he disturbed you.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello,” you respond, a hint of a smile on your face as you place the box on the desk. Miguel removes his sunglasses out of courtesy, taking a better look at you. You’re wearing a polo shirt and white jeans, casual attire for a staff member. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“I…” Miguel’s voice trails off. Judging by your youthful appearance and demeanor, he guesses you are in your twenties, making him a few years older than you. You must be a teacher here. Miguel clears his throat lightly. “Sorry, I think I got myself lost. I’m looking for the sports field. I’m here to pick up my daughter. She has soccer practice today.”

“Oh, right.” You smile apologetically. “Well, you’re a bit far from where you need to be. The field is on the other side of the building.”

That makes sense. No wonder he hasn’t made any progress. He’s gone the wrong way. School buildings are always a maze. “Thank you for your help.” Miguel nods in acknowledgment. “I hope you have a good rest of the afternoon, señorita.”

Miguel is about to leave when you stop him. “I can show you where to go if you’d like,” you offer. “So you won’t get lost again.”

He looks at you, contemplating the offer. You don’t know him, and he doesn’t know you, yet you’re willing to help. He watches you close the cupboard door, lock it, and turn to him. You’re still smiling kindly, waiting for his response. “I’d appreciate it if you could help me out.”

“Sure thing,” you say, grabbing your keys from the desk. They jingle as you grip them. You walk around the desk to approach him. Miguel immediately notices the height difference between you and him—you’re about chest-high to him. “Shall we get going?”

Miguel opens the door wider and gestures for you to lead the way. You step out, and he follows, closing the door behind him. Walking beside you down the hallway, Miguel observes your stride—elegant, confident, and relaxed. He wonders if you might be one of Gabriella’s teachers. There's something about you that piques his interest, an inexplicable feeling of appreciation for every second of your presence.

“So, what’s your daughter’s name?” you ask, breaking the silence. “Maybe I recognize her from one of the classes I teach.”

It takes a moment for Miguel to process your question. “Her name is Gabriella O’Hara,” he says. “She’s in seventh grade. Brown hair, wears a purple backpack, about this tall?” He estimates her height with his hand.

Your eyes light up at the mention of Gabriella’s name. “Oh, Gabi O’Hara! She’s one of my students.” Miguel looks at you, intrigued. “I’m her homeroom teacher this year. She talks about you a lot in class.”

He smiles politely. “Ah, she has?”

“Gabriella often stays behind to help me tidy up when she doesn’t have soccer practice, usually while waiting for Jessica to pick her up,” you explain.

Miguel wants to ask more about his daughter, but you continue speaking. Your confidence and politeness, coupled with a hint of wisdom, make him feel comfortable around you. He’s only just met you, but he feels a sense of ease. Surely, Gabriella must have mentioned you before. Miguel tries to recall anything his daughter might have said about you.

After a moment of silence, you speak again, hesitantly. “I’m sorry if this sounds ignorant or assumptive, but… is Jess Gabriella’s mother?”

“Ah, no. Jessica is a good friend of mine,” Miguel replies. “I often work late and can’t pick Gabi up from school. But today is different.” He explains briefly, feeling reluctant to delve into the complexities of his relationship with Gabriella’s mother. “It’s a surprise. Gabi doesn’t know I’m here today.”

You turn to him with a genuine smile. “I think she’ll be thrilled to see you after practice.” Your smile is sweet and kind, and Miguel thinks it suits you. “Gabi told me a few days ago that you have yet to see the new kicks she’s been practicing. From what I’ve seen, she’s a star player on the girls’ team.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing it,” Miguel nods.

You and Miguel continue walking, and when he spots a large door ahead, he hopes it leads to where he can find Gabriella. “The girls’ soccer team is just beyond this door.”

You open the door, revealing the outdoor environment. Fresh air greets him, along with a wide view of the track and soccer field. Students and teachers are scattered around, engaged in various after-school activities. Miguel scans the field, searching for any sign of Gabriella among the groups of girls. His eyes stop on a familiar brown-haired girl in a purple shirt and white shorts. She moves swiftly, kicking the ball until it sails into the goalpost. The girls around her cheer, and a smile spreads across his face.

“Oh, look, there’s Gabi,” you say. “Gabi!”

Gabriella looks around and spots you and Miguel. A wide smile breaks across her face. “Papa!”

“Mija!” Miguel calls back, waving to her. Gabriella rushes over, her excitement evident.

Gabriella calls your name when she sees you, the happiness on her face unwavering. You wave back at the young girl with a cheerful smile and laugh as Gabriella yells across the field, asking if you saw the game. "I sure did!" you respond, still laughing.

Miguel can't help but smile at the scene. He watches as Gabriella joins the rest of the girls for a team huddle with their coach. Her soccer practice should be done in a few minutes. "Do you want to sit on the bench while we wait?" he asks.

"I don't mind," you nod. The two of you approach the benches and take a seat. Miguel sits next to you, his gaze fixed on Gabriella as he admires her from afar. "She's a great kid, isn't she?" he says.

"Definitely," you reply.

Miguel gazes at his little girl and then turns his attention to you, curious about your work life. "So, how long have you been teaching?" he inquires.

"I've been doing this for two and a half years," you explain. "I started as a substitute teacher during the summer when I moved to the States."

Miguel nods, learning something new about you. Your mannerisms and subtle accent suddenly make more sense to him. Your voice is calming, and even though he's known you for less than an hour, he feels at ease. "So, what do you teach?" he asks.

"I mainly teach Biology and Chemistry, though sometimes I also help out with English and reading enrichment," you say. "English isn't my first language, but it's rewarding to help kids build confidence in theirs."

Miguel nods again. He understands the challenge of speaking more than one language. "It's not an easy language to completely master, but you speak it well. Gabriella and I often switch between Mexican Spanish and English, which sometimes turns into Spanglish."

You laugh quietly, and your shoulders shake. "It's often easier to express certain things in your native language, isn't it? Although when I do, I can sound a bit... 'expressive.' Or 'explosive,' as my family puts it."

Miguel chortles. "I always encourage Gabriella to speak more Spanish at home. It's important not to lose your cultural identity."

"I agree," you say. "It's easy to lose yourself in a crowd, but your roots never leave you."

"What made you move to the States, if you don't mind me asking?" Miguel asks, curiosity piqued.

A smile spreads across your face. "I was looking for a sense of adventure and decided to take a leap and move here on my own."

"That takes courage," Miguel says, glancing at you. Your smile remains, and he wonders what prompted your move but holds back from prying too deeply. "How old were you when you moved here?"

"I was nineteen," you reply. "I stayed in Canada for two years, then moved to the States when I was twenty-one. I've been here for three years now."

Miguel notes the age difference between you two. You're only seven years younger than he is, and you moved to a new country at such a young age. His interest in your story grows; what besides adventure led you to such a big move?

You and Miguel sit together in comfortable silence. The sky is bright and blue, the sun warming the field. Miguel's red eyes, hidden behind dark sunglasses, are fixed on you. He feels unusually relaxed in your presence, a rare feeling for someone he's just met.

Sensing his gaze, you turn to look at him and smile. He's grateful for his sunglasses, as they hide the potential blush creeping up his cheeks.

You turn your attention elsewhere as Gabriella runs towards you both. You're the first to rise, and Miguel follows, smiling at his little girl. "Papa! I can't believe you're here!" she exclaims.

"I wanted to surprise you, mija," Miguel says, lifting Gabriella into the air and kissing her forehead. She wraps her arms around his neck. "You did great today at practice. I'm so proud of you."

"Gracias, Papa." Gabriella kisses his cheek in return. She beams at you, clearly thrilled to see you. "What did you think of my moves, Miss?"

"They were impressive, Gabs," you say, affection evident in your voice. "You're getting better and better. You'll be a star on sports day soon."

"I think it's time for us to head home," Miguel says, noting the approaching sunset. He prefers to be home before dark.

"Can we stop at Wendy's for dinner?" Gabriella asks hopefully.

Miguel considers this. He’s forgotten to prepare dinner and sees this as a perfect excuse for a treat. "We can do that, sweet girl."

He turns to you, "Thank you for your help earlier."

"It was no problem, Mr. O'Hara," you say. "I hope we meet again. It was nice getting to know you."

Miguel nods, ignoring the slight pang in his chest. He makes sure Gabriella has everything before they leave. As they walk away, Gabriella waves enthusiastically at you. "Bye-bye, Miss! See you tomorrow!"

"See you tomorrow, Gabi! Enjoy your dinner!" you call back, waving. "See you again sometime, Miguel!"

Miguel waves back and watches as you turn to speak with another teacher before he finally turns away. Gabriella decides to walk on her own, and Miguel puts her down, holding her hand as they head toward the school building. With each step, Miguel finds his thoughts returning to you, wishing he could see you one last time before they go.

He glances back to find you still chatting with the other teacher. You laugh at something, your face lighting up. He watches as you say goodbye and turn away. When you notice him looking, you give him the sweetest smile he's ever seen, even from a distance.

He thinks your smile makes you even more beautiful, especially when directed at him.

"Papa, let's go to Wendy's now!" Gabriella urges.

Miguel looks down at her with a gentle smile. "Alright, princesa. Let's go."

When he looks back, you’re no longer in sight. He leaves the school grounds with his daughter, your smile lingering in his mind.

***** 

As planned, Miguel and Gabriella have dinner at Wendy's. At the moment, Gabriella is indulging herself with a child's Wendy's meal. Seeing his little girl happy brings Miguel immense joy—a natural feeling for a father with his daughter. Despite his busy schedule, he seizes every opportunity to spend time with her. Gabriella is his top priority in life, and he wouldn’t trade these moments with her for anything.

“So, your teacher is nice,” Miguel speaks up. Ever since he met you, you’ve lingered in his thoughts. Your sweetness, kind personality, and the way you interacted with Gabriella earned his trust. Personally, the way you behaved around him was refreshing. There were no ulterior motives or signs that you were trying to establish a relationship with him. As a single father, Miguel's status has gained quite a reputation at Gabriella's school. He appreciates that you were simply a kind soul, great with kids like his daughter. “The one who helped show me where you were at school.”

“Miss [Last Name]?” Gabriella asks, taking two scoops of ice cream and shoving them into her mouth. Miguel learns something new about you—your last name. He thinks about how your first name fits with your surname; it has a nice ring to it. “Oh yeah, she is, isn’t she? And pretty too,” she adds.

Miguel pretends not to notice her last comment, even though he agrees. “How come you never talked about her when I asked you about your day at school?” he asks.

He’s about to take a bite of his food when he notices Gabriella looking at him with one eyebrow raised, giving him a curious look. “What is it, mija?”

“Papa, I have told you about her before. Numerous times,” Gabriella says, placing her arms at her sides, indicating her skepticism. “I told you about how she brought Mr. Oscar to a show-and-tell two weeks ago, and that she likes to bake and brings treats to school for the class to share every month. And my teacher is from England…”

Miguel presses his lips together. He vaguely remembers hearing that story. Gabriella shares so many things with him daily that it’s hard to keep track. But Miguel feels he would have remembered you if Gabriella had mentioned you before. Who could forget someone like you?

Gabriella giggles. “Papa, are you getting old and forgetting stuff now?”

Miguel gives a sheepish smile. He doesn’t consider himself old, but if it keeps his little girl from being suspicious about his interest in you, he’ll accept the indignity. “It seems so, princesa. I apologize for that.”

“It’s okay, Papa. I forget things too sometimes,” Gabriella says, shifting the conversation quickly as children often do. “I really do like Miss [Last Name]. She’s the best teacher ever.”

“Make sure you tell her that tomorrow when you see her, Briella,” Miguel smiles. “I’m sure she would love to hear that you appreciate her.”

“I will!”

Meeting you was unexpected, and if he hadn’t picked Gabriella up from school as planned, he wouldn't have met you earlier. A tiny part of him hopes he will see you again someday, perhaps by chance in the future.

save and track for new posts and updates with: #𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝓭𝓪𝓭 (miguel o'hara)

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[kxgumi]

I know I'm Probably late for reading this now but omg omg, this so dark and so good. I genuinely got scared reading this yandere miguel yet I still want him getting his happy ending 😭😭😭 I want him to find a version of the reader who's finally love him for the way he is and for him to genuinely love that version without thinking her as a substitute.

Always Yours, Never Mine

Yandere Miguel O'Hara X f!Reader

Universe Four - The Student

Series Masterlist - Beta Read by @campingwiththecharmings

Summary

This time I found you at a university. Of course things couldn’t just be simple. You couldn’t just be a faculty member or even a damn janitor, no…you had to be my fucking student. Why couldn’t things be easy just for once? It’s fine…I’ll just have to figure out how to work around it…

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, dub-con due to identity issues, non-con, rape, More tags on the masterlist.

Word Count: 5k

It was a morning like every other.

You were on your way to your physics class, coffee in hand and your two friends on either side of you, Mira and Stacy. Mira had a skip in her step, excited about a guy she met at the coffee shop just a few minutes ago. You rolled your eyes, too concerned with the results of last week’s test in Dr. O’Hara’s class to be bothered with your friend’s endeavors.

“Hey!” Stacy screamed your name, grabbing your collar and pulling you back from the street and onto the curb.

A car flew by you, stopping your heart in your chest as you moved back from the street two more steps. You were so caught up in your thoughts you hadn’t paid any attention to the road. Stacy spat your name in a scolding manner.

“Jesus, you almost got yourself killed, what the hell are you thinking?” She shook her head.

“Thank you,” you said, taking a deep breath, “I guess I’m just…I’m so nervous about my test I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Clearly,” she agreed, putting both hands on her hips like a parent scolding a child. “I’m sure you did fine on your test. You said you studied right?”

The three of you started walking again toward the building where your classes were held.

“Yeah, I did, but I mean…the last test I took I failed, I can’t fail again.” You felt dread weighing heavy on your chest as the large brick building blocked out the sun on your approach.

Mira patted your back. “You’re smart, I’m sure you did fine.” She chuckled as she jogged ahead toward the building. “Besides! I’m sure that Dr. O’Hara would let you suck his dick for a better grade!”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks at Mira’s comment. She never ceased to say things that were embarrassing beyond belief. Everyone knew that Dr. O’Hara was hot. The man wore dress shirts, sure, but either he couldn’t find ones that fit properly, or he intentionally wore a size too small so people would know he worked out. It was hard to think about much else when his pectorals were so prominently displayed under a thin veil of fabric. It didn’t help either that his nipples seemed to be perpetually stiff, clearly visibly underneath his shirt, just like they were today.

“Good morning cl–”

Dr. O’Hara’s failure to finish his sentence caught you off guard, forcing your eyes on him as you walked the rest of the way into the room. You felt nervous, averting your eyes immediately and staring at the floor as you walked to your desk. After your friend’s inappropriate comment, and his lingering gaze, you couldn’t help thinking about things a student shouldn’t imagine about their professor.

Things like…what if you could suck his dick for a better grade?

He cleared his throat. “Alright class, I’m going to pass back your tests now.”

You’d done a fine job on your exam. Miguel’s predecessor, the Miguel of this universe, had already graded your paper and even put a little smiley face next to the number 87 in red ink. It was obvious that this one hadn’t made any moves on you, but he had taken a liking to you. That wouldn’t work in Miguel’s favor though. He needed you to be so desperate that you might be willing to go to great lengths to get your grade fixed.

The jealousy that stabbed Miguel in the gut when he realized that his alternate was enraptured by you made it easy to rid himself of the man. In fact, he felt nothing as he watched the life leave Miguel’s eyes. He felt nothing as he buried the man so far into the ground that no one would ever find his body.

It wasn’t that Miguel wanted to be predatory toward you, in fact, that was the last thing he wanted to do, but it was clear that you were younger in this universe than in previous ones. Your birth date was the same, he saw it in your records on the school database before he took over for your prior professor, but the year was different. He’d already gone through great lengths just to find you, so what was a little manipulation just to have you? You’d be grateful in the end, he just knew it.

He passed the tests around, watching you carefully to gauge your response to his little note he made at the top of your test. 

Come to my office after your classes so we can discuss your grade and your future in my class.

You looked down at the glaring 62 on your exam with the note to meet Dr. O’Hara in his office later. A pit formed in your gut. The words, ‘your future in my class’, stuck out more than the rest. You gulped, hands shaking as you put the failed test in your book bag and turned your attention back to class. You hated that professors seemed to do that, handing out your tests prior to the start of class. How in the hell were you expected to focus for the rest of the class with the looming threat that you might be told to retake the class next semester?

He felt a little bad after seeing your face drop at the sight of the failed exam. In some ways Miguel missed the therapist. She was bold, more mature, and he felt like she was, personality-wise, the closest to you he had found thus far. In this universe you were naive, young, bright-eyed and inexperienced. In some ways that was exciting, thinking about how easy it would be to mold you into the woman he’d lost, or at least as close to the original as possible. In other ways he didn’t love the idea of corrupting you like that.

It didn’t matter though, in the end as long as he had you, whether by moral means or immoral, that’s all that mattered.

Later that evening, shortly after finishing your final class for the day, you found yourself standing outside of Dr. O’Hara’s office, knuckles rapping on the door in an uneven rhythm. The sound of your heartbeat in your ears was deafening while you waited for him to open the door. Earlier you and your friends had joked about what you were going to do in there, but this wasn’t a movie, this was reality, and your professor wasn’t going to let you sleep your way out of a bad grade.

Not that you really wanted to do that anyway.

Your unusually tall professor opened the door, stepping back to let you inside. He was quiet when he locked the door, so quiet that you wouldn’t even notice he’d done it. You seemed a little smaller in this universe. Miguel wondered if it was because you were actually shorter, or if the fact that you were younger made it seem to be the case.

“I don’t understand why I got such a bad grade, Dr. O’Hara,” you turned to face him, failed test in hand, eyes already glistening wet with the threat of tears. “I worked really hard after you helped me understand it better.”

