#I scarfed down two whole plates

[dragonpyre]

Hating or being allergic to a popular food is honestly terrible cuz suddenly SO MUCH being sold or served is unavailable to you

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 16

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15

Aside from bathroom breaks, Eddie doesn’t leave his room for two days. Friday bleeds into Saturday, bleeds into Sunday, and Eddie wallows in it. Wayne knows him well enough to not bother him, but Wayne also knows him well enough to barge into Eddie’s room Sunday morning without even knocking.

“Up, boy,” he says gruffly, turning Eddie’s overhead light on. “Your eggs are getting cold.”

Eddie groans, and tries to roll over to bury his face back into his pillow, but Wayne grabs him by the ankle and yanks until he goes tumbling out of the bed.

“Wayne!”

“I ain’t asking,” Wayne says, storming out of Eddie’s room without closing the door.

As is his right, Eddie whines and rolls around on his floor for a minute until he can finally find the will to get up. Clearly knowing that it would take Eddie a minute, Wayne’s just plating eggs and potatoes as Eddie walks into the kitchen, still clothed in only his boxers and the same shirt he’d been wearing when Carver’d kicked his ass on Thursday.

They settle across from each other at their dingy table, Wayne letting him get a few bites of breakfast in him before the interrogation he knows is coming begins.

“What happened?” Wayne asks, pushing his own plate away so he can focus on staring Eddie down.

Eddie swallows his bite of potatoes, throat suddenly dry. But, he wants to tell someone, he wants to tell Wayne, who, no matter how Eddie fucks up, is always in his corner.

“I’ve been getting these letters,” Eddie starts, using his fork to play with his food so he doesn’t have to meet his Uncle’s eyes as the whole sordid tale comes out.

He tells it like he experienced it: thinking it was a joke at first before getting wrapped up in the letters, finding out it was Chrissy, trying to connect the living, breathing girl to the words on the page.

And then, Harrington, strong and sure as he defended him from Carver, taking care of his wounds in the aftermath, lying to him for months until he couldn't get away with it anymore.

Wayne just listens without interruption while Eddie talks about Jeff’s betrayal, the fear in Chrissy’s eyes, the defeated slope of Harrington’s back as he’d walked out the door, going god knows where with his car still at the quarry where he’d left it.

When Eddie’s finally done, Wayne hums and pulls his now-cold food back in front of him, picks up his fork and starts to eat. Eddie watches him, gobsmacked.

“Wayne?” Eddie asks, moving his hand up and down in front of his Uncle’s eyes, checking to see if the old man can even still see him. “That’s all you’re going to say? Hmm, and then back to breakfast?”

Eddie scowls as he forks another potato into his mouth, chewing as he continues his tirade. “Where are your wise words, old man? Why the hell’d you even make me get up if this is all I was going to get?”

Wayne hums again, clearly just to piss Eddie off, then finally answers, “you needed to eat.”

Eddie stares at him, mouth hanging open half-masticated potatoes on full display for anyone to see. Not that anyone’s going to because Wayne’s gone back to polishing off his breakfast.

“That’s it?” Eddie demands, throwing his fork down in a huff.

Wayne sighs, like Eddie’s the one being unreasonable here and finally puts his fork down to meet his nephew’s eyes.

“Finish your breakfast, and we can talk.”

Eddie whines, but dutifully scarfs down his plate, never breaking eye contact with his uncle, like they’re in a stand-off. And in a way, they are.

Once done, Eddie tosses his fork across the room into the sink just to prove a point, leans across the table and glares at Wayne. Because he’s an asshole, Wayne takes another sip of his coffee, maintaining eye contact, before finally opening his mouth to speak.

“You like this boy?” Wayne asks.

Eddie sputters and stalls out. “You—I—what?” Eddie asks, fisting his hands into his greasy hair.

“It ain’t an unreasonable question,” he replies. “You’re talking about the kid like he’s a knight in one of those little games you like so much.”

“I—no I wasn’t!” Eddie cries, cheeks burning at the implication.

“Mmmhmm,” Wayne replies, eyebrow raised as he drinks more of his coffee like what he’s saying is of no importance at all.

“Wayne,” Eddie says, leaning over the table to clutch at his shoulders, ribs protesting at the pull. “I’m not gay.”

And that, out of everything, is what gets Wayne to put his mug back down and take Eddie seriously. “You ain’t?” Wayne asks, eyebrow raised. Eddie shakes his head, eyes wide. “You sure? There’s an awful lot of men in leather on your walls.”

Eddie squawks, sinking painfully back into his seat. “That’s Metallica.”

Wayne squints at him. “Is that one of them code words y’all use to stay safe?”

Eddie stands up, chair screeching against the linoleum floor. “It’s a band, Wayne!” Eddie cries, at a loss for what the fuck is happening. “I’m not gay!”

Wayne looks up at him, both eyebrows raised enough to scrunch up his forehead, wrinkling his mostly-bald head. “Well, alright then.”

Eddie stares at him, brain buzzing with even more questions than he’d had before. How long had Wayne thought he was gay? Why? What did he do?

Was he really okay with it?

Eddie turns on his heel and marches out of the kitchen and back to his bedroom without another word. He slams the door and collapses onto his bed, gut squirming with all the thoughts churning in his head.

*** 

Chrissy isn’t surprised when Eddie doesn’t come to school on Monday; she is surprised when Steve does. He’s got bags under his eyes and Robin Buckley super-glued to his side, but he’s still there.

She can’t help the way she runs into his arms, leaving Jeff behind without thought. Steve catches her—he always does, pushing his hands beneath his letterman jacket to grab at her waist and pull her in. They sway there in the middle of the hallway, all their classmates jeering around them.

Chrissy doesn’t care; she’s spent the entire weekend thinking about the crushed look in his eyes as he walked out of the Munson trailer without a backwards glance

“You’re okay?” she asks, face pressed into the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

He runs his hand up and down her back as he responds, “I will be.”

She pulls back to smile up at him and reaches up to brush a floppier-than-usual lock of hair behind his ear. “Walk me to class?”

He links their elbows, and does just that, Jeff and Robin falling into line behind them, Robin prattling on about some movie marathon her and Steve had had at her house over the weekend. 

Chrissy’s just glad he wasn’t alone.

