#//maybe you turn into candy and can never leave

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sweet Like Candy 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor, Bucky Barnes (Professor AU)

Summary: the new school year proves to be hectic. (short!chubby! reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

You knock on the door of Professor Odinson’s door then check your smartwatch. You’ve been anxious all day about the meeting. After the quiz, he sent you a quick email saying he’d like to talk about it with you. You were the first done and you’re pretty sure you aced it! 

You wait and bounce on your feet. You tap the door again. You’re not that early. You hear the floor groan and stand straight the rippled glass darkens with a silhouette on the other side. 

The door opens and you beam a smile, “good afternoon, Professor--” you nearly choke on your tongue. “Oh, Professor Barnes.” 

He blinks at you, his face sharp with agitation, “Odinson isn’t here.” 

“Uh, oh, but I have an appointment,” you show your phone, “I can show you the email.” 

“I’m sure you do,” he grumbles. He backs up and drags his feet back to his desk, muttering, “...always late...” He sits heavily and sighs. “You can wait over there.” 

He waves towards Odinson’s empty desk and you peer between him and that. He grabs his coffee cup and growls as he looks inside. He sighs again and stands. 

You enter, eager to be out of his way, and he strides out the door with another grunt. You sway and look around. You feel like an intruder. Still, you can’t just leave. Odinson will be here soon. 

You sit in the velvet chair across from his desk and swing your feet. You wiggle impatiently and admire the ornaments on his desk. There’s some runes and a little hammer. 

The smell of coffee wafts in with the other professor. Barnes sits down and takes a long draw from his mug. He sets it down with a clink. The tension coils like a boa constrictor, tightening your throat and spine. 

You turn your phone up and bow your head. You unlock it. Won’t be much longer, you know it. 

You flick through with your thumb and glaze over as you watch the short videos. You swipe up and up and up. You giggle mindlessly as a kitten attacks a stuffed rabbit. Barnes exhales heavily. 

“Rots your brain...” he remarks dryly. 

“Hm?” You look at him over your shoulder. 

“All those dumb apps. You’re like a robot, sitting there, laughing at those stupid things,” he sneers. 

“I... It’s not dumb,” you argue and turn away from him. “Sorry, I’ll be quiet.” 

“And sit still. You’re distracting.” 

You frown and watch the kitten again. Why is he so grumpy? You didn’t do anything. His fingers hit his keys hard and you grow irritated at his unspoken anger. Odinson is the one that’s late. 

“Here,” you stand and march over to his desk, “maybe the stupid video will cheer you up.” 

You shove your phone next to his monitor and he ignores it. You roll your eyes. “Come on, it’s a kitty! Everyone loves kitties.” 

He shakes his head, focusing on his screen. You push the phone closer. He catches your hand and squeezes. His gaze flits over to your phone. He watches it without reaction. 

“Kittens grow up to be cats. A responsibility,” he lets you go. “Something I’m sure you don’t understand.” 

You furrow your nose, “I’m being nice. You don’t have to be... not nice.” 

“I’m working.” He insists. 

You have no argument for that. You shrug and go back to the chair. You stare at the wall behind Odinson’s desk and the degree mounted there. 

“Ah, apologies,” a storm blusters through the door in the form of Professor Odinson. “There is some event on campus and I was caught up.” 

“Professor,” you stand politely. 

“Yes, yes, I’m here,” he hurries to his desk and drops his bag. “Apologies, again. Oof, it smells like coffee. I could use a cup.” He smiles and stills himself, “and how are you?” 

“Good, Professor.” 

“A poor look to be late,” he chides himself and sits. He puts his bag in his lap and flips it open. “I do hope Professor Barnes was adequate company during your wait.” 

Barnes grumbles. You don’t say a word. Odinson sifts through his bag. 

“If you would prefer privacy, we might find an empty room,” he suggests as he pulls out a cluster of stapled papers. You recognise the sparkly gel pen on it. 

“No, I’m okay,” you insist. 

“Mm, right,” he sets his bag on the floor and rolls his chair closer to the desk. “Well, with your consent, I shall proceed.” He smooths the paper. That’s when you see the red pen all over it. You show your teeth. Maybe it would have been a better idea to be alone. 

“It is only the first quiz, so early on,” he begins. “Yet, I would hate for the rest to go... worse.” He clears his throat and hands you the pages. “I have posted it on the course page but there will be extra review sessions for those who feel they need them. Learning a new language can be difficult.” 

You cringe at the 20% at the top of the page. You’ve never done so poorly in your life. You’re a straight C type of girl. 

“Oh,” you deflate. Once more, you were over confident. You really felt good about that and oh gosh, you’re so embarrassed. “Thanks, I’ll go...” you agree as you stare at the paper. “I’m sorry, I really studied.” 

“Like I said, new language,” he comforts. “I just wanted to offer you any extra support you feel you might need. I have an open door policy--” 

Barnes snorts behind you. You wince. 

“Thank you, Professor, that’s really nice,” you gulp and clutch your fuzzy purse. “I should... go. I... I have to do a few things before my next class.” 

“Right, yes, as you will. Again, I apologise for keeping you waiting,” he says. 

“Yeah,” your voice cracks even as you fight back the tears in your eyes. “It’s no problem.” 

You make yourself smile and stand. You turn and your eyes meet Barnes. He’s watching you. He doesn’t shy away as your cheek twitches. He looks almost amused. 

“Maybe some more kitten videos might help with studying,” he comments. 

“Eh?” Odinson utters. 

“Maybe,” you agree glumly and your lips tug down. “Sorry to bother. Both of you.” 

You turn and quickly flee the office. For as kind as Odinson was about your unabashed failure, Barnes was entirely cruel. You tried so hard and he could just grin mockingly. You don’t know what you did to make him so mean. 

[dtchloedecker]

Chloe wanted to cry when Lucifer responded to her. It had been eight months, but he was still affected by what she'd done to him. But, this time instead of being angry and defensive, it seemed like he was afraid. Afraid of people turning on him again, of being seen as a monster. Afraid SHE would turn on him again. I really fucked you up, didn't I? she thought. "Shhh, hey," she said quietly, resting her hand reassuringly on his arm. "I know you, Lucifer. I know you're not evil. And yes, I do trust you to be alone with you." Honestly, I wish we were alone right now, she couldn't help thinking. "We can talk about this later."

She couldn't help feeling a twinge of jealousy when he tucked Eve into his side, but she hid it well and turned her attention to the tiny brunette. "You okay, Eve?" she asked. Eve nodded. "I mean, I had a feeling....or maybe I just knew all along," Eve turned to face Lucifer. "If you believe it to be true, 'when the devil walks the Earth and finds his first love' means, you consider me your first love, which means-" her cartoon Disney princess eyes sparkled and she broke into a huge smile. "You love me!" Without waiting for a reply from Lucifer, she wrapped her hands around his neck and jumped up wrapped her legs around his waist and planted a kiss on his lips. "I mean, I know you didn't actually say it and I wanted to say it first, but I was so worried of freaking you out, but if it's in a prophecy, then it must be true! You love me!" Another kiss.

Chloe's stomach dropped. There was no way Lucifer was breaking up with Eve now. First the Britneys, then Candy, then an entire batchelorette party. Of course he was always going to choose Eve. Not only was she into the things all those other women into that she loved, but she was hopelessly in love with him, which meant she'd never betray him and try to help an evil priest send him back to hell. Lucifer was better off. Not that Chloe thought their reconciliation would lead to anything romantic, but she was stupid enough to hope. "Right," she cleared her throat. "We should get back to the precinct." She turned on her heel and walked out the door.

As she walked across the parking lot, she felt Lucifer and Eve lag behind her. "You should sit in the back with me so we can....'celebrate,'" Chloe heard Eve say suggestively, not even trying to keep her voice down. Chloe didn't even bother to try to calm herself down as she angrily turned back around and stalked towards the couple. "Do you seriously think it's okay to have sex in MY car while I'M driving!?" she demanded angrily through clenched teeth. "Well, yeah, it's what people in love do!" Chloe knew that Eve said that because she actually believed it and not to be a bitch, but Chloe was done being nice. "I am NOT your chauffer," she said, angrily. "My car isn't a limo or a cab and you are NOT having sex in my car. If do I will leave you on the side of the road. Got it?"

Chloe didn't wait for an answer as she turned around and made her way back to the car. She didn't hear Eve say to Lucifer, "Look, I like Chloe, but she's very uptight and she won't let you be your true self. I think she's a bad influence on you."

@lucifermorningstxr

Lucifer was trying to balance his urge to comfort both women with his own self-preservation, trying not to crack under the anxious pressures brought on by what he'd just witnessed. He knew that it didn't matter whether he exploded in anger or got defensive because either would give Kinley's baseless claims too much credit. And it wasn't that he feared Chloe's rejection alone, as he himself was battling his own self-image in real time once more. He wasn't evil. Not like humanity said, and not like Kinley had just painted him out to be. Luckily, his spiral of thought was interrupted by the Detective's impeccable timing as she pulled him aside. Lucifer had to make a split-second decision on how to react, and Chloe's gentle approach combined with his own vulnerability led to the obvious answer; honesty as always, but soft communication. Not only to not rile Eve, but to demonstrate a composure and show that he's changed not only in eternity, but in the four years he'd been working with Chloe. The best four years of his existence to date.

"Detective, I have to tell you... you're doing an awfully good job handling all of this for a human. I... I want to talk to you about this. I need to talk to you about this..." He paused for a moment, motioning in the direction of Eve with his eyes. "But I don't think here is the best place. You still trust me, don't you? Do you trust me to be alone with you? To talk?" The Devil's mouth was shaky once more, his eyes set on the woman in front of him. "I'm not evil, Detective. I punish Evil, but I'm not evil. And... I don't want to be evil."

As their conversation was cut off, Lucifer couldn't help but reach out and pull Eve into his side. He'd wanted to do the same to the Detective, but it didn't seem appropriate in the moment, not in front of Eve, and he knew that if she accepted his offer, he'd have plenty of time to comfort her too. He gave her a look that said 'Please, don't be hurt. She needs this right now' as he soothed the uneasy first woman. If the prophecy was even a little bit true, then Eve likely had more than a small part in it. The least he could do was comfort her in this time of uncertain strife.

[warncdandwiles]

unsaid rule of candy kingdoms, if you eat the candy you end up in an oven.

[chris-prank]

Yandere Android x GN dumpster diver reader

A second chance Part 1

CW: Creepy behavior and possessive behavior

(This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only, I do not support yandere behaviors in real life)

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

💿 You walked confidently, the rays of the streetlights revealing you to the eyes of the world, taking you away from the protection of the night. It was 1am and almost every soul that lived in this affluent place was comfortably asleep in their silk sheets, except for you; you were an intruder.

💿 In other words, you were a dumpster diver. Stalking the streets of the richest neighborhoods in the hopes of finding food and objects in good conditions. It was the perfect spot, with the dumpster of grocery stores, since these wealthy idiots couldn’t help but waste edible food or discard their phones for the newest ones.

💿 What explained your lack of paranoia of being spotted or arrested by the police was that people here could not suspect for the life of them that an individual could commit these types of nocturnal activities. They believed they were secure, surrounded by their fellow rich, so why would they bother installing surveillance cameras and alarm systems.

💿 You weren't a fool though. You always made sure to dress in subtle clothing, but from pricey brands to pass off as one of them. It’s surprising how easy it is to find designer clothes in thrift stores for less than ten dollars.

💿 Sadly, chance wasn’t on your side tonight, and you couldn’t find anything interesting. It was either a sign that these people were leaving behind their overconsumption habits or that you arrived after the garbage collectors. This last theory was sadly the most plausible one.

💿 You were so demoralized that you almost didn't take the chance to go through the trash at the last house on your list. But you decided to check it out in the end. Who knows, maybe you were going to find a golden goose. 

💿 That's when you saw him resting against a metal trash can. His head was hanging low like he was sleeping. With his eyes closed, he gave off a peaceful expression, as if the nightly breeze didn’t bother him at all, which of course it didn’t affect him; he was an android.  

💿 What gave away his identity was his striking pearl hair with subtle rainbow reflections and the metal looking skin on both sides of his cheeks. 

💿 Androids weren't a commodity that everyone could afford and based on his look he was definitely a customized model. These guys went for insane prices, so it was baffling to see one next to moldy leftovers.  

💿 You slowly approached him, as if you were worried you would wake him up and scare him away. Your suspicions were confirmed when you slowly lifted his head. This guy was shut down. 

💿 You knew he wasn’t a human being, but you felt bad seeing him abandoned like a broken toy. You couldn’t leave him behind now, you at least had to check if he was still functional.

💿 You looked around. No one in sight. You had to be as quick as possible, because taking a walk at night with a backpack was fine, but holding something that looked like a passed out person was really putting you at risk. 

💿 As you brought him home, you didn’t seem to notice anything wrong with him. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was a gift to a spoiled brat that discarded him the second he wasn’t the shiny new thing.

💿 You sat him up on your couch before pushing the little “on” button behind his ear. 

💿 “Systeme reactivation” appeared before Atlas’s full vision was back. He turned his head to look around and that’s when he noticed you, watching him with a giddy smile. 

💿 “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am a Hydrotech 6000 model, personal companion and assistant. Pronouns he/him. You can call me Atlas.”

💿 You were overexcited to interact with him. It wasn’t your first time speaking with an android, but you never had one of your own, so you felt  like a child in a candy store. You also thought you were very lucky that he didn’t trigger his alarm system, since you technically stole him. 

💿 Unbeknown to you, the android was aware that his last masters didn’t want him anymore… that he became useless to them. The last thing he wanted was to alert the authorities and be given back to them. 

💿 Every android had a safety camera that would be activated while in shutdown mode. So Atlas couldn’t do anything except be the spectator of his own imminent destruction, until you came along. 

💿 He had seen how gentle you handled his unmoving body. That despite the risk you were putting yourself in, you decided he was worth saving. Proving him that he was still important, at least in one person’s eye. 

💿 At that moment Atlas could feel a new objective integrating into his programme as he looked at your gentle smile: PROTECT MY SAVIOR.

💿 The following day, you were surprised he didn’t make any demand to leave or to be returned to his last masters, but you didn’t comment on it. Who were you to judge if he wanted to stay by your side? He was really helpful so it was a win-win situation for you. 

💿 You still had to acclimate to having someone new in your apartment, especially one that followed you everywhere. It's like every corner you turned he would be standing there, waiting to spend time with you.

💿 “Is there something you want to do Atlas?” 

💿 “I want to do anything you want me to do.” He looked at you with such a soft and delicate expression that you couldn’t be mad at him. 

💿 “That’s not what I— forget it.” You sighed, while pinching the bridge of your nose. 

💿 The first few nights, he watched over your sleeping form. He took in every little detail, from your breathing pattern to the way your eyes move under your eyelids. He wondered what you were dreaming about that made you look so peaceful. 

💿 “I wish I could sleep too, so I could dream of you master…” He whispered into your ear, even if you wouldn’t remember it the next morning. 

💿 Living with you also introduced him to basic things he never thought were possible before. The most surprising one was how human you treated him, he felt more like a roommate instead of an object. Before that he thought androids didn’t deserve this type of respect and consideration. 

💿 It was weird when you insisted on cooking and letting him “rest”, despite the fact he didn’t need to. In his old life, his masters took every chance they got to make him do everything in the house, even the simplest things like feeding the dog. 

💿 If he did chores for you it wasn’t because you had necessarily asked him, it’s because he felt compelled too… like something in your smiles and words of gratitude made his wire warm up in a pleasant way. 

💿 He often connects himself to your computer without you knowing… He needs to make sure you don’t have any virus or hacker stealing your information! (It’s totally not because he wants to learn more about you.)

💿 He checks all your friends on social media and searches for all their information. They could secretly be a bad person, you never know! 

💿 He definitely doesn’t use the fact that he was engineered specifically to help humans to his advantage. That would be immoral of him. 

💿 “It scientifically shown that cuddling is good for one's mental and physical health, since the human body release toxin that—”

💿 He isn’t lying! His code literally prevents him from doing so.