Fuck, he thought. His cock was already springing to life, slowly making his pants feel tighter while he looked at you. This was new territory that he didn’t know how to navigate. This wasn’t the type of person Miguel wanted to be, but he also wanted to start establishing his control over you now. If he could control you, he could keep you safe; he could have you.

“Yeah well, as you can see…” he snatched the test from your hand, “you didn’t do a very good job, did you?”

Something was different about Dr. O’Hara, you felt it as he ripped the paper from your hands. He was normally a very calm and collected type of professor, everyone loved him for that. You couldn’t understand why he was acting so harshly now. You clutched your book bag closer to yourself as though it would teleport you out of the room. He took a step closer, and you stepped back until your rear was against his desk. You felt trapped.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he said, seeing the terror in your expression. Miguel’s intention wasn’t to make you fear him, but at the same time, he was willing to do what it took to make you listen for once, since your alternates didn’t seem to pay his warnings any mind. “Look, I’d be willing to…fix your grade.”

He’d hoped that when he said it like that you would get the hint so he didn’t have to spell it out for you. Surely you’d seen enough pornos to know where this was going, right? It would make it less guilt inducing for him, and a lot less scary for you, at least that’s what he was thinking. 

“Fix it how? Is there extra credit?” You decided to continue on like you didn’t know what he was playing at.

“You could say that,” he said, taking another step toward you.

There was no way he meant what you thought he meant. He couldn’t possibly be insinuating that you were supposed to fuck your way into a better grade could he? That was just a stupid joke you and your friends had laughed about, albeit frequently, but it was just a joke. He couldn’t be serious.

You couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering down to his tight-fit slacks and the way they were especially tight around his groin. You gulped, looking back up at his eyes quickly, trying to appear not to have seen anything. Maybe if you kept your eyes anywhere but on his bulge it would go away, and he would let this go.

But you wouldn’t be so lucky.

Miguel took another step forward, bringing a hand to your cheek and rubbing his thumb along your skin gently. He smirked, feeling satisfied to touch you again. Spending all the time in the last universe, he’d almost forgotten what you felt like.

“I’m not going to hurt you, and if you just listen to me you might even enjoy yourself.”

No matter how much you told yourself to run, to kick, to scream, you just stood there while Dr. O’Hara leaned forward, claiming your mouth in his and melting into you. He lifted you onto the desk like you were weightless, pushing himself against you until he was almost laying on top of you. You kissed him back, but the rest of you was frozen, unsure how to respond. Should you even be allowing this to happen, or should you be trying to stop him?

What would you do anyway? Fight him off? The man was built like a damn tank. You could work out for a hundred years and still never come close to moving him. On the bright side, you would probably pass your class, though this wasn’t how you wanted to do it. This wasn’t what you wanted at all.

“P-please, Dr. O’Hara, s-stop–”

“Shh,” he whispered, kissing you deeper, “you want me to fix your grade right? You want to pass this class? Hm?”

He looked down at you, waiting for your answer, the guilt still nagging at him as he noticed a stray tear fall down the side of your face.

You nodded. “Y-yes, yes I do.”

“Then be quiet, and do what I say,” he demanded, sliding a massive hand up your skirt, his fingers teasing at the hem of your panties.

Your mind was racing with feelings you could hardly comprehend. On one hand, your body was tingling an overwhelming desire, a need to feel his touch in the most intimate way. His thick index finger tucked into the leg of your panties, knuckles sliding softly over your pussy lips. When he kissed you it didn’t feel like a dirty professor trying to take advantage, but rather a lover who wanted to take his time with you.

On the other hand, he was much older than you, and he was your professor. Not to mention the fact that you weren’t really interested in sleeping with him, despite the teasing from you and your friends.

That didn’t seem to matter now, he was pulling your underwear down your thighs and tossing them to the floor. He rubbed the pads of his index and middle fingers over your clit, forcing a choked whimper to escape your lungs. You thought about protesting his actions again, but decided against it. You didn’t want to piss him off, and you didn’t want to fail the class.

“There you go, honey,” he whispered against your lips, “don’t squirm too much okay? You’ll like it, I know you will.”

You nodded, unable to find the words to say otherwise. Dr. O’Hara pushed you down so your back was flat against the desk, his large hand pressed against your abdomen while his other started to undo his pants. You didn’t even want to look at it, so you stared out the window and kept your eyes trained on the gate at the entrance to the college campus. He exhaled a low and deep breath as he dragged the tip of his cock along your folds.

“Look at me, hermosa,” his voice was low, but still demanding.

You complied, turning your head slowly to look at him. Miguel tried to convince himself that you would come around, that you were just nervous for your first time together. He wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t delusional either, but he needed to believe that you would come around, because working with the you that was right in front of him was better than the unknown of whatever versions he may encounter in other universes. ‘The devil you know’, and all that.

“Hold on tight, honey,” he warned, sliding his dick through your slick entrance. He couldn’t even make it halfway in before it was too tight. “F-fuck baby…shit.”

You cried out, all of your resolve falling to the wayside. It hurt, it hurt so fucking bad.

“Dr. O’Hara pleas–”

Before you could even finish your plea his hand was covering your mouth. He shook his head, eyes narrowing dangerously in warning. You tried to beg with your eyes, your small sobs blocked by the brick wall of his palm only serving to make his cock throb inside your cunt. You grabbed onto his forearm, gripping it so tight your nails dug into his skin, but it may as well have been a pillar, unmoving and sturdy while he kept your mouth covered.

“Honey, please,” he hissed, his breaths of arousal interrupting his irritated tone. “I know it’s painful now but if you just relax, I’ll stretch you out so it won’t hurt anymore alright?”

You didn’t respond, and Miguel felt the guilt in his chest. The guilt didn’t outweigh the delicious feeling of your hole squeezing around the mere three inches he’d managed to get inside. He slid forward a little more, your eyes rolled back in response, your breaths turned into labored panting while you took him further.

“You’re doing great, hermosa,” he encouraged, “taking me so well.”

Your legs tightened around his waist as your cunt stretched even wider around him. He was bigger than anything you’d ever felt, and you couldn’t get free from him. Finally he bottomed out inside you, when you looked down at where you were connected you could see a bulge in your abdomen. Your eyes widened in fear, as though seeing it made it feel that much bigger.

“Shh, baby, shh,” he cooed, rolling his hips back and then snapping forward again, forcing a guttural groan to erupt from deep within you. “That’s it, fuck, so tight-that’s-it.”

Miguel established a steady rhythm that was made easier by how wet your little hole got. At least you’re physically enjoying yourself, he thought to himself, still trying to ease the guilt brewing inside him. His free hand grabbed onto your thigh, leveraging himself even deeper. The sight of his fat cock bulging up through your stomach made him harder, if that were even possible. He thought, for only a second, about the fact that you might not be on birth control, but then decided he didn’t really give a shit.

Your makeup was ruined, black rivers running down your cheeks while you cried even harder. When Miguel looked down at where your pussy was split around his dick he could see why, you’d made a bloody mess between both your bodies. He questioned why he thought that was hot. Causing you pain shouldn’t feel that good, but it did, the sight of your blood making his pace even faster.

“Didn’t know you had such a little pussy,” he breathed between thrusts, “so tight, so-wet-fuck.”

When Miguel thought about it, the two of you - himself and you from the original universe -, never got that rough. It wasn’t something he knew he would like, having power over you like that, causing you pain and listening to your cries. Hearing you whimper now though, laying on his desk with your legs wrapped around him while he split you open, was making him feral. If making you cry was bad, then why the hell did it feel so fucking good?

“Are you going to come for me, honey?” He asked in a low whisper.

You didn’t answer, you just kept your eyes on his, a silent prayer that he would stop. He couldn’t stop now though, he was so damn close.

“Next time m-maybe, holy-shit-fuck-fuck-FUCK!”

His hips snapped forward, stuttering and halting against yours. You felt the searing hot ropes of his spend while it spilled inside your walls, cock throbbing and stretching you further with every spurt. His breathing was deep, low, and you guessed that if he weren’t afraid of being caught he would be much more vocal. He tossed his head back, using the hand that was on your hip to push his hair from where it fell into his eyes.

Once he was finished, Miguel released your mouth, the post-orgasm clarity making his guilt take over tenfold.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling out of you, the sudden feeling forcing a quiet cry from your swollen, trembling lips.

You didn’t speak. Now that he was finished you didn’t have words to say. What could you say? ‘You’re a monster’? ‘How could you do this to me’? ‘Why would you do this to me’? None of his answers would matter, and part of you still wondered if you’d asked for it some way. What else did you think your professor wanted you to come into his office for after all the classes had ended for the day? The red flags had been waving in your face and you ignored them. Maybe, somewhere deep down, you wanted this all along.

—

“Good morning handsome,” you said, laughing and wiping a bit of spit from Miguel’s stubbled cheek, “you were out. Having a good dream?”

—

Miguel shot up in bed, quickly realizing that he was dreaming, the reminder of that day still so fucking clear in his mind.

He looked at the calendar sitting above the coffee maker in his apartment. Well, his apartment. It had already been four long weeks that he’d spent in that universe trying desperately to get you to like him. He could tell by the look on your face though that you were still terrified of him. 

He wondered if he should just leave, call it quits for this universe and move on to the next one. Miguel couldn’t shake the probability that something might be worse in the next universe though. What if he traveled there only to find that you were already dead? What if the next ten universes took him years to get through and eventually he was too old to keep looking for you? No matter how he looked at it, logically speaking, it was still better to try and work with the you in front of him, than to risk the unknown.

You couldn’t put into words the way you felt when you saw Dr. O’Hara every week in your physics class. You started sitting toward the back, hoping some other girl might grab his attention instead, but it never worked. He continued to summon you to his office in the late evenings, and he continued to fuck you until you could barely walk your way out of his office.

He terrified you.

And that terrified him.

“Dr. O’Hara,” the head of student affairs walked into Miguel’s office, pushing the already ajar door open and stepping inside.

“Oh, hi, Janice,” Miguel said, feeling his body become tense.

You better not have opened your fucking mouth, he thought.

“One of your students…” your name coming out of her mouth made him start to sweat, “...came to me and said she would like to drop out and take this class another semester. She said it doesn’t fit into her schedule right now so we need you to sign–”

“Halfway through the semester?” He asked, tone sharper than he intended. “No. She’s doing so well it would be a mistake.”

“It’s not really up to–”

“What’s the cutoff date for this kind of thing? Isn’t there always a cutoff date?”

“This Thursday is the–”

“No.”

“You don’t really have a choice.”

“Let me talk to her.”

The woman sighed, handing him the paper, “I think it’s a mistake too, for the record. It would be a shame to have to do all that work all over again.”

The woman left, the sound of her clicking heels fading as she walked down the hall. Miguel looked at the sheet of paper, hands shaking as he looked down at your signature. There it was. The same signature on your fucking marriage certificate, right there, telling him that you’d had enough and wanted to leave him. 

He slammed his office door and walked over to his bag, the one where he kept your wedding photo. He hadn’t looked at it much since he’d left the original universe. The image of the two of you together brought him nothing but pain. He wanted you back so badly he was willing to rape a poor college girl that looked just like you in order to live in a fantasy that, deep down, he knew would never really hold a candle to the reality he once had.

Looking back he remembered the day of your wedding, the way you looked took his breath away. He was still mad that the therapist hadn’t worked out, if only she’d listened. Even the barista wasn’t too bad. She was a bit mouthy, but…no, he couldn’t stand the damn barista. She was a lost cause the moment she broke up with him.

Something told him that this version of you, the student, wasn’t going to work out from the beginning. He wanted it so badly though. When he tried to imagine a world where he could be happy with that version of you, he couldn’t. Even in the event he was able to convince you to marry him, or hell, even go on a date with him, he knew it would be all done in fear. You’d never look at him the way you did. 

You would never love him.

You startled him when you opened the door to his office unannounced. You could tell because he scrambled to put something into his bag as you entered. His gaze was still so harsh, and you thought maybe you shouldn’t have come at all, but you were afraid your consequences would be harsher if you ignored his long standing request to meet him in the office during the evenings. You closed the door behind yourself, knowing that he would probably do it anyway if you didn’t do it yourself. 

This is the last time, you thought. You do this one more time and then you’re done.

You hoped that by giving him what he so clearly wanted from you one last time, and perhaps being mature about it, you could convince him to let you go.

“D-Dr. O’Hara I–”

“You’re trying to drop out of my fucking class?” He snapped, eyes shooting spears through you.

You gulped, stepping toward the door, immediately regretting closing it behind yourself.

“W-well yes but I came to, um…well I thought we could–”

“Thought we could what?” He asked, standing quickly.

Regardless if you’d never love him, he was going to have to work with what he had, and right now he had a crying twenty something in front of him who was willing to do anything he said.

“We can do it just one more time and then I want to leave your class,” you whispered.

Dr. O’Hara strode over to you slowly, each step a booming quake that tore through what little determination you’d had when walking in there. He grabbed your jaw in his hand, leaning forward so his lips were against your ear. You hated that your body had become conditioned to react pleasantly to his touch, a tingling sensation spreading down to your core.

“What did you say?” He hissed against your ear.

You couldn’t speak. You wanted to repeat yourself. You wanted to convince him that this was what was best for both of you since getting caught would surely end his career. No matter how much you willed yourself to speak though, not a fucking word came out. The only sound you made was a pathetic whimper, a dumb little sound that you knew he liked; he always moaned whenever you made it. 

“That’s what I thought, hermosa,” he whispered, “you can come back to my office tonight, and I’ll take good care of you like I always do, hm?”

He let go of you and stepped back, eyes scanning over your body and taking it all in as he had so many times before.

“Well, I-I can’t come tonight,” you admitted hastily, as though you might choke on the words if you didn’t spit them out.

“Why?” Dr. O’Hara’s eyes snapped to yours.

“Well my friends and I were going out tonight and–”

“No,” he said firmly, “you’re coming back here.”

Perhaps he’d said it too harshly, but knowing that there was a good possibility that this was the night of your death, your ‘canon event’ as he’d taken to calling it, he couldn’t risk you leaving his sight.

You opened your mouth to protest, but the dark glare in his eye told you that arguing was futile. It was clear that whatever this had started as, an exploitative endeavor, had turned into some sort of obsession that you weren’t going to be able to get out of easily.

“Please,” you mouthed, keeping your eyes on the floor.

He couldn’t remember a time he’d felt so much guilt. Could he really keep this up? Would he really be able to spend the rest of both your lives looking into your fearful eyes and convince himself that it was alright? As long as he had you it didn’t matter if you were a little afraid…right?

“I know this is hard for you to understand, so I’ll make it simple for you,” he moved to grab you, but you slipped under his arm and started backing away.

“Stop doing this, please,” you were trying to get away from him now, another sign that this was probably a dead-end universe for him.

Miguel couldn’t imagine much worse than you being dead, but you feeling so afraid of him that you died trying to get away from him was right up there. He wondered if closing his oversized office window would’ve still resulted in your demise that night.

“Honey, I’m sorry, if you can just come here and have a seat we can talk–”

“No!” You yelled, continuing to back up, the open window at your back.

Miguel took a step forward.

“I’m not going to hurt you, let’s just–”

“You already did!” Your lips were trembling, your whole body was tense, “Stay away from me!”

“Mi vida, please!”

He watched you hit the low-sitting window sill. The school would get sued, no doubt, for not putting a screen, or at least some form of safety precaution, in place to prevent your fall from three stories up. He looked over the window sill, watching the blood spread from your body outward, covering the pavement below.

Miguel genuinely felt bad. He didn’t know if it was because he felt like he was losing you again. No, this wasn’t really like losing you. This felt more like guilt around causing the death of some college student who happened to look almost exactly like you, but she wasn’t really you.

In all honesty, appearance was the only thing this girl had in common with you. So Miguel wouldn’t shed a tear for her, though he would hold on to the turmoil he’d caused you in that universe for a while. He’d wear it with him to the next one, like a pin he’d collected as a souvenir. That thought actually made him laugh. It was the laugh of a man gone mad, but a laugh nonetheless.

Maybe by the end of his journey he’d have a whole stash of pins. Perhaps he’d be so weighed down by them that he wouldn’t be able to move anymore. It was entirely possible that a suitable replacement didn’t exist, and that maybe he’d never find the perfect one.

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Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[kxgumi]

I want Miguel to protect me too :((

Heyyyyy so. I am really missing Miguel. Any thoughts about him? I'm in angsty or mild whump-ish mood. Something like "What happened to you?" "Who did this to you?" or anything at all, really.

Or if you're not in an angsty mood that's okay I just really miss Miguel and will take even a crumb of that gigantic moody wildcat. xoxo

Ivy I am so sorry it took me this long 😭 I hope this fic makes up for it! Who doesn’t love a “who did this to you”?!

The first thing that put you on edge when joining the spider society was the sheer amount of spiders in one place, the second was how absolutely nosey they all were. The third, was Miguel.

Every time you portaled in you were careful to wear your full suit along with an oversized jacket for comfort. Every mission you made sure you were either solo or found a way to keep clear of others during battles. Hoping and praying no anomalies would be too difficult to handle.

For the first couple months you were successful. Kicking ass and managing to not draw attention to yourself. But on a hard mission with a stray Morbius anomaly you were shit outta luck. Blood slicked down the open gaps in your suit despite your accelerated healing ability. Hiding underneath a stack of fallen pilings your breath came in shallow pants “Shit shit shit-“

In the darkness you could hear the whooshing of something moving around the open space. This Morbius was particularly brutal, his style of death by 1,000 cuts was taking its toll. In a moment of sheer panic you smack the distress signal on your watch.

After a glance down, your panic rose further at the wide tears in your suit. The cuts from this blood sucking prick had healed almost immediately but the heavy scarring from your past remained. Long and twisted, the pink tissue that never healed glared back at you. Suddenly you realize the whooshing had moved further away, but a tingling in your body told you something else was coming.

As you peaked around from your hiding spot the tell tale flashes of light from a portal filled up the space. For a moment you hoped it was some random lesser spider responded to your call but in an instant the huge blue and red suit that stepped into the room send you scurrying into the darkness.