Steve sighs, shoulders slumping as he says, “I’m sorry, Chris,” he says, not looking her way. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into my mess.”

She stops abruptly enough that Robin stumbles into them and bounces back, cutting off her stream of words mid-babble to squawk at them. Chrissy doesn’t acknowledge her, too busy standing on her tippy toes so she can grab Steve’s shoulders and yank him down to her level.

“You listen to me, Steve Harrington,” she demands, looking into his big, bewildered eyes. “Your mess is my mess, okay?”

He’s still just staring at her, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, so she digs her nails in hard and says, “forever,” with as much finality as she can muster.

He keeps staring at her, looking like he’s about ready to burst into tears in the middle of the hallway. Finally, he says, “come over tonight?” more a demand than a question.

She drops her grip on him and nods, content.

Chrissy doesn’t ask questions when Steve leads her over to Robin in the cafeteria. It’s easy to take that last, final step into social suicide with him at her side. 

They fall into their usual routine that night—they watch trashy TV neither would admit to liking to another living soul, and paint each other’s nails.

The lack of letter writing sits like a dead body between them.

“He won’t tell anyone,” Chrissy says, tightening her grip on his hand when he jerks. Chrissy keeps carefully painting his nails, her favorite pink, not looking up at his face. The color suits him—it’s not fair, but everything does. “He promised.”

Steve doesn’t ask for clarification, they both know who she’s talking about. “You believe him?”

She thinks about that torn, guilty look on Eddie’s face and replies, “I do.”

She finishes his pinkie and settles his hand down on her own knee to dry, knowing from previous experience that if she gives it back, he’ll ruin all her work running his hand through his hair.

“That’s good,” he mutters, looking down at his own hand, tilted so far forward that even when she looks up, his hair’s flopped too far into his face to see his eyes. “It still hurts.”

Chrissy sighs. She’d seen this coming all those months ago when she’d helped pen the first letter. Had seen the writing on the wall like it was she herself that was writing it. But, she’d helped him anyway, hoping to salvage his safety, if not his dignity.

She can only hope she has.

“I know,” she replies, biting her lip against apologies he won’t accept. “But, we’re in this together, okay?”

Steve’s fingers twitch on her leg, but he doesn’t pull away. “Even with you and Jeff?”

“You figured that out, huh?” she asks, and that’s what finally gets him to look up at her with a raised brow, making her laugh.

“I mean, you told me you were going to ask him out,” he starts, before leering over at her. “And you two aren’t exactly subtle.”

“Tell that to Eddie,” she replies, wanting to swallow the name back down once it comes out of her mouth, but it’s too late—it’s already been said.

Steve smiles wryly as he says, “well, he’s not exactly the most observant, is he?”

He has her there. Steve himself, no matter how hard he tried, wasn’t subtle with his affections: the compliments, the stuttering over his words, the blushing. But none of it had done more than make Eddie give Steve suspicious looks, like there was some sort of game he wasn’t in on.

There was, but even without knowing he was playing, he’d still beaten Steve.

“No, he’s really not.”

Steve hums, picking up his hand to check if it’s dry before moving onto painting her nails. He picks his favorite yellow for her, even though he knows it washes her out. She holds out her hand and doesn’t complain.

“I really like him,” Steve says, quietly enough that it’s barely audible over the murmur of voices coming from the TV.

“I know,” she whispers, watching the flickering sadness on his face by the illumination of the Harrington’s big television screen. “I love you. You know that, right?”

He pauses in painting her nails to meet her eyes, smiling for real now. “I know,” he says, stroking the skin on her wrist with the free fingers not holding the nail polish applicator. “And you know what? This was all worth it if I got you out of it.”

And then he just goes back to painting her nails like that wasn’t the most romantic thing anyone has ever said. Eddie Munson can fuck himself; Chrissy’s going to be buried in Steve’s letterman jacket and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

*** 

Eddie doesn’t go to school on Monday. He’s too busy rereading the secret admirer notes—the notes Steve Harrington left him—like if he reads them in the right order, it’ll all snap together in his brain in a way that makes fucking sense.

And it does, sort of. It’s like sorting out a bunch of puzzle pieces after finally knowing what the shape of the puzzle even is. Some parts of the letters just jump out of the page, the longer he looks. In the end, he processes this the way he processes everything: he makes a list.

   Proof that Steve Harrington is my Secret Admirer:

   1. I’m not trying to bully you.

   2. I wish I was brave enough to tell you. Brave like you.

   3. I know you don’t like them, but I like sports.

   4. My favorite color is yellow, like the sun, and sunflowers, and all those happy, bright colors.

   5. But my eyes? They’re brown, but nowhere near as pretty as yours.

   6. I tried playing the piano again, and I’m a little rusty.

   7. Do you hate all of them, or just the bullies?

   8.   You laughed, but it wasn’t your real laugh like when Mr. Danver accidentally said ‘orgasm’ instead of ‘organism’.

A jock afraid of Eddie labeling them as a bully? Check. Favorite color, the same one Steve Harrington had painted his nails all those weeks ago? Check. Rich enough to have a piano that’s just not played? Check. But the most damning part of all: Chrissy was never in Mr. Danver’s class with him last year, but Harrington was. And Chrissy? Her eyes are bright, translucent blue.

The longer he looks at those two incriminating bits of evidence, the stupider he feels. It was never her, and from the looks of it, they hadn’t put much effort into pretending it was. It was always Harrington from that first, forever-lost letter that they’d stuffed in his locker.

And the longer he pours over the letters, the less he can picture Chrissy sprawled on her bed, writing each letter with a shy flourish before spraying it with a puff of her favored scent. No. It’s Harrington, frowning down at the page because words have never come easy to him; it’s Harrington sleeping with Eddie’s letter placed gently beneath his pillow; it’s Harrington who’d made Eddie smile like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

And now that he thinks about it, wasn’t it Harrington whose eye he kept catching from across the cafeteria? Harrington who’d stutter over his words around Eddie, but still told him he was a good storyteller?

Harrington who wanted to go to his show. Chrissy hadn’t even remembered Corroded Coffin’s name. 

Harrington had–of course he had. 

And he can picture that, too now. Harrington in the crowd in his stupid polo with his bright yellow nail polish, sticking out like a sore thumb in the gruff crowd at the Hideout, beautiful brown eyes trained solely on Eddie.