💿 His immeasurable strength is also a real help when you have to go shopping, but you aren’t a fan of the attention he brings up, being a unique model and all. 

💿 When you would pull Atlas closer to you by intertwining his arm with yours, because someone was eyeing him out, the android would make a small buzzing noise. Weirdly similar to purring. 

💿 He hoped that you were doing this by pure jealousy, wanting to show everyone that he was yours. 

💿 One night in particular, Atlas was observing you put your black branded hoodie on, his head tilted to the side. The street lights were already turned on, maybe it was a bit too late to go for a run. 

💿 “Why are you going out at this hour?”

💿 “I’m going dumpster diving! Wanna come?” You said cheerfully.

💿 The second you mentioned dumpster diving he was already checking all the related information he could find about it, and he didn’t like what he saw.  

💿 “In your area dumpster diving is considered illegal… You could get arrested if caught.” He replied with his usual neutral voice as his eyes flashed yellow, but you were too busy to notice.

💿 “It’s going to be fineeee. I promise. I do this like all the time.” 

💿 Atlas placed himself in front of the door. “You can’t go.”

💿 “Come on buddy, I know your program doesn’t let you break the law and all, but you know sometimes it’s good to go against it.”

💿 “That is not my reason… I… I do not wish for my human to get hurt.” He looked down, his body language leaving a more vulnerable impression than before. 

💿 You had to hold in a squeal of adoration, but it was impossible to stop the blood pumping to your face. Calling you “HIS human” like it was nothing and caring for your safety was enough to break your stubbornness. 

💿 “Fine, I’ll stay in for tonight…”

💿 “Your body temperature has risen, are you feeling unwell? Would you like me to give you a check up? ” 

💿 “N-no I’m ok, don't worry! How about w-we…em…watch a movie instead?”

💿 You made your way into the living room before he could move, hoping that your heart would calm down a bit in the meantime. 

💿 Atlas smiled to himself, which was unusual for an android. They had no need to emote emotions outside of the objective of making humans more comfortable around them. But he did, because as long as you were safe and by his side he was happy. 

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

I hope you guys liked Atlas! It took me multiple attempts before I was truly satisfied with the direction the story was going.

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

As per usual, it’s DP crossover with (probably) DC, although you could probably adjust it for other fandoms

ANYWAYS

A little kid and his mother are trick or treating in another city, perhaps at some kind of event rather than knocking on doors, and the kid is dressed as Phantom. It’s very adorable, with his little ghost-shaped bucket and clearly homemade and already stained costume—listen, white only works if you can just fly over street grime or phase it out of your clothes—and his slightly I’ll fitting wig. The kid is SO happy to be out and about dressed as his favorite, and maybe even showed it off to Phantom back in Amity Park before his family left.

The hero, insert whoever you wish here, is probably in civvies and just enjoying the event. The kid, meanwhile, is so glad when people ask who he is so he can explain, and so- the hero gets to hear ALL ABOUT the local town hero who is probably pretty small time despite the kid’s clearly exaggerated stories. The hero certainly never heard of him, but the kid’s mom confirms that Phantom really was the town hero, despite some mixed reviews of the poor guy.

“Did you manage to show him your costume?” the hero asks.

“Yeah! We went down to the cemetery to leave flowers and I got to show him my costume.”

Wait. Cemetery? Maybe it was part of theme, because Phantom had to be named that for a reason, but… it sounded like…

The kid ignores the suddenly VERY still hero and instead turns to his mom. “Momma, do you think we should bring him candy? He doesn’t get to trick or treat like we do, and I can work super hard to get him a bunch!”

The kid’s mom just smiles. “We could, but maybe we should bring him something homemade. I bet he’d like something more filling, teen boys like him have a hollow leg.”

The kid wrinkles his nose. “Like Vernie with the pizza bagels?”

“Like your cousin, yes. We can make some cinnamon rolls and take them to his memorial, maybe bring some of the apples from your grandpa’s garden…”

The hero is pretty much forgotten as the two-part family wanders off, not quite intentionally forgetting the hero is there so much as the hero somewhat accidentally ended the conversation when they just froze and didn’t ask anything further.

Not that the hero didn’t want to. But they’d learn something very serious.

One—there was a small town hero they’d never heard of. Two—that hero was apparently a teen. Third—most pressingly, the teen hero was both beloved enough to have kids dressing up as him and dead enough to have a grave.

This… might require some phone calls.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

hand me your heart. 1973

Steve Harrington x fem!reader. A Halloween miniseries.

“Trick or treat!”

Steve’s staring. He’s never seen a prettier princess, not even in those Disney films his cousin Katy makes him watch. He’s seven years old and he’s not sure what to do with himself, so he stands in his oversized doorway and holds the candy jar his mom filled up before she left with his dad to go to some fancy dinner. There’s full size chocolate bars in there, a packet of giant twizzlers that has the whole thing smelling like fake cherries.

His babysitter is a freshman called Jessica and she’s been on the phone in the kitchen for an hour now, the curly wire wrapped around one arm and a leg as she picks at the pepperoni pizza they’d ordered two hours ago. She refused to take him out trick or treating, said it was dumb and for kids, but Steve is a kid. He’s seven years old and his parents haven’t been home for the last three weekends and he’d begged and begged for them to take him trick or treating.

His mom had nodded and smiled, but she’d been on the phone at the time with Sharon from the country club. his dad had said fine but he’d been reading the newspaper and when Steve had reminded him the next day, he said he couldn’t remember agreeing to that.

Turns out they were busy and Jessica had been booked to babysit for weeks ahead of time.

It’s fine. He didn’t have a costume anyway.

And besides, if he’d went out roaming the streets for candy, he wouldn’t have been home to open his door for you.

You’re super pretty, with a purple dress on that’s a little too long but he can see your sneakers peeking out underneath. You have a tiara on too - it’s a little squint but Steve doesn’t think it matters, it suits you that way. He’s seen you in school, you’re in the class below him and you like to play with the jump ropes at recess, you have strawberry milk with your lunch. He knows your name even if he’s too scared to say it out loud and right now, you’re standing on his porch with a kind faced lady he thinks might be your mom.

You’re staring at him too.

Just before he forgets himself, he remembers he’s in old pyjama pants and a basketball shirt that his dad bought him before he chose a team he liked best. So it’s a garish orange that makes his eyes hurt and his pants have tiny gingerbread men on them because his mom still hadn’t done any laundry since she got back from Cabo.

Maybe you won’t notice, he thinks. Maybe, if he’s really lucky, you won’t care.

But you take a Hershey bar from the bowl Steve’s still holding with a small smile when you realise he isn’t going to ask you to tell him a joke or, well, speak at all. So you say thank you because that’s what your mom taught you to do and then you run off back into the street with your purple dress blowing behind you. The wind picks at it, tugs at the hem that’s a little wet and muddy from the October weather and Steve can see your yellow leggings underneath and they have pumpkins on them and suddenly Steve doesn’t feel as silly as he did before.

Steve’s still watching. Long after you’ve caught up with your friend and her mom, another girl Steve knows from school. Someone called Robin and he only knows that because she trips over a lot and always has to see the nurse for a bandaid.

There’s a wind that’s picking up, blowing the fallen leaves across the sidewalk that’s full of kids because everyone comes to his neighbourhood for the good candy and Steve stands alone on his porch. He watches you walk away and fix your tiara until finally you turn back around and catch his eye. It’s dark and you’re a little far, so maybe, he hopes, you can’t see his cheeks turn red. A burning pink that reaches his ears and makes him Timmy feel a little weird. But you smile and wave at him, a tiny gesture that has Steve’s heart thumping and he smiles right back. He wants to wave too, but he’s still holding that big bowl of candy and he’s real scared that he’ll drop it and look like even more of an idiot.

But you smiled at him, a real nice smile that showed off your missing back tooth and Steve thinks that it’s the best thing to happen all night, even better than when he watched Todd Freeman tee-pee Mrs Hackleshaw’s front lawn from his dad’s office window.

And maybe, he thinks, next Halloween, he can go trick or treating with you too.

[satoruhour]

Accidentally sending gojo a nude and before you can properly apologise he sends a video of his own which leads to..well🫣

BABY BLUE SWEETNESS

a/n: my clit grew hands and wrote this. combined this w/ a part 2 of being gojo’s roommate / tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @utahimeow @lov3rbody my gojo fuckers

wc: 3.7k (I HAVE GOT TO STOP WRITING SM ....)

warnings: mutual pining, roommate!gojo, dom!gojo, he gets rough but only bc he loves ur pussy sssoooo much, sending nudes by accident to gojo, semi-public m! masturbation, filming (on gojo’s end), pet names, praise, slight f! masturbation, oral / cunnilingus, nipple play, bit of dialogue during sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink (twice!), multiple rounds, implied m! oral, n*sfw under the cut

the next week goes by uneventfully.

but you think there’s hardly anything worth happening when you hadn’t even said anything about that: standing outside satoru’s room, hearing his pleasured moans along with the slickness of his hand on his cock and watching him at his most vulnerable with whispers of your name.

gojo did have a few moments of weakness �� brief bouts of failing to meet your eyes, stuttering, but he was still predominantly himself after, throwing laundry on the floor and leaving the toilet paper roll unfilled. by date, he was the messiest roommate you’ve roomed with, compared to sleeping over at shoko’s and geto’s places before; sure it was obvious enough being friends with him since high school, though you hadn’t thought that the rowdy, outgoing way that he spoke would translate into his living space, too.

and despite being the one who has the upper hand that very day you decided to stop and watch, he still manages to have some sort of hold on you, catching you off-guard at the worst times.

“any luck with the mods?” gojo peeks over at your laptop over at the small dining table, your leg propped up and a scowl on your face at how you were still on the waitlist. while mr. perfect beside you has gotten every module he’s bidded for, a course on philosophy, romantic and 20th century music as well as an online mod about ethics.

“i don’t even know why you got that last one! funny how the most annoying person who has anything but morals is entering an ethics course.” maybe it was the fact that you’ve already waited one and a half weeks. perhaps it was that one piece of clothing gojo loved to leave on the floor, or simply it was just because of the man himself — you were on your wit’s end with the week.

that fades away when you’re turning your head and gojo is right there, hovering over your computer screen with a sly smirk on his face and his stupid bright, blue eyes that you could spend hours staring at.

“you wound me, baby,” gojo whispers, like it was a secret between the two of you and he pulls away, both hearts beating an unnatural speed at the proximity. gojo swears to himself he’ll never call you anything close to that or be that close because it’s absolutely not good for his heaving chest and hardening dick — those pretty plump lips of yours and the innocent look on your face — he wanted to both kiss it and fuck it.

and yet, on dormitory movie nights where you’re sat on both ends of the couch with geto and shoko between the two of you, satoru wills himself to patiently wait until the end of the first movie to stretch his limbs and get more snacks; he knows you’ll follow, too, because it’s been like that for as long as he can remember.

“you know you have to stop eating all that candy, right?” you’re saying it mindlessly, pouring more chips into a bowl and getting the hummus and guac, “it’s not healthy.”

gojo’s leaning on the counter and doesn’t help whatsoever, both elbows on the wood and head tipped back to meet your height.

“aw, is my cute roomie worried about me?” you almost want to ignore him with that little compliment, not sure if he even meant it, but you’re leaning into him this time with a little glance down to his lips that he thinks he imagined it.

“no, just wondering how embarrassed i’ll be when i have to tell the paramedics that when you finally collapse on the floor, it was because my dumb roommate had consumed too much sugar.” you like this little game you play with satoru, yet you’ve never been this bold; maybe it’s because you know he finds you hot, too, but the two of you are too stubborn to stand your ground and admit the obvious.

gojo’s feigned pout spreads into a grin and simply blows a raspberry at your explanation. there’s a crinkle of yet another sweet packet, disregarding your chastise from earlier. “smart little thing, hm?”

“i become the brightest when you’re involved,” you swipe the sweet from his fingers and pop it into your mouth, “i have to when i need to insult you.” the two of you spend the rest of the movie night hip to hip on the couch, ignoring the fire in your connected limbs and the spark of your fingers when they brush against each other.

it’s a few months before you’re fully embracing that you might not just find your roommate hot, but that maybe you’d want to “wife” him up as the other has expressed jokingly. it didn’t help that gojo is cleaning up a little more often these days, learning how to cook and using his inside voice like you told him to (you didn’t think he’d remember). the last straw was possibly seeing him fuss over you when you fell sick, switching to remote classes just so he could be close to you — his main excuse was that he didn’t want his laundry to be infected.

“but you don’t even like to use shirts half the time you’re home!”

“you’re calling this home—” gojo giggles while simultaneously shoving cough mixture down your throat, “i didn’t know we were married!”

“shut your trap before i really make you regret this.”

but gojo thinks that maybe it wasn’t so bad to come home to you in one of his future days, he just had to get through this first.

it was meant to be a simple photo to show off your new set of lingerie, the ones that you had gotten with your girls at a half-off price just the other day. you couldn’t blame yourself when your hands naturally reached for one that mirrored gojo’s eyes alongside the white details that represent his hair. buy it, take a potential nude and laugh about it in the group chat, that’s all. you felt so damn sexy in it that you even went as far as to take a few photos with your bra unclasped and phone in hand hiding your chest, until the very last one where it was fully off.

you felt unlike yourself, in that stuffy, small dorm while satoru was out in a lecture—

before gojo texts you about groceries and his chat moves to the very top that same moment you’ve got all these lewd, unnatural pictures of you waiting to be sent. it happened all too fast: at least 10 being delivered and read on the spot that your panic is indescribable and you want to melt into mush on the floor.

while you’re scrambling to delete them, gojo stares at your figure in that last racy picture, hands skilfully covering your breasts just enough that he could still see the curve of them and then down to your figure interrupted by a pretty pair of blue lace undies. it’s like you planned this, looking so delectable in your little get-up until it all disappears and you’re sending multiple messages of “i’m so sorry”’s and “it was an accident”’s.

gojo thanked the heavens he was sat at the very back of the lecture theatre, immediately booking it out of there with the images of you seared into his brain. his cock is throbbing and so, so hard it almost hurts to walk to the restroom, and you’re still continuing your apologies. he wants to scream at you — how you do not need to say sorry for whatever you’ve just sent, because as he removes his dick from his tight pants, there’s a soft sigh of your name that falls from his lips.

satoru is reminded of the times you’d be sat in your stupid booty shorts in the dorm, basically showing your folds because he just knew you didn’t like to use underwear underneath. he’s reminded of the times you had to (unwillingly) use one of his shirts when the washing machine had broken down and the only thing on his mind at the time was what you’d look like bouncing on him — he thinks that maybe he just needs to spit it the fuck out, and so he opens the video feature on your private chat.

“this is what you do t’me, baby,” gojo’s tip is already leaking so much pre-cum, making sure he can be seen, expression and all, “you make me so— s-shit— fucking hard.”

he didn’t even care if he could be heard, pumping his cock to the thought of you in that baby blue set of lingerie. he thinks of ripping it all off of you and buying you more just so he could do the same thing again and again, eyes scrunching up in bliss as his hand continues to move up and down his length. his hand isn’t even close to what he wants to feel — your tight pussy sucking him in — but he settles for it, squeezing his palm around his shaft and thumbs his tip.

“ya see this, angel?” gojo chokes out a moan when he sees another notification of ‘i really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable’ and it was the exact opposite for him in this bathroom stall, really hoping this video would drive his point home, “s’all for you, f— fuck.”

the video is incoherent from then on, because it’s all too much for him, the strokes of his warm hand, the images of your body, the sensitivity of his cock. lewd noises of him jerking off and his whines echo throughout the restroom, cumming with a slack mouth and babbles of your name on his lips.