A wide scanner emitted from Miguel’s watch and an ungoldly alert sounded when it landed on you. “Hey! Come on out it’s clear.” He called.

“Ah, thanks I’ll just portal from here. The Morbius anomaly went north - HEY“ your voice cracked as in one swift moment he’d moved the heavy concrete and looked down at you.

“Don’t be-“ his sentence halted and in an instant he’d dropped down to kneel infront of you. He phased his mask away to look at the skin across your side and outer thigh crisscrossed with scars more closely “Are you alright?” His voice was low, and the strength behind it made you hesitate. The lump in your throat had you responding only with a nod.

Heat rose in your chest as his gaze lingered “Who - did this…” his heated gaze flickered up to meet yours “did that - thing-“ the final word curled into a growl as he stalked after the anomaly.

“No it didn’t-“ you called out in a whisper as his broad tense frame stalked off into the darkness. After a few grunts and hisses the anomaly slammed into the nearest concrete wall, fear flashing in its unnatural gaze as it tried to scramble away. When it neared you could see the bruising under its pale skin before a light trap stopped it in its tracks.

Miguel came around the large cage, claws scraping across the lit surface as he came to stand beside you. “You… wanna talk about it?” When you glanced up his reddish brown gaze was waiting.

That lump returned, all it took was a shake of your head, and a grunt and a nod from him, and the subject was dropped. But from that mission on, things changed. Whether it was a silent presence at occasional meals, back up on routine missions, or even talks of leadership options to rank up in the Spider Society. From that mission on - you had a new, rather large, blue and red shadow.

[kxgumi]

Forgot to share this old rkgk based on my interaction with c.ai Miguel

[kxgumi]

I cannot explain it, but I really like the way you drew his body hair... It immediately grabbed my attention

rugby miguel

[kxgumi]

🧎‍♀️

it’s always that damned scowl

[kxgumi]

Ooohhh intriguing, tell me more 👀

a/n: guys I literally wrote this in like 10 mins and I just had to post it to make sure no one else has the same idea as me.. also this is NOT related to my fic Where Water Meets Land, that’s a completely different arranged marriage fic!! not proofread DUH and not an official post, so I might delete this later.. lmk if anyone wants to be in the taglist for this!!

Was literally washing the dishes and I had to run to my phone cause I had a fic idea….

Hear me out, arranged marriage fic with gojo except the two of you never got married (yet)? In short: the arrangement never carried out because you were lost as a child :(

Imagine being childhood friends with gojo and in an arranged marriage, until one day you get lost while playing in the woods with him, never to be found again… only for a normal family to find you and adopt you during a rainy night

For years and years your family desperately tries to find you, and each time they fail, loosing hope as the days pass by. And the gojo family wasn’t any help, placing a constant burden on your family and threatening to break off the engagement and their ties (in favour for another family and engagement.)

You were none the wiser, spending your days since childhood helping your new found family with their small business. And all though your memory is foggy and you can’t remember much, you were glad you found a loving home.

Imagine on a random day, where you’re taking care of the small family business because your poor elderly father got sick, only to encounter gojo all these years later as your customer and as a stranger (him none the wiser too)

Your head throbbing as you look at the oddly familiar glow of his blue eyes and striking ivory hair that stands out, his name on the tip of your tongue in your foggy mind.

Imagine slowly but surely, falling in love with this “stranger” as he keeps coming back, charming you with his sweet smile and equally sweet words, until one day, he finally confesses.

Imagine gojo slowly finding a home in your family, far away from the burdens he carries as a gojo heir, far away where in the cozy little house you call home, surrounded by a family that loves him.

Imagine gojo trying to make it official to the public, taking you with him, arm wrapped around your waist as he shows you off to the numerous people at the event? Gala? Knowing that his parents (especially his mother) would be furious, but too busy flaunting you in all your pretty and witty personality.

Blah blah blah argument with his family, threatening to break you two off and putting your family in ruins for trying to taint the gojo bloodline.

More stuff, your (biological) mother finally finds you, shaming the gojo’s for treating you like this, and helping you and Satoru to run away and get married finally. The two of you coming back, hand in hand with matching wedding rings, making your way into high society as newly weds. The end… or is it-

[kxgumi]

Jail, jail for miguel. How could you be this cruel to me

Mafia!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Bunny Hybrid!Reader

tw : death (sorry), blood and violence, gun, isolation, manipulation, mentions of abuse, slight smut, a little bit of fluff ig (not between Miguel and reader, yet)

summary : freedom do come with cost, a cost of another's life on the line

a/n : I'm still alive, unfortunately.

𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓷𝓮, 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝔀𝓸, 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮

“I don’t think this is a great idea.” Lyla said as she sat on one of the cushions in Miguel’s office, busy with her phone. While Miguel himself is busy doing some paperwork. “What do you mean?” He looked at her with an annoyed expression then took off his reading glasses. She pointed towards the monitors in the corner of his office. A soft crying noise erupted from within the monitors as the screens remained dark and untouched.

It has been at least 24 hours after he isolated you in that room of his. You don’t even know if it’s day or night anymore as you can feel yourself starting to crumble away. Lying on the hard and cold concrete with tears wetting your face, your whole life starts to flash before your eyes. Memories of the past of how horrible your life has been begin to fill your mind. Will this be the kind of life you'll live until the end? To exist without any sense of freedom at all, making it all seem like a nightmare. But the nightmare has just begun.

The metal door creaks open slowly before Miguel enters, scanning the dark room just to find you cowering in the corner of the room. He kneels in front of you to meet your eyes, letting light illuminate the room so he will be able to take a look at your beautiful face. But you're too scared of him so you hide your face using your bunny ears to avoid his gaze.

"Have you learned your lesson, little one?" Your body quivers upon hearing his low and raspy voice. He moves your ears to the side then lifts your chin up with his finger. "I asked you a question." Seconds went by without you saying anything to reply to his question. He let out a 'tsk' sound before standing up and looking down at you with disdain, "You haven't learned anything have you? I guess you're going to stay here until you grow mold."

Just before he walks away from you he feels a tight grip around his leg. "No, please! Let me out! I'll do anything and— and I'll listen to you, I promise!" Your begging was like a melody to his ears, resulting in a slight smirk creeping up to his face in satisfaction. He got down to his knee once more with his hand caressing the side of your face. "You promise?" You nodded in response and nuzzled deeper into his touch to please him so he would release you from this hell hole. His smirk got even wider, "That wasn't so hard was it?" He unlocks the chain around your neck and offers you his hand to take. You hesitate for a bit before putting your hand in his.

He leads you upstairs into his bedroom while holding your hand tightly in his grip as if you're going to run away and escape from him again. He closed his bedroom door then cupped your cheeks just with one hand. He secretly loves the way your whole face fits in his massive hand. It makes him hard just from the size difference between you and him. How adorable it must be to have his cock buried deep inside you. All of those 'it won't fit' bullshit that would come out from your mouth just before he forces himself into you. To have you tear up like the cry baby you are and moan underneath him while he violates your tight hole with his cock. To have you submit to him and only him.

Just the thought of your body against his makes his mouth water, like a predator ready to devour its prey. But he must control himself and take this a little slower than he usually does. He clears his throat and puts those thoughts aside, "From now on I want you to listen and obey everything I told you to do. And don't even think of disobeying me, you know very well where you'll end up if you do. Understood, little one?"

You knew that you didn't have any other choice. It's either you obey him or try to resist and end up in that basement again for god knows how long. So you decided to nod, to listen to him for the time being until you found another way to escape from his grasp. "Is that a yes? Good." He lets go of your face before entering the bathroom that was connected to his bedroom. He started taking his clothes off with his back facing you, revealing his toned back muscles with lots of scars and a massive spider tattoo.

Your mind goes crazy as you think of how this will end up, not realizing how red your face has become. "Take your clothes off." He then enters the bathtub that was prepared for him to relax in. A loud exhale escapes his mouth as he relaxes all of his muscles, enjoying the relaxing sensation of the hot water against his skin. "Excuse me?”

"You heard me. Don't make me repeat myself." He warns, louder this time. You bite your bottom lip in worry before slowly taking your clothes off, presenting your bruised up body to him. His eyes trails over every inch of your body to savor the enchanting view in front of him. Those bruises on your body makes him desire you even more. If only he was the one who marked you and did all of that to you, not that asshole who abused you not long ago. You feel humiliated from how small he makes you feel. "That's my girl." He purrs then gestures to you to come closer to him. He lifts you off the ground so easily then places you on his lap with your back resting on his torso.

He feels pleased by your small frame sitting on his lap. He has found the missing piece that fills the emptiness inside of him. He enjoys always being in control and you let him control you as if you're nothing but his toy.

After a minute of silence of you sitting uncomfortably on his lap he notices your body quivers. He wraps his hands around your waist as a gesture to soothe you, pulling your body closer to his until there is no more space between the two of you. He brushes your hair to the side then starts kissing the side of your neck gently. "I've been wanting to do this with you the moment I lay my eyes on you." He said as he held you tighter in his arms.

He savors the way your soft skin brushes against his, the way your body flinches every time he tries to touch you. He pulls your face closer to his then starts kissing you passionately. Your eyes widen from his sudden kiss but you can't deny the way you melt under his touch. It doesn't take long until you return his kiss with your palms resting against his muscular chest. He breaks the kiss then looks down at your face with a hint of satisfaction. "You're mine, y/n. Mine and I'm never letting you go.”

After another 30 minutes of him forcing you to bathe with him, he gave you a new pair of clean clothes to wear. He even lets you enjoy dinner. Of course with him by your side. The night ended with you sitting on his lap (again). This time in his office where he usually does all his work. He even told Lyla to wait outside so she can't tease him for having you sitting on his lap like a pet for him. You started to think that maybe he has a thing for having someone to sit on his lap. But in reality the only reason why is because it's you. It gave him some sense of ownership knowing that he's able to have you within his grasp and knowing that he could do anything he desires to you.

You can feel a sense of relief washing over you as you relax your back against his torso. You somehow are able to feel a little bit calmer despite his presence. Maybe it's the fact that he hasn't done anything to hurt you, but you knew very well that he's capable of doing so. He just doesn't have any reason to do so, yet. Or maybe it's simply because you're exhausted. You started to feel tired, really tired. You didn't sleep at all yesterday when he isolated you in that basement of his. All the fear and panic you experienced for the past few days have taken a toll on you. Your eyelids felt heavy until you accidentally fell asleep.

Miguel didn't realize this at first, he even wondered why you hadn't shifted or moved at all on his lap. Until he looks down at you to find you sleeping peacefully. He felt bad for you, thinking that you must feel drained after everything that had happened so he carried you back into his bedroom then put you down on his bed before tucking you in.

Day after day went by but nothing changes the fact that you're still anxious with this new life of yours. Every single day the loud chirping noises of birds outside wakes you up from your slumber with you lying beside him. As his heavy hand rests around your waist, keeping you in place whenever you try to slip away from him.

Today is no different. Sitting in his living room while watching the TV to entertain yourself. You know that you should be grateful to the facilities and care Miguel has given to you since he met you. But the way he hurt and locked you up in that pitch black basement haunts you like a ghost. What if he's waiting for you to slip up and do something wrong then he'll make you end up back there all alone again? You never trusted him. No matter how nice his behavior is towards you, everything about him feels fake. You feel like a mere doll sticking by his side for him to play around and dress you up however he likes.

“What?!” Your ears flinched. His roar sounds like an echoing thunder from down the hallway. You peek your head out the living room to see what the fuss is about. Miguel stands tall in front of his subordinates with his brows furrowed in anger and frustration, his veins throbbing on his forehead. “How the hell did all of you let that slide?! Answer me!” They fall silent with eyes glued to the floor underneath pathetically like a group of whiny dogs scolded by their master. “We don’t know. It just happened.” One of them was brave enough to answer.

Somebody had successfully infiltrated his line of work. Burning his secret warehouses where he runs his illegal business one by one until there’s nothing left but ashes and killing countless of his men. He pulled the man who dared to speak back to him by his collar, lifting him off the ground with nothing but his bare hand. “Just happened?! They caused chaos on my property and that’s all you have to say?! Think again before you dare to disrespect me like that.” Miguel slammed the man to the nearest wall in rage. His body fell unconsciously to the ground with blood streaming down his head.

Your breath hitched in your throat upon seeing the man’s unconscious body lying on the floor. He doesn’t even hesitate to hurt anyone who upsets him, including the people who are loyal to him. His shouting continues, you tried your best to muffle the noise by pressing down your ears but it doesn’t help the aching feeling of fear in you. What if he hurts you next and takes all of his frustration to you? Multiple pieces of furniture were thrown in anger by him, breaking into pieces all across the room from how strong the impact is.

He dismissed his subordinates. Threatening them with their own life and safety if something like this ever happens again. His firm footsteps grew louder towards the living room as he tried to shake off the anger radiating from him. He took a deep breath before entering the living room, he just needed a break from all of this. The TV's still on with no one watching it and the leather couch where you were sitting is now empty. Panic and anger grew back inside him before he punched the wall in anger with his fist. “She fucking escaped again! That little—“ He cursed before running from the living room to look for you, jumping into his car before he drove off as fast as he could to catch up with you in case you ran off again like before.

Multiple men ran past the living room, trying to help their boss by tracking you down, preventing you from getting too far before one of them stopped in their tracks when he heard a faint whimpering noise. He scans the living room to find the source of sound before he finds a small erect tail poking out from the end of a curtain. It shivers and moves around shiftily.

He approaches the small ball of fur then peeked through the curtain to find you hugging your knees close to your chest with your back facing him. He didn't know what to do at first but he couldn't blame your instincts to run and hide when you feel like there's danger nearby. He decided to gently place his palm on your shoulder. You yelped and turned around in surprise, thinking that it's Miguel and he's about to hurt you but your eyes met with the stranger’s gray ones.

The stranger doesn't want to act too friendly to you at first, getting too attached to you means death by the merciless leader of the mafia. But he just needed you to comply this time so he could impress his boss by discovering you safe and sound inside his mansion when he thought that you had run away for the second time.

“Boss is looking for you.” He spoke with a gentle tone. You sat there, staring at him with your massive eyes. He sighed, knowing that this will be a lot harder than imagined. “He's not going to hurt you.”

“He is.” You insisted.

“He hurt you because he cares about you.”

“That's not an excuse to hurt me…”

“It is. Trust me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because the longer you hide the angrier he gets. You don't want him to hurt you, do you?”

You shook your head. Him hurting you is the last thing you wish to happen to you. Your eyes find his, contemplating whether you should listen to him or not.

“Fine.” You agreed before he helps you to get you back on your feet. You two stared at each other awkwardly until he cleared his throat and spoke to break the silence. “I'm Cain by the way.”

“Oh… Y/n.” You replied to the black hair man in front of you. He has never seen anything like you before. A woman with such a small build, massive eyes and fluffy ears falling to the back of her head in fear. You look almost petty and adorable at the same time.

“Y/n!” Miguel's voice echoed across the living room before he ran towards you. He hugs you tightly while breathing heavily. “Where have you been?!” He pulls away from the hug before shaking you furiously. “I thought you escaped!”

“I got scared of you so I hid behind the curtains… You're going to punish me aren't you?” You said meekly with eyes glued to the floor in shame, preparing yourself for what might come up ahead. He let go of you, “No. This one is on me. But if you dare to make me panic like that again by doing a stupid fucking thing like this, I will.”

Silence hung in the air as he stared down at you before Lyla interrupted. “Miguel, we're going to be late— What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing.” He stares sharply at you, his stare alone could bore a hole right through you. He kept staring at you, his eyes refusing to leave yours. “We really gotta go now or you're going to miss your flight.” She replied grumpily, she hates it when he uses that kind of sharp and aggressive tone towards her.

Earlier this morning, he was supposed to leave for a business meeting for a week. But your little scheme that you pulled off earlier prevents him from leaving, which obviously pushes him over the edge. “Let's go.” His eyes finally left yours as he walked out of the room. “Cain, watch over her. Watch over her like your life depends on it.” He paused then turned around to look at you, “And Y/n. Don't even think about running away, or you'll never see the light of the day ever again.”

And with that he left. The monster that has been terrorizing your mind for the past week has left. “Don't take him too seriously, he's just pissed.” Cain said casually to you before walking off.

Cain didn’t know you’re this quiet, sitting quietly on the living room couch with your eyes staring blankly on the wide screen. He kept his eyes on you and watched you for a while before talking, “Are you hungry? It’s already time for lunch.” You shook your head, a small ‘okay’ escaped his mouth before he left once again. ‘That’s it?’ you thought to yourself. Miguel would usually drag you with him into the dining room and force you to eat if you dare to refuse whatever he asked you to do.

Out of curiosity, you tail behind Cain. Following him without making any sound. He smiles softly to himself, he can feel your presence following him. You must be dumb enough to think that he wouldn’t notice you tailing him like a lost puppy. He entered the empty kitchen and started to wash and cut up some fruits.

“Need anything?” He kept that small smile plastered on his face from how cute you’re acting right now, his face facing away from you as he chopped the fruits so you couldn’t see his smile.

“Why didn’t you force me to eat when I refused to?” You asked with your head peeked into the kitchen.

“Well, do you want me to force you?”

“No.”

“Exactly. Therefore there is no need for me to do so.”

“But I am hungry.”

“I know.”

He walks towards you with a bowl of fruit prepared in his hand before looking down at you, “Are you ready to eat now?” You looked up at him and nodded. He let out a chuckle then ruffled your head gently. “Where do you want to eat?”

“I can choose where I want to eat my food?”

“Yes.”

“Then can I eat in the living room?”

To eat in the living room is a new experience since you start living in your captor’s house, but being able to decide something for yourself is the strangest thing ever. Cain's gray eyes never left your small form as you sat there on the other side of the couch.

“I can see why he likes you.”

“He doesn't.”

“He does. Very much. Too much for your own good.”

“Is it a bad thing that he likes me?”