He can still feel the way his pulse had ratcheted up when they were in the bathroom, Harrington between his spread thighs, palms warm against his tender ribs, sucking all the oxygen out of Eddie’s lungs with how close he was.

It’s too much.

“Hello?” Jeff’s mom sounds curt over the phone, already fed up with Eddie calling before he’s even said anything. Eddie doesn’t care; he can’t when he needs Jeff this badly.

“Can I talk to Jeff?” he cries out, hand shaking around the receiver as he listens to her grumble, but she still shouts for her son to come pick up the goddamn phone. 

“Hello?”

Eddie should wait until he’s sure Jeff’s mom is no longer in hearing vicinity, but he can’t, too wound up tight to keep from blurting out, “am I gay?”

There’s a moment of silence that Eddie can barely breathe through before Jeff says, “uhh, Eddie?” in such a bewildered voice that Eddie sort of wants to punch him.

“Yes, yes, it’s me,” he says, words spilling out over each other. “And I’m sorry about what I said, and you’re sorry that you kept secrets from me—we can do that later, Jeff!”

“Uh, oka—”

“Now, am I gay?” he’s panting by the time he’s done, not having taken a single breath during his tirade. He’s waiting for Jeff’s confirmation or denial, but all that comes down the line is his quiet breathing. “Jeff?”

“Uh, shit, we’re doing this? Okay.” Eddie can almost picture the fed-up palm Jeff’s rubbing against his face, as if it’s somehow Eddie’s fault that Jeff is taking so long explaining the squirmy nebulous feeling in Eddie’s gut. “I don’t know man, why do you think you’re gay?”

Then, Eddie does what he should have done all along, and spills everything to Jeff, from the first letter all the way up to Steve Harrington’s bitchy little speech in the quarry as he put himself bodily between Eddie and Jason Carver.

“—and then he kneeled between my knees like that’s a normal, straight guy thing to do and just like, put his hands in my shirt!” Eddie whines, long since having settled onto the cold linoleum of his kitchen floor. “I mean, what the hell?”

“I think you’re forgetting one important fact, dude: Steve’s not straight.”

“Which brings me back to my question!” Eddie replies, trying for breezy and landing on whiny. “Am I gay?”

Jeff hums down the line like he’s really thinking about it this time. “Well, when he was touching you,” he starts, like that already doesn’t have Eddie’s face flaming, “what did you feel?”

Eddie puts himself back into that moment, thighs splayed pressed open by the heavy weight of Harrington’s body, Harrington’s big, warm hands running over his skin, his worried golden brown eyes roving over Eddie’s face.

“I felt like I was on fire,” Eddie whispers, feeling that same heat now pooling lower in his gut.

“…in a good way?” Jeff asks.

Eddie’s brain goes static, full of too much to differentiate good from bad, if that’s a distinction that ever existed at all. Eddie makes a questioning noise in his throat, knees twitching restlessly where they’re crossed in front of him.

“Okay, okay, uhh—hmm,” Jeff hums across the line. “Did you want to move closer or away?”

Eddie closes his eyes and thinks, imagining that trapped, warm, overwhelming feeling of being caged in by Harrington’s body. “Both?”

Jeff hmms again, clearly trying to think it through. Eddie can’t blame him—this is the most confused he’s been in his entire life, and Jeff doesn’t even have an all-access pass to his brain to try to pick answers out of–not that it’s currently doing Eddie much good.

“Do you want to try kissing a guy?” Jeff asks. “I’d do it, if it was for you, dude.”

Eddie’s nose wrinkles, lips puckering in disgust, “ew, you’re like my brother.”

Jeff laughs at him and replies, “so you don’t want to, not because I’m a guy, but because we’re like brothers? Sounds pretty gay, dude.”

“Oh.”

Jeff doesn’t say anything; he’s always been good at sensing when Eddie just needs a minute to think. But this time, he doesn’t think a minute will cut it, so he continues with a, “hey Jeff?”

“Hmm?”

“I really did mean it, you know.” He squeezes the phone tighter against the side of his face, like that will help his sincerity ring down the line. “I am sorry, and we should talk about it, but I can’t yet.”

Jeff still doesn’t reply, but his breathing is steady and sure down the line, settling Eddie’s anxious heart down to a little flutter.

“Is that okay?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, dude,” Jeff replies gruffly. “So, you’ll still call me?”

Eddie smiles. He’s missed Jeff, is the thing. They’ve been so distant lately, and no matter how well Eddie and Gareth get along, he’s no Jeff. “Or accost you at school, whichever comes first.”

That makes Jeff laugh; Eddie lets the sound warm him. “Okay, but I’m serious about the kissing thing!” Jeff replies, “Come over and I can plant one right on y—”

Eddie hangs up on his friend, feeling more himself than he has in days. No matter what happens, he has Jeff.

PART 17

[solxamber]

Good morning/evening/ whenever you're reading this.

May I request Silver, Malleus, and Ace with someone who's like a sheep in wolfs clothing? Basically someone who seems intimidating and scary but is actually nice if that makes sense. Romantic or platonic is fine.

Malleus, Silver, Ace with a Sheep in Wolf's Clothing

hi! thank you for waiting, i hope this is what you wanted <3

Malleus Draconia

At first, Malleus is absolutely enchanted by the way you carry yourself. Your cool exterior, fierce glances, and aura of danger? He’s genuinely impressed. In his eyes, you’re practically royalty, strolling through campus with an air of mysterious authority that rivals his own.

But one evening, when the two of you are alone, he watches as you carefully kneel down to help a tiny creature—a shivering, injured bird, fallen from its nest. He’s speechless as you whisper gently to it, cooing softly as you tuck it into a makeshift cradle from your scarf.

“Ah, so even the fiercest can be kind,” he says, thoroughly charmed.

You look up, cheeks red. “What? No, I mean— I wasn’t… fierce,” you mutter, trying to explain away your rough side.

Malleus lets out a low chuckle, genuinely amused. “There’s no need to pretend with me, Child of Man. I find this side of you… endearing.” And with that, he offers his arm, as if escorting the most dignified person he’s ever met—like of course you’d be kind.

And every time he sees you after, he watches you just a little bit closer, hoping to catch more glimpses of the sweet, gentle heart beneath your “terrifying” façade.