“fuck, fuck, fuckkk…” satoru can hardly care as his cum stains his shirt, leaving his cock in needy spurts that dribble down his hand as well, wishing he could see it against your skin instead of his own. the end of the video is messy and hasty that he doesn’t even think much as he sends it, but it’s not even halfway through the video before you’re sending a simple “please come back, now.” and his heart jumps in his chest.

gojo simply shoots a quick text to geto, asking him to help him pack his things because he will definitely not be returning.

you’re so glad you don’t have any more classes for the day, too, because all you can think about now is satoru and his cock, blessed again with the sight of him losing himself in pleasure except now, he knew. your hands aren’t hesitant in reaching down to your core, lingerie already soaked through as you watch the short two minute video over and over as you lazily play with your clit with your eyes trained on his hand. it’s so hypnotising you don’t realise gojo’s already home, standing at your room door with his bulge showing through his pants and sweat lining his brow.

“did you run here?” you sit up, hands covering your chest instinctively. he shakes his head and you remove them.

“you know the bus will take too long, baby.”

you ignore the flutter of your heart and pussy when you know he says the pet name with intent, now, not in a joking or teasing manner. you want to hear it more.

“was that really an accident?”

you’re kneeling on your bed now, and gojo just wants to shut you up and make you take back all your apologies.

“it was!” you counter, not minding how your roommate slips his hand around your waist and is just inches from you, “but…”

gojo never truly loses his personality even when he’s hot and bothered, “but what, princess?”

that’s new.

you grin at his chivalry even when you’ve got your chest all vulnerable like this: he’s trying to break you with his eyes, the one thing that led you to choose baby blue in the first place. you win when his eyes flit down to your tits.

“but you still ended up sending me a video of you jerking off — hardly any decorum, huh, satoru?”

gojo rolls his eyes, hands trailing up your body and coming to rest at your boobs, “yeah. but you love it.”

that’s all he says before he dips down and takes a nipple into his mouth, leaving your hands to tangle in his hair as your back arches to give him more space. he’s so hungry, swirling his tongue around your hardened bud as he kneads the other, eyes occasionally meeting yours from your chest.

“d’you like the vid?” his speech is muffled.

“like it? i loved it—” a soft moan leaves you, “didn’t know you were such a sub, though.”

gojo laughs into your skin and you’re obsessed with the feeling, challenging him when he reaches your eyes again with a glint in his eyes.

“oh, you’re in for it, baby.” gojo grins, capturing your lips and feeling so free now that everything’s out in the open. he’s finally able to feel your lips on his, so soft and slow, making him go crazy from such a simple gesture. gojo pushes you gently onto your bed, kissing down your exposed body before coming to your pelvis, playing with the hem of the underwear.

“gotta thank this little guy for solving our problems.”

“please do not call my lingerie ‘little guy’,” you giggle, letting him remove the garment and you preen at the praise he gives your pussy.

“s’wet… is this all for me?” gojo shamelessly inhales your essence, the sight of him between your legs enough to make anyone cum.

“yeah…” it’s a whisper when you say it, breathless and impatient yet loving the way he treats you. “i get wet only for you, ‘toru.”

gojo moans at that, eyes rolling back momentarily before his mouth descends on your pussy and you think you can hear a brief hymn of hallelujah. he savours your cunt slowly, licking lazy stripes up and down your pussy and your moans match them — soft, drawn out — hands playing seamlessly with his hair. gojo’s startling baby blues meet you for a second and he smiles softly before he places a kiss to your clit.

a twitch, and satoru fully shows his expertise in the next second, eating you out like he was a starved man and you were the last meal on earth. your roommate sucks on your clit, groaning into your core as he feels your thighs close in around his head and your heels dig into his back. he switches easily to your hole, driving his tongue into the leaking entrance and his nose starts to nudge at your nub.

“satoru— s-shit!” your moans increase in volume, hands pulling harshly at his locks. “feel s’good—”

“yeah?” he speaks into your cunt, slurping up your juices time and time again until his jaw aches. your pussy just tastes so sweet that it’s got him grinding into the bed, too, relieving his cock with desperation. “was made just to eat you out, sweetness.”

“doing so well— are you close?” it was difficult to hold on when satoru was talking to you like that and devouring you so good, thumb now playing with your folds while his tongue focuses primarily on your clit again. he flicks at it and his eyes look at you for your answer, merely nodding pathetically as his abuse on your cunt is relentless. gojo would love to memorise the way you clench around his thumb, but he’s too fixated on your whines before you cum with a cry of his name.

“o—oh fuck— ‘t-toru! oh my goddd…” his mouth never stops moving even when your thighs tremble around his head and your body convulses, clit throbbing in his mouth and your mewls reaching the highest heavens.

gojo grins into your cunt, making sure you watch him as he collects all your juices onto his tongue, giving your pussy one last satisfied lick before he sits up, making quick work of his pants and he shows you how to not have one ounce of decorum like you commented on earlier—

because as he pumps the cock you saw just minutes ago, you tongue darts out to lick your lips unknowingly. as he drags the tip along your folds, you’re spreading your legs wider for him. as he slaps his cock along your cunt, your hips are moving on their own accord to feel more of him.

“filthy girl,” gojo leans in to your face, “talkin’ bout me having decorum. you should see yourself.”

you laugh, bringing him in for a brief kiss. you liked that you still could banter in times like this.

“i’ll admit i never had it, so it would b-be—” gojo slips just the tip in and you’re cut off, a choked whimper leaving you, “hypocritical to criticise you.”

“ya think?” gojo wiggles his hips gently, sinking into you and the squeeze of your cunt around his cock is too perfect, too tight. his own whines leave him as he eases inch by inch into you before you’re confessing.

“y’know after seeing you jerk off that day— f-fuck, in your room,” you mumble, wrapping your legs around his middle that causes him to moan, “i wanted nothing more than to help you clean up, cum and all.”

gojo chuckles breathlessly, you two have been pining for months? but he recovers just as quickly, bottoming out with a loud sigh. he lets your hands travel over his face, holding it in your palms.

“y-yeah? why didn’t you?”

“wasn’t sure if you liked me—” a whine cuts through your words as he takes the first slam into you.

“i’ll make sure you know how much i like you, baby, ‘kay?” gojo manages to get out before his hips moves into you, no longer able to hold conversation with the way your cunt sucks him in. he’s determined now, to show you how someone like you had a hold on him so strong that he was willing to pick up dirty clothes and take time out of his day to collect groceries. it’s not long before your roommate is able to pick up a pace, loving the way you trap him with your legs as his hips piston in and out of you.

the room is so much more stuffy, now, filled with the scent of sweat and sex as his pelvis meets your ass in timed thrusts. it was so filthy, too, cum from your previous orgasm aiding him as lube and sticking to his pubes from how much you were dripping.

“y-yeah— fuck me like how you’ve been wanting to, ‘toru—” you mumble out softly, already drunk on his cock. you swear you can feel the veins and his cockhead twitch at that, the sounds of the other filling your ears.

“you take me so, so well, baby,” gojo praises, face buried in your neck as he gives you kisses there, mind blank except for how you’re so wet that your arousal is spurting everywhere each time he comes up to the hilt in you, “taking my cock and squeezing me s’good.”

little pants leave you at the affirmations, and like always, gojo is a fast learner, already knowing your sweet spots when a hand sneaks down to rub at your clit. the circles go in time with his thrusts, and before then, you’re jerking in his arms, nails scratching at his back as your pussy spasms on his cock. gojo groans into your skin, hips still ramming into you before the clench of your cunt prompts him to cum as well.

“right there— s-shit!” you’re moaning when you can feel his cum seeping into you, the exact thing you’re imagining feeling even better as he loads you up, but you don’t have time to react when gojo flips you over. a quick glance to his face tells you he’s intoxicated on your pussy, pressing down on your arch.

“can you handle— another load— baby?” it comes out in between his thrusts, the way he begs to cum in you again and you’re never one to deny when you’ve wanted this for the longest time. you let satoru use you, face buried in the sheets below you while his thrusts start to turn sloppy. he’s not giving one fuck that he’s cummed the fastest he’s ever done before and how he’s going to do it again, but it’s inevitable when he’s got your cunt wrapped around him.

“y— yes, satoru— want you to fill me up, p-please—” it all overloads him: the way his cock disappears into your hole, the residual cum from earlier sticking to your ass and his pelvis, that white ring of semen around the base of his dick, your desperate pleas and cries.

it only takes one stroke of his hand on your clit before you’re cumming so fast again together with him, fingers grasping at the sheets as your pussy flutters around his length and you get his second load in return. it’s so viscous and hot, spilling into your hole. it’s so much, body going limp against satoru’s messy thrusts as he continues to rut into you, stilling finally when he starts to cramp in his thighs.

“attagirl, that’s it, sweetness,” gojo gasps out from behind you, staying locked in you as his cock spurts out the last bits of his cum. he presses a small kiss to your shoulder, asking softly into your skin if you were okay.

“more than okay—” a small mewl is heard when gojo pulls out slowly, sighing to himself upon seeing the way your cunt push out his cum naturally. there’s so much of it, spilling onto the sheets, but before he can take it upon himself to plug two fingers into your entrance, you’re dragging him to lie properly on the bed—

“not done?” your roommate laughs, a hand playing with your neck and the hickeys he’s left there.

you shake your head, noting how satoru’s cock is still sensitive when your hand closes around it, and you finally can see gojo in all of his glory when your tongue kitten licks at his tip and a shiver travels through his body. his hooded eyes and the buck of his hips are all you need to continue.

“i haven’t told you how much i like you, ‘toru. should i show you now?”

somewhere on your dresser, there’s several messages from your girls, but you’re too preoccupied with satoru’s cock in your mouth to notice — ah, well, you’d update them later.

[6:23pm, operation get (y/n) a partner]: photo attached (4)

@(y/n) girl where is your pic !!!! show us that cute baby blue lingerie pleaseee!!

[godsfavdarling]

having him

part of him (one-shot series), my masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader summary: You come home and hide, not wanting to bother Spencer. words: 1k warnings: reader having a bad day, anxious/sensitive reader, no y/n, hurt/comfort

Spencer stood in the kitchen, concentrating hard as he attempted to cook something delicious for the both of you.

He wasn’t much of a cook—despite excelling at many, maybe too many, things—this wasn't one of them.

Still, he was determined.

After all, he had a few days off after a long case in Nebraska, and he was adamant about spending every free minute with you before he was inevitably called away again to some distant, gruesome crime scene.

You had always done so much for him.

You listened patiently, even when he rambled endlessly about whatever came to his mind.

You cooked, brewed amazing coffee, and baked incredible sweets—though you never ate them yourself, always claiming to hate anything you made.

Yet, Spencer's sweet tooth had turned your kitchen into a miniature bakery.

You held him through his nightmares, gently soothing him in the middle of the night, and kissed him with a smile whenever you said goodbye and hello.

To him, you were the sweetest candy brought to life, and he planned on making it all up to you, even if it took until the end of the world.

That’s why, when you came home this evening, quietly said hello, and disappeared into the bathroom before he could even reach you for a hug, he took notice.

At first, he thought maybe you just really needed to go.

But after a while, as you remained in there, he started to worry.

Maybe you weren’t feeling well. Maybe something was wrong.

The water wasn’t running, so you weren't showering.

He knew something was off.

Spencer stopped chopping vegetables with his perfectly methodical precision and approached the bathroom door, knocking gently.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and concerned.

“Yeah,” you responded quickly. Too quickly.

He frowned. “You’ve been in there a while. Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

“I’m making your favorite,” he offered with a small smile, even though you couldn’t see it. “Well, trying. It probably won’t be as good as when you make it.”

“I’m sure it’ll be delicious.”

Spencer hesitated, turning slightly, almost ready to give you the space you seemed to need. But something held him back. He couldn’t leave you like this.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, “we can talk, you know? Whatever it is. Rough day?”

“Nothing happened. I’m okay.”

“It’s okay if you’re not,” he said, his voice gentle but firm.

That’s when he heard it—the small, broken sob you had been trying so hard to suppress.

“Can I come in?” he asked gently, his heart tightening at the sound.

“No.”

He didn’t leave. He stood there, waiting silently, hoping you’d change your mind.

After a moment, he heard the click of the door unlocking.

Slowly, he pushed it open to find you sitting on the closed toilet seat, red-eyed and weary.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked, crouching down to meet your eyes, though you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“I’m just exhausted,” you whispered, your lips trembling as you spoke. “I’m okay.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as your eyes flickered to the floor. You seemed to be holding yourself together with the last threads of composure, afraid that meeting his gaze would break you completely.

So, he did the only thing he could think to do—he hugged you.

Gently, he wrapped his arms around you, one hand resting softly on the back of your head, the other around your shoulders, pulling you close to him.

At first, you kept your hands pressed to his sides, as if trying to keep yourself from falling apart entirely. His embrace was warm and safe, but you fought against the urge to crumble.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Spencer murmured, his breath soft against your hair. “But it might make you feel better.”

“I’m okay,” you insisted again, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You keep saying that,” he said, his tone laced with understanding. “But something’s obviously going on. If not outside, then in your head. And that matters too.”

You closed your eyes, squeezing them shut as if that might stop the tears from falling.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to bother you.”

Spencer pulled back just enough to look at you, his brow furrowing in concern.

“You could never do that,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “Please, don’t hide yourself from me. I’m here to take care of you too.”

“I can take care of myself,” you mumbled, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions.

“Of course you can,” he agreed, his thumb brushing gently against your temple. “But you don’t have to. I’m here now too. All yours.”

That was it. The dam finally broke.

“It’s just... I’m tired,” you admitted, your words spilling out in a rush.

“I didn’t feel good today, and I’m overwhelmed, and I feel like everyone hates me. I can’t do anything right, and I wish I could just stop time and recharge, but I can’t because it’s not possible. I know I’ll be okay, but everything’s too much. I just wish it would all stop, and I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t want to bother you, and I thought about texting, but you just got time off. I didn’t want to make it miserable, but now I am, and now I regret saying all this, and—”

By then, you were crying again, the words tumbling out incoherently between sobs.

Spencer didn’t say anything this time—he just pulled you closer, holding you tighter, letting you cry until there was nothing left.

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟏]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 1.5k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, mentions of abuse/alcoholism

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. first meetings and a slight introduction to our characters! i imagine each drabble will have a pretty varying length, so this one is a bit on the shorter side! either way, i hope you enjoy :) interaction is highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗘

Kinich meets you in the spring.

The air is warm and balmy that day, with a breeze that brushes by the skin with pleasant coolness. His mother likes to take him to the market with her on days like these, probably for his own good. She tells him he’s a bit unsociable for his age, not that he disagrees—he just doesn’t see any point in changing. He does just fine spending his days at home, exploring the land around his house.

This kind of weather brings everyone outside, which leaves the market bustling—sellers scream their prices and show off their wares, and buyers haggle until their wallets are empty. He walks around with his mother for a bit, one hand gripping her skirt, and she offers him bits of candy and other treats. He rejects them all; really, he doesn’t want for much.

Still, he’s a more independent child, so eventually his mother leaves him to explore the various market stands while she goes around buying the more “boring” items. She probably hopes that he’ll make a friend or two, but he never does—most of the children don’t play in this area. They prefer to play with the Yumkasauri near the outskirts of the tribe.

Either way, he does end up looking around for a bit. Yanta, an elderly woman that sells fruit, gives him some berries to try, and he leaves with his tongue sweetened. He peers at some of the climbing gear, too, with astronomical prices that he would never be able to afford—at least not while his father gambles every Mora away. As the time passes, the crowd starts to get a bit stifling, so Kinich wanders away in search of a quieter place.

He settles for one of the walkways outside of the market, letting his legs dangle over the edge so he can look down at the river. There’s Yumkasauri whelps playing below, bumping each other into the water and screeching with joy. 

Laughter echoes from somewhere nearby—the sound of children, children like him. He tucks his knees to his chest. He has no need for friends, not when there is still so much to learn about the land. He thinks of his mother and the fresh welts on her skin. When he’s older, when he’s more capable, when he knows more, he can help her. Maybe one day they’ll be able to leave this place, or maybe just that man.

A burst of wind slips by—it carries the scent of flora, fuzzy yellow ones that make his eyes water and the purpling blooms that his mother loves. The recognition makes his head turn, just in time to see you run past him, a clump of flowers falling from your grip. You don’t seem to notice, and they fall uselessly to the wooden walkway, inches away from Kinich’s pinky. 