“It depends. If you please him it's a good thing.”

You look down and start playing with your own food. “I'm scared…”

“I can tell. What do you say when we take a small walk in the forest? It helps me calm down when I'm stressed.”

“We can do that?”

“Not when Miguel's around.”

You can't just turn down the only opportunity for you to get outside so you agreed to come with him. He led you outside, through the back door then deeper into the forest. You couldn't lie but to feel amazed, you've never been into a forest before. Your former master's house was in a secluded area of a forest but you were never allowed to go outside, not even a step out of his house.

Your eyes widen in amazement as you watch the scenery in front of you, massive trees stand tall with sun rays peeking out through the leaves high above. Illuminating a clear pathway for both of you to walk on. The sound of birds chirping can be heard from the distance and the gentle morning breeze feels so soothing against your skin. All of your fear and pain have vanished, leaving you two alone with the world revolving around the both of you.

Cain shakes his head with a laugh from your reaction before walking in front of you, getting even further from Miguel's mansion.

“W— wait!” You shouted with uncertainty in your voice.

“Hmm?” He hums in reply and stops walking to look at you over his shoulder.

“What if Miguel found out?”

“What about it?”

“He's going to punish me in the basement again, or worse.”

“He won't.”

“How could you be so sure?”

“Because I'm here. Don't worry.”

He continues walking with his hand behind his back. Not even stopping for a second to make sure that you're following behind him. You let out a small whimper before catching up behind him. Both of you walked for a while before he stopped walking, he stopped in front of a beautiful small lake deep in the forest.

You let out a small ‘woah’ as Cain sat down on a massive rock nearby. He pretends to act nonchalant towards how excited and happy you are, tail swiftly wagging with both of your ears perked up. Glancing at your direction momentarily to make sure that you're not running away or getting hurt in any way while he keeps himself busy with his phone.

Not even a single thought of escape pops up in your mind. You're way too busy examining your new surroundings. With eyes that couldn't stop exploring the breathtaking scenery around you, from the tallest tree down to a group of small daisies on the nourished soil beneath your bare feet. In the middle of you admiring everything that surrounds you, the bushes nearby shake. Indicating that there is something or someone here with the both of you. “Y/n get back!” With a swift movement he stood in front of you, switching into his protective mode with a gun pointed at the shaking bushes. His mind runs wild from the worst possible creature that might come out right from the other side of the bushes, regretting his decision by bringing you out here where danger lies.

With finger pressing lightly against the trigger, he prepares himself for the consequences of his own action before a small bunny walks from behind the bushes. Exhaling exasperatedly he retreats his gun, securing it back into his pocket. A group of other bunnies followed behind the little one as the little one made its way towards you and started sniffing your feet. You sat down on the ground before some of them jump up to your lap, earning a couple giggles from you.

He sits back down on his spot, watching you play with the group of bunnies. You look so relaxed sitting on the ground joyfully with bunnies sitting on your small lap. A soft smile appears on his face again before taking out his phone to take a couple pictures of you without you knowing , reserving the memory forever into his mind. “They look just like you.” He comments. ‘Adorable’ He adds sincerely in his mind.

The taste of freedom didn't last long. Since Cain doesn't want Miguel to know that he had let you play outside without his permission, he hurried you back to the mansion to clean you up. Rubbing clean wipes on your knees and hands while you sit on a chair. You watch as he cleans you up from any dirt or mud, “Thank you.” You speak softly. “For what?” He replied, not looking up from the mud stain on your knee that he was trying to clean. “For the freedom you gave me, even if it's only for a while.”

Days went by in a flash and you've never been happier. Cain treats you like a human being instead of some kind of animal, something that no one has ever done to you before. He took you for a couple more of these ‘secret’ trips into the forest. Showing you different parts of the forest to feast your hungry eyes that are longing for freedom.

Playing with the wild bunnies has been one of your favorite activities for the past week. You always await for Cain to take you outside again. He only let you roam free out there for less than an hour. But it didn't bother you since an hour of freedom is better than none at all.

“They're fluffy.” He said as he joined you, sitting on the ground with a bunny nuzzling on his lap. You two have gotten closer for the past day, since he's the only person who dares to interact with you under Miguel's order. “See? I told you it's nice to pet them.”

“It certainly is.” He snickered. It's always quiet around him. He's quite a quiet person you figured, doesn't talk much. Sometimes, he doesn't even talk at all, just watching you with that gray eyes of his. Barely even struck any conversation with his own colleagues. But they respect him, just like they do to Miguel.

The small creature jumps off your grasp, jumping its way into the deep unexplored woods. It tempted you to follow, so you did. Catching up behind it with Cain still unaware that you're gone. “Where are you going?” You called out, thinking that it could understand a word you said. It kept jumping away faster, disappearing into the darkest part of the woods. You lost tracks of where Cain was or even where the mansion was located. The sky gets darker the longer you walk aimlessly by yourself, it wasn't this dark before. Dark rumbling clouds enveloping the once blue and clear sky.

“Y/n it's getting dark, let's go.” He stood up, wiping his clothes off from any dust or dirt. “Y/n?” He turned to find nobody sitting before him this whole time. Just how long have you been gone without him noticing? “Y/n. This is not funny, get back here so we can go back home.” He waits and waits, hoping with his little heart that you'll reply to him calling out your name. “Y/n!” He speaks louder, his voice fills with dread and desperation.

The sunlight was long gone. Tall trees surround you, trapping you there like a cage. “C— Cain?” You called out softly. Glancing your head around to look for any signs of life. Your eyes find the small bunny you were looking for earlier, lighting your face up with joy before you approach it from behind. But something faster than you did before you could even lay a finger on the little bunny. The creature's fangs ripped through the little one's flesh, ripping it into a bloody mess. Making you gasp from shock before it turns its head towards you. A wolf, a massive one.

Growling with blood dripping off its mouth. Your legs start to tremble in fear. You took a couple steps back before you made a run for your dear life. Running as fast as your feet can take you, through the darkness of the forest and through endless massive logs of trees. Tripping over something, you fell with your knees landing first onto the hard ground. Scrapping the smooth skin that was covering your knees until it bleeds. But you stood back up on your now bleeding knees and continued running, wincing in pain as blood dripped down your small legs with every single step you took.

Hope seems like a possible thing for you, until you're trapped against a gigantic wall of a cliff. Panic washes over you when you hear a couple of growling noises behind your back. The beast has brought its friends to play. The predator pouches over you, taking you down with its massive weight. You clenched your eyes shut, letting death to finally claim you after all this time.

A forceful kick landed on the predator's stomach, sending it far away from you before it landed on its back against a trunk of a massive tree. The beast wails in pain but your savior doesn't waste any time to pull out his gun and pierces multiple bullets through the beast's body. He stood there for a second, anticipating any sudden movement from the dying predator. You look over to Cain. He looks tensed, panting air in and out of his lungs.

“I'm so—”

“You're hurt.” He interrupted you in the middle of your short apology. He looks over to you, his eyes sharp with a hint of relief in his eyes upon seeing you alive in front of him. Without another word he scooped you into his arms, carrying you back with him back into the mansion.

Silence hung over the both of you as he treated your wounds. Cleaning over your bare flesh with rubbing alcohol before wrapping your knees up with bandages. He stood up, making his way towards the living room's exit. You don't want him to leave, not yet.

“I'm sorry. I know you're probably mad at me. But it's my fault, I shouldn't have left you.”

He stopped on his tracks before looking at you over his shoulder. “Miguel is going to kill me if he finds out.”

“Then don't tell him.”

“It's not that simple.”

“Cain, I'm begging you. I don't want him to punish me.” He stares at you through his emotionless eyes, his face unreadable.

There it is, that quiver on your bottom lip from you holding back your tears, your fluffy ears falling to your side. He hesitates but lets his heart take over. His mask of emotionless facade falters, kneeling down on his knees to soothe you. “I won't tell him. But I can't let you go out there anymore.” You nodded. At least you'll be able to roam around freely inside. Rather than feeling like a small captive inside that damned basement. Wiping your tears away before hugging his chest tight in relief. He looks down at you with a mixture of disbelief, he never thought you would hug him like this. But he returns the hug anyway with a smile that you've never seen across his face.

Tapping his finger on the table, his mind wanders off the boring topic his business partner has been discussing for the past hour. He has been busy these past few days. Taking over some work on the field, moving from a secluded place to another all day. He closes his eyes briefly, taking his mind off his work for a second. Cursing to himself the second your face comes into mind. He misses you, badly. Wishes that he could get himself back home, away from all the pressure of his work. Taking himself back to you, to see you and to feel you again. To hear you whine and sob whenever something goes wrong.

He switched the screen of a tab in front of him. Switching it to tons of camera previews inside his mansion with one of them showing your sweet interaction with Cain, sharing such an intimate hug in front of his eyes through the screen of the device in front of him. His patience was wearing thin. Standing up abruptly before slamming his tab down to the hard marble underneath, shattering the screen into pieces with such a strong force. He grunts, taking his coat with him then proceeds to leave the meeting room.

“Lyla, we're heading back home.”

“But Miguel, the meeting—”

“Now!”

She rolled her eyes before apologizing to her boss's clients for his aggressive behavior.

Eyes stirring open with darkness surrounding the room you're in. Cain must've forgotten to wake you up from your slumber. Sleepily, you climb off the bed then walk towards the bedroom door. "Cain?" You called out thinking that you'll get a reply from the other side of the door, but nobody answered. It's very quiet, too quiet that you're able to hear your own breathing. You opened the door slowly to find no one standing nearby the door. Cain was usually the one standing there, making sure that you're safe since Miguel left. Taking a few steps out from the bedroom you heard a familiar voice, "Little one, you're awake." You turned around to see no other but Miguel himself with a stain of dried out blood across his face.

"You're back..." You said nervously. The atmosphere surrounding you shifted, becoming so much heavier with his presence. "I have a surprise for you." He grabbed your hand before taking you with him downstairs. The sound of your own heartbeat grows louder and louder with each step you take. He stopped in front of a familiar door, you've been in there before and anything that lies behind that door won't be any good.

Miguel opened the door for you. You gasped with both of your palms covering you mouth. You saw him there, the only person in the whole world that cares about you. Tied up to a chair with cuts and bruises all over his whole body. His face looks awful from all the abuse and torture that was inflicted on him.

“What did you do to him?” Your voice trembles, lacing with fear and dread.

“I took care of him. For us.”

“You're killing him!”

“He dared to lay his hands on you. Worse, he likes you.”

“He was taking care of me! You ordered him to!”

“Taking care of you and stealing you away from me is a massive difference. I'm not a fool, I know everything. “

You froze, standing there like a fool. “What do you mean?”

“I know he let you go outside. Out of that gates that I specifically told you not to walk out of! Did you really think I wouldn't find out?” Opening your mouth to talk back and defend yourself but nothing comes out of your mouth, you fall quiet.

“You know the rules, yet you chose to break it.”

“But I didn't run away!”

No. Not this again. You look over at Cain, hoping that he would back you up this time. His head hangs low. Miguel grips your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him. He despises it when you look at someone else but not him. He's fuming in anger, jealousy took over every inch of his body.

“He can't help you. Stop looking at him.” He growls before letting you g0. You stood there for a second. He continues, “Who do you belong to, little one?”

“You…” You mutter under your breath, gaze descending from shame upon your own words.

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove it. That you belong to me.” He offers something, a gun resting on his palm. Your eyes widen upon looking at the metal weapon he's offering to you.

“You don't want me to punish you, do you? Or would you rather sink into the basement floor forever? Your choice.” You know you can't let that happen. Last time you were there, it almost cost you your sanity. But you can't risk losing Cain, not like this.

“I can't…”

“Can't?” He stares down at you, raising one of his eyebrows from your refusal. Snap. With a snap of his finger, three men walk out from the shadow inside the room you're in. Your eyes shot towards them then back to their leader. “What are you doing?”

Miguel wasn't going to accept your simple words of refusal. “Making sure you're learning your lesson.” Without any words of order coming out from his mouth, they begin to torture him again. Your eyes water, heart shattering into pieces the second you see them abusing him for the second time. Cain tries his best not to let out any sound from the ongoing abuse. Gritting his teeth in pain, he sealed his lips shut to suppress any groan from the never ending blow given by his own friends. He doesn't want to worry you. To not blame you for the unfortunate event that is happening to him.

“Cain!” You tried running towards him in an attempt to save him from your stupid mistake. “No!” You scream before Miguel stops you, gripping your upper arm tight, stopping you from running even further.

“Stop it! Stop hurting him!” They continue to treat him like a punching bag. Hurting him without holding back, earning a couple grunts from him.

“Fine! I'll let you punish me! Stop them, please! He didn't do anything wrong!” Miguel doesn't even budge. His men continue, torturing him hard beyond his own limit. Tears streaming down your cheeks from sheer horror. Why are they not stopping?

“It's your fault. You did this to him. You're the reason he's hurt.” Miguel blames you. You can't help him. He's weak, tortured beyond anything your mind could ever comprehend. “Help him Y/n. Take his pain away. You don't want him to keep hurting, do you?” Maybe he's right, you can help him this time. By taking his pain away, forever. Miguel would not let him slip easily after this, setting his life in a horrible nightmare he could never escape. That's exactly what Miguel wanted you to think.

“I'll—” You paused, thinking over your next words. “I'll do it! That's what you wanted right? I'll shoot him! Just tell them to stop!” He lets go of your upper arm almost immediately. “Enough.” He ordered. They move aside. Unblocking your view from your beloved friend. His condition worsened. They broke his nose and countless bones all over his body. Bruises covering almost the entirety of his body. Scars that will take ages to heal tainted his smooth and pale skin. Gasping out in pain, blood flows down his nose to his chin. Dripping down to the floor underneath.

Miguel offers you the same gun once more. You look down at it with a look of despair painted across your face. You took the gun from his hand, holding it with your shaky hand. Pointing it towards the poor man you thought would always be there for you. Your index finger sits on the trigger. A satisfied smile creeps up to his face.

“That's it… He's suffering because of you. Let him out of this misery you had caused him.” He speaks, lips inches away from your ears. His voice smooth like butter, deceiving you like a sly snake. Cain's head shot up to see the gun pointed right at his head.

"Y/n please." Cain whimpers, staring at the gun in your hand as a tear falls off his cheek. He sounds just like a wounded animal, whimpering and wailing in pain just before it's about to be killed.

Cain wasn't the type of man that would ever fear death. But when it comes to you pointing a gun at him, his wall of strength begins to crumble.

“I'm sorry…” A simple goodbye left your mouth. Your vision blurs, tears welling up in your eyes. “Y/n don't listen to him!” He shouted with all the energy he had left. “Y/n—!” Your ears ring from the loud bang of the deadly weapon in your hand, blood splattered everywhere. An eerie silence hangs over the room.

Blood pooling underneath him before he exhaled for the last time. Life leaving his body completely. Cain is dead. And you killed him.

a/n : I'm going explain my crime here (in case if you're wondering). Cain was suppose to be a character from atsv but I felt bad due to his death so I created an oc, yay! Introducing my new babe, Cain. Sorry for not updating anything for the past three months. I'll be more active here soon, I swear. Just bare with me until the end of July and I'll start writing more contents here.

I forgot. Cain was actually Miguel's bestie. Well... Ex best friend for now. Since he's you know, dead.

Let me know if you like him btw, might write something based on this character in the future. Not sure.

tag list :

@yourmomsushi @s0lm1n @bracefacejimin @ahano @mimiemie @reverieblondie @urlocallocachica @sukioyakio @rin-matsuoka345-blog @tojishugetiddies @appleblueberry-pie @ion-news @outmodead @amelialysm @psychoyanderereader

[kxgumi]

Mafia!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Bunny Hybrid!Reader

tw : abuse, mistreatment, usage of bad languages, death, kidnapping

synopsis : In a world where hybrids are becoming a common thing. Scientists sells their experiments for a very high price in auctions, making it possible for anyone with such kind of money to own a hybrid or even more

author's note : OMG! this will be my very first fanfic ever. I hope y'all enjoy this little fanfic I made in such a very short time. I'm so so sorry if there's anything wrong with my grammars or maybe you got confused by how I write things in general. English isn't my first language :)

𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓷𝓮, 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝔀𝓸, 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮

Experimenting with human beings are normal by now all around the world, making hybrids one of the most expensive and valuable assets. They're usually sold with a very high price in auctions, anyone who's able to lay a hand on those hybrids must be some very crazy rich and lucky people.

You're those kind of fine breed, sold for an unbelievably high price. But sadly luck wasn't on your side due to how irresponsible your new owner is. He never took care of you like how people should took care of hybrids. He abandoned you, feeding you poorly, using you only for your small and fragile body. Treating you like an animal and make you do his daily chores such as cooking, cleaning, and even doing his laundry. But you never complain, there's nothing you can do and nowhere to escape.

You don't even know how the hell he was able to purchase you from the auction since he doesn't even look like a wealthy man at all. Who's job is only to sell and purchase drugs from here and there then spend shit ton of money for women and other useless things. He woke up late at the day just to hurt you then leave and came back late at night. Sometimes he didn't even bother to come back home, leaving you hungry and lonely inside his small and packed house in the middle of nowhere.

For the past moths he has been stealing drugs from Mafia!Miguel. Miguel tried to track him down for months without any avail and lost him every single time. After learning your owner's pattern for months, he's finally able to caught him off guard.

But the bastard ran back home and hide just before Miguel catch him. Your owner ran back home and locked the doors, telling you to shut the fuck up if anyone come over to look for him and to not tell his whereabouts.

Miguel is one step ahead this time and he's able to track your owner's house. He then banged on the door which made you jumped in surprise. "Open the damn door, you bastard! I know you're inside." He shouted as he kept banging on the door with his men following and standing by behind him, guns in their hands.