Silver

Silver’s first impression? Oh, you were fierce, alright. With that intense stare and sharp wit, he thought you were the kind of person who could take on a horde of fire-breathing dragons without blinking.

But it doesn’t take him long to notice the little things: how you’re the first to offer help in a quiet, unassuming way. Or how you gave Grim half your lunch when he wouldn’t stop whining about his empty plate.

One day, he finally works up the courage to ask. “You’re… not like most people expect, are you?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Uh… how do you mean?”

He tilts his head thoughtfully. “You seem… gentle. Like someone who cares more than they show.” He says it simply, but with a warm smile.

“Oh! I—well, I guess…” You clear your throat, trying not to look too pleased. “Yeah, I try to be. Is that… weird?”

Silver chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Not at all. I think it’s admirable.” And with that, he goes back to his usual quiet self, though you notice he hangs around a bit more often, maybe just to keep an eye on you—or to be near you, enjoying the company of the sweetest “wolf” he’s ever met.

Ace Trappola

Ace was 100% convinced you were bad news when he first saw you. The way you stood, arms crossed and serious, maybe even a little cold, he thought for sure you were a total menace. So when he finds you one day, crouched down and helping a stray cat drink from a cup you’d brought, he actually does a double-take.

“You… feed stray animals?”

You look up, blushing furiously. “Uh… yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

He bursts out laughing, clapping his hands. “Oh man, and here I thought you’d, like, fight a cat if it came too close!”

You roll your eyes, trying to act annoyed, but you can’t help but laugh, too. “Yeah, yeah, real funny.”

After that, Ace doesn’t let you live it down. He’ll pull you along when he sees a lost animal just to watch you fuss over it, teasing you the whole time. “Oh no, don’t let the fearsome ‘tough guy’ break out the baby voice again!”

But despite the endless teasing, he genuinely loves seeing you drop the act and show your soft side. And even if he won’t say it out loud, he thinks it’s pretty awesome having a friend as kind—and surprisingly tender—as you.

Masterlist

[shy-writer-999]

Giving Zoro a hand when he’s injured (#2)

WARNING: MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

A/N: P0rn with plot! ~5.9k words. Continuation of PT 1. Mutual pining, angst, fluff, and smut. Injured Zoro gives (afab) reader a hand this time... Or a tongue (oral sex, f. receiving). I inserted an asterisk (*) where the smut starts, so feel free to skip the plot! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧˚

Giving Zoro A Hand When He's Injured (Pt. II)

The day after you had “given Zoro a hand,” aka, a hand job, Chopper was feeling well enough to take over your nursing duties. If you were being honest with yourself, you were disappointed. You’d miss Zoro’s feigned crankiness, you’d miss seeing him blush, and you’d also miss being able to touch his chest and arms every time you’d change his ice packs (among other things…). Caring for him for those five days was eye-opening—Zoro seemed to actually have a soft side. Or at least, you thought you saw a glimpse of it.

Coupled with your disappointment at not having an excuse to be close to him, you were tickled when you remembered how vulnerable he was with you. Zoro had been so forthright and sweet with you during the whole endeavor, and to top it off, he had admitted how badly he needed you. The last time you saw him, he was practically begging you to fuck him. Remembering how he moaned your name made your heart skip a beat.

It’s safe to say that Zoro felt the same way. He cursed himself for how much he liked you, and because of that he was second guessing your interactions. As he sat in his room bored, and when he was given the green light to walk around deck a couple days later, his internal dialogue was running haywire. He couldn’t figure out what to do with his feelings, and whether or not you reciprocated them. It’s peculiar, how flustered and timid he was with these things. You’d think he’d be strong and confident in this area, given that he was THE Roronoa Zoro, but he was quite the opposite. Because he was preoccupied with strength, with training, and with being the best swordsman the world has never known, he neglected his softer side when it came to women and emotions in general. And he wasn’t the most experienced, obviously.

Even after you had cared for him so tenderly, even after you were so close with him, moaned his name, had your hands wrapped around his cock, and kissed him passionately—Zoro was oblivious to your (very obvious) feelings towards him. He knew three things. First, that he was painfully infatuated, borderline in love with you. Second, that he wanted you to touch him again. And third, that he had to do something about it.

The problem was that he didn’t have a clue what to do about it. And he was doubting himself. He hadn’t seen you for two whole days after Chopper took over for you, and on the third day Chopper gave him the green light to roam around deck and do some light lifting.

How would he go about initiating something with you? What would the moment be like when he first saw you after all that had transpired? Should he just grab you and pull you into a kiss? Tentatively broach the subject? Pretend it never happened? Zoro was at a loss.

The first time he saw you since you helped him “relieve” some stress, he froze. It was at the dinner table and he had gotten himself a plate of food and sat down, not paying attention to anything going on in the loud room or raucous antics. He was scarfing down his food when he felt something. To be more specific, he could feel someone staring at him.

He paused and did a comedically slow look up. You were across the table from him, looking at him, and he hadn’t noticed you. He almost choked on his food. When his eyes met yours, he immediately looked away, on instinct. It was like he couldn’t bear to look at you.

“Hey, Zoro.” You casually addressed him, acting like you usually would have. To your eyes, he did seem to be acting a slightly different—he seemed pissed, honestly—but you figured that some awkwardness would be normal at first, given that the last time you saw him he came all over your hand. “How’s the shoulder and thigh holding up?”

He cleared his throat and looked back at you. His eyes were always intense and it made you squirm. It was hard to hold eye contact with him. He just looked so pissed off all the time and his gaze was, without fail, cold and deadpan.

Zoro, on the other hand, could feel blush starting to creep up his neck, threatening to take over his whole face, but he tried to fight it off as best he could. Just act normal, he told himself internally. Just act normal. Nothing weird happened. She said it didn’t have to be weird at all. But you’re acting weird. He started to argue with himself. Well, stop it, damnit!

“It’s uhh—it’s fine.” He shrugged, nonchalant. You had no way of knowing what was going on in his head. As much as you liked him, as much as you had hoped that what happened a few nights ago would have changed everything, your heart faltered. It felt like it didn’t change anything between you at all. Even though you gave him such a passionate kiss at the end, even though you said that you’d ‘have to try his cum next time’ (or something like that), even though he’d moaned your name… did Zoro really not care about it at all? Was it merely a one-time fluke, explained by how desperate he had been after days of not masturbating? His eyes seemed to suggest that this must have been the case. You thought that you would have seen something there, some small residual of the fire that had burned so brightly in him nights before but… his eyes were cold and uncaring. Your heart sank.