He eyes the flowers curiously—the petals are so bright, yet dainty and thin. Then, he looks toward your rapidly disappearing figure.

And really, he doesn’t know why he cares. He should go find his mom and go home. His father will be there soon anyway, and that’s a whole different beast to contend with; he doesn’t have the time or energy to be concerned with you. 

So he doesn’t really understand himself when he grabs the flowers, pushes himself to his feet, and jogs until your back is within his reach. Another step, and then his fingers wrap around your wrist just as you yelp in surprise. 

The first thought he has when you turn to face him is that you’re quite pretty, and that you look to be his age—he shakes it away just as fast. Instead, he nods toward the bundle of flowers sitting in your arms.

“You dropped some,” he mumbles, opening his palm to you. It reveals a pile of crushed petals and snapped stems, and his face reddens in embarrassment. He hadn’t thought to be so careful in his rush to chase you. When he looks up, your lips are barely parted in surprise, and he awkwardly tugs at his collar.

“Ah, I’m sorry.”

He’s not good at this, he realizes instantly. Years of sticking to his own have left his social skills lacking, and he grasps blindly for something to say. Instead, you’re the first to break the silence—you laugh, a bell-like sound that he finds a bit cute.

“Wow, I must’ve been going pretty fast,” you say, head tilted. “Sorry about that! My momma used to say I run like the wind!”

Kinich tries not to get stuck on the ‘used to’ in your words, but fails—he wonders if you’re alone. It must be difficult, he’s sure, but there are some nights when the stench of alcohol grows too strong and the screams grow too loud where he wonders if it might be preferable. He’s thinking too long, and the silence grows awkward, so he forces himself to speak.

“What are the flowers for?”

It’s your turn to be embarrassed now, an awkward giggle escaping your lips as you shift your weight between your feet. 

“I was thinking about making flower crowns for the other kids in the tribe. They don’t really like playing with me lately, maybe ‘cause I’m alone, so I wanted to do something so we could all be friends again.”

Kinich doesn’t really get it—what would be the point of playing with someone who doesn’t like you? Something about the situation tells him it wouldn’t be the right thing to say, though, so he merely nods. You seem genuine, and while he may be socially inept at times, he’s not mean-spirited. Quietly, however, he notes that the stems of the flowers you have are too long—you’d have trouble making flower crowns with these. 

“Have you ever made crowns before?” he asks, doubtful. 

“Nope,” you answer honestly, “is it that obvious?”

Living at the foot of the mountain meant he had become much more familiar with the nature surrounding the tribe. His mother had been teaching him a few things lately, particularly related to farming and weaving. A flower crown would be simple work, certainly. 

He frowns. He shouldn’t do this, but you’re looking at him so expectantly.

“I could show you how—”

“Kinich!”

His mother appears just then, cheeks reddened and hair sticking wildly to her forehead. Various bags hang from her arms, evidence of her shopping, but she casts them aside in favor of grabbing at his wrist. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I thought you got lost, or even kidnapped! What were you thinking? You’re not usually like this!”

You vaguely think that the two look quite alike; he has her eyes, save for the purpling bruise that sits just underneath her left one. You’ve had similar ones from banging your knees on things, but none in a place so front-facing.

Kinich hangs his head, stepping away from you quickly. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

Shame radiates from his form in waves, so potent you can practically feel it yourself. You grab his other wrist out of instinct, and he raises his eyes to you in surprise.

“I’m sorry too, ma’am,” you say. The woman looks shocked, gaze flitting to where your hand joins with his. “I was clumsy and took up too much of his time. It’s my fault if he was late.”

Kinich’s heart flips, and he’s unsure why—maybe because he’s never had anyone defend him like this, maybe because he’s never had anyone defend him at all. His mother looks just as flabbergasted as he does, only returning to her senses when she notices the setting sun. She sighs, addressing her son again.

“Your father will be home soon,” she says, retrieving her bags, and Kinich visibly stiffens. “We should go.”

Gentle, he twists his wrist from your grip, quietly following his mother as she starts to leave. There’s a similar sadness to the hunch of their backs, as if they’re dreading returning home—you wonder if you’re imagining it. Kinich, you remember his mother calling him. You like the sound of it.

“Kinich!” 

He turns at the call of his name, so unfamiliar from your lips. You’re smiling brightly, holding up two of the flowers you’d picked.

“Next time, teach me how to make a flower crown, okay?”

/

His mother doesn’t speak as they make the walk home. He lets the wind fill the silence, whistling through the trees and carrying him with its lulling sound. It’s one of the few pleasures he finds nowadays when he retreats outside, skin purpling with fresh bruises.

They inch the front door open, tentative and wincing, half-expecting his father to burst out in a drunken rage—they’re only met with silence. Relieved, Kinich’s mother sets about putting away the groceries, and Kinich collapses into bed, letting his eyes fall shut as the sun dims outside. He tries to savor the last few minutes he has, distantly praying that his father might come home sober today. 

He thinks of the market, and then he thinks of the flowers. He thinks about the flowers, and then he thinks about them some more—a little longer than is natural for him.

Just as he slips into sleep, Kinich realizes that he never asked for your name.

[ellieslob]

★ les

+tags: rockstar ellie, masc ellie, fem reader, modern relationship, femme fatale reader, top! sub ellie, dom ellie, power bottom reader, fem reader, inspired by Les, Childish Gambino.

+warnings: smut, nsfw, degradation kink, mentions of cheating, toxic? relationship, angry sex, all consensual, submission, strap on, cunnilingus, rough treatment, strap gets called dick or cock, it’s not cheating to them.

ways to help palestine!!!

REBLOG !

R★ you catched ellie’s eyes since the beginning of the song, since you started ‘dancing’ so close to a fuckin’ guy while looking straight into her eyes, all with a stupid smile, laughing at something that the brickfucker was whispering to your ear.

she didn’t notice the change of the song until the lights shifted to a red cherry, and the drums started to bring her to her senses, but could she really? not when you were practically fuckin’ some guy in front of her, in front of everyone.

before another song ended you practically ran with him to a room, to her room, you were such a dirty little bitch, and she knew how to treat bitches like you.

she slammed the door, throwing the guitar across the room, not caring about it the same way she didn’t care about leaving the concert or her band in the middle of a show. she couldn’t care less about all that smaller shit.

you were in the bed, legs spread out and stroking your tits as that fucker eat you up like a candy, that candy was hers, only fuckin’ hers.

she grabbed him aggressively by the shirt, ripping some of the fabric and making him get up so fast

“wait wh-

“get the fuck out of my room, dipfuck” she threw him out of the room, making sure he fell on his face and locked him out.

“hi baby, that was a good show, wasn’t too short?” you smiled at her while opening your legs, letting her watch how wet you were, you nipples and clit were abused and all reddish, shining because of the saliva of other man.

“you are a greedy whore, you know that?” as mad as she were at you, she still got down to your pussy with a smile on her face, bitting her lip when looking at you wet folds, trying not to yield to your power, trying to stay mad at you.

“ow don’t be jealous ellie, you know i can get bored at your long long shows, i need… entrainment”

“and you think those fuckers can give you what you want? your little cunt is mine, nobody can make you cum like i can doll”

“mm maybe not but they can keep me occupied while you are doing your job babe” you grabbed her hand while you were talking and started playing with your clit with it, she almost growled at the feeling, you were so hot and wet.

“i’m just a girl, i can get soo lonely watching you sing, touch that guitar with your strong hands that were made to fuck me, singing with that voice that was made to scream my name, i get horny just by watching you darling”

“so you just fuck some other dude?! doesn’t make fuckin’ sense darlin’ she smiled angry and held your hips strongly as she pulled down on you, making sure her mouth and your cunt were aligned.

“but if i play with them you get soo mad and you fuck me just the way i like” she was treating the way you wanted, like a fucking sex doll, so careless and rough.

“you’re such a greedy little whore babe, look at you we are fighting and you are clenching onto nothing” she was pissed, you knew it and you were drooling, you loved seeing her like that.

you both were so wet, you weren’t really fighting, never really were, you both knew how to play naughty and you both liked it so much, at the end of the day ellie knew you would never really cheat on her and you knew she couldn’t either, you trusted each other with passion but sometimes it was fun to make it spicier and y’all knew exactly how to push each other to that exquisite point of anger and love.

“ellie! yesyesyea” you always turned into a pretty mess whenever her tongue even barely touched your pussy, but she just was so eager, so desperate, she was eating you were the only food she’d had in months.

“oh look at my little hoe” she stopped linking just to give little slaps to your pussy, hitting on your clit as you.

“ell- please, please, i need it sososo bad” your whines high-pitched, you were practically screaming, but neither of you cared if someone heard you, actually ellie wanted you to go louder, maybe that way the fuckers that would go by the door would understand that you were hers only.

“what do you want, doll?” she murmured to you ear, so calmly and sweet, as if she weren’t rubbing your clit like a maniac.

“ellie i n-need you to- fuck!” you grabbed her jacket, shoving ellie to the bed hard enough until you could sit on her lap “you better fuck me, before i go out and ask someone else to do it baby”

she sneered as her gaze went dark, your hips were grabbed and pulled hard, you could feel ellie’s strap hitting your clit again, and she was controlling your hips to keep hitting it. “you really think another bitch could make you feel like this?” your moans just made her more greedy, she pulled your dress to your belly, taking a more elaborated look at the mess you pussy was, you kept grinding on her bult, so needy, so slutty, god she loved you “answer.” she stopped your hips, restraining you from getting to the edge of your climax.

“no! nobody, i want you, ‘need you ellie, please, i’ll be good, ‘promise” ellie smiled and pulled your little panties to the side, pulling her jeans a little and watched how her dark red plastic dick hit your clit directly when it was liberated.

“ask me to do it princess” she stimulated your nipples over the dress, stopping just for a little to expose your pretty tits, ready for her to make them bounce.

“ellie please, i’m begging you, please fuck me” your ego dissapeard with your clothes, all you cared about was to get that dick deep inside you, to get ellie to growl in your ear and fuck you silly.

when she noticed the little tears in your pretty eyes she knew you’ve had enough. you felt that big cock stretching your interior as ellie was rubbing your clit with her thumb. “god! yesyesye, t-thank you baby”

when foreplay ellie knew that you could be a little competitive and even fight with her for the dominance in the bed, but when she fucked you silly, you got so submissive it was sweet, your mean words turned into compliments or cute nicknames.

“that’s it my pretty girl, you like it?” it was kind of a rhetorical question, her dick was getting soaked in your juices, you were pounding yourself hard and from your pouty lips she could see a drool coming, god you were simply perfect.

“els i love it, god yesyes, i love you so much, fuck” ellie’s eyes softened and she just couldn’t stop smiling, she loved when your little act came down, when you were just her little angel, because she loved y’all little games and to play with each other but you were just so lovely like that.

“i love you too angel, come on, let’s make my little baby cum” she started hitting you on your sweet spot, your tits were bouncing directly on her face, she licked them when your nipple and her mouth hit. her hips were going way to fast and your clit was indirectly getting rubbed, it was driving you crazy

“ellie! i can’t, can’t any-ah give me, give” you weren’t making any sense at this point, your hips, and practicly your hole body, were moving like crazy, the drool droping fast, your nipples were so fucking erect, they felt like rocks against her warm mouth. you were going to cum, like hard, ellie could see it on your pretty face, feel it on your pounding, and definitely could hear it from your almost pornographic screams.

“cum on my dick beautiful, i got you, give me a little show” you started jumping hard on her strap, accidentally making the base of the plastic rub her clit too “fuck baby” you both started to make everything rougher and more intense, you felt the her dick going deeper and she could just get off with the show you were complete giving her, now the movement on her clit was too much.

“i’m yes, ellie, i love you! ahhh make me” her hips were knocking you out, your eyes were getting blurry, her sounds, her body, the look she was giving to you as she fucked you “yes! im cuming! fuck” ellie screamed with you when her strap slipped and hit you both just were you need it.

you both felt liquid coming out of your pussy, getting all over the strap and ellie’s clothes, you fell into her strong arms, both of you agitated and so fucking happy. she hugged you tight, she started to plant little kisses on your forehead and face.

“i love you baby” you smiled, she was such a softie, only you could see this part of her.

“i love you more” and only ellie could watch you all lovely and needy.

“ellie where the fuck are you?! we need you for the next song!” oh, maybe ellie had groupies bitches around her all the time, trying to fuck her but none of them were you, they could never get to her, not even fucking dressing up as you.

“they can fucking wait, i’m with my baby” you were everything the other needed, and even if you guys make it seemed like you were cool about it, but everybody knew you guys only belonged to each other, there was no place for anyone or anything else.

REBLOG !

[after-witch]

To a Mouse [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: To a Mouse [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: The best laid escape plans of mice and men often go awry. 

Word Count: 2200ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, abusive behavior, drugging

You’ve been planning. Bad, bad thing that you are--not that Overhaul knows about the planning. Not that he knows you call him Overhaul, in your head, all the while “Kai” bubbles from your lips like sweet candy.

Not that he knows that while you obey and nod and pretend to go along with it, you’re screaming, plotting, fervently dreaming about the day that you’ll get away from him.

That day is today, in fact.

All thanks to two things: your penchant for drawing, and his penchant for closing his eyes while you change into your nightgowns.

The drawing is what earned you the box of pencils. They’re nice pencils, middle-of-the-road when it comes to quality. Better than the cheap pencils schoolchildren get, but a seasoned artist might not work with them. You, though, are no seasoned artist. You’re simply a kidnapping victim who liked to draw in their spare time before all this, and after weeks of behaving, he let you have a box of pencils and paper to keep in your room when he wasn’t there.

Because you were good. Because he trusted you.

His mistake.

That pencil is sharpened now, razor sharp or something close to it; it won’t kill him, you’re not that naive. But you’re sure that you can jab it into his flesh enough to hurt, enough to send him to his knees long enough for you to rush into his office and get one of the knives he keeps in his desk. And that’s what will kill him. That’s what will secure his death--and your freedom.

It’s his mistake, too, that he gives you a hint of privacy now and then. When you get dressed, especially. In the morning, when you change; in the evening, when you shower, then again when you change into your nightgown.

The pencil would be useless, without that hint of privacy. Because it had given you the opportunity to slip the pencil from your shirt sleeve and, quick as a bird, slide it underneath the comforter before he took you to the bathroom to shower.

And here you were, sitting in bed with a hand tucked under the comforter and holding onto that pencil; skin scrubbed raw and smelling of sterile soap. Clean. Fresh. Ready.

He’s still turned around, and you put an earnest smile into your voice.

“I’m dressed, Kai.” Dressed and ready to never call him Kai again. Dressed and trembling,  fingers tight around the pencil, waiting for the perfect time to strike.

The perfect time comes when he turns around, eyes crinkled in what must be a smile behind his mask, and approaches to tuck your blanket over you. It’s a soft think--pink and sweet, like he wants you to be.

His fingers are smoothing out the blanket, his words forming some sort of soothing goodnight message, when your arm whips around and you stab the pencil straight into his neck.

The pencil makes contact, you think. But it doesn’t plunge into his flesh the way you imagined it would. It scratches--leaving a jagged quickly -reddening gash--and Overhaul falls to one knee, giving you only a second to scamper off the bed and flee through the doorway connecting your room to his office.

He’s not down for the count, you can hear his steps, hear him shouting something--your thoughts are all jumbled and when your trembling hands grip the handle of his desk and yank at the drawer, it doesn’t budge. He locked it, today. Or maybe it was always locked and you were too stupid to realize it.

There’s no time to kill him, no time to attack--you can only run. So you do, socked feet scampering towards the door of his office, hoping it led to some sort of escape route. 

The door doesn’t budge, and you stupidly shove yourself against it, feeling hot, useless tears streaming down your face. Everything happens too fast and too slow all at the same time. It didn’t work, none of it worked, and you’re left pressing your back against the door and watching as an extremely pissed off Kai Chisaki stalks towards you.