Innocently, you walk over the door and open the door slightly ajar and peeked outside just to met his eyes. Miguel was shocked when his eyes met with your big vulnerable eyes and fluffy bunny ears, looking almost as if you're pleading with a small pout on your face. "Yes?" You said shyly with shaky voice. Miguel looks back at his men in confusion then look back at you. "Hello, little one. Is there anyone inside?" He asked, trying to be less intimidating and as friendly as possible in order not to scare you. You hesitated to answer but you shook your head anyway, since it's seems like the only safe answer to give. He examines your beautiful and small figure from head to toe just to find bruises everywhere then to your dirty clothes that you're wearing. You look up at him with tired eyes and flat expression, making you look like a broken doll.

Miguel is not buying your obvious lie. "Are you sure? You look... Tired. Are you okay?" He asked again. You just nod and rush to close the door but Miguel stopped you from doing so. He grabbed on the door and push it back open, making you stumbling back from the force. "Look, I don't want to hurt you. But I need to take a look inside, okay?" He gave signals to his men to search the house for your owner.

He didn't expect you to panic and starts shouting at him "No! Please! Master will get mad." You said as your eyes starts to well in tears, "He'll hit me and lock me up in the basement again..." You said while sobbing and pulling on his sleeve. Miguel can feel his heart breaking into pieces from how adorably you cried in front of him. As he wanted to hug you and calm you down, his men came back and drags your owner with them. He got a black eye on his right eye due to a hard blow given by Miguel's men right on his face when he tried to run away. They throw him on the floor to force him to get on his knees in front of Miguel.

When your eyes met his you ran towards your master in worry. "Master! Are you okay?" You got on your knees to check on him, even if he's a very cruel and irresponsible master you can't help but feel worried of him getting hurt. But instead of getting any answer back from him, he gave you a very hard and strong punch on the face. You stumbled back in shock and whimpers in pain as you cover your face with your palms from the fear and pain. "You useless bitch! I told you not to let them in!" As he's about to hit you again, Miguel stepped forward to protect you and kick that bastard's stomach with full force in anger. He still couldn't believe that a little angle like you would care so much about a devil like him.

He groans in pain from Miguel's kick and Miguel turned to look at you as you bleed from your nose and cry on the floor. Your owner look up at Miguel then at you "Oh I see what this is all about now. You like her don't you? Fine then, take her away as a compensation. She is a very fine and expensive hybrid." He said with a low chuckle as he gave you a dirty look. "Use her as a cock sleeve or just do anything you like at her, let all of your anger out at her as if she's a punching bag. You won't ever hear a peep out of her mouth, she's well trained for that." Miguel can feel himself boiling in anger but his eyes won't leave your figure, no matter how hard he tried. The idea of a pretty thing like you used and abused by someone like him are just too much for him to even imagine.

Yes, he is indeed a cruel mafia leader. He killed and will kill anyone who got in his way without any remorse or hesitation and punish those who got on his nerves. But seeing how a pure little thing like you getting such a horrible treatment without you deserving any of it, made him feel sick to the pit of his stomach. He got too deep into his thought as he pull a gun out from his pocket without realizing and thinking it through then shot your owner right at his face as you watch the scene in front of you in horror.

The bastard died instantly, his body made a loud thud noise when it hit the floor and blood starts to stain the carpet underneath. Your eyes widened as tears streams down your cheek. Miguel then turned and walks towards you slowly but you stood up and ran away as fast as you can towards your master's bedroom and lock yourself while crying. His men look at Miguel, waiting for his next order. "I'll talk to her." He said with a loud sigh.

He starts knocking at the door, "Little one, please open the door. I won't hurt you I promise." You starts to panic "No go away! Leave me alone! You just killed my master!" You shouted back. Deep down you know that you should be glad that Miguel had killed your master but that makes you feel powerless, knowing that Miguel is capable of hurting anyone let alone killing them.

"I have to okay? He got on my nerves and worse, he hurt you." He spoke again from the other side of the door. "You know nothing about me!" Tears starts to fall even faster from your eyes as the image of your master's dead body kept playing in your head. "Just open this door so I don't need to force it open myself." He said, starting to get frustrated by your behavior.

You ignores him and sat down in the corner of the room, hoping that he'll just go away and leave you alone. He kept knocking at the door but you refused to open it for him. "Fine you won't open this door? I'll have to force it open then." He said before he starts banging harder and harder on the door, cracking it with each of his forcefull movements against the door.

You know very well from how massive he looks that he'll break down the door easily if he wants to. You starts glancing around the room to look for something to protect yourself just incase if Miguel is trying to hurt you. You've been in this room a thousand time when your master forced you to sleep with him but you're never allowed to open his closet or drawers even when you're told to clean his room for him.

Opening the nearest drawer, you starts rummaging to find something sharp to protect yourself. To your surprise you can feel your hand brushing against a hard and cold metal. You never knew your master hid a small gun in his bedroom this whole time but now you're glad he did. Just as you get your hand on the gun the door bursts open and you yelped in surprise. You then points the gun at Miguel "Don't come any closer! Or I'll— I'll shoot you." You said hesitantly.

Miguel look at the gun in your hand with a expressionless face then walks towards you. "I— I said go away!" A step closer from Miguel means a step back from you. But he kept walking closer and ignoring the fact that you have a gun in your hands. Your back hit the wall, making it impossible for you to take another step back from him. He grabbed your hands and points the gun directly at his chest to challenge you. "Go on. Shoot me." He said menacingly. A shiver went down your spine as your hands clenches around the gun and hesitation floods your mind. You never hurt anyone before, how on earth are you going to shoot him?

Your eyes look up at him still with tears on display and your bunny ears tensed then pinned flat back behind you head in fear. Hands trembling badly as you pressed the gun deeper into his chest, not knowing what to do. "That's what I thought." He said before quickly ripped the gun from your hand easily then threw it away to the other side of the room.

You tried to run but he grabbed you wrist and threw you on the floor. "Stop making this harder on yourself." He said before crouching down to meet your eyes. "Please don't hurt me..." You begged while sobbing, hoping that he'll pity you. He just look at your face while caressing your cheek with his massive thumb. Making your face seems so much smaller compared to his hand. "To have such a pretty thing in front of me for free. How lucky of me." He continues to caress your face and admiring your beauty with the feeling of wanting to own you all to himself. Having you safe by his side in his mansion and to have you sleep by his side at night.

But his fantasy must be interrupted by his duty as a mafia leader. "Boss, it's Lyla." One of his men interrupted. "Tell her I'll be there in 10 minutes." He said with so much authority in his voice. "What about her?" His other man looked over at your vulnerable state. Your eyes are focused on Miguel, anticipating his next move. He cussed to himself and took out a syringe from his pocket. "W— what's that for?" You asked nervously. "This? Oh I bring these all the time incase if I need to take a pretty thing like you home." Miguel then cupped you face with one of his free hand and move your face to the side so he could inject your neck easier.

Your hand grabbed his hand, the one that's cupping your cheek. "I don't want this. Please just let me go." He ignores your plea and kissed your cheek softly. "Don't worry little thing, this will only hurt a little okay? Just obey and you'll be just fine." You shook your head but he injected you right away with the syringe. "Good girl." Your body starts to feel numb right away as tears continue to stream down your face. You rest your head against his chest for support. "Shhh that's it, just fall asleep for me like a good girl you are." He pulls you into a hug and starts caressing your hair this time. Your vision starts to blur as darkness starts to invade. Soon you're limp against his chest, breathing softly and peacefully.

He smiled and kissed your forehead before carrying you in his arms in a bridal style. "Let's get going, we don't want the cops to be here anytime soon." He said as he rushed towards his car with you in his arms and his men following behind him. He looked down at your unconscious form in his arms, "Sleep tight, little one."

[kxgumi]

I fr got scared bruh😭

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ LET YOU BREAK MY HEART AGAIN !

summary :: together in blissful matrimony, miguel o'hara has never felt true happiness until he was by your side. when you're unexpectedly taken from him, he'll do anything in his power to avenge your death. what he doesn't expect is to find you during that process. or, at least, one version of you.

word count :: 2.9k

content warnings :: obsessive!miguel, yandere!miguel, death, deafness (reader is deaf & mute in one reality), spiders, marriage, gore, grief, noncon touching, drugging (venom is put into readers system).

authors note :: Y/H/N = your hero name.

miguel o'hara's yandere traits are . . .

smothering, territorial, & paranoid

──── The gentle melody of piano and harp paint the room in an array of romantic hues. Snow drifts through the Winter air from outside the frozen windows of the venue. Family and friends stand around and admire the beautiful scene before them. You're adorned head-to-toe in white, like an angel who had just descended from the clouds. Miguel is dressed in the finest suit he searched high and low for to ensure it was perfect for this day. However, he knows no one is paying attention to him when you look as breathtaking as you do. His rough-skinned, yet gentle-mannered hand rests on your lower back, the other interlocking your hands together. With your head resting against his shoulder, he sways your body along to the gentle hum of music pervading the air.

Your first dance.

The golden light from the chandelier above serves as a spotlight for you and Miguel. Feeling his chest begin to shake, you move your head to look him in the eye. Tears of sheer happiness were cascading down his cheeks and a weak smile is plastered on his face. You swear that if you were to look up 'devotion' in a dictionary, the way he is looking at you would take up the entire page.

Miguel briefly disentangles his constricted hold on your hand to express his current, overwhelming feelings. He points his middle and ring finger down, the rest of the digits left pointing up. "I love you," that is what he is telling you. When he had first learned you were deaf, he spent his nights studying ASL and SSL in order to communicate with you. However, that single symbol is the one he always finds himself reverting to when all other signs and words fail him. I love you, I love you, I love you. Although Miguel won't express it verbally, he will express the three words through his hands for as long as he lives.

And Miguel remembers the best day of his life just as much as the worst day.

Just one month after you had both gleefully tied the knot, the two of you had gone on a stroll through Nueva York. The moon hangs heavy in the sky and darkness settles against the faint streetlights. Miguel made the vow to always protect you and you've found it to be comforting, relaxing. After a whole lifetime of being deaf and mute, you knew that you were far more vulnerable than others. Knowing you have the Spiderman as your husband causes your concern of any potential assailants to fade away. It's evident in the way his grip on your waist tightens when passerbys walk by and the perceptible shift in his eye when someone stares at you for a little too long.

You've always known he wouldn't let anything happen to you.

The following events all happen quicker than either of you can think. Just as you're crossing the bridge that overlooks the entire city in all its glory, a sudden black hole forms, framed with iridescent hues and overwhelming force. The power of the portals sudden appearance causes the bridge to vibrate beneath your feet. Screams of terror from pedestrians falling to their death goes unbeknownst to you as Miguel holds you against him with constricted tension and hides your face in his chest. The man you have chosen to spend the rest of your life ignores his duty of being the city’s superhero. All in favor of your life.

The remnants of the platform you stood on soon crumble. The red glare of Miguel’s web shoots from his wrist, to where it wraps itself around one of the numerous pillars spread upon the bridge to ensnare you further. But it was so quick, the way you slip from his tenacious grasp. Almost as if someone had forcefully snatched you from him. Innocent civilians shout and plead for Spiderman to save them, but Miguel can't hear them over the thumping of his own heartbeat. Even if he were to hear them, it would not stop him from tearing this entire city asunder in order to get to you.

He forms his hand into the same sign he uses to say 'I love you' and another blaring-red web, the same hue as his panic, springs from him and down to wrap itself around your body. He's done this a million times for others and saved the lives of practically everyone in the city. But, this is you. Miguel is digging his claws into crumbled pieces of the wreckage and shoving them through the air as if they were merely nothing, all in favor of saving you. However, you're both picking up speed and accelerating closer and closer and closer to the unforgiving ground. He latches his talons into a protruding pipe caused by the chaos and clings tight to the web connecting you with him, watching in trepidation as you continue to fall. Attempting to pull the web towards him and bring you back into his arms, where you belong, his efforts were futile.

A loud crack! permeates and his world falls apart.

Practically faster than light, Miguel is pummeling to the ground and to where you now lay. Your chest is flat with no breath and your body is lifeless. Blood is caked on your skull and it cascades onto the pavement beneath you. He rushes to your side, a mantra of ‘no’’s invading the dead, silent air. His heart is paralyzed in his chest as reality sinks into his bones. Desperate pleads escape through loud, violent sobs, begging for you to just open your eyes, hold your hand up, and tell him 'I love you, too'. He knows you cannot hear him, he knows this. But, this does not stop him from begging you, begging God, begging the universe, begging anyone to not do this to him, to not take away the only thing that has ever mattered to him. The only thing that has ever made him happy.

He'll never forget how he had stayed there for hours, ensnaring your lifeless body in his arms as the night faded into dawn. He'll never forget when he left you through brute force and was sent back to the desolate building he could only call home when you were in it. He'll never forget how he had spent days upon days studying the sudden black hole that formed and declared to destroy whoever caused it. The person responsible had taken you from him and if every soul in the galaxy has to pay in order for him to avenge the only one he loves, then so be it.

A year had gone by and every second without you become more tortuous than the last. Things that made him once glisten with joy only make his empty heart lurch with grief. Miguel is now present in the Spider-Society, desperate to manipulate any and all sources to eradicate who had so selfishly taken you from him. He'll just have to endure the yapping teenage-spiders that push at his buttons for the time being. All for you, he reminds himself.

At times, unbeknownst to Miguel, he'll start mumbling your wedding vows under his breath in front of the other spider-people to ease his mind. He knows it by heart; he will never forget it. They may all stare in disturbed confusion, but to mention your name to a man like him would be nothing short of a death sentence. "It's a soft spot, don’t poke it" Jess informs the others.

When the day is finally over and his everlasting efforts were brought to no avail, Miguel will return to the house you had planned on spending the rest of your lives in. Together. All life has been sucked out of the property. The wedding photos scattered about the premise have been derelict with shattered glass after enraged fits. The 'Just Married!' paint still sits on his car and decays with age, but he refuses to ever scrub it off. Your wedding ring, wedding dress/suit, and flower bouquet sit in indestructible cages he operated to preserve them. He fidgets with the wedding ring he vowed to never take off as he wallows in the despair of his silent home. If only he had been quicker; if only he hadn't been so weak.

The video of you dancing in matrimonial bliss ends and the monitor shuts off faster than Miguel could even blink.

The hefty, metal doors to the headquarters open to where several spider-people enter, pantomiming dramatically about the success of their previous missions. Their sudden appearance startles him, to where he demands to know why Lyla hadn't informed him of the spiders' incoming. Jess then enlightens him on his strict rule he set to not disturb him whenever your face is on screen. He exhales with a sigh of defeat and prepares himself for the onslaught of mayhem that would soon come his way. This time, however, a new recruit has joined the group.

Full-body suit hiding any form of physical identity and a soft voice that rarely comes out, Y/H/N from Earth-555 was requested to join the team by Jessica Drew herself. And Miguel couldn't care less if he tried. He'll let another spider on the team if it means keeping the multiverse stable and fueling his progress to one day finally kill the one responsible for your demise. Still, something allures him about this new recruit. Their real name and face are left a mystery to him, but there are certain moments with this stranger where he can't but be reminded of you. That soft voice and heedful hearing prevent him from fully indulging in your memory, but there are certain tics and habits they possess that catch him off guard.

The way you tap your feet when you’re focused, the way you scratch your wrists when you’re anxious, and the way you fidget with the hem of your clothes when you’re bored. And this is what life had been like for a while. Staring at the countless monitors that display a myriad of different information until his brain rots and returning hole to bathe in his misery until the next day repeats.

Several months into Y/H/N's time here is when the doors to the headquarters slam open and several spider-people all clamor in. All were breathless and bruised from a mission that ended messily. The new hero is in the mayhem, as well, exasperated as they rest against the wall. Miguel rolls his eyes at the sudden intrusion and leaves his spot at his desk to find out what these idiots had done now. They all scramble to defend themselves and point their finger at one another, while that new recruit is still trying to catch their breath in the corner. Pathetic. They should know by now that the sake of the multiverse can't afford even a minor mistake. Seeing them left so weak after a fight causes a dry laugh to escape his throat.

Their gloved fingers then grasp hold of the hem of their mask, before forcefully yanking it from their head. And it is like a miracle had materialized right before Miguel's eyes.

His stomach drops at the sudden intrusion of emotions. Shock, elation, disbelief, infatuation. Y/H/N, Earth-555's Spiderman, is his Y/N. You stand before him as you did all those years ago. Despite the dirt and blood smothered into your exposed skin, Miguel thinks you look almost as beautiful as you did when you walked down the aisle.

All you do is clench your eyes shut and try to wait for the pain in your abdomen to ease. The clattering arguments of the others only add fuel to the flame that is your suffering. Soon, there is a sudden wave of silence that washes over. Even with the agony coursing through your body, you were still able to catch the abrupt shift in the atmosphere. You open your eyes to find the man you had feared most, Miguel O'Hara, treading towards you and towering over you with his large figure. Paralyzed with fear, you had jumped to the conclusion that you had enranged him in some way. The terror is so overwhelming, you completely miss the sheer look of love in his eyes and how his pupils had morphed into the shape of a heart.

Eventually, you gain control of your numb body and make a break for it. Pain pumps like a drug through your damaged body, but you persevere and use every sliver of strength left in you to run from him. You're running through the city, dodging past all the numerous spider-people, and webbing through different buildings to escape this maniac of a man. During this, your name and demands for your return are shouted profusely. You don't have time to acknowledge how on Earth he had found out what your actual name was.

Mistakenly, you take a quick glance over your shoulder and almost shiver with fear at the sight alone. Miguel is barrelling after you on all fours like some sort of fucking animal, with fangs and claws out and all. Broken glass protrudes into his limbs from the numerous windows and walls he barreled through. Blood seeps through the torn cuts of his suit, exposing his bruised skin. The excess of vermillion webs clutters the complex from his frivolous attempts at retrieving you. It is utterly terrifying.