The rest of the crew were laughing about something and eating, so you thought the interaction between you and Zoro would go unnoticed. You would finish your food and go back to your room to be emo about it for a little while before emerging again. But, as always, Sanji had something to say.

“Hey IDIOT!” his voice cut the silence between you and Zoro. “Don’t you think you should be more grateful for having such a gorgeous babe as your nurse!? I ought to rip my shoulder next so I get to hang out with you for five whole days, beautiful~~” Sanji came over and kissed your hand, and you let out a laugh, embarrassed.

“Oh, stop it, Sanji!” You giggled. No matter how many times Sanji praised you, you didn’t know how to respond.

“My love~ can I make anything else for you?” Sanji’s signature tone was over the top and lovey-dovey. “I’ll make anything you want!”

“No, no, Sanji, I’m good. But thank you!” You waved him off with a smile and he blew you a kiss. By the time your short interaction was done, you turned back to Zoro and his seat was empty. He was washing his plate in the kitchen sink. He set it on the drying rack and walked back to his room. His abrupt exit stung. He really didn’t give a fuck at all, you told yourself, trying to fight back the pit growing at the bottom of your stomach. Now you definitely were going to be emo in your room. It was impossible not to read into that more. You didn’t see him for the rest of the night.

You felt rejected, like that sweetness you had seen from Zoro was a lie, like maybe he didn’t actually have interest in you, like you were getting your hopes up for nothing. After all, the only reason anything happened between you two was because he was in pain and couldn’t do it himself. You tried to reason the hurt away—you were just being a good friend, you told him it didn’t have to be weird or anything, you were the one who leaned up to kiss him, not the other way around. From this angle, it looked like Zoro was repulsed by you, evidenced by his own actions. He must have been disgusted by the whole thing—why else would he practically jump out of his seat as soon as possible?

Maybe him moaning your name was only a heat-of-the-moment thing, maybe the fact that you touched yourself in front of him made him disgusted, maybe you crossed a line. You were feeling all mixed up inside, sad, frustrated, emotionally unregulated, sick to your stomach. You liked him so, so much, and the painful realization that he didn’t think anything of it made you feel like absolute shit.

Well, it turns out that Zoro thought a lot about it. He was just emotionally repressed, or at least he was when it came to you. He didn’t know what to do with himself after he saw you at dinner, he felt like he needed get away from you as soon as possible, or else he was going to say something off-putting and weird or make himself look like a love-sick fool (and he definitely was one). He almost turned bright red when he realized you were in front of him; he almost lost his cool, hell, he almost choked!

Sanji speaking to you with such ease and such affection was the cherry on top. The shit cook could talk to you however he pleased, and it didn’t matter to anyone, but underneath the surface Zoro was seething with jealousy. He walked away from dinner so fucking annoyed at himself for not having anything else to say to you, so fucking annoyed at himself for not being nicer to you. His heart was screaming that he wanted to be the one who called you baby, sweetie, darling, and gorgeous. He wanted to be the one kissing your hand. But the shit cook got to do whatever he wanted, because Zoro couldn’t muster the strength or courage to get rejected. So, he shot himself in the foot, making you feel horrible and making himself feel horrible—two birds with one stone.

---

The next day Zoro was feeling a lot better. He could tell his shoulder was close to being fully healed, but it would be a couple more days until he could get back to working out, on account of his thigh. He felt better mentally, too. Sleep helped him process things; his emotions felt more worked out after a solid night of sleep. He was less annoyed with himself and had stopped spewing vitriol at himself. He was feeling clear-headed—if he saw you again, he would say thank you and not run away like last time. He was hyping himself up to do it, and his internal monologue along the lines of: Just say thank you, and move along, like a normal person. You don’t have to say ANYTHING about the handjob. Just say thank you, it’s simple! She can interpret that any way that she wants, and it isn’t objectively creepy. It’ll be fiiiiinnnneeee.

While Zoro felt better when he woke up, you felt worse when you woke up. Your eyes were red from crying. Something about that interaction with him broke your heart and got to you, so you couldn’t help it. When you had to walk past him in the hallway in the morning, you just pretended like he wasn’t there, acting like you were doing something on your phone. You wanted to disappear walking past him, cringing out of your skin. You usually would smile at him or say “Hi, Zoro!” but you kept it to yourself this morning, heart still stinging from the slight yesterday. He obviously wanted nothing to do with you.

Zoro made a mental note of you ignoring him and he almost didn’t follow through with his plans. If you weren’t saying hi or good morning to him, then something was definitely off between you two. This was a little moment that he looked forward to every day. Today had been the only day that you hadn’t greeted him in the morning since you joined the crew. It was out of character, and it worried him. But he told himself that he was going to thank you no matter what. No matter how shy or awkward he felt about it, he thought you deserved a thank you because you had been his nurse for five whole days, and more than that, you had helped him get off when he was so pathetic and desperate for it.

You rounded the corner of the hallway after passing Zoro. You thought you were in the clear, putting your phone in your pocket. Phew. That didn’t feel great, but it would have felt worse to say good morning to him and get ignored.

“Hey—Y/N?” Your heart stopped. It was Zoro. He must have speed walked down the hallway to catch up to you. You spun around to face him and he almost ran into you. He overestimated how fast you were going and when you turned around he was about three inches away from you, uncomfortably close. You were almost touching. A second passed before you both turned red and jumped a couple feet apart.

“Zoro, you scared me!” You faked annoyance hoping that it would distract from the vivid shade your face was quickly turning.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he replied, rubbing his neck in embarrassment, his cheeks flushing pink. “I-I just wanted to say thank you. For taking care of me. I really appreciate it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Oh! Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t so bad.” You offered him a smile, to which his heart twisted and butterflies fluttered. A feeling of relief crept over him at seeing you beaming at him like you always did—like he looked forward to every morning.