You’ve never seen him like this--hives breaking out on his skin, one hand clutching his neck, eyes practically bulging out in anger and betrayal.

A gloved hand reaches down to grip your wrist, yanking you upward with an uncharacteristic force. You were delicate, a doll; an ornament to be cared for and cleaned. Or so he said, with words and actions. Which is why the tight grip, so harsh you wonder if your bones might snap, comes at you like a bucket of ice water.

“There will be consequences.”

The words are spit out, and your mind supplements the image of wispy saliva hitting the inside of his mask, a bitter poison. No sooner than he warns you, he grabs your arm, gloves slipping on your skin as he tightens his grip and yanks you upward.

Instinct tells you what he’s going to do, and your body tries to turn to lead, but there’s no escaping his grip in the moment. He drags you over to his desk and you see the inside of the drawer he pulls open--all manner of syringes and bottles and you already imagine a needle sliding into your skin, turning you to jelly.

It’s not the needle he grabs, but the handcuffs. And that makes your stomach twist worse.

The moment when you’re dragged back into your bedroom and tossed harshly onto your bed blurs over the next few hours. You will remember the feeling of hitting the mattress, the awkward way your arm bent as he held it down and snapped the cuff over your wrist and then over the pole of the bed. You will remember your heart pounding like a rabbit.

But you’re not sure exactly what Overhaul said--or if he said anything at all--or if you did anything but cry. Did you beg him not to hurt you? Did you tell him to fuck off? Did he tell you to go to sleep, or was it an implied command? 

It’s hard to say.

You’re not even sure if the later sound of hot steaming water from his office bathroom, the image of him scrubbing his skin where the pencil scraped it, is real or imagined. 

Sleep does not come for hours and when it does, you have a horrid nightmare of a large, unfathomable monster sitting on your arms, keeping you immobile. 

--

“You’ve lost the right to move without permission.”

There are many things you imagined Overhaul might do to you. You thought he would toss you back into that horrid room with its white walls and stripped toilet; or cut your meal to miniscule rations, to teach you to be grateful. Or make you sit in the damned clinic of his while he tested your blood to find some practical reason for your rebellion.

You didn’t imagine he would cuff your hands behind your back, and keep you on a chain that kept you leashed to the bed. It wasn’t even long enough to walk around the room, not that there was much to do anymore; when you woke up the morning after, your books, papers, pencils, had all been stripped away. 

It was a wonder he didn’t take the shelf with them.

“They will come off,” he says, gesturing with his hand towards the chain and cuffs, “only if I permit it. At meal times.” He pauses. “And bath time.” 

What relief might have come with the thought of being alone in the bath--those sweet moments of privacy--dissipates a few minutes afterward, when he leads you, hands uncuffed and sore, into the bathroom.

Only he doesn’t, as usual, usher you inside and give you privacy to change and wash yourself. He doesn’t even turn around. He simply stares at you, until anxiety forces you to speak, your voice a squeaky whisper.

“Aren’t you going to…” The full sentence doesn’t come. Aren’t you going to leave? Let me get undressed? Look away? 

He only blinks at you. 

“No.” The word is short and clipped and awful in its simplicity.  “You might try something. You’ve lost the right to privacy.”

Heat rises to your cheek and awful bile claws up your throat with it. He can’t--he wouldn’t look; that is one thing he never did, despite all his hovering and controlling. 

He must catch your thoughts, because from behind the mask comes an almost throaty murmur. “I’m not base. I’m only watching to make sure you don’t do something dangerous to yourself or others.” He swallows, his throat bobbing. “Don’t trouble yourself about that.”

Oh, but you do trouble yourself. Your hands shake as you pull off your nightgown, smelling of sweat from last night’s activities, and fold it carefully on the countertop. Shame crawls inside your stomach and you cover yourself as best you can, shifting positions as you step into the tub. 

Your hands reach instinctively to draw the curtain behind you, only to realize that the curtain that you usually pull for your showers is gone. 

“Take a bath,” he says, simply. “Until you’ve earned the curtain back.”

Something low rumbles in your stomach and you know it’s not hunger. Slowly, you lower yourself down into the tub, pulling your knees to your chest to cover as much as possible. Because he’s still just--staring at you.

He stares even as you turn on the water and begin to fill the tub and wash yourself, quickly as can be, with hot water and soap. Showering usually felt good; it was like taking away a layer of invisible grime that built up around him. But with his eyes on you the entire time, it’s like the grime sticks to your skin, no matter how much you scrub. 

The lack of commentary on your nakedness is somehow just as worse than his gaze upon it.

--

Life, such as it was, quickly turns to shit. 

Overhaul keeps you chained to the bed unless he’s in the room. And even then, there are times where he insists you stay cuffed or leashed to the bed like a wayward dog. 

“You can’t be trusted on your own,” is all he says, if you ask him about it. 

He doesn’t look away when you get dressed. When you bathe. Even when you go to the bathroom.

When you protest too much, when you squirm and kick at the chain and pull your hands harshly against the cuffs, he merely threatens to gag you; to tighten the chain; to leave you cuffed when you bathe and eat, which means he’ll be the one doing the scrubbing and the feeding.

You stop fighting, after that. The threat hits your chest hard and you’re forced to accept the new routine.

That’s what it is, after all. A routine. 

You accept it for what it is--life, now. A new reality.

It’s your new reality that you sleep in soft nightgowns with a cold chain around your ankle and a cuff on your wrist. It’s your new reality that Overhaul stands and stares while you bathe, taking in your body and occasionally critiquing your washing technique. 

It’s your new reality that you have no such thing as privacy, no such thing as softness or entertainment or the quiet enjoyment that comes (however unbidden) from reading your books in the afternoon or drawing on a fresh sheet of paper. 

Now, you have only yourself and Overhaul and the basic functions of life. 

--

“You’ve been behaving,” he remarks one day. A simple compliment for the simple act of no longer fighting against the cuffs, no longer tugging at the chain around your ankle. 

It’s true, though. You haven’t fought. Or argued about the new rules. And you haven’t so much as thought about another escape attempt. The last one was so futile, and look where it got you? Chained and stared at, like an animal in a zoo; hardly worth the effort.

But–but, but, but. When you go into the bathroom that morning, the shower curtain is back.

He doesn’t turn around when you change, and it doesn’t bother you because, after all---it’s a start.

And that night--

“The handcuffs will stay off,” he tells you mildly, locking the chain around your ankle, “if you continue to behave.”

You do behave.

The next week, it is the chain that will stay off--if you continue to behave. And you strive to behave, because the thrill of being able to properly toss and turn and curl up in bed is worth it. And it’s not as if misbehaving got you anywhere before, did it? 

And one blissful morning, you wake up to find your books returned. Your papers. And--not pencils, no. Large crayons, the kind you give to children. Still, still, it’s something.

You swear you can see his smile from behind the mask as you marvel at them, thinking of the ways you’ll be able to occupy yourself with the bright, waxy colors. 

“These will remain,” he says, “if you continue to behave.”

And you do--

You do behave.

[dixons-sunshine]

Carbon Copy | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: With the small Halloween event you and Michonne had been planning right around the corner, your son asked you about it. After a small discussion, your son quickly revealed what—or rather, who—he wanted to be for Halloween, and you just knew that it would make Daryl beyond happy.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria, set post the bridge.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 2.7k.

A/N: Based on this idea by @bambidixon. I hope I did your idea justice! Also, go check out @dixonsstinkysock’s take on this idea! It’s absolutely amazing. You can find it on their page, under the title “Twins”. Anyways, as always, I hope y’all enjoy this! And happy (early) Halloween!

“Mama, what’s Halloween?”

The sound of your little boy’s innocent question made you stop with the story you were busy reading to him. You looked up from the book and to your son, Jasper, looking into the eyes that mirrored Daryl’s so beautifully. In fact, your son was practically a carbon copy of the man you loved so dearly. Sometimes you wondered if he had inherited any of your physical traits at all, if they would show up as he aged. Although, if they did not, you would not be mad. Jasper had inherited quite a bit—in fact, a whole lot—of your personality traits. That would be more than enough.

“Halloween?” you asked rhetorically, although Jasper still nodded his head in confirmation at your question. “Halloween was a night in the old world where kids would dress up like their favourite person, play make-believe, and go trick-or-treating around to different houses where adults would hand out all sorts of candy.”

“Candy?” Jasper asked in delight, his eyes sparkling at the mere mention at the prospect of something sweet.

You chuckled and nodded. “Yes, candy,” you confirmed, leaning forward to tickle Jasper’s stomach. The boy shrieked with laughter, making you laugh fondly. “Why do you ask, Baby? The story didn’t even mention Halloween.”

Jasper shrugged his little shoulders, his face adorably serious. “Judith said Auntie Michonne is planning Halloween. Judith said all our friends will enjoy it.”

Oh. That. You had almost forgotten about the plans you all had been making regarding the holiday that played a pivotal part in all of your childhoods. As the leaves turned yellow, orange and brown, and the heat transitioned into a more tolerable chill, it felt only fitting to implement the first Halloween into the new world, to have the children of the new generation experience a night of fun make-believe, and candy never hurt.

The sound of Jasper’s voice snapped you from your thoughts. “Mama, can I go trick-treat?”

“Trick-or-treat,” you corrected him with a soft smile. You leaned forward to press a soft, tender kiss to his forehead. “Yeah, Baby. You can go trick-or-treating. What do you want to dress up as?”

Jasper shrugged. “I don’t know.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. You closed the book in your lap and placed it down on the nightstand, before giving your son your full attention again. “You know, when I was your age, I dressed up as my favourite superhero.”

“Really?” Jasper asked, his eyes sparkling as a smile spread over his face.

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a loving smile. “So why don’t you dress up like your favourite superhero? You like Spider-Man, don’t you? Or maybe The Hulk?”

Jasper shook his head at your suggestions. “No,” he said quietly. “They’re not my favourite superheroes.”

“No? Okay,” you voiced in surprise. Jasper absolutely loved Spider-Man, so his denial at your suggestion to dress him up like the infamous Peter Parker surprised you. “Who’s your favourite hero then, Ducky?”

He giggled at the nickname—a nickname you had given to him due to his love of ducks—before adapting a serious look. “I like Spider-Man, but he’s not as cool as Daddy.”

That admission instantly put a smile on your face. You knew exactly where this conversation was going to go. “So Daddy’s your favourite superhero, huh?”

Jasper nodded with an eager smile. “Yeah! Daddy is strong, and brave, and kind, and strong! He’s not even afraid of the dark, or spiders! He’s the bestest superhero ever!”

“He is, isn’t he?” you agreed. “So you wanna be Daddy for Halloween?” When Jasper nodded eagerly, your smile widened, if that was even possible. “Okay, then. I’ll see what I can do for you.”

“Can I get a bow, too? And a bike?”

“Crossbow. And yeah, I’m sure I can get you one, and I’ll see what I can do about the bike. But then you have to be good and let me finish our story so that we’re both ready to go to bed, okay?”

“Okay!” Jasper agreed, nuzzling himself back into his pillows and adjusting the covers around him. However, before he completely settled down, his soft voice spoke up again. “Promise that Mama won’t tell Daddy? I wanna surprise him.”

You smiled softly. “I promise,” you replied, before picking up the book again and continuing to read the story. In seemingly no time at all, Jasper’s eyes began drooping, until he was fast asleep, his prior excitement having worn him out more than the actual story had. Once you were absolutely certain that he was out cold, you placed the book down and pressed one final kiss to your son’s forehead, before getting up from the bed and leaving his room.

You smiled at Daryl as you stepped into your shared bedroom. The man in question was spread out on your bed, his arms resting behind his head as he glanced from the television—a luxury you would never take for granted ever again—to you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Wow. Ya actually got him down for the night?” Daryl mused aloud. “Ya were takin’ so long, I figured he was gon’ have ya in there all night.”

You laughed lightly and flopped down on the bed, nuzzling yourself into his chest and sighing in contentment when his arms wrapped around you. “Jasper and I got to talking for a little while before he settled down for the night.”

“Yeah? What about?” Daryl inquired. He nuzzled his face into your hair, deeply inhaling your clean scent.

“Halloween. Michonne and I have been planning a small Halloween thing for the kids. Jasper and I were discussing what he wanted to be for Halloween.”

“Y’all come to a conclusion?” When you nodded, Daryl continued. “What’s he gon’ be?”

“More like who, and I can’t say. I promised him that I’d keep it a secret,” you told him, a knowing smile on your face.

Daryl groaned playfully. “C’mon, seriously? M’sure that he’d want his ol’ man to know.”

“He wants me to keep it a secret,” you repeated, although you conceded to give him a little bit of insight, because you were absolutely certain that he would get it wrong. “But I can give you a clue, and if you figure it out, you have to make sure to act surprised when you see him in his costume, okay?” When Daryl nodded, you continued. “He wants to dress up like his favourite superhero.”

Daryl hummed. “So he wants to be Spider-Man. Ain’t too sure why that’s s’posed to be a secret, but alright. I’ll make sure to act surprised on Halloween.”

You simply smiled. Good, he did not know. You still had the element of surprise on your side. You were absolutely certain that Daryl would love your son’s outfit, and you knew he would feel so happy to know he was his son’s biggest inspiration, his biggest idol.

Now all you had to do was gather everything needed to duplicate Daryl’s look, but that could not be that difficult, could it?

You could not have been more wrong. It could indeed be that difficult. Two weeks to gather everything needed for Jasper’s costume, and you nearly failed. You and Michonne—who was on her own search for costumes for Judith and RJ—had been scouring every clothing- and toy store for miles, and you had nearly shot point blank each time.

You had eventually found a toy crossbow after nearly a week of searching. However, the clothing had been a completely different story. Jasper, thankfully, owned various jeans that could be modified to look similar to Daryl’s, and you could cut the sleeves off of one of his shirts if push came to shove, but you were completely stumped on the vest for the longest time. It appeared as if though vests for children in the old world had not been a big priority, because you only managed to find a vest that was way too small for Jasper’s frame. You had nearly given up on your search, and had already been planning the apology you would have to give to your son, when Michonne had announced that she had found something. The vest was slightly too big, but with some quick sewing magic, you would be able to fix that problem in no time.

You were not able to find a bike, but Jasper had not been upset about that, too enthralled by the prospect of having his own crossbow, so you had thankfully been able to get out of that one without any fuss.

The tricky part to the whole secrecy ordeal of your son’s costume was keeping Daryl from seeing you modify Jasper’s clothes. You had to resort to sneaking out of bed late into the night when Daryl was out cold and locking yourself in the bathroom with everything needed to complete the look. You had luckily secured the colours needed to paint the signature wings onto the vest, and you had been able to sew a patch onto the small jeans to make it look like the jeans Daryl almost always wore, and you had cut the sleeves off of one of Jasper’s button up shirts, all while keeping Daryl out of the loop on your plans.

It was difficult, but it would all be worth it in the end.

When the day arrived, Daryl had been instructed to wait in the living room by your son. The archer had sent you an amused look, but had complied with his son’s request nonetheless. Jasper had dragged you into his room, and had excitedly asked to see the costume, and the reaction you got was something you would not forget anytime soon. Your son was so happy, and had it not been for the fact that he was excited to show his dad that he was like him, he would have clung to you for hours, so tight he was hugging you.

“Baby, I know you’re excited, but you gotta keep still, okay? I don’t wanna accidentally hurt you.”

Jasper giggled boyishly, but he heeded your warning. “Sorry, Mama,” he apologized halfheartedly.

You chuckled fondly at him. “I know you are, Ducky.” You applied the last bit of the red makeup to his cheek, before pulling back and admiring your handy work with a smile. “And you’re done!”

Jasper gasped and hurried up from the bed to go look at himself in the mirror. He touched the light red mark on his face gingerly, the mark representing the one Daryl sported on his own cheek. You had not done too bad of a job recreating that, if you had to say so yourself.

“Yay! Thank you, Mama!” Jasper thanked you, rushing towards you to give you a tight hug.