Somehow in the midst of chaos, you had found yourself back in the headquarters. The 'Go-Home Machine' practically calls out for you with its luminescent hues. You hear the muffled shouts of your name and the thumping of racing footsteps. In an attempt to use your webs for faster travel, you realize that during your chase, you had entirely run out of web fuel. Shit. From here, you resort to using your legs for once and practically throw yourself into the machine. The translucent spider above uses its limbs to piece together bits of the portals' walls as if it were merely stacking legos. Hope pokes at your brain, but you don't dare let yourself think the storm had washed over just yet. A deafening crash then permeates through the headquarters.

"STOP THEM! NOW!" The echo sends a chill straight into your bones. You watch the machine sputter with increased energy and hope that with enough time, this predator on your tail will find something else for dinner.

Miguel springs into the air as if he were weightless, before landing above you on the thick facade while it buzzes from heightened energy. You have nothing but this wall to protect you from this absolute rabid dog. Sheer trepidation caresses your skin with it's ice-cold touch as he attempts to claw through the membrane of space and time protecting you.

He is bone-chillingly terrifying as he slams all the strength in his body against the barrier. It becomes increasingly difficult for him to keep his grasp on the machine as it continues to charge with intensifying energy. This does not halt his efforts, though. If anything, Miguel has now become increasingly aggressive as the prospect of you leaving him again becomes more profound. The technology whirs from every punch and thrash Miguel gives in order to get to you. Static bolts of energy protrude the air like lightning bolts when he is finally able to tear a hole through the surface, eyes wide and crazed like some sort of beast.

In an attempt to stop him, you try and piece together the chunks of radiation that had been discarded from his unwanted entry. Upon doing so, Miguel is finally able to reach through the opening and dig his talons into your wrist. Your escape was right at the edge of your fingertips, but now you have been flung straight into the jaws of this monster. You splat harshly against the ground and with the state your body was now in, you knew for certain you could not fight anymore.

However, you don't even have a mere second to think of leaving anymore. Not when this vampire-spider has you pinned to the floor with ease faster than you could produce a single thought. He begins to shush you like a baby while you fight and thrash at his chest. His large hand cups your cheek with the same softness you would use to handle a kitten, while the other utilizes his strength to restrain your body.

"I got you! I got you back with me!" The pitch in his voice had raised as he pours his heart out to you. "I never thought I would see you again, but you’re here. My Y/N, you’ve come back to me…” Red eyes are blown wide and they practically stare daggers into you. All as if you were some sort of prey.

The only thing his words do justice in is confusing you further. What you had perceived before as anger was actually... Desperation? Relief? Love? This man has never spoken a single word to you for the entirety of your several months spent in the complex. You are perplexed as you try to think of what had triggered him to suddenly act this way towards you.

"I will never let anything happen to you again... Just let me under your skin..." Miguel's lips find their way down to your ear as he whispers to you the same way a lover would. The entire moment is so deranged, it makes you shudder with horror.

His teeth then sink into the nape of your neck as if his fangs were two needles. With a yelp, you feel warm blood escape and seep down your flesh. Something new swims through your bloodstream that was induced by his bite. Your body begins to fail you and lethargy envelops you like a warm blanket. And this man is like goddamn Dracula, slurping and drinking every last drop of your delicious essence. His calloused hands savor the feel of your body against his and he indulges in how much he had missed this, missed you. With a final, feeble attempt to defend yourself against your assailant, you're soon enveloped into a deep slumber within Miguel's embrace.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 ۫ you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ ONE DAY, I WILL STOP

FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOU . . . ❞

i wrote this all in one sitting after an all-nighter please bare with me lmao.

did you guys also know that the pupils of his eyes canonically turn into hearts?

[kxgumi]

Sorry not sorry for liking this

Jacket obsession

Spider-Verse: You leave a piece of clothing behind with a yandere.

Characters: Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, 42!Miles Morales, Hobie Brown, Miguel O'Hara

Warnings: Obsession, stealing, yandere tendencies, just them going lovely over a piece of clothing.

Miles Morales:

Oh poor boy at first freaked out trying to get your attention before you enter the portal without your jacket.

“Wait! You’ll get colded.” He shouted as you entered the portal not hearing him.

After a few seconds after with worry in his chest he looked down at the clothing in hand and realized what he had. A piece of you that he could hold while he was away from you, and he hated being away from you, but the boys heart filled up with happiness.

The clothing smell just like you and if he threw it over a pillow it would be like cuddling with you. Boy is over the moon. And I mean like so giddy it’s embarrassingly cute.

He takes it every where with him, to the kitchen it’s in his hands, watching or playing games? It’s in his lap. He smells it constantly and gets really sad after a week when it doesn’t smell like you anymore.

However when you come back to his dimension and request for your jacket his heart breaks. Boy pouts security at the lose but he sees this as a way to get it to smell like you again and steal it after a while.

Overall if you leave anything he will take it and treasure it until you come back because now he has you for the time being.

He’s more of a clingy yandere but he still can’t help but obsessive over his darling.

“Maybe i could give you one of mine- Incase you lose yours again that is.”

Hobie Brown

Cocky little man notices it before you even want to leave and he knows you’ll forget it so he just lets you.

He loves when you leave things behind, thinks it might be a way of flirting. But when you do leave clothing he just feral about it.

Like he just can’t stop smelling it and just wants to hold it all day. He thinks of how cute you look in or how you smile and everything you do just flashes in his head.

Man is devilish to me. So he has a collection of things he steals from your bedroom when you’re out and he sneaks into your dimension. Clothes, shoes, necklaces or anything he can find.

You come back to him for it but he just holds it in his hands, above you and around the room when you try and take it way. “You mean this jacket?” Boy will have so much fun making you annoyed.

Hobie will leave his jacket on your room in hopes you’d wear it and think of him like he does you. He gets a grin when he thinks about it.

“If yah’ wanted to give me your jacket all yah’ had to do was say so.”

Gwen Stacy

You think she’s just chilling? Um no, she isn’t.

She loves you so much, her whole thing is like “I’ve lost to much.” And if she’s a yandere she can’t stop loving everything you do-Anyway.

She wears it and it can be oversized or maybe tight? She doesn’t care. She doesn’t take it off her body until it stops smelling like you or until she needs to get in her suit.

Gwen is maybe fighting with her self for many different reasons and they are:

“This is creepy.” “Oh cares? They smell so good.”

“They did this on purpose, so cute.” “No they just forgot it Gwen.”

Conflict with her own feelings all the time. But she never stops holding it close.

Gwen likes the idea of wearing your clothes to make it know she’s taken and that you’re hers. Can’t stop thinking of when you get to wear her clothes.

Yes, you guys aren’t “Dating” But your all hers.

“Don’t worry, I kept it so safe. By the way, could I borrow it again?”

Miguel O'Hara

Doesn’t care-Joking.

Miguel wouldn’t think about it at first and knows you just forget it and will come back for it later. But as time goes by, a hour, he can’t stopped looking at it for some reason.

He sneaks over like someone is watching him and picks it up. His mouth waters at the smell of you and he wouldn’t be able to let it go.

It might have rinkles on it from him carrying it so much. It’s his stress ball. You guys ever seen a kid carry around a blanket? Well that’s him.

He does feel wrong for obsessing over the piece of cloth but for different reasons then Gwen. He thinks he’s above something like this, doesn’t think it’s a big deal and he should forget it.

But when it puts it down a few seconds, it’s immediately in his hand again.

Yes, he does put it on a pillow and holds it close like he’s protecting you. He’s practically for when you get to be in his arms.

When you asked for it back he stands still for a minute. He feels sad and hates it because it’s just so stupid! Of course he gives you it back.

“I could give you one of mine…Only because that one doesn’t seem like it keeps you warm.”

42!Miles Morales

He’s a lot like Miguel in this situation a bit. And even if I see him as a big, big hard yandere he doesn’t think this is to big of a deal. Now don’t get me wrong he loves it, he just isn’t crazy as the rest of them.

Though, he does like to have it near him when he sleeps like have you close to him, or smell it whenever he can. Of course he has it in his lap when he’s gaming but the jacket never leaves his room.

Will buy the same one as you so you two can match and he can give you his. He thinks about you wearing something of his, like goes crazy just thinking of it.

You ask for it back? That’s cool, just try and get it from him. He loves to tease you to the ends of the earth and he would give it to you when you ask. But you’re just so cute when you get annoyed.

“If you wanted a jacket mami you could have asked for mine. Think mine would look cuter on you away.”

[kxgumi]

(JUST MEET ME AT THE) APT! — gojo satoru minors dni. art by chitrartum on twt.

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (a) and let the show begin !

prologue. → your ex, that sleazy and no-good scumbag won't stop posting tacky mirror selfies on instagram, arm around his fellow cheater-in-crime. so, christmas eve finds you morose in a dodgy dive bar. why not tumble back into bed with that random, gorgeous stranger you just met?

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. never drive, no matter how little alcohol is in you folks!!! never!!! making out, creampiè, hooking up with a stranger, ovèrstimulation, mildly rough sèx, gojo won't tell you what his job is

word count. 9.4k! song inspiration. apt — rosé & bruno mars

a/n. reader lowkey a hater, i love vanilla vodka eggnog </3 i said i was gonna post on 02/12 and i kept my word, literally rushed to finished this before my clinical exams in the cardiac ward 😭😭😭😭😭😭 hope y'all stay healthy. your future surgeons are writing gojo smut on tumblr.com

mp3. don't you want me like i want you, baby? don't you need me like i need you now? sleep tomorrow, but tonight, go crazy. all you gotta do is meet me at the apartment (아파트) !

you think your friends would kill you if they knew this was how you were spending christmas eve. not at some glittering holiday party, nor tucked away in a snow-dusted cabin. but here, holed up in a dimly lit bar with an atmosphere so questionable it should come with a warning label alongside a health and safety audit.

the place had charm, if your definition of charm included scuffed floors, a jukebox stuck on 'last christmas' and a string of blinking lights that looked like they'd been thrown at the walls rather than hung. still, you'd swiped a couple of minty candy canes from a jar near the door, which felt like a win.

your phone sat resolutely off in your bag. self-preservation. no instagram, and no tacky mirror selfies from your scumbag ex with the same smirk he'd worn a month ago when you caught him cheating. with someone who had always been 'just a friend, babe!' you weren't keen to let that ruin the rest of the night, though if you were being honest, you had already let it ruin a good chunk of the month.

"another christmas vodka...sour, please," you squint at the messy chalkboard above the bar, where the christmas specials were scrawled in what would barely pass for handwriting.

the bartender gave a single, surly nod. he looked as though he'd rather be anywhere but here, preferably somewhere free of customers nursing post-breakup bitterness like a fine wine.

and so, you found yourself staring at the tall glass now sitting in front of you, studying the rosemary sprig that swayed lazily in the translucent red liquid. a few cranberries bobbed among the ice cubes like they were on some tiny festive raft.

"woah, that one's way too strong for me."

the voice interrupts your private session of wallowing. you turn your head, slowly, to take in the culprit. he-who-hath-disturbed-the-peace. a man sitting close enough to be annoying, but not close enough to invade your personal space.

it takes you a moment to process the stranger, mostly because of the brain freeze from your ill-timed gulp.

"i mean, it's not bad," you shrug, hoping to sound neutral enough that he leaves you be. but then because you just can't leave well enough alone, you gesture at the specials board, "better than...that, at least."

you jab a finger at the chalk-scrawled abomination: vanilla & peppermint vodka eggnog.

the man frowns, a sharp but somehow charming movement that's overshadowed by the dim lights, "hey, i ordered that one."

you blink like a startled bovine, before breaking into a laugh, "my bad. i'm sure it's really fuckin' delicious."

the stranger chuckles too, a soft and low sound that seems more genuine that it has any right to be, "i hope so. otherwise, this is gonna be a long night."

the man finally shifts, casting aside the dim shadows that lay over him, into the blinking string lights. broad shoulders framed by a dark, tailored jacket that hugs him like a second skin. his hair, startlingly white, was pushed back by — wait, was that a blindfold?

you stare longer than you should have, trying to piece the odd sight together. a cosplay? a k-pop idol wannabe, hoping to get recruited for the next bts tour? perhaps, he was blind, hard of sight? you start to open your mouth, wondering how to phrase the intrusive and awkward questions, but he beats you to it.

"i can see you just fine, y'know," he says, his tone laced with amusement.

your cheeks burn at the realisation that he's caught you gawking shamelessly. so you quickly turn back to your drink, suddenly very interested in the cranberries floating in the glass.

the bartender returns, sliding the stranger's drink onto the counter with an audible clink. it was the most obnoxious cocktail that you'd ever seen. a martini glass filled with frothy, pale liquid and crowned with a cinnamon stick that jutted out like the mast of some ridiculous holiday ship.

you watch, mildly horrified, as the man picks up the glass and downs half of it in one confident gulp. he sets it down a satisfied sigh, and a smack of his glossy lips, and you wrinkle your nose involuntarily at the sight.

"i swear it's good," he says with a laugh, catching your expression. his grin is wide, playful. and you find yourself smiling back despite your sour, gloomy mood.

he has a nice smile, you note. not forced nor smug, but genuine. framed by pale pink lips that curl up in an easy, natural way. it was strange though, to look at someone without seeing their eyes.

"i'm gojo, by the way," he offers, his voice smooth and lightly amused once more, as if he'd caught you studying him again.

your gaze drops to his hands, long and slender, tracing the rim of the martini glass. something about the way they move — elegant and deliberate, hold your attention a moment too long for propriety. you quickly snap your focus back to his face, "what brings you here, gojo?"

gojo shrugs, and you can almost imagine him rolling his eyes beneath the blindfold, though you doubt his ire is directed at you, "work, i guess. or maybe i just got bored of going to work."

"they're working you hard, yeah?" you ask, trying for sympathy. employers loved squeezing their workers dry during the holidays. your own boss was proof enough of that, running the office like a sweatshop for santa's unpaid elf labour.

"something like that," gojo says with a scoff, the corners of his mouth quirking up again, "what about you? what brings you here? it's christmas eve, isn't it?"

you sigh, the weight of gauche embarrassment suddenly pressing down as the words spill out before you can stop them, "my ex-boyfriend cheated on me."

gojo's lip curls, the kind of expression that balances perfectly between pity and disgust, "that sucks," he offers. profound and wise, you have to agree as he continues, "you jus' find out or something?"

the question makes you cheeks heat, and you fiddle with the edge of your drink, "no, i've known all month." you gesture vaguely towards your purse, where your phone sat like an unsealed pandora's box, "but he posted...on instagram. and stuff. i'm still, y'know, getting over it."

gojo makes a thoughtful clicking noise with his tongue, "ah, see, i don't do social media. but that sounds rough."

you let out a weak huff, "yeah, well...now i just feel like a loser. my friends told me to go out and have fun, and here i am..." you trail off, downing the rest of your cranberry vodka in a single, decisive gulp. the sting hits your throat, sharp and sour, and you grimace at the burn.

gojo frowns slightly, leaning in just enough that you can hear how his voice softens, "i don't think you're a loser." the sincerity in his tone catches you off guard, pulling your gaze back to him, "it's fair to wallow."

his words hang in the air, and you find yourself smiling, albeit thinly, "that's...really nice of you to say."

gojo hums thoughtfully, "i meant it, i promise. but i can't exactly say i've been there, never really dated anyone."

you blink, openly gaping at the man, "really? you're joking."

it was hard to wrap your head around that. even with the odd blindfold, everything about him screamed 'pounce-worthy'. the broad frame, the charming smile, the striking white hair that looked like it belonged in a kérastase commercial.

gojo laughs at your incredulous expression, "same old work and stuff," he explains with a casual shrug. then his grin fades, tone shifting just enough for you wonder why that feels as though the clouds have covered the light of the moon outside, "always got in the way."

"at least you never had to deal with a breakup," you offer, trying to find some weak, silver lining.

gojo frowns, his pale complexion now tinged with a faint red flush that even the dim bar lights couldn't disguise. was he really that much of a lightweight, or was the eggnog's amaretto content deceptively boozy?

he sighs dramatically, "a friend once left me outside a kfc in shinjuku. then he became a murderer and a cult leader. that felt like a breakup."

"huh," you murmur, staring at the man with a mixture of amusement and faint alarm, wondering if you'd seen any cult leaders on the evening news lately. no, nothing save for the occasional incorrect weather report, a friendly good-looking priest running some scam association, and news reports about an octopus that could predict the lottery, "that's - well, okay..."

you couldn't quite tell if he was joking or not, but gojo seems to shake himself free of the odd reverie. he's running his hand through his shock of white hair, and his grin has returned, slower and a touch softer, "still, your ex must've been crazy. letting go of a pretty girl like you?"

the words land with surprising weight, considering they come from a stranger in a sleazy bar, but it leaves you momentarily stunned. you can feel a blush rising to your cheeks, your heart doing an embarrassing little flip before you manage to get a grip on yourself.

"wow," you laugh, feigning composure as you sip the last remnants of your drink, "smooth."

gojo's smile is wider now, "hah, i call it like i see it," and his lips now curl upwards as he leans in, "and i'm serious. if i had someone like you..."

you laugh again, but this time it's far more unsteady. you wonder if the cranberry vodka is playing with your head, "big words for someone who's never dated. should i be impressed, gojo?"

gojo's chuckle is a deep sound that vibrates in his chest, "i know a good thing when i see it. you don' need to date to know what you want. and i think i want you."

your stomach does a little flip, and you feel all rationality being pounded out of you just from staring at his unfairly gorgeous hands rest on sturdy thighs, "you do flattery well, i'll give you that."

"oh, i don't know about that," gojo says, fiddling with the stem of his glass, "but what'dya say we get out of here? how about my place?"

you blink slowly, and you're aware that your heart (and...nether regions) have already composed an answer before your mind has, "what if you're a serial killer? you're not about to silent night, deadly night me, are you? you haven't killed someone have you?"

for a moment, the man stills but then gojo leans back, "smart girl. asking the right questions. but no, i can at least promise that i'm not a criminal."

you hesitate just for a beat, the words lingering on your tongue, before you let out a breath and shrug, "fine. where's your place?"