He had planned on saying thanks and hadn’t thought about what he would do after that. Now that his plan was executed, he was stumped—what would he do now? His heart told him that any time he spent around you was a treasure; but he didn’t have any idea on what to say, or how to rope you into spending more time with him. He didn’t know how to completely and gracefully express his gratitude without outright saying “Thanks for giving me a hand job!” And he was trying to avoid that.

He blurted out his next words. “Well, uh… Thanks. I guess I’ll see you around deck.” You smiled again and he turned the other way and shuffled off. He was dying inside. Cringing so hard that he wanted to slap himself. You’re a grade A FOOL, he reprimanded himself. What the fuck was that? ‘See you around deck’? Are you fucking twelve? That was so awkward, holy shit. I always see her around deck. Where the hell did that come from? He cringed again. He needed to disappear ASAP. He felt so awkward, like he fumbled the whole interaction. He was being hard on himself for no reason, because you thought nothing of it. You were simply tickled that he showed you some kindness, that he wasn’t as disgusted or creeped out by you as you thought earlier.

You did see him around deck later that day, much to your mutual delight. You gave him a wave and he smiled back at you. Usually, he would do some kind of head nod thingy, bringing his chin up quickly and back down, as a sort of acknowledgement. But this time he had given you a genuine smile. His lips curled into the sweetest smile you’d ever seen, and your heart skipped a beat again. It was crazy how much you liked him.

---

At dinner that night Zoro sat across from you, deliberately. He always tried to sit near you. It was the only time of day he could be that close to you, normally, and he would take any time he could get, but he rarely interacted with you at dinner. He’d spend more time bickering with Sanji, Luffy, and Usopp more than anyone, and he’d laugh a lot too. Especially if he had some sake, which was frequently.

When he sat down, you gave him another one of your smiles. “Hi Zoro,” you chirped. “How’s your shoulder? Is your thigh doing okay?” His shoulder was still covered with bandages, peeking out from under the t-shirt he was wearing, and he was still slightly limping from the huge gash on his thigh.

“Both are doing a lot better. Chopper said I can lift weights that are a bit heavier now.” His tone was gruff, and he was focused on his food, not looking at you.

“Nice!”

“How was your day?” He asked, looking up from his plate into your eyes. His eyes were as steely as ever but… they looked different. You couldn’t quite place a finger on it.

Asking as simple a question like that was not how Zoro historically interacted with you. In fact, you’re not sure he had asked something like that before. You two were friendly, you were crewmates, after all. But you didn’t talk or hang out much, one on one. Or at least, you hadn’t since you nursed him for five days (and helped him get off).

“It was good,” you answered him. “I didn’t do much, honestly. Just sort of lazed around.”

“Me too.” Zoro held eye contact with you for slightly longer than usual—his eyes lingered. He steadied himself mentally before he asked you his next question, cringing in advance, figuring you’d shrug him off. But he was dying to know the answer. He needed to talk to you.

“I’m going to have some sake on the deck after this, do you want to join?” His eyes were still locked on yours and butterflies stirred in your stomach. You realized what emotion lied behind his eyes—he seemed to be pleading. This was out of left field for Zoro.

“Sure, that sounds nice.” You responded, blush taking over your cheeks. You were flabbergasted, caught unaware.

“Well, I’m done with dinner, so when you finish just find me on deck.” He nodded at you, offered a small smile, and got up. He went to wash his plate, grabbed a couple bottles of sake, and went outside.

---

When you went looking for him, Zoro was sitting on the upper deck with a bottle already cracked open. He was looking off into the ocean, and you took a second to take in his beauty. He looked perfect to you. His jaw was sharp and the line of his neck was familiar to you after changing his ice packs and bandages. His arms were toned, his figure manly and handsome. The setting sun was casting beautiful and golden rays on the whole scene, and he looked all the better for it. This was the man that you liked, loved, even.

You came and sat next to him, and he offered you a bottle. Zoro drank sake straight out of the bottle, so you did too. “The sunset is gorgeous,” you observed.

In his mind he answered back, you are gorgeous. But in reality, he responded with a “Mmmhmm.”

The tension and silence in the air between you felt suffocating.

“So, why’d you invite me to have sake with you? What’s up?” You asked, puzzled.

“No reason, really.” He responded, turning to look at you. He took a deep breath before he spoke again, forcing himself to say what was actually on his mind. Forcing himself to say what you deserved to hear. “I just like spending time with you.”

You turned a bright shade of red. “Oh, uh.. Seriously? That’s nice of you.” You smiled at him. He noticed your blush, perturbed, and barreled onwards with what he planned to say.

“Yeah. I think I’ll miss having you as my nurse. Not in a creepy way or anything,” he cautioned and waited a beat. His heart was crying out to him—tell her how you feel! “Your presence is peaceful and you’re kind. It was nice to spend time with you.”

The look in his eyes was vulnerable and open. You’d only seen it once before, right before he opened up to you, days earlier. You were taken aback, flustered, couldn’t believe your ears. Did Zoro say that it was nice to spend time with you?

“I could say the same about you,” you smiled back at him. You didn’t know where the conversation was going, but your heartbeat was through the roof. “I had a nice time. And I don’t think you’re creepy or anything. I think you’re really sweet. So, I guess I should be the one saying thank you.”

Now it was Zoro who turned crimson.

“Thanks for what?” He asked, puzzled.

“Thanks for letting me be close to you like that.” You answered softly and your eyes met his again. His gaze was tortured—he felt like he was dreaming. Your words hung in the air.

“Anytime.” He answered, almost breathless. Then, he took the jump. After saying his next words, there’d be no going back. But the moment was in front of him, and he had to seize it. “I may not show it, but I like you a lot. To be honest, I think about you a lot too.”

You were stunned. Had he just said that? Was the sweetness you saw in him coming to the forefront? It seemed like time stood still.

“Zoro, I think about you a lot too.” Your voice was gentle.

“How?” He asked. He had to know, he needed to hear it explicitly from you. If you liked him, he needed to know. He needed you to hit him over the head with it.

“How? Zoro, if you couldn’t tell already, you’ve been driving me crazy. You’re all I can think about.” You looked at him, mired in the agony of finally confessing your feelings for someone. “I am painfully infatuated with you. I can’t even look you in the eyes half the time. I was glad to be your nurse because I like you. I more than like you. I—” you stopped yourself. You’d save those words for another time.