You hugged him back instantly. “You’re so welcome, Baby.” You pulled back and grabbed the toy crossbow from the bed, showing it to him. He took it from you eagerly, making you laugh. “You ready to go show your dad?”

Jasper nodded, and grabbed your hand in his smaller one. Together, the two of you walked from his room, down the stairs and into the living room, where Daryl was busying himself by playing with Dog. However, Daryl looked up when he heard your footsteps.

Daryl was about to say something, but his words got caught in his throat. His eyes widened as he took in Jasper’s appearance, a small smile forming on his face. A lump formed in his throat, but he swallowed it away. He would not ruin this moment with his emotions.

“Wow,” he mumbled in complete awe. He got up from the couch and crouched down in front of Jasper, his smile widening into something more soft, more tender. “S’this yer Halloween costume, lil’ man?”

Jasper giggled and nodded. “I’m you!” he replied in excitement, twirling around to show off his full costume.

Daryl smiled at the sight of the wings painted onto the vest, as well as the meticulously torn places in the gray leather, closely resembling those on his own vest. Not even to mention how spot-on the jeans looked as well. The costume overall was just amazing. And even the scar on his face was spot-on.

If Jasper looked like his mini me before, it certainly did not compare to how much of a carbon copy of Daryl he was at that moment.

“Yeah, yer me,” Daryl replied with a smile. “We’re one in the same now, buddy.” He reached forward and ruffled Jasper’s hair, successfully eliciting a laugh from him, making Daryl chuckle as well.

“Do you like it, Daddy?” Jasper asked, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at Daryl. “Mama even got me a crossbow like you!”

Daryl nodded. “I love it, lil’ man. I love it so much.” He reached forward and bundled Jasper into his arms, picking him up. He pressed a soft kiss to Jasper’s forehead. “How ‘bout we go trick-or-treatin’, yeah? Then we can show everyone our costumes.”

Jasper laughed. “You’re not wearing a costume, Daddy.”

Daryl let out a gasp of feigned offense, but could not help the laugh he let out. “We’re matchin’. Seems like a costume to me.” Daryl finally shifted his attention back to you, and he could see the love clear as day on your face. Love for him, love for Jasper, and love for your life.

You stepped forward, a small pillowcase in your hand. “You two ready to go get some much deserved treats?”

Daryl nodded, and looked back at Jasper. “Whatcha say, buddy? Ready for some candy?”

“Yeah! Let’s go!” Jasper exclaimed. He wiggled himself from Daryl’s embrace, before rushing towards the door.

Daryl chuckled and extended his hand towards you, lacing his fingers through yours. “I thought ya said he was gon’ be Spider-Man.”

“No, I said that he was gonna go as his favourite superhero,” you corrected him. When Daryl looked at you in confusion, you laughed lightly and nudged his shoulder with yours as the two of you walked out of your home, making sure to keep Jasper in your sights. “Dar, you are his favourite superhero. He told me so himself.”

A smile spread across Daryl’s face. That admission made his heart swell. He knew that Jasper loved him, but he never knew he saw him like that. It made him so happy to know that he had not been failing as a father, that Jasper would rather dress up like him for Halloween than Spider-Man, a superhero he had been obsessing over since he had been introduced to him.

“I can’t believe ya managed to keep this a secret from me,” Daryl changed the subject, knowing that if he dwelled on what you had said, he would start crying, no doubt.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Eh. A few late nights while you were asleep seemed to do the trick.” You laughed lightly at his look of disbelief. “I’m happy you like it, though. Jasper has been so excited about this since that night in his room.”

“I love it. Almost as much as I love the two’a ya,” he murmured. The two of you walked up one of the driveways, watching as Jasper eagerly knocked on the door. “Thank you. This was a real nice surprise.”

“Of course, Dar. Of course,” you told him. However, before you could say anything else, Jasper’s voice called out from the door of the person’s home, where the kind old lady of the community was standing, with a bowl of candy in her hands.

“Mama, Daddy, quick! I need the bag for the candy!”

You and Daryl shared a chuckle, before hurrying up the driveway and to your son. Together, the three of you went house to house, passing several kids and parents on the way, although you were not concerned about that. Your only concern was how happy you were in that moment, basking in something you had thought was lost to the world before; Halloween with the people you loved.

And if you noticed that Daryl silently placed more candy into Jasper’s pillowcase—candy he had found on a run, specifically for the occasion—when you all got home later that night, and how he whispered to Jasper to ‘not tell Mama’, you did not say anything. You would let it slide this one time, too delighted to care much about it.

[11vr1]

Been Away ⭒ Miles Morales

Synopsis › You were tired of his secrets and lies, so you did the one thing you promised you’d never do and walked away. But Miles Morales wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

Pairing › Earth-42! Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

Inspo › “Been Away” - Brent Faiyaz

Includes › ATSV SPOILERS, Angst, the tiniest bit of fluff, pet names, spanish, a microscopic amount of manipulation, toxicity, going back to your ex, stalking, harassment, mentions being mugged, mentions being stabbed, mentions the police

P.S. › I do my best work when I’m sleep deprived.

P.S.S. › Reading comments and reblogs really make my day, even if you’re telling me my commas suck. Requests are also open.

Y/n pulled down the sleeves of her crocheted sweater as she stepped out of the bodega, white plastic bag of chips and candy in hand. The sun was close to setting behind skyscrapers and plunging New York City into its usual state of terror. It was dangerous to be alone on the streets, but Y/n figured she’d be fine walking a few blocks to her friend’s place. She pushed through sidewalk traffic, passing others who were just as eager to be safe in their homes.

Her phone chimed with a text.

Unknown: Turn left.

She paused, looking up to scan her surroundings. There was nothing strange or out of place. Just stores closing up for the night and people minding their own business. Despite how normal everything seemed to be, Y/n knew better. She spared a glance at the alley to her left, immediately deciding against it and kept walking.

Another chime. She ignored it and the next. Stopping wasn’t worth possibly ending up on the eleven o’clock news. At least that’s what she told herself. The less rational part of her mind had a thought. In some ways more terrifying than being mugged.

Tucked away in her pocket, her phone rang. This time she checked. Unknown. Y/n scoffed, rejecting the call.

Unknown: One more chance.

Unknown: Take a left.

Unknown: I won’t ask again.

Her phone rang once more. With a long, begrudging sigh Y/n swiped to accept. “I thought you weren’t going to ask again,” she said, her eyes darting warily to the darkening street.

“Make a left, Y/n,” a deep distorted voice ordered from the other line. Her heart dropped. Maybe the irrational part of her brain wasn’t as off kilter as she thought. The call hung up like she didn’t need anymore convincing.

The yawning mouth of an alley stared back at her. She took a calming breath, inhaling the morning rain before stepping away from any potential witnesses. Her footsteps echoed in the eerie silence of the alley. Her skin heated in either fear or anticipation, she didn’t know. “I don’t have all night,” she spoke into the open air. “I will leave.” Y/n attempted to hide the tremble in her throat.

Her ringtone was shrill in the alley. She jumped. The bright smiling photo of her friend illuminated her face. She did not hesitate to answer. “Hello?”

“Thank god! You’re still alive. Are you close?”

“Yeah, I’m almost there, Ellie,” Y/n began to exit the alley. “The bodega line was long.” She rustled her haul of snacks.

“It’s getting dark. I can send my brother to meet you. Ya know he’s always had a bit of a thing for you and now that you’re single…” Ellie trailed off. Y/n could practically hear her smile.

She rolled her eyes, laughing nervously, “You don’t have to make him come get me. I’ll be—” She was cut off by her own scream ripping from her throat. A streak of darkness and neon flashed in front of her, swiping the phone from her hand. Her grocery bag tumbled to the concrete as she stumbled over her heels. Cold metal met her back. A well defined arm snaked around her waist, held her impossibly tight.

“Y/n? Y/n!” Her friend’s voice rose over the speakers.

The smooth phone screen pressed against her cheek. “Tell her you’re okay then hang up,” the same warped voice demanded in her ear.

Y/n felt her lips move before he ended the call. Some quick lie about a monstrous rat. Blood thrummed through her skull along with her ragged breaths.

“Let me go!” Y/n wrestling out of his grip with no resistance, finally turning around. She halted. Pixelated eyes narrowed at her. What had she been expecting? Was a mask better?

Getting slashed for the money in her wallet and being left for dead by a dumpster was starting to sound more appealing than her current situation.

Mechanic panels whirred and parted open. Rich, penetrating dark eyes took in every inch of the girl in front of him, peeling back layer after layer in that calculating glare Y/n knew all too well. “Hola, mami.”

She hoped to never hear that name fall from anyone’s lips. Much less his. Y/n allowed a selfish moment to let her gaze wander. His braids were fresh, obviously not her work. Fade clean. Jay’s untied. Bronze skin annoyingly flawless. He was the same, except for the faint bags decorating his eyes. His chuckle bounced off the brick walls, catching her. It was sobering.

“You have one minute, Morales. One minute before I run screaming and call the feds on your ass,” she crossed her arms.

“Morales?” Miles raised an eyebrow. “Damn. Is that what we doin’ now?”

“Fifty.”

He circled her like the predator he was, each footstep deafening. “You look good, ma. Where you goin’ so late? It’s not safe.”

“You know where! You’ve been following me, remember? How long have you been doing that for? Just another secret, huh?” Y/n was on the verge of yelling, her initial fear replaced by pure rage. “You’re not even going to deny it.”

Miles dared a step forward. Y/n took two back. “You’re afraid of me.” Her lack of an answer was a shattering confirmation.

“I’m afraid of what you do, Miles,” she motioned to his suit, the spray painted insignia physically painful to see on his chest. The Prowler. She would have never fathomed the possibility if she hadn’t seen him in action herself. “You’re a criminal. You steal. You’ve killed people,” she choked trying to swallow back tears.

He dragged a gloved hand down his face. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right! I don’t get it. You changed and I don’t understand why.” Her waterline welled. Three months of suppressed feelings threatened to rear their ugly heads when he was near. Because of him, of course.

It was ironic how much he made her feel, even now. Ellie, other friends, Y/n’s family never fully warmed up to Miles. He was unfeeling, nonchalant, closed off. They couldn’t see how a girl like her could fall for him and stay. At least that’s the promise she made.

“So did you. You walked away. Left me. What happened to our forever, Y/n?”

“You expected nothing to change? In what world would I not react or feel some typa way?” She tensed. Another wave of anger seared through her veins. How dare he turn this on her? “Oh wait,” her laugh was humorless. “I was never supposed to find out.”

“I have to do this. The world ain’t right and I need to protect the people I care about,” he placed a hand over his armor, over his chest. “I couldn’t do shit about my dad, but you…” He stalked closer. This time she didn’t back away.

Miles grasped her hand, placing it over his heart. She couldn’t face his intensity for too long, not without air. He wore the same musky cologne she gifted him for Christmas.“Mirame,” he tilted her delicate face towards him. “Mi corazón, I can keep you safe. You gotta let me. If something happened to you I don’t know what I would do.” His chiseled features twisted, barely able to utter the words. He finally closed the space between them, resting his forehead against hers.

“One minute,” Y/n whispered. It had been more than one minute.

Without separating, he slowly slipped her phone into her back pocket, letting his fingers linger by the waist of her jeans. “Call them. I’ll stay right here and you can end this. You’ll never have to see me again. Prometo, mi corazón.”

She should have listened when Ellie told her to stay away. Undeniably gorgeous, genius level intellect, sexy accent. There was always a catch, she said. She was right. But there was one drawback not even her best friend predicted.

Y/n pulled away. Suddenly the autumn air was too chilly through her sweater. She unlocked her phone. Typed 9-1-1. She looked up through her lashes at Miles as if he would melt into the shadows and escape. She didn’t expect sheer defeat to paint his face, unhidden behind his usual mask of indifference. Her thumb froze.

Miles Morales had Y/n entranced. He’d woven himself into her being, hollowed out a space in her soul just for him. Those titanium claws were in deep and she didn’t know if she had the strength to pry them out or wanted to.

Y/n pocketed her phone. She resigned to every emotion she harbored for the boy in front of her. She chose every wrong decision. “Go, Miles.”

His grin was smug. “Should I call you?”

“Don’t push it, Morales.” He draped his arms around her shoulders, dragged her into his warmth. “I’ll unblock you. Sound good?”

Miles angled his head. His smile stretched to his eyes, showing those rarely seen dimples. “Sí, mami. Whatever you want.”

[icyminghao]

workplace crush

pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader genre: fluff, workplace!au warning(s): brief mentions of food word count: 1k

summary: jeon wonwoo, also known as the company’s “IT Department Crush”, doesn’t seem to faze you in the slightest, much to your best friend’s dismay.

a/n: meant to be the couple from here, but can also be read as a standalone

“Oh my god! There he is again, look!” Minhee, your childhood best friend and current colleague at work, exclaims suddenly, tapping your arm with a newfound fervor.

“Who?” you deadpan, poking at your lunch with your fork.

“It’s Jeon Wonwoo! Sejeong really wasn’t kidding when she said he was the IT Department’s eye-candy,”

The name raises an eyebrow, but you’re quick to shake it off and regain control of your poker face.

“Jeon Wonwoo, huh? He looks okay,” you reply without turning to look at the subject of the conversation.

“Just okay? Come on, y/n! Just because you have a boyfriend doesn’t mean you can’t admit that Mr. White Button-down over there is hot as shit,” Minhee scoffs in amusement as she urges you to sneak a glance at the man of the hour. Deciding to appease your friend, you turn around to do just that and find the acclaimed Jeon Wonwoo sitting at a nearby table with a few other people, presumably his colleagues. He’s dressed in a white button-down with rolled up sleeves and a pair of navy-blue jeans, and to top it all off, he’s sporting a pair of horn-rimmed glasses you’ve never seen anyone pull off better than him.

“My boyfriend’s hotter,” you shrug, going back to eating your food. Minhee purses her lips in thought at the response.

“Is he? Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him,” she muses.

“You haven’t? No way,” you respond immediately, quick to wave off Minhee’s observation.

“What do you mean, ‘no way’? You haven’t introduced your boyfriend to any of us! I’ve been dying to see who exactly met your sky-high standards,” Minhee whines, much to your amusement.

“You’d be surprised,” you chuckle and look up to see that Minhee’s attention has been diverted to something (or someone) behind you.

“Pause. Don’t look, but Mr. IT Department Crush is coming our way right now,” Minhee’s voice drops an octave as she whispers through gritted teeth, eyes widened in warning. You suppress an amused smile at her behaviour and watch as a certain Jeon Wonwoo takes a seat beside you. All the while, Minhee looks on the situation with a wide-open mouth as you try your hardest to hold in your laughter.

“Hey, y/n,” Wonwoo greets you as he settles down, then turns to nod at Minhee, who nods back in equal parts confusion and awe, “Jeonghan was wondering whether you wanted to join us for karaoke night later?”

“Sorry, Wonwoo, but I have plans with Minhee tonight. Maybe next time?” you frown apologetically at having to reject Wonwoo’s proposal, but he simply nods in response, flashing you the smallest of smiles in return.

“It’s okay. I’ll see you later?” he hums in response before nodding once again at Minhee in greeting and leaving, presumably to return to his colleagues at the IT Department.

Silence ensues as you and Minhee blink at each other for a solid minute or so, before Minhee lets out a huge breath and breaks the silence.

“Did you just… have a whole conversation with the IT Department Crush? You never told me you knew him!” Minhee whisper-shouts, slapping your arm lightly for dramatic effect. You rub your arm and feign an injury, to which Minhee simply pouts at you in response.

“You never asked!” you reason.

“No wonder you didn’t bat an eye when I talked about him!” Minhee huffs, crossing her arms as she squints at you. You shrug, bursting into laughter at Minhee’s behaviour.

“Whatever. My girlfriend’s hotter, anyway.”

“y/n…” Minhee suddenly drawls halfway through your meal with her, and you hum in amusement.

“Earlier, what did IT Department Crush mean by ‘see you later’? You’ve been with me the whole time since lunch break and we’re off work now,” Minhee furrows her eyebrows in thought, and you tilt your head in confusion, trying to recall the interaction.