"azabu," gojo replies without missing a beat, his tone smooth, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

you gape once more, blinking as you try to process the information. azabu? as in tokyo's ritziest neighbourhood, where a one-bedroom apartment could cost you more than most people's yearly salary? the kind of place where the floors are made of marble, and everyone's shoes are more expensive than your entire wardrobe?

gojo, ridiculously handsome despite looking like a circus runaway, too charming for his own good, and not the type you'd expect to find in a cheap downtown dive bar. definitely not on a christmas eve, at least.

for a split second, you wonder how a man like him even ended up in a place like this. maybe it's some kind of self-imposed penance. or he likes to keep things low-key when he's pretending not to be rich? maybe he's looking to cosplay a succession character?

whatever it is, it's working. not only does gojo have a face carved from marble, now you've got a solid ticket into seeing what a neighbourhood for the top one percent really looks like beyond it's wealthy exterior. maybe, you'll bring back a souvenir.

you wonder whether there's a group of small emotions standing around inside your head, inside-out style. glaring at you as if you're incapable of making good and rational decisions.

well fuck that, you gather yourself and shrug off the small wave of nerves, and loop your purse strap around your finger, "alright," you say, "let's get out of here then."

you don't miss at how the adam apple of gojo's throat bobs for a second, before he downs the rest of his drink in one go, "let's get outta here then."

you follow him out into the cold, your breath fogging in front of you as you try to focus, but the man is tall, like ridiculously so. but when you reach the curb, he turns to face you again, a frown marring his face.

"so, i have a small confession."

i changed my mind and i find you repulsive.

i was paid by your ex to do this, and now i've done enough to get my money.

i'm a serial killer.

you don't know which possibility is worse, "huh, a confession? what is it now?"

gojo chuckles, lifting a hand to the back of his neck, as though he's about to spill a dark secret into the night air, "i don't have a car."

"you've got to me kidding me. how'd you even get down here?"

gojo shrugs, a casual and almost lazy movement. and you feel your gaze lingering on his shoulders. broad, impossibly wide, the dark jacket hugging him in all the right places, like it was tailor-made to showcase just how much he filled it out.

"someone dropped me off. ages ago," like it was the most normal and rational explanation in the world.

your own laugh is short, a little disbelieving, but you pull your silver keys from your purse, "well, i guess i'll have to drive then. but what would you have done if i hadn't been here to save the day?"

gojo steps to the side, opening your own car door for you with a small flourish and exaggerated bow that makes your heart jolt again, "probably teleport back home. maybe fly, since the skies look clear."

what a weird guy. hot, but weird. he seems like the type to dress up with a fake beard and show up as gandalf at the next lord of the rings fan convention.

in the driver's seat beside him, you catch yourself staring too long. your gaze slipping over a model's jawline, the white of his hair being held up by the blindfold. even his vaguely expensive scent is disorienting, pleasant like pine and blackcurrant. but it's also hard not to be amused when he's furrowing teeth into plush pink lips out of concentration, pressing an address into your cracked gps screen.

well, merry christmas to you.

gojo's place is well...how do you say this? gorgeous doesn't quite begin to cover it. he leads you into the building with the ease of someone who knows every inch of it, tossing a casual smile over his shoulder as he swipes a key card to unlock the private elevator, "i tend to move around a bit. or stay in different places. keeps life exciting, don't you think?"

you step into the elevator alongside him, the polished mirrors reflecting the soft glow of gold accents and sleek, modern lines. his hand hovers over the control panel before he presses the button for the top floor. of course, it's the penthouse.

"you move around a lot?" you ask, arching an eyebrow, "what, like a restless billionaire or something?"

gojo smiles, leaning casually against the steel as the elevator begins its smooth ascent, "now you're exaggerating."

the elevator finally dings, and gojo steps aside, offering an exaggerated bow as he gestures for you to exit, "after you, my fair maiden."

you almost scoff at the ridiculousness of it, but there's something so endearing and charming about how he pulls it off, especially when paired with the unfair symmetry of his face.

floor to ceiling windows dominate the far wall, revealing a jaw dropping panorama of tokyo's skyline. the city stretches out in a glittering sea of lights, with the tokyo tower glowing a golden exclamation point against the velvet night sky. the interior is just as impressive, with polished wood floors that gleam in the warm light and a glass dining table that sits beneath a sculptural chandelier. that same faint scent of blackberry and pine lingers in the air, heady almost.

behind you, gojo strolls with an easy and languid grace, tossing his jacket onto an artisan leather armchair. beneath it, his sky blue dress shirt clings just right and rolled up to reveal forearms faintly dusted with pale hair. you think you've momentarily forgotten how words work, and you avert your gaze quickly. though not before catching the faint smile on his lips.

"not bad, huh?" gojo says, heading to the open kitchen as though he's unaware of the effect he's having on a rational and sensible mind such as yourself, "it's no dive bar, but i'll do."

you shake your head, bewildered. trying to process how someone you met in a dingy bar could live somewhere that looks like it belongs in architectural digest. even down to the odd, ancient looking pieces that scatter the wide living room. weird looking artifacts of some sort. maybe he's also a collector? go figure.

"not bad?" you repeat, incredulous, "gojo, this place is incredible."

the man laughs, opening a sleek fridge to grab a bottle of water, "i have good taste," he says with mock modesty, his tone teasing as long fingers twist off the cap, "and a thing for gorgeous views. though, between you and me, i'm not great with heights. ironic, i suppose. paying a fortune for a view i'd rather not get too close to."

he waves a hand vaguely towards the windows, the blindfold still firmly in place.

"so, what's the deal? did you win the lottery, or inherit a fortune. or are you some kinda secret agent who moonlights as a barfly?"

gojo lifts the bottle in mock toast, "let's just say i'm very good at what i do."

you arch a brow, crossing your arms and ignoring the warm flush creeping up your neck, "and what exactly is that?"

"oh, you know. standard stuff. international intrigue, thwarting evil creatures. i even saved a kitten from a tree the other day."

"right, because nothing screams the next member of the avengers like eggnog in a seedy bar."

gojo leans casually against the counter, "even the avengers need a holiday drink now and then. don't knock it." but then he gestures towards the sleek couch, "wait, you can make yourself comfortable, y'know. i'd hate for my guest to think i'm a terrible host."

"terrible host? no, but a mystery man —"

before you can finish, your foot catches on something hard, and you stumble forward with an undignified yelp. gojo reacts instantly, how does he move that fast, and his arm is shooting out to steady you. but glorious gravity and magnificent momentum has other plans.

both of you crash onto the couch, and you find yourself sprawled unceremoniously across his lap. gojo's laugh rumbles low in his chest, and you can feel the warmth of it underneath your palms as you steady yourself, "well, that's one way to get comfortable," he murmurs, voice teasing as his large hand lingers lightly on the curve of your waist.

you prop yourself up slightly, cheeks burning, and glance back at the offending object. your brows knit together when you spot what looks suspiciously like a katana gleaming under the soft light.

"did i just trip on a — hey, what the hell is that?"

gojo interrupts, smoothly extending a long leg to nudge that suspicious object under the nearby coffee table before you can finish, "nothing important," he says breezily, the motion so quick you almost think you imagined it.

his focus shifts back to you, almost guilty, but his fingers are pressing divots into the fabric of your top, "now, where were we? hi."

you blink, caught off guard by how strange it is to feel the searing heat of someone's gaze underneath a blindfold, impossibly intent, "hi yourself," you manage.

for a moment, neither you nor the gorgeous man under you move, and the world feels strangely airless.

but your fingers twitch against the fine linen of his shirt. and before you can second-guess yourself, you reach your hand up to the edge of the silk fabric over his face and you ask, "can i take this off?"

gojo tilts his head, like it's a genuine consideration and you catch the faintest flicker of hesitation. it's fleeting, replaced by a crooked smile as he nods, "go ahead, sweetheart."

your hand rests lightly on the silk, hesitant for only a second before tracing its way to the back of his head. your fingers brush through impossibly soft strands of white hair, and his breath hitches when you find the knot tied neatly to the base of his skull.

you wonder what manner of man gojo is, letting himself be stitched undone by a stranger. but with care, you undo the knot, working deftly and clutching the fabric as you pull the blindfold away.

the blindfold slips free, and for a moment, you're certain you've forgotten how to breathe. bright, piercing blue eyes. framed by thick white lashes blink up at you. the intensity of such an unearthly gaze is softened by something more vulnerable, almost shy. nervous even.

"wow," you murmur without thinking, the word spilling out as gojo's expression shifts, an unguarded openness replacing the playful smirk that you've seen all evening.

your earlier assessment echoes in your mind: k-pop reject wannabe. the recent memory now feels like quite the injustice, a careless slight against a face that defies easy description. each detail of his face is striking, as if some divine hand had taken special care to sculpt him from the fabric of time and space itself.

gojo seems to sense your analysis, and you're sure that he's parted his lips to speak, but whatever he was about to say falters. that faint flush, pale-red like vermillion watercolour bleeding across a canvas, blooms across his cheeks. gojo's hazy gaze flickers for a second, and it sends a thrill through you. he's affected by this, by you.

it's hard to resist the slow smile that curves your lips, light and playful if only to mask the way your own heart is racing, "are you seriously shy now, gojo?"

gojo's expression shifts again almost immediately, as if that subtle invulnerability has been replaced by something sharper, almost indignant. he sits up a little straighter, the movement making you acutely aware of how the hard planes of his body feel beneath you.

"shy? no," gojo says, his voice steady but edged with some need to defend his honour, "i just...don't usually do this. that's all."

there's a sincerity in his words, an almost begrudging honesty that takes you by surprise. you tilt your head, as your murmur, "i don't either."

before you can second-guess yourself, you tilt your head down. pressing your lips to gojo's in a featherlight kiss. his taste is intoxicating, honey and sweet grapes mingling with a hint of that ridiculous vanilla drink from earlier. you pull back almost as quickly as you leaned in, testing the waters.

but your breath catches when you see that the blue of his eyes has deepened, darkened. and his lips, pink-blush and slightly parted, form a quiet and stunned oh!

"cool," gojo manages, his voice rougher than you expected, and you bite back a laugh as you watch him swallow hard.

"huh, cool?" you echo, your amusement bubbling over, "that's it? that's all you've got?"

gojo's grip on your waist tightens, and his hands are now splayed over your spine. anchoring you to him, as his mouth curves into something sly, though his flushed cheeks betray his composure, "compliments to the chef?"

you shift slightly, pressing more of your weight firmly into his lap. though not yet close enough to situate yourself over his groin, delighting in the way gojo's blush spreads down his neck, staining his skin a shade reminiscent of ripe berries swirling in cream.

you can feel gojo's attention as much as you can see it, how his own gaze lingers, deliberate and unhurried. taking you like a masterpiece that deserves more than a cursory glance. the hand that had been steady on your back shifts, his fingers threading through your hair. he watches as the strands slip and fall beneath his touch.

"thought you said you wanted me, gojo," you tease, though you're certain your voice is betraying the way your pulse is doing its best impression of the macarena in your jugular, "are y'gonna do something or not?"

gojo's gaze snaps back to you, a flicker of something far more intense passing through those impossibly blue eyes. full of hunger, need even. the hand in your hair slides away, only to settle at your jaw. it's warm and steady, his thumb brushing slightly over the plush of your bottom lip.

"i do want you," gojo says, his voice low and steady and maddeningly genuine, "want you to kiss me again. and again. as many times as you want until i forget my own name."

"gojo —"

"satoru," he interrupts, his voice cracking slightly, stripped of any previous swagger. it's unsteady and raw, affected in a way that excites you. sends a dark heat curling low between your thighs, "you can call me that."

"satoru," you repeat softly, letting the syllables fall from your lips, unfurling in the most hazy way.

something within the man shifts. his hand tightens on your waist, dragging you closer in a way that punches the air from your lungs. right over -

oh. the thick, curve of his erection straining against slacks that probably cost more than your monthly salary. it's deliberate, almost desparate at how the invisible thread snapped inside him. unravelled the careful composure he's been clinging to until now.

"go on," gojo murmurs, his voice dark with need, "kiss me again, please."

you lean closer, eyes flickering to his lips, and your pulse roaring in your ears, "who would i be to deny you any wish, satoru?" the words come out more reverent that you'd expected, as if your entire world has been tilted off its axis.

and then you kiss him, hard. desparate. as if his lips are your birthright, a homeland to claim. and gojo's kissing you back, carrying a sweetness that seems both foreign and familiar. in an instant, the weight of another man, a dreary haze in your past, vanishes. gojo is suddenly everything you didn't know you needed, vibrant and electrifying.

"let me know if it's too much," gojo breathes against your lips, his voice shaky as if he's trying to tether himself to the earth. but your kiss deepens, frantic and unrestrained. his mouth moves against yours with a hunger that sends sparks down your spine, and you suddenly realise you quite like the taste of vanilla when it's dripping from his open kisses.

you pull away, for every human needs air. but the sight before you has you clenching your thighs desperately around the bulge where you sit atop. gojo's gaze is heavy, full of that desparate longing that makes your chest ache. his lips are swollen, a soft cherry hue from your kisses. and strands of white hair fall over his blue eyes.

"look what you've done to me, fuck. miss you already," gojo murmurs, and before you can respond, he surges forward, hands pressing against your face with the intensity of a storm. one hand reaches to find the nape of your neck, letting you surrender to the heat of this touch.

you crave more, so much more from gojo, who's taking you in like you're his last breath, his final indulgance. it's as if he's found a new devotion in you, ready to worship you at the alter of your false godhood. but before you can part your mouth to tell him exactly what you and where, gojo's hands are already sneaking under your top, brushing against the trembling skin of your torso.

his teeth are biting down on your lip, leaving you dizzy. and gasping, and so damp in your panties as the fabric of your top is peeled away, and you're left shivering, fighting against the cold of the december air. you find yourself pressing harder into the warmth of his chest, letting the swell of your chest press flat against him.

"shoulda' turned the heat on before we came in," gojo murmurs, breathless as his lips hover a mere centimetre away from yours, "got nothin' to worry about, sweetheart. i'll keep you warm."

"didn't t-think i'd spend christmas eve like this," you gasp, your head lolling to the side as gojo presses open-mouthed kisses to the soft arc of your neck, sensitive even to the cool air.

"no?" gojo's reply is breathy, almost frantic as if he's fumbling in the heat of the moment and has little grasp over the words tumbling out of his mouth, "neither did i. but this? b-better than any fuckin' mission they could've sent me on."

you cock your head, feeling the heat of his clothed cock underneath your thighs, "m-mission, huh? what are you talking about - mmph!" but the rest of the question never escapes your lips for it's swallowed up by another one of gojo's candied kisses.

his rough hands work deftly, finding the clasp of your bra with ease. a pretty crimson thing, almost sheer as it caught the light. and in the centre, a tiny satin bow sat like the final touch on a perfectly wrapped gift. you had only worn it half-heartedly earlier in the morning, some forced christmas cheer for your dreary day ahead.

the look on gojo's face was anything but composed, staring at your cupped tits like you'd knocked the air out of him and his chest rose and fall as though he were remembering how to breathe. in a single fluid motion, your bra is unhooked. the faint metallic click barely audible over the pounding in your chest and he's tossing it aside with a casual flick, his focus entirely on you.

you find yourself mesmerised by his eyes, those swirling pools of blue that seem to have stolen fragments of the sky itself, clouds brushed into cerulean depths with strokes of syrupy smoothness. they're breathtaking, but the thought shatters as gojo's canines graze the flesh of your breasts, a sharp and teasing nip that pulls a gasp from your lips. leaves you rocking sharply against his erection, making him throw his head back, ragged.

the playful string blooms into a flush of heat, and gojo's at it again, his mouth working to leave faint red marks in its wake. you squeal, half in surprise and half in helpless laughter (and entirely in a lusty haze) but gojo only pulls back enough to murmur, "what? can't help myself."

but then he peers at you abruptly, his lips parted as he catches his breath, "wait. do you wanna —?" and gojo tilts his snowy hair towards the shadowy doorway that leads out of the living room, the implication clear even through his panting.

you nod, breathless, "yeah, jus' help me up."

without hesitation, a strong arm slides around your waist, and before you know it, you're being swept into a semi-bridal carry, and your head is resting against the fabric of his dress shirt. not a bad feeling, one you could get used to.

at the doorway, gojo lets out a low 'shit!', nudging the door open with his foot. the faint sound of clattering follows as he kicks something out of the way. you glance down from your entirely too comfortable vantage point, spotting a smattering of cheap tinsel, all glittering in metallic silver and gold, tangled with round baubles that glisten faintly under the dim light.

some have little smears of glue, and uneven glitter patches, as if crafted by unsteady hands, but with earnest effort.

"you big on christmas or something?" you tease, delighting in how the tips of his ears light up like nose of a famous reindeer.

gojo freezes for a moment, almost sheepish as he clears a path, clearly trying to look as macho as possible as he gingerly pushes aside a string of green lights, "made those for my students," he mutters, "thought they'd like them in the classroom tomorrow."

your laugh grows louder, and gojo's brows furrow, his tone growing defensive, "it's a nice surprise for the classroom!"

"i'm not making fun of you!" you insist, leaning up to press a gentle, soothing kiss to the hollow of his collarbone, "it's sweet. i think it's really nice, actually. wait, you're a teacher?"

gojo's mouth quirks up in a faint smile, "something like that," he says cryptically, finally clearing a decent and hazard-free path into a sleek, and clean bedroom. it's all modern space, all clean lines in shades of cream and white, and navy.

gojo sets you down gently, and the plush fabric cradles you as your back lands on fresh linen. and for a quiet, tender moment, you're both caught in the stillness. gojo kneels at the edge of the bed, his hands resting lightly on each of your thighs as if he's anchoring himself there.

his gaze is steady, content, maybe even adoring in a way that feels too intimate for someone who you barely know. there's a warmth in his expression, like he's savouring the sight of you, searching for something — and he's found exactly what he's hoped for.

almost without thinking, you lift a hand, cupping the sides of his face. his skin is warm beneath your palm, soft with the faintest hint of pale stubble that seems to fade into his skin. the moment your hands makes contact, gojo leans into your touch instinctively, his white lashes fluttering closed.