Something came over Zoro in that moment. It’s like he was in an alternate reality, one in which you liked him, too. He reached his hand up to cup your cheek and pulled you into the most delicate kiss. His lips met yours with sparks. It’s like you melted into him. Neither of you had any regard for what was going on around you—Sanji could have started screaming bloody murder at you and you wouldn’t have moved.

It felt like the kiss lasted millennia. When you pulled away from each other, you could see the fire and passion in Zoro’s eyes. It was like you had unlocked a completely different side of him, a side that you knew was there all along. It was a part of him that was vulnerable, sweet, kind, passionate, sensitive, and loving. You knew he was like this under the surface, and that he loved all of his crewmates and would die for them. But this side… this romantic side felt different.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” He murmured. “Fuck.”

“Me too.” You felt like you were going to pass out from blushing.

“Can we do that again?” He asked. His eyes seemed ravenous. He was starving for your touch, craving your attention, desperate for your love. He wanted to kiss every inch of your body, tangle his fingers in your hair, feel your heartbeat next to his, your body warmth. But he told himself to not get carried away.

You whispered back a “yes,” and Zoro put one hand on your waist and pulled you closer to him. His other hand cupped your cheek again, and his kisses were timid and light. His touch made you feel electric. You needed more than this, and you had a sneaking suspicion that he felt the same.

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer, so your bodies were pressing. As your kisses became more intense, you bit his lip softly and let your tongue explore his. Zoro’s hand on your cheek crept downwards. His fingertips went underneath your shirt and came to rest on your waist—he wanted to feel how soft your skin was, at last becoming acquainted with it after so many months of yearning. In doing this, he had no ulterior motive. It was a privilege to touch you.

The deck was empty at the moment, to your advantage. Who knows what commotion would have run wild if the crew had seen you and Zoro with your hands all over each other and lips locked.

When you had made out for a few minutes, Zoro pulled away from you. He felt like he could be more upfront with you and confident now that you had mutually confessed your feelings.

“Y/N,” he let himself ask the question he had been pondering for days. “Did you really mean it when you said we could do it again?”

He was referring to the end of your last interaction—when you said there would be a ‘next time,’ as in, you’d be intimate with each other again.

“Of course,” you answered him. Your faces were only centimeters apart. His heart was aching for you.

“When?” His voice was hoarse and low.

Your bit your lip and responded, bolder. “Now?”

“Please.” His eyes were begging you, his brow furrowed slightly. You nodded and got up, thrilled. He followed you without a word. He had never foreseen that the night would come to this.

(*) When you reached your bedroom, Zoro locked the door behind and then practically threw you against the wall. His hands were everywhere, and his mouth was so desperate—he felt your waist, your hips, your ass, your neck, your cheeks, your hair. His kisses were needy, sloppy, went, and ravenous. One of your hands clasped his neck, the other began to roam his chest and abs. You could feel his raging erection pressing on you. You had both been fantasizing about this for months and now that the cards were on the table, you meant business.

Moments passed and your hands crept down his broad chest. You hesitated when you reached the hem of his shirt. As you placed your fingers underneath it, you touched his bare skin, palms passing over his happy trail, up to his abs and scars. You took in everything your senses gave you—how his skin felt, how he smelled, how his big hands felt on you, how forcefully he was kissing you.

“Zoro,” you spoke into his mouth and in between his kisses. “Zoro, I want you.”

He hummed into your lips and his hands similarly crept under the hem of your shirt. His hands fingers across your stomach, making you shiver; he felt your stomach and your waist, rubbed circles on your skin with his thumbs, memorizing every inch.

"Are you sure?" He asked. He needed to know if you really meant it. If you really wanted it.

"Yes."

Hearing your answer, Zoro reached his fingers for your bra and unclasped it. He went back to the hem of your shirt and started pulling it up, peeling your shirt over your shoulders and helping you slide your bra off so your breasts were bare. When he started kissing you again, his hands hungrily started exploring—his fingers pinched your nipples and ran them between his index finger and thumbs, rubbing them until you let out a whine. He kneaded and squeezed. He couldn’t get enough.

Zoro unlocked his lips from yours and bent down to latch his lips over one of your nipples while his other hand played with your other nipple. His tongue swirled, making your bud harder than it already was. He sucked on it, until it started to feel good, and you were letting out soft sounds, trying to keep the noise down. You were wet already, cunt throbbing for him.

“Zoro, please,” your voice strained. “Need you.”

His kisses worked up your chest, up your neck, and to your lips. You could feel his hard bulge rut into you. You shimmied out of your pants before Zoro picked you up, lifting you by your waist. He carried you to your bed and put you down so you were lying flat.

Sliding off his pants one quick movement, Zoro was stripped to only his black boxer briefs now. Zoro’s cock was (as you were already aware) huge. When he got on top of you, you could feel it rubbing on your stomach through the fabric and on top of your underwear.

Zoro was putting all his weight on his knees, letting his other hands explore and trail around your body. This time, his kisses trailed from your lips, down your neck, to your stomach, and then came to rest on top of the fabric of your panties. He pushed your thighs apart and held them there. Bringing his face to your panties, Zoro left one long lick from bottom to top, up your folds, to your clit. He licked at your clit a few times and you whined—the rough fabric combined with his tongue made friction that felt so good. You could feel your wetness seep and saturate your panties with each lick and kiss placed through the fabric.

He tugged the fabric aside and ran his tongue between your folds, stopping right before he got to your clit. As soon as his tongue made contact, you let out a moan, albeit a soft one. The noise was music to Zoro’s ears, and it fueled him. He neglected your clit for a few more seconds, only focusing on lapping the wetness from your folds, teasing your slit, and breathing in your scent.

Zoro wanted you to feel as good as he had felt a few days before, when your hand was wrapped around his cock. This was his way of ‘repaying the favor.’ When he finally ran his tongue in circles around your clit, you moaned his name for the first time.

Hearing his name come out of your mouth was like honey to his ears. His heart was pounding and twisting, core burning, and the only thing he could think about was you. He needed you to feel good. He wanted your toes to curl in pleasure, wanted you to cum at least once, wanted you to repeat his name again and again like it was a symphony.

His tongue lingered on your sensitive spot for a few seconds before returning to lick the glistening slick that was accumulating down your cunt. The head he gave was so good it was indescribable.