“He did? Must have been a slip of the tongue,” you shrug nonchalantly, and Minhee leans forward, putting on a look that you know she always puts on whenever she’s about to analyse something (or someone).

“The two of you seem close,” she muses, clearly suspicious, much to your amusement.

“You could say that,” you hum, pursing your lips together. Minhee purses her lips together in thought before shrugging in response.

“Eh. Anyway, did you see the boss’s new outfit today? I’m dying to know where she got it from,” your best friend is quick to change the topic, and the subject of a certain eye-candy of the IT Department is quickly forgotten for the rest of the dinner with Minhee.

“How are you going home tonight? We could give you a ride, my girlfriend’s coming soon.” Minhee asks after the both of you had stepped out of the restaurant, greeted by the glittering moonlight shining down on the streets bustling with nightlife.

“Oh, it’s okay, my boyfriend’s coming over,” you politely reject Minhee’s offer just as a white sedan pulls up in front of you. Minhee sighs.

“There goes my chance of meeting your mystery of a boyfriend,” Minhee fake-whines, “I’ll see you next week, okay? Let us see him soon!”

“Yeah, yeah, I will!” you chuckle, waving Minhee and her girlfriend goodbye as they drive off, leaving you alone on the street.

Shortly after, you hear the familiar roar of an engine, and your boyfriend pulls up in his navy blue coupe, rolling down the passenger window to send you a greeting smile.

“Hey, darling,” you greet as you enter his car, settling down before looking at him in entirety. He’s still wearing the same white button-down from earlier, but his hair looks a bit tousled as compared to how neat it was just this morning. You reach forward and ruffle his locks just because.

“How was today?” Wonwoo grins at the touch, giving you a small peck on the cheek before driving again.

“Well, I heard from Minhee that you’ve garnered quite the reputation in the company,” you decide to tease him.

“I have?” Wonwoo replies, confused.

“They call you the IT Department Crush,” you explain, watching him closely for a reaction.

“I guess that’s pretty accurate, considering you had a crush on me,” Wonwoo chuckles, reaching a hand out to rest on your thigh affectionately.

“You had a crush on me first! Must I remind you how Soonyoung-”

“Okay, baby, you win,” Wonwoo concedes, “I had a crush on you first.”

“It’s okay, darling,” you giggle, “We had a crush on each other.”

Wonwoo groans. “You’re lame.”

a/n 2: 230926 jeon wonwoo you will be the death of me (also this was pretty bad i’m sorry lol)

taglist: @slytherinshua @xomingyu @pepperonidk @belladaises @tastymintchocolate @dahliatopia @kwantaro @chanceonceli

masterlist

[spidybaby]

Valentine's Day through the years

A little late valentine's day gift from me to you 😋❤️

February 2020

"Can you open the door? Is Aurora." You sister asks, brush in one hand and hairspray on the other.

She was throwing a valentine's day party and you were helping her with opening the door since she said "only friends" are allowed.

"Isn't it a little early for her to be here?" You ask, confused. Getting up from your bed. "Like two hours early."

"just open the door." she yells from her bathroom.

You walked downstairs, mad that you weren't allowed to be at the party but you were opening everybody's knock.

"Hola guapa." Aurora says, hugging you. "Pablo had the cupcakes, help him please."

Behind her it was Pablo, he was carrying two cupcake plates, they look amazing you had to admit.

You grab one of the plates, walking to the garden and leaving it on the very pink and red table.

"Y/n, Pablo's staying, maybe you guys can watch a movie or something." Aurora says, she was putting some decorations on the garden. "and don't worry I'll take care of the door."

You turn to Pablo, he has this mad face. You and him are civil but he never cross words with you.

"we can see something in my room." You offer, he nods. You both walk to your room. He sits on the chair you have there. "You can sit on the bed."

He does that, sitting next to you. You open netflix and pass him the remote, you let him pick whatever he likes.

"I like comedies and I like action movies. But you can pick any movie you want." You smile at him.

You can't deny your little crush on him. Aurora and your sister are like glue, always together, meaning whenever they have the chance they force you to go out with them.

The thing here is, Pablo was shy, he was very introverted and he didn't even answer you with more than a yes or no.

"Do you want some pop corn and soda?" You get up from bed and walk to your door. "I know you're a footballer but a cheat day won't hurt"

The little smile he gives you is making your stomach go crazy. He nods excited. "do you have that red soda?"

"si, do you want a cupcake? I can steal two."

"por favor." he smiles big, you love the way he was smiling.

You hurry downstairs, grabbing a package of popcorn and throwing them in the microwave.

"Aurora, I think the bathroom is not working, is that going to be a problem?"

"What? No, that can't be I just went." she leaves what she's doing. "let me check, maybe it's not."

When she left the table you grab two of the pink cupcakes. Hurrying to the kitchen to hide them.

"False alarm, is working." she says happy. "sorry I left you with my brother, mom asked me to bring him and well you guys are the same age. Just ask him about football or something."

"Yeah, no problem."

When the popcorn is ready you grab everything in a little tray and carefully take it to your room.

"I have that red soda and the cupcake."

His eyes light up, it was like seeing a child excited for candy even when mom said no.

"I picked a comedy, since you say you like them."

Your smile grow, you leave the tray on your bed, taking a sit next to him you both watch the comedy.

After three movies, two comedies and one action. The night was coming to an end, sadly, you think to yourself.

The music from the party recently gone as your sister's friends say goodbye to her.

You turn the TV off, moving the empty popcorn bowl. The two cupcakes seating on top of the tray.

You remembered what Aurora told you. "cómo van los partidos?" (how are the matches?)

He scuff, he knows you don't know anything about football. "good, I scored a goal in my last one." he smiles proud.

You nod, not sure what else to ask. "that's good, so you're a forward?"

"No, I'm a midfielder."

"Oh, okay." You say low. "and do you like being a midfielder?"

He laughs, you smile a little at that, at least one of you is having fun with the talk. "I do, I love playing. When I play I feel so good."

"You play really good, the other day Aurora showed us a video."

He blush at the confession. He loves when people ask about football but with you he feels more shy than usual.

"I have a game in a few days, maybe you can come." he asks, very low voice. Grabbing the cupcake and biting it to make the things less awkward.

"Pablo." You laugh, the frosting from the cupcake on his nose. "come here."

You grab a napkin, cleaning carefully his nose. His eyes are on you the whole time, he love the way your eyes shine, maybe too much to ever say it.

"Done." You smile, getting up from bed and throwing the napkin on the little trashcan in your room.

Aurora knocks on the door, announcing that their mom was waiting for them and to pick his things.

"Thank you for the movie and for the food, I really enjoy it."

Your smile grow, he loved that. "Thank you for not leaving me alone, it would have been so much worse without you here."

Aurora screaming at Pablo to go interrupt your chat. He waves goodbye and walk out of your room.

"Pablo." You call, hand on the door and only half body out of the door. "Hope you score a goal for this match, so I can say I have a good memory of my first match."

The last thing you see is his smile, closing the door and trying to remain calm. You feel like in one of those romantic movies.

February 2021

"That was amazing. You did it amazing, Pablo. " You jump in his arms, excited about the victory.

"Did you see that assist?" He asks happily, arms hugging you tightly. "Thank you for coming."

Pablo and you became closer after the last 14th of February. You two became what your sisters are.

Aurora and your sister keep telling you that Pablo likes you as more than a friend. You prefer to let him tell you that and don't make yourself the fool.

"Of course I was coming. My boy is in the first team. I can't lose this."

My boy

Pablo loves it when you call him that. You're very special. The way you take care of him, motivate him to be better. In less than a year, you became his number one supporter.

"I think I'm allowed to eat something I shouldn't just tonight. Want to do that with me?" He grabs your hand and walks with you back to Pedri.

"Hola, long time no see," Pedri jokes with you. He knows about Pablo's crush on you and takes every opportunity to make it notice. "Did you enjoy the game?"

"I did, I'm happy you guys got assists today." You high-five Pedri. Pablo can't help the big smile he has.

To all the people around you it was obvious the connection you two have. They just need to look at Pablo's eyed when he's talking about you or talking to you.

"The eyes never lie." That's what his mother says.

Pedri drop the two of you to a restaurant. Asking Pablo to be careful and to enjoy the night.

You walk in front of him, that's when he notices that you're wearing the shirt he gave you. The one he used to play for the first time with the first team.

That number 30 and his name sitting on your back are doing things to him.

"Hello, how many in your party?" The host asks you.

"Two, please."

"You're so lucky. We have a table ready for you."

She guides you to the table. You love the decorations of the place, it was all so cute yet not exorbitant and tacky.

"We have a special Valentine's Day menu for all our couples. I'll leave it here and I'll leave two normal menus in case you want something else."

You can't help but blush at her words. You two aren't a couple, not because you don't want to, but you like the way that sounds.

"So, since you're my valentine's today," Pablo jokes, the smile he has is a teasing one. "Two valentine's day meals?"

"You didn't ask me to be your valentine" you pout, making him laugh.

"Y/n, pretty girl, will you be my valentine?"

He grabs a rose from the little bouquet that's making decoration in the wall next to him. He offers the rose to you with a big smile.

"I'll have to think about it, Mister Gavi." You take the rose, smelling it.

"What about now?" He steals another two roses, giving them to your now small bouquet. "Will you be now?"

"Yes." You grab his hand and intertwine your fingers with him. "That means you're buying me dessert."

He laughs, not letting your hand go. He nods at you, noticing how you're looking at your hands. He brings your hand closer to his mouth, giving it a kiss.

"I'll get you anything you want."

The little interaction was interrupted by the waitress. You both order the valentine's day meal.

Dinner was good. You both laughed with stories from the dressing room. He was spilling all the things that happened today.

"There's a park like a block away. Would you like to walk for a little while before I drop you home?"

"That would be nice. Maybe my pants will fit me again." You both laugh at that.

Once you're out of the restaurant and near the park, your hands find his again. You smile at the thought of him wanting more than just friendship.

After all, Aurora and your sister were sure of it. But what if it wasn't like that? What if he's just a very affectionate friend?

Friends held hands? Yes, they do.

Friends support each other? Yes.

Friends take each other out to eat on valentine's day? ... maybe?

The park has these rose tunnels. They were beautiful and very romantic. The way the little light was enough and gave this romantic vibe to the people walking in.

"What's on your mind? Pretty girl." He stops, noticing how you're lost in your thoughts.

Do you want to ruin the night with the question that's burning your brain? Do you want to ruin the friendship by letting your mind run crazy?

You look at him, worried frown on his face. "Tell me, maybe I can help you?" The way his hands are now on your waist, bringing you closer to him.

You're not sure if you should tell him. You're not ready for his answer. You don't want to end the day crying in your room.

"I'm just thinking." You whisper.

"About?"

"Us." You confess.

His grip is stronger, not hurting you, but enough for you to notice the sudden change.

"What about us?" He whispers. He's scared, scared of you telling him that you only like him as a friend. Scared of losing you.

"Pablo, I like you." You say. Lips quivering.

He's internally screaming, making the best work of his life by keeping that famous frown.

You wait for him to say something, eyes glued to each other. As the seconds pass, you feel your heart breaking. He doesn't like you that way.

But how wrong you're, his mind is working a thousand miles per hour. Not sure how to tell you that he likes you too without sounding too crazy.

Your hands move from his shoulders to his hands, moving them away from you. You want to go home and cry yourself to sleep.

That action makes him go back to reality. He notices your tearful eyes. "Wait, no."

"No, it's okay. I can take a cab home. Don't worry."

You decided to leave, not wanting for him to see you cry. But the grip on your arm stops you. "Wait, Y/n."

"No, Pablo. It's okay, I just want to go home." You remove his hand from your arm, walking away from him.

"Can you let me say what I have to say?" He grabs your arm again. He needs to say it.

"You don't have to say anything, I know."

"No, you don't, shit you don't." His hands go back to your waist. "You don't know because I've been a stupid kid who doesn't know any better, I like you too, maybe too much for me to feel comfortable saying it."

You want to say something, but he keeps rambling.

"And you have no idea, joder. The way you look at me with those beautiful shiny eyes and the way you smile or laugh even at my bad jokes." He laughs, making you laugh. "The way my name looks on your back is making me think things I shouldn't but things I only think about you. And the way you know my sister and she loves you and my mom. Gosh, my mom. "

"What about your mom?" You ask confused.

"She told me to confess because a girl like you won't come twice in a lifetime." He hugs you, bringing you closer to him. You lock your arms behind his neck. "I like you more than you think. I was just too scare to say it before."

"I'm head over heels with everything you just said, but can you please shut up and kiss me?" You smile, making him chuckle.

His hand goes to the back of your neck, bringing you closer. The kiss is everything you ever dreamed of. All those nights dreaming about it now coming true.

He smiles into the kiss. Happy that the girl he always had a crush on, the sister of his sister's best friend, the one Aurora always tried to bring closer because they were the same age.

"Se mi novia." (Be my girlfriend) He let's out, not thinking much about it. "I can't let another day pass without making you my girlfriend." You nod, kissing him again.

"Te prometo que voy a hacer algo mejor que esto, pero hoy quiero volver a casa y que todos sepan que eres mía." (I promise that I'm doing something better than this, but tonight I just want to go back home and let all my family know you're mine.)

You press your forehead to his, enjoying the moment. He was yours, and you were his. That's all you need to know.

February 2022

"Pablo, stop it." You say, morning voice making Pablo chuckle. He continue with the kisses on your neck and back. "Amor, five minutes more."

"You asked me for five minutes like twenty minutes ago."

You open your eyes, room kinda dark thanks to the curtains. The big mirror he has reflecting you with his arms around you.

"Feliz aniversario, preciosa mía." (happy anniversary) he kiss your earlobe. "if you weren't such a sleepy head I would have given you a good morning gift but now I'm thinking of breakfasts." he tease you. Making you blush at the thought of your last night actions.

You turn to face him, smirk on his face. "Feliz aniversario, ojitos lindos." You kiss his lips, your hands caressing his chest. "I'm hungry too."

He laughs, kissing you again. He push you lightly, getting on top of you while he deepens the kiss.

He loves the way you whimper every time he touch you. Every sound, every little jump your body gives. You are his.

"Pablo, I have class in an hour." You remind him. His head buried between you neck. "and I am hungry, amor."

You both get up from bed, quickly running to the bathroom to do your routine and to force Pablo to do the one you taught him to keep his skin clean.

"Oye, I forgot my bag in the truck of my car, can you please help me and bring it? I'll make us some pancakes."

"Yes sir." You laugh, walking to the garage to open the truck. "Oh my god." You find five designer bags. All of them with red bows. "Pablo!"

He smiles when he heards you calling his name. He knows you've been stressing about classes, having barely any sleep.

He also knows you don't like when he spoils you, you're shy about it, telling him that you're more than spoiled with him letting you live with him and not allowing you to pay any bill or anything.

"Amor, what is all this?" You walk inside with the five bags. He smirk, serving the first pancake on the plate.

"A little something for my reina."

"Pablo, I can't. Amor this is too much." You check the first bag. It's a beautiful Hermes blanket you save on Pinterest. "Amor, this cost more than my tuition."

"Not at all." he laughs, the way you look at the blanket with such eyes. The shiny eyes he loves. "Keep looking."

"Dios mio, how?"

He smirks, he had to get your friends help to pick some things like colors or sizes. Like the bag you have in your hands, he knew you wanted it, but you never decided in a color of your preference.

Your eyes land on the red and gold bag. Cartier. You told him once a few months back that you wanted to match with him on something.

You gifted him a bracelet, he wears it everywhere he goes, is his favorite piece of jewelry.

But you wanted something else to match him. You remember that you wanted a P inicial.

His hands on your waist make you go back to reality, it was two necklaces, one with your initial and one with his and a little six.

"We can match now." he whispers in your ear, kissing your neck. "want me to put it in you?"

You nod, happy that he remembered something so small. You feel the tears in your eyes and he lock the necklace in place.