"hey, 'toru," you murmur softly, "y'still with me?"

gojo's eyes snap open at the sound of that, sharp and bright, as if the nickname itself has sparked a challenge in him. a low and almost frustrated sound escapes from the back of his throat, and he presses a feather-light kiss to the inside of your knee.

you don't miss at how his teeth sink into his bottom lip again, worrying and working the plush flesh like he's trying to steady himself. spreading your weeping thighs aside, as his gaze is fixed on something. intense, unwavering. the sheer focus of it making heat creep up your neck.

at how he must be staring hungrily at damp, sheer red fabric that clings to the outline of your cunt. at how it must shimmer almost translucently now, the sticky slick of your arousal enhancing the gloss, making your panties glisten under the light.

you're feeling an unfamiliar kind of shy under the weight of his attention, at how he must see how the fabric clings closely to your puffy, swollen folds — the delicate weave exposing the shape of your taut pussy, practically weeping for his touch.

you needn't have asked, for gojo was already diving into deliver.

he's gliding his index finger over your dripping pussy, letting the tangy syrup sink onto his fingers, leaning in to press a sweet, almost innocent kiss to your clothed cunt, "she seems desperate for me, don'tcha think, heh?"

the sound of the fabric ripping is sharp and wet, a squelching and almost fleshy tone, a sound that's both soft and sharp to the blood rushing between your ears. a strained tear of your beautiful panties, leaving cool air to gently leave a kiss of its own upon your cunt.

you gape at him, a bit too stunned to find coherent words, "hey, what the f-fuck! those were like super expensive!"

gojo rolls his eyes, the kind of look that has a bit too much attitude for someone who's practically begging on his knees for a taste of you, "don't get all huffy on me, sweetheart. 'm gonna buy you more, is tha' alright?"

"i'll r-remember that, satoru," you murmur, giving a sharp tug at his white strands, "you gon' have to give me your number now."

gojo shudders, the muscles in his back rippling underneath his tight shirt, "was already gonna," and he's back to pressing soft, kitten licks to your now exposed folds, small circles over your throbbing clit.

you buck your canting hips closer to the heat of his mouth, to where the pink tip of his teasing tongue peeks out of a pretty mouth, "satoru, c'mon. can't you just, fuck—"

you sharply cry out as he presses his mouth forward, a sudden surge of heat jolting through you. burying himself deep, his nose brushing against the sweet, syrup that coats your pussy, and the rhythmic, wet movements of his tongue send shivers through your entire being.

"mhm, jus' as sweet as you look, baby," gojo gasps, swirling and flicking his tongue, teasing you with every deliberate patter of the muscle near your winking entrance. so messy, slick and you're not sure where he ends and you begin as it all glides together carnally.

gojo seems languidly tipsy, just from munching through the gloss of your cunt, far more intoxicated from your taste than any cheap christmas liquor. he alternates between pushing his tongue past the ring of your tight walls, and then wrapping his lips around the searing pulse of your clit, leaving your hips shaking and dragging over his mouth, smearing yourself over his chin.

you're fisting delicate white locks with fierce urgency, and he hisses and then chuckles into your pussy, "tch! ease up there for me, yeah? jus' move your hips like you were doin' before," and you comply, angling yourself better so he can flatten his tongue against your folds, jaw grinding deeper into you "hah, yeah, just like that."

"taking good care of you though, aren't i? wait, say it. say that 'm making you feel good," and he's bullying a long finger into your gummy walls, clingy and sopping, "say 'm making you feel better than a-anyone ever has," and you just mewl as your arousal must surely be dripping down his forearms, staining the cuffed sleeve of his shirt as he takes your sweet juices down his throat.

there's stars beginning to twinkle at the edge of your vision, and you know you must be close, for your heart is practically dancing a heavy beat against your ribcage, and you suddenly push his mouth away, watching as a clear strand of spit or your slick forms a taut bridge between his mouth and your folds.

"w-wait, satoru, s-stop."

gojo's head lifts, eyes blinking as if coming out of a faze. but then, like a switch, something sharp flickers behind his gaze and concern floods in. his thin brows furrow slightly, glossy lips parting as he reaches out, as if to steady your hips, "you okay, sweetheart? what's wrong?"

your heart stutters, pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it. you try to steady your breathing, but the tremour in your fingertips betray you as they gently slide through your hair, the silky strands tangling around your hand.

"nothin' wrong, 'toru. but i was gonna cum," and gojo's face, still flushed and soft with arousal, splits into a shy, amused grin.

"hah, i know. that's what i wanted," he's close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath hitting your aching cunt, but you shake your head again.

"feels unfair, wanna see you too. wan' you to cum in me,"

you watch, almost in awe, as a low and guttural sound escapes gojo satoru, raw and unfiltered. gojo runs his tongue over his lips, his eyes dark with something dangerously close to hunger.

"you sure?" and his voice is hoarse, unsure despite his roaming gaze. you nod, your hands digging into his shoulder, tugging at the crisp fabric of his dress shirt, desparate to feel the warmth of his skin underneath.

his shaky laugh of disbelief only makes you more aroused, whining for him to hurry up, and before you know it, he's standing up, towering over your boneless form on the sheets.

"how could i deny you anything?" he murmurs, echoing your earlier words. gojo's hands reach for the hem, the fabric shifting as he pulls it over his head, revealing a milky expanse of toned skin, smooth and taut over a set of abs that should easily land him on a gq list.

his waist is slender, defined in all the right places, and the soft taper of muscles make your breath catch. but the soft white trail of hair that reaches under his waistband makes your cunt clench.

"y'seem happy with the view, don'tcha?" gojo's voice is teasing, the cocky smirk tugging at his lips, but you can hear the impatience threading his tone now too. he's not as in control as he lets on, his hands now making quick work of his belt, leaving your mouth dry when he finally pushes his black boxers down.

you should have known that his cock would be as pretty and unfairly gorgeous as the rest of him. he's circling the strawberry-red tip, glowering and throbbing, right over your gathered slick, coating it and smacking the mushroom head in a thwack! over your poor clit, leaving you jolting as he laughs and leans down to kiss you sweetly once more.

"jus' look at me, yeah?" his drawl is slow, lazy and so ruined. at the first inch of his throbbing cock that slips through your walls, he looks utterly undone. a mess of sharp edges softened by something far more primal and raw.

gojo's head tips back, exposing the elegant line of his neck as the moonlight cascades over you, "hey, sweetheart, 's not too much, yeah?"

hazy blue eyes bore into you, and for a brief moment, in the time it takes for the lightning to strike the earth, you swear that his eyes glow. almost radiant and jewel-like, with cerulean fractals shimmering as if they're emitting life of their own. perhaps its simply the electrifying stretch of inches that's rendering you to hallucinate, whining as your nails find purchase in milky skin and rippling shoulders.

"i-it's big, 'toru," you pant, feeling him almost shudder at the clipped name again, as he grips the base of his cock to bully the final inch in, sighing in contentment as he finally bottoms out, with a wet pop!

gojo looks feral like this, heaving a breath through his mouth as though the air is being taken from him from every second he spends stretching you out on his fat shaft, "hah, 'm glad, i'm so glad i met you tonight, sweetheart. fuck, fuck, y'feel i-incredible."

he's pushing your thighs further back, running his hands over the plush skin, leaving bruising red prints that won't disappear tomorrow as you moan, wanton into his open mouth, letting gojo run his lips down your jaw and into the curve of your neck.

you're practically now folded in half under the bulk of his weight, feeling stars collide in absolutely astrophysical ways, impaled further on the long and thick length of his cock, "in so deep, s-satoru."

seems that gojo is a man of little mercy, for he seems only all the more invigorated by your squeals, drawing his torso back to watch the hypnotic smack of skin on skin, of your slick and creamy froth creating fresh rings over his pistoning cock.

he's entirely out of control, as you feel your body go limp from the pleasure shooting through every nerve and pore.

depraved.

you don't realise you might have let that slip out loud, so dizzy in your cockdrunk haze because gojo's suddenly ramming himself roughly in you, as though he was desperate to have his cock kiss your cervix, to feel for every divot and nook of your cunt's walls.

"d-depraved, hah. people call me, fuck, p-people call me a lotta things, sweetheart," and gojo's so good with it, letting your pussy have not even one moment to take reprieve, having you feel each vein and bulge of his cock, "but depraved is n-new."

the hand that was dancing over your thighs flies to your swollen, aching clit. practically glistening for his attention, and his attention you did receive, "right, t-there! 'toru, mmph!" you're trying to splay your legs wider, giving his quick hand more room to swirl tight circles where you needed him most.

your double-vision gaze lingers on the ripple of his muscles, the way his arms flex and shift as he seems intent on angling you just right for him to drill his cock over and over, at some freakish and feverish pace, "y'so good, gojo," you purr, and your nails curl against his arms, pressing just enough to leave tiny crescents in his skin, the faint dampness of his exertion clinging to him, "s-so strong!"

something shifts. the glow is back, electric blue flooding his eyes like crackling storm clouds. it's almost unnerving, this unearthly brightness, as if he's some ancient god wrapped up in human skin, and you've just stumbled into a divine revelation.

gojo stills for the briefest moment, the thick head of his cock snagging on your puffy folds as he draws himself almost entirely out. the absence of motion makes you whine, an airy and impatient sound escaping your throat. that hesitation feels like a tease, like a string that's been pulled so taut, before he finally dives forward, capturing your mouth in a messy, heated kiss. sloppy in its disregard.

"s-so strong, huh?" gojo's voice is rough, shaky, as though he's trying to centre himself but your tight pussy holds him in hypnotic sway, "y-you think so? think i'm the strongest?" his lips brush yours as he speaks, and there's something almost boyish and charming in the way that he seems to be fishing for a compliment, despite the low heat in his voice.

you pull back from his wet, spit-stringed lips. just enough to wrap your hands around his neck and push him closer, deeper into you as he gutturally groans, "if i s-say yes, are y'gonna keep showing off?"

gojo's laugh is short, breathless, "y-yeah, wanna see?"

he makes quick work of pushing himself back into you, pumping himself so far in that your slick must be painting and sopping the white hairs at the base of his cock almost translucent, "o-oh my god, 'toru, fuck, oh my god!" the stretch has your head spinning, as if the skies are parting above you, and you're melodramatically left to see the light of divinity as gojo bucks his hips harshly into you. as if he's too far gone, needs to prove himself to you with a good fuck.

"you h-have to say it," gojo stutters, his words tumbling out so quickly, like rough gravel, "say it, fuck, c'mon. say i'm — say i'm the s-strongest. you have to, hnghh, god. please, jus' agree, okay?" his voice is cracking, that cocky veneer entirely shattered under the weight of his rambling desperation as he practically rummages through your sopping insides, "y-you feel it right, i mean, you can feel me — i mean."

a high whine escapes your throat as his pace becomes almost olympian, and you wonder faintly how you haven't managed to sprain a muscle or break a bone yet, how he hasn't managed to shatter something with the sheer pace and force of how gojo satoru fucks, "hah, 'toru. i'm —"

"close? g-god, i hope so. 's what i want. nothing, like n-nothing feels better than this right?" his words are falling out of him in a messy, pussydrunk rush, his eyes flickering between your face and down to where your pussy lips are bulged around his shaft, "so good, right? the b-best thing you've ever —"

you truthfully don't even hear the rest of his words, blood absolutely roaring and rearing in your ears, your ribcage as you feel the tight coil snap, letting out short, slurred snaps of his name when you cum. as he doesn't quite let up on smacking his hips right against your ass, "s-satoru, 's getting s-sensitive, oh, fuck. fuck!"

he's suddenly whining, with pleading and erratic blue eyes chasing after you, sloppily pushing down so he can gasp and pant into your open mouth, before capturing you in a heart-stopping kiss as he finally gets milked dry by your pulsing and fluttering walls. in awe of how creamy white is practically leaking out of you, dripping a stringy trail over the flesh of your thighs.

you're agape at how utterly fucked he looks right now, though you're certain you do not look much better as fat tears prick at your eyes, streaming past your ears from the overstimulation, "s-still fillin' me up, 'toru. god, do ya always cum this much?"

at first, you don't even get a response from gojo who just sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck, almost as if he's trying not to cry out, but then he's back to circling your clit with a rough hand, "makin' me sound like some kinda whore, s-sweetheart. 'n and i told you. don't do this m-much."

and now he's slowing down, pleasurably painful bucks of his hips keeping glossy, white seed in you. ensuring that it coats your entire entrance, "an' it's not my fault that she," and here, he gives your clit a small smack! grinning like a madman, "n-not my fault that she's so, hah, addictive."

each tight circle of his hand on your clit sends you hurtling into yet another orgasm, one that has you begging gojo for mercy, repreive, for more. an orgasm that has him whispering the sweetest nothings into your ear, "d-don't worry, gotcha like this. gonna let you rest n-now, jus' gotta relax for me."

by the time he's slipping his still somehow hard cock out of your creamed cunt, you can feel exhaustions heavy and caring hands caress you, rendering your body limp and boneless. your eyes heavy and hazy, but you can feel a soft ghost of gojo's kiss over the shell of your ear, "h-hope y'still here in the morning, sweetheart. don't leave, yeah?"

the morning sunlight filters through the blinds, and despite the ache in your limbs that cricks your bones, you drag yourself out of bed. christmas day, after all. you've thrown on gojo's dress shirt from last night, snug enough to flutter around your hips, but oversized enough around the shoulders to let you drown in it.

it's cozy though, and even the chilly air feels refreshing against the warmth clinging to you. gojo is still sound asleep, and you had smiled at how he took little puffs of air as he was passed flat out in bed. but you always like to be up early on christmas, and there's something about the holiday that makes you feel like you need to earn the right to nap later.

you wander around the bedroom for a bit, stretching your legs as your muscle protest in earnest. eventually, you decide to make your way to that kitchen. breakfast, right.

it seems like a good idea, especially considering the last thing in your stomach was a questionably sour vodka. so you pull open the fridge, expecting something befitting of this apartment. perhaps a slab of wagyu beef, a tin of caviar, a thick block of pistachio-cream dubai chocolate. you'd even settle for sushi.

instead, you're left staring back at a stack of candy canes, some strawberry yoghurt, a carton of milk and some fast food wrappers. despite your protesting stomach, a deep amusement washes over you. it doesn't surprise you that gojo would have a fridge stocked with food you'd find at a child's birthday party and a greasy diner.

still, breakfast is in order and because you can't help it, you pull out a candy cane and start unwrapping it. you're just about take a bite when you hear the unmistakable pad of footsteps. you turn, face to face with someone who would clearly not be out of place on a vogue covershoot.

gojo hasn't tossed on a shirt, and the sunlight filters over his chiselled physique before your sight is stolen by the loose sheet wrapped around his waist. delicious. you try to snap your gaze back to his face, but it's hard to not track your gaze down his torso, like a cat eyeing a particularly irresistible sunbeam.

"good morning to you too," gojo says, a grin curling his lips, "what are you doing?" his voice is still thick with interrupted sleep, laced with a morning rasp that forces you to ground yourself and stop falling prey to the god, eros and his machinations.

"breakfast, 'm starving."

"don't bother," gojo says, shaking his head, "we can go somewhere nice for breakfast. like real, actual food. don't think you want half-eaten yoghurt."

you nod enthusiastically, mind turning back to the peeling seal of the strawberry yoghurt with a spoon sticking out of it. but then, something else catches your mind's attention. a little curiosity piques, one that you cannot help but ask him.

"wait," you begin, snapping your teeth around the saccharine mint of the candy cane, "y'know what's crazy. like, i swear your eyes glowed last night. not even in a silly compliment way, but like electricity. i thought i was like, losing it.'

you expect gojo to brush it off with a wink, or maybe laugh it off like you're just teasing him. but instead, the man's face shifts, that cocky smile faltering for the briefest moment. it's gone so fast that you think you almost imagined it. but why does he look...almost guilty?

before you can process that, you realised you've leaned yourself over the counter, and in your absent-mindedness, your elbow presses a button on the answering machine. a small beep, and suddenly, a voice blares through the room,

"hey, gojo-sensei!" comes a high-pitched, distinctly teenage voice, an excited boy who sounds a little crackly over the speaker, "so, we found this grade one curse yesterday...and uh, we totally got rid of it. we were gon' call you, but you didn't pick up. but i almost got my arm torn off. wait, no! that sounds dramatic, i got shoko to look at it anyway. so what we're all wondering right is that we don't have to hand in any homework now right? as like reparations?"

the voice crackles off, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. you stand there, absolutely dumbstruck, staring at the answering machine like it's about to burst into flames or start singing christmas carols.

gojo, meanwhile, has the most awkward look on his face, clearly caught between embarrassment...and what? panic, amusement?

"satoru, what the fuck?"

he looks at you for a moment, but instead of speaking, he lets out a long and exasperated sigh before pulling out one of the counter chairs, "you're gonna want to sit down for this one, sweetheart."

[kxgumi]

thank YOU for this delicious art

This fucking guy is the only reason my art has improved within the past year, everyone say thank you Miguel

[kxgumi]

Excuse me, by far this is the most creative and coolest spidersona I've ever seen! Wow, just wow! Like, the mask??? Very cool, very futuristic, very unique. Ugh, I just fell in love

Updated my spidersona's design 👾

Changed the number of her universe so instead of 2087 it's 3080 now.

She's 25 year old, and works part time as a graphic designer. Is skilled in computers and hacking as well. Her alignment is chaotic neutral and she mostly does whatever she likes, her MBTI/enneagram is ENTP 5w4.

She's considered a wanted criminal in her universe for killing the Kingpin variant lmao

Oh, and her mask along with decorations on her clothing is holographic, and her mask vanishes with a glitch when not in use. It can also switch her normal vision to thermal vision. That's all lol