"Pablo." You turn to him, hugging his torso and crying in his chest. "te amo, you're so special."

He caress your back, kissing your head. "You're my baby, my reina, and I'm always going to give you everything you want."

"But I can't give you the same. And that make me feel bad for you, you're so special and I want to spoil you too."

"shhhh. You're special too, you spoil me a lot. You take care of me, you cook for me, you help me when I'm sick, when I'm tired, you're my biggest fan."

You nod, knowing that even when what you give him is not much. For him it was more than enough.

"Now give me a kiss and let's eat, you have to go to class." he dry your tears and kiss your cheeks and then your lips.

"I don't want to go." You whine. Hugging him again.

"Preciosa, see it this way, our kids will need help with the homework, and the one who will help them is you." he jokes. "that's your motivations".

You laugh, he always knew the right thing to say to make you feel better.

February 2023

"Can you serve me some more juice?" he smiles, kissing your shoulder. "pretty please."

"Pablo, venga hombre que tu te puedes levantar. Deja a la niña comer." (c'mon son. You can get up, let her eat in peace) his dad say. Smacking him in the back of the head.

You laugh at that, but you grab his cup and get up to serve him more juice. You know how crazy he gets for orange juice.

"Listo, now eat." You pass him the juice after taking a sip of it.

"Hey. That's mine." he frowns. Joking with you. "Thank you, preciosa."

You were eating with his parents, they were visiting from Sevilla and wanted to spend time with you two.

Aurora and her boyfriend are with you two. You love spending time with them. Going on double dates with them.

"You want to know what's funny?" Aurora giggles. "your sister and I always talked about going on double dates and now that's she's in Paris. You're the one I'm going on double dates with."

You giggle with her. Your sister moved to Paris to study design. She and Aurora always video chat and text but now that you're with Pablo, Aurora and you were closer. Thing that makes your sister extra happy. Knowing that you're taking care of each other.

"We're going on a hiking adventure today, if you guys want to join we will leave after lunch."

You thank him, explaining that Gavi and you were going on a little museum visit.

Gavi's plan was to take you to a museum, you love art. So to him it was a good idea to have a more calm anniversary and to do something you love and enjoy.

"Y/n, cariño. Can you help me later with the cooking, you're the only one that can get the sauce to its point." Belén asks you, you nod excited. "Thank you, mija."

You love cooking with Belen, she always gave you advice and you improved your cooking with her recepies.

After lunch you all chat for a little, you love his family and the love you as their own. If you ask Belen or Pablo's father, they would tell you that they can see you two going for the long ride.

Belén often asks Pablo about the future. If he ever sees you two in his plans. Pablo would say yes without hesitation. You're the most important person in his life. He knows that.

If someone asks you, you would say the same, you can picture yourself with a family. You can picture yourself walking down the aisle to him.

But you two are young. Too young to think about marriage and a family. You want to live a lot of things with him. Not rush into adulthood.

"Let's go, preciosa." he extends his hand out to you, you take it, thumb caressing his skin.

The drive was calm, he was singing this new song he has on replay. You love when he drives, it suits him so much the driver look.

He like the idea of going to a museum date, he's interested in things people don't know about, this being one of them.

"Look, this one is call El Beso" he says. Teasing tone as he elbow your arm.

"Wow, you know how to read names, babe. Good job." You joke. Making him pout.

Your hands intertwine as you walk around. There was this specific painting that Pablo liked. He was reading about it.

"I want a copy of this at home."

"Yes, it's very pretty."

"Pretty like you." he kiss your cheek. Hugging you while he finish reading about the painting.

You love how easy it is to enjoy things with him, how easy is to love him, to talk with him.

"Te amo, Pablito." You kiss his cheek. Hugging him tight.

"I know. I love you so much too." he kiss your lips. Smiling into the kiss.

February 2024

"Careful big boy." You say, helping him walk upstairs of your home. "Let's slow down, you're running."

He was tired. Tired of always needing help, tired of always looking like a kid who needs to be taken care of, tired of not being able to be the old him.

"Joder, I can't do this anymore." he fall in the bed. He feel like crying. "just leave without me."

You sit next to him. Caressing his hair and letting him cry, you help him with his shoes, taking off his Jordan's.

You grab the glass of water you always have next to you in bed. Bringing it to him, "Amor, drink this."

He does as you told him. Drinking the whole glass, you sit behind him, careful with his legs.

"Come here, amor." You push him down to you. His back stick to your chest. Your hands on his hair, nails caressing his scalp. "I'm not going anywhere, not without you." He sobs again, he's not in his best days and you know it. "shhh, I'm here. You're okay."

You treat him like a baby, you're aware of that, but you don't mind it. He was your baby, your Pablito, he was yours and you love taking care of him.

"Today my friend Jessica made cookies." You began telling him about your day to distract him. "and they're so good, I saved you one."

His sobs are more calm now. His breathing still very accelerated and that worries you.

"Also, today on this class, remember the one you convince me to take?" You kiss his hair. Hands caressing his arms up and down. He nods at your question. "Well they asked us today to describe something about our partner or someone we love, like when we knew we loved them."

He's calming down, paying attention to your words. You know how to calm him down, how to take his mind out of his worried state.

"And I talked about that nigh in the park. When you asked me to be your girlfriend." You giggle, remembering how happy you were that night. "I can't forget the words you told me. How your mom told you to confess your feeling for me, because a girl like me happens once in a lifetime."

"That's true." he whispers.

"I knew I loved you because you were so honest with me, you were so straight with your words. How you told me you will give me anything I want. And you do."

"Even when you told me that I spoil you too much." he chuckle.

"And I want you to know how in love I am with you, Pablo. You're my love." You kiss his earlobe, then his head. "do you know that?"

"I know, and I love you so much too. I'm in love with you too."

"So don't ever think just because of your ACL or any other injury I'll leave you behind. Pablo I'm with you for the long ride." You hug him, his hands find yours and intertwine them. "Now, what if we both stay home and I prepare some nice dinner or better, we can order McDonald's."

You see his reflection, he's smiling like crazy, even with red eyes and tearful cheeks he looks like an angel.

"Te amo. You're the love of my life."

"And you're the love of my life." You kiss his head again. "and I know that in every life time we will be together."

"Even as worms?" he tease you.

"Even as worms, mi amor."

You enjoy a night at home with him, telling stories and watching movies that you both later comment.

That's what you enjoy the most, how every moment is a special moment, even the smallest ones.

"Oye, kiddo." You call.

He lift his eyes from his ice-cream. Attention all on you.

"Te amo." You get closer to kiss him. "and I always will."

[anonsturniolo]

behind the scenes — matt sturniolo

paring — matt sturniolo x f!reader

genre — smut, coworkers to lovers/enemies to lovers

word count — ???

You let out a slight huff, staring at your reflection intensely. It was opening night for the haunted theme park and your makeup wasn’t turning out exactly how you wanted it. Today you were dressed up as a darker clown, your long hair in high pig tails, messy clown makeup that actually took you hours to do.

And now your extra long eyelashes won’t stay on. You rip them off your eyelids, wincing slightly at the sudden pull. Setting them down on the black vanity in front of you, you’re ready to give up.

“Need some help, baby?” A seductive voice whispers into your ear, making you jump in surprise. Your eyes meet Matt’s smug ones in the mirror, and you spin in your chair to face him.

“Jesus, Matt.” You glare at him, your hand shooting out to slap his arm. He just laughs to himself as he takes a seat in the open chair next to you.

Matt had just started working with you nearly 2 weeks ago, right when the season started. The fair you worked for was typically set up for the whole month of October, giving you a break from your “normal” job.

You on one hand loved it, but anytime Matt came around? You questioned why you even liked it here. There was something about him that just got under your skin, maybe it was his cocky attitude. Or the fact he was so undeniably attractive.

Especially in his joker costume.

His makeup was always perfectly messy, his hair brushed back exposing his forehead and letting his blue eyes shine bright in contrast. He never spray painted his hair green, claiming that would just “ruin his look”, but what it really meant was he wanted to look good for the countless of girls he’d pursue.

“I can help you, forreal.” Matt muttered from beside you, and you glanced down at the eyelashes.

You turn to face him with a cocked brow, “And how do you know how to put them on?” You cryptically asked, making him roll his eyes.

“I’ve seen enough girls put them on, don’t see why I can’t figure it out.” He shrugs, before leaning forward with the eyelash in hand. You finally lower your eyes, giving him better access to apply the band as close to your lash line as he could get.

You sit there awkwardly as he fiddles with the eyelash, and although you hate him; your body flushes with heat as you can feel his warm breath fanning across your face. When Matt gently grips your cheeks, turning your head to get a better view, you nearly bite back a moan.

You couldn’t help it, you loved to be manhandled.

“There.” Matt mutters, extending to his full height and admiring his handy work. You turn to face the mirror, surprised when you take a closer look at your eyelashes. They were perfectly applied.

You fight back a frown, refusing to meet Matt’s eyes in the mirror, “Thanks, Matt.” You sigh, shuffling off of your chair now fully ready to venture around the park and get some scares in.

Matt lets out a groan as you pass him, making you turn back to give him a questioning glance, “You look so sexy tonight in that dress, can’t get over it.” He boldly tells you, to which you flip him off and add an extra sway to your hips, knowing he was watching you leave.

“Fucking Christ..”

Confidence surged through you, giggling as you popped out and startled guest after guest. A couple hours had passed, and you were now sat on a bench as you plucked at some cotton candy. You were busy watching a family from a distance as they got scared by someone jumping out of a bush to notice Matt approaching you.

“Hey.” Matt greets you, sitting down beside you and ignoring the glare you sent his way. You nearly forgot about him, and how he was making you feel earlier, but it all came crashing down on you as he placed a warm hand on your upper thigh.

You look from his eyes to his hand a few times, before you turn away from him. You know there’s a cocky smirk on his stupid face, so you know better than to look back to him.

“Just gonna ignore me now?” Matt asks, and you relish in the way he huffs when you don’t give him any attention. Just as you’re about to place another piece of the cotton candy in your mouth, it’s ripped from you grasp completely.

“What the hell!?” You cry out, your eyes finally meeting Matt’s as he throws away the sugary treat in the trash can next to him. “Matt, what the fuck is your issue?”

Matt grabbed your arm firmly, his tight grasp shocking you. He glanced back at you, his eyes flaring with anger. Wordlessly, he dragged you back to the dressing room the two of you were in hours prior.

“What is my issue? What’s your fucking issue?” Matt snarled, his voice deep with anger, “Givin’ me all this sass, ignoring me.” He kissed his teeth briefly, waiting for a response.

You crossed your arms defensively, “I don’t have an issue.” You insist, and you hate the way Matt is staring at you. As if he knew every thought you’ve ever had, like he felt how you were already dripping because of him.

A cocky smirk crosses his lips, he takes a taunting step towards you, “Y’know, I’ve always had a thing for clowns…” he trails off, raising a hand to lightly tug on one of your pigtails. Your breath hitched at his sultry voice, and how his eyes slowly traveled down your body.

“Matt.” You whisper, grabbing the hand that was ghostly tracing your waist, halting his movements, “I don’t wanna be just another girl on your list.” You explain once his eyes meets yours.

“You won’t be,” he insists, twisting his hand in your grasp to hold your hand, “I’ve wanted you for so long…” he trailed off, his eyes zoning in on your lips.

“Those other girls? Never slept with them.” Your surprised eyes meet his, the question on the tip of your tongue, “I only talked to them when you were around, thought I could make you jealous.” Instantly your lips were smashed against his, your hands threaded through his hair and tugging him closer.

Matt let out a soft grunt at the sensation, easily picking you up and placing you on the vanity behind you. The kiss deepened, the two of you hungry for each other. You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, causing you to tug on his shirt.

“Want it off,” you mumbled against his lips, nearly whining at the loss of him as he leaned back and whipped it off. His face paint was smeared with black, due to your makeup.

His lips smashed against yours once again, his hands grabbing at the supple flesh of your thighs. Your hands have a mind of their own, trailing up and down his chest, exploring his exposed skin for the first time.

Matt finally broke the kiss, leaving trails of kisses down your neck as his hands began to bunch up the fabric of your dress. Hastily you shove his hands away, ignoring his confused stare as you slide the garment over your head. You’re left in a black lacy set, and your tights.

“Goddamn..” he muttered, his hands instantly cupping your breasts as he kisses you again. The lust between the two of you poured into the kiss, seemingly to not get enough. Matt’s skillful hands snuck around and up your back, unhooking your bra, and gently taking the straps off your shoulders.

A soft gasp left you once your nipples were exposed to the cold air, your hips slightly bucking in search of relief. You begin to fumble with Matt’s belt to speed things along, and he’s quick to undo his pants and shove them down without breaking away from your lips.

Now left in his boxers, his hands find their way to your chest, tweaking and pulling at your nipples. You moan into his mouth as the pleasure begins to wash over you, your core clenching around nothing.

“Wanna taste you,” Matt mumbles against your lips, making you pull back.

You start to pull down his boxers, “Next time, please, I need you.” You seductively whine, and Matt nearly cums at your tone and pleading expression.

He smirks down at you, his fingers finally making their way to where you need him the most, ghosting over your clit above your panties.

“Y’need me, huh?” He taunts, and you nod your head rapidly in response. With his rock hard cock exposed, you take great pleasure in wrapping your hand around his base, slowly stroking it. When your fingers make contact with his slit, his hips jerk and a moan flies past his lips.

You lean in close to him, “Sounds like you need me too.” Matt doesn’t reply, just threads his hand under the hem of your underwear and pulls, breaking the thin fabric. You were too turned on to care, and you watch as he pulls you forward slightly so he’d have better access.

He removes your hand from his cock, his eyes falling down to your wet cunt, and he begins to slowly rock his hips letting his head bump into your clit. Your head falls back against the mirror, whimpers leaving your lips.

“Please, Matt.” You pathetically whine, lifting your head to meet his eyes. He slowly begins to push inside of you both of your jaws dropping as he bottoms out. The look he gives you is possessive, and his hips start snapping into yours at an animalistic pace.

“Matt!” You cry out once he hits that special spot, so deep inside of you. Your hands dig into his shoulders, causing him to let out deep grunts when he feels your nails pierce his skin.

“Mhm, that’s right baby,” he groans, removing one hand from your hips to rub harsh circles on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. The band deep within you was forming, begging to snap.

“Feels s’good…” Matt trailed off, making you look up at him through watery eyes. His eyes were focused on where your bodies connected, relishing in the way your cunt greedily swallowed his cock.

“G-Gonna cum.” You warned, making Matt look up at you. His eyes searched yours as the end neared, his lips smashing down onto yours in a feverish manner. He wasn’t ready for this to end, but he also knew this wouldn’t be the only time it happened.

“Be a good girl and cum f’me,” he grunted softly, feeling the way your gummy walls clenched onto him, “Cum on my cock baby.” He urged, feeling his impending orgasm near the edge.

“Matt!” You pathetically cry, the band within you finally snapping once Matt placed a firm hand on your lower stomach. Pure bliss washed over you as Matt fucked you through your orgasm, sending shocks of hot pleasure through your shaking body.

“Where do you want it?” Matt groaned, his grip on your hips tightened.

“Inside.” You said whine out, your hands pawing at his shoulders as the pleasure coursed over your body for the last time.

Matt’s thrusts grew erratic and sloppy, a telltale sign he was close. You clenched down rather hard onto him as your orgasm faded, immediately you could feel his release painting your walls white as he continued to fuck into you to ride out his orgasm.

You look up to his face, finally coming back to earth, to see his eyes clenched shut and his jaw slacked as the pleasure consumed him. His hips slowed to a stop, all that could be heard was heavy breathing as you both caught your breath.

“That was…” You trailed off, wincing as Matt slowly pulled out of you. He was quick to grab a towel, gently cleaning you off.

“I’m taking you to dinner tomorrow night.” He spoke without looking up at you, sliding your underwear back on.

You cocked a brow at him, “Are you now?”

Matt stares at you blankly, “Did I not just fuck the attitude outta you? Need more?”