Zoro pushed one of his thick fingers into you and pulled it out slowly, eliciting another moan. After doing that a few times, he added another finger, loosening you up and drawing more slick from your core. As his fingers started to curl and scissor inside of you, he reached his head forward and started leaving long kisses and warm licks on your clit.

The sensation was overwhelming—his big hands were prying your thighs apart still, his grip was so hard it would leave a bruise, his fingers were fucking you steadily, tongue still licking long stripes up your clit, hot breath sending ripples of euphoria through you. You could only handle so much before you started to squirm. Your fingers reached down into his hair, holding it tight, pulling his face closer to you. Zoro had to hold back a grin. Little did you know, that was his mission accomplished for the night, other than making you cum, that is.

“Zoro,” you moaned his name a second time, cueing him run his tongue in gentle circles around your clit again and slow the pace of his fingers. “I can’t take it anymore. I—I’m gonna cum”.

He pulled his fingers out of you. “Don’t cum yet, ok?” Sucking your juices off his fingers, he let go of your thighs, which fell limp and wide open.

You nodded and whined again. “Okay, I’ll try.”

When he got back to eating you out, he switched it up—this time, his tongue fucked you and his thumb ran circles over your clit. The added pressure on your clit from the rough skin of his thumb drove you crazy, and when his tongue alternated from licking your folds to fucking your slit, you couldn’t handle it. Your legs clamped around him, squeezing his head, causing his cock to throb more than he physically thought it was capable of.

This time, regardless of whether or not he told you to wait, you were going to cum.

“Fuck, Zoro,” you panted, whining, “I need it. Please.” He could tell you were close. He pressed on your clit just a little bit harder, pushing you over the edge. Pleasure came crashing down on you like a wave (which, coincidentally, is what Zoro felt seeping out of you and onto his tongue). Your thighs squeezed his head harder and you moaned his name loudly, again and again, as you convulsed. Your toes curled, fingers almost tearing out his hair.

This was unlike any orgasm you’d felt before. It was more visceral—he truly knew what he was doing, which was wild, considering that he wasn’t the most experienced. But he must have had a gift for it, because that was by far the best head you’ve gotten.

He licked your clit through your orgasm, causing your hips to jerk. The pleasure was enveloping you, everything in your mind went blank except for the feeling of your orgasm and the sensation of his tongue.

When you had finished, he licked the rest of your juices off your folds, savoring it. Then he crawled back over you, looking down and pulling you into a kiss.

The thought of you tasting yourself through his kisses turned him on, too. His cock was painfully hard at this point, precum blotting very noticeable a stain through his briefs. He was endlessly pleased with himself after teasing such an orgasm out of you. When he had given you a handful of kisses, he collapsed on the bed next to you and reached over to sweetly kiss your cheek. His hand entwined with yours, and you were both out of breath, happy and sweaty together.

Zoro wasn’t overly fussed with his own orgasm and was planning on waiting until you fell asleep later to go to the bathroom and relieve himself. Tonight was about you. As long as you came, Zoro was happy. So, he smiled happily next to you, thanking his luck that the person he loved seemed to like (if not love) him back.

He figured that would be all for the night… but he was wrong.

＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／ ⊂(￣(ｴ)￣)⊃ (⊙︿⊙ ✿)

Check out part one if you haven't already! Thank u so much for reading, I hope you liked it! Part 3? Perhaps...

also here's my masterlist if ur interested!

--Z

[im4rmy]

your first time together - haechan (idol AU)

IMAGINE: you find in him the perfect fuck-buddy to relieve stress

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

• during your first encounter when you had dinner together... the tension was almost unbearable, even if you just met.

• now, after a week and a half, you couldn't stop thinking about how bad you wanted to... be fucked by him. honestly.

• lately life was really testing your resiliance because college was STRESSING you out and living with your parents and two younger siblings wasn't helpful.

• you NEEDED to relieve stress and you knew that a well known idol like him wasn't the best choice but you knew it wasn't one-sided (and you were right)

• haechan was thinking about you a lot more than he expected. of course you were hot as fuck but after that fun dinner together he tought that was it. but holy shiiit weren't you addicting.

• haechan sighs and gets up to wash his plate. he just had a solo dinner watching youtube to wind down after a long day at work, he wasn't very physically exhausted but mentally he was stressed out of his mind.

• and when his doorbell rings, a shiver runs down his spine: saesangs were literally his nightmare. he looked at the clock on the wall: 8.20 pm.

• he reaches the door, looks through the digital peephole and blinks in shock seeing... you.

• he opens the door at lightning speed and just stares at you, wearing your black leather jacket and high ponytail.

• "i think i forgot my- something... last week. here, i mean" "what is it?"

• you gulp. "my... scarf?" "you could ask your mom to look for it"

• you're just staring at him atp, praying that he'll take the hint. he got it the moment he saw you there, actually, but wanted to get you flustered a little bit.

• "are you alone" "i am" "then let me in, asshole"

• he doesn't even answer, he just takes you from your jacket and pulls you inside, he closes the door and lifts you from your legs, sitting you on the kitchen counter.

• you let out a sigh of relieve and start to kiss him instantly, grabbing his clean face and pulling him towards you. he moans in your mouth and rests his hands on your clothed thighs, tasting them with his palms.

• you try to not stop the kiss while you take off your jacket and he seems to agree because he immediately pulls at your white t-shirt to take it off and then you do the same with his.

• he goes down with his face pushing you to lay your back on the counter and literally insert his face between your breasts. he inhales your scent and leaves a kiss there before reaching for unclipping your blue bra.

• you curl your legs around his pelvis and relax under his warm hands caressing your whole torso, his lips exploring your skin from your neck to your chest, down to your belly and your hips.

• he takes the button of your jeans in his hands and looks at you, his chest moving up and down rapidly. you sit up and attack his lips grabbing his hair in your hands and he takes it as a "yes".

• haechan unbuttons your jeans and his hand sneaks right inside your panties, making you wince in surprise, but it's a very pleasing surprise as his long fingers dive in between your folds and you literally melts on the surface of his kitchen counter.

• you're literally crying at this point and seeing your back arching, your eyes closing, the goosebumps on your skin and hearing you moaning make haechan's boner getting almost unsufferable.

• "let me ask you something real quick" "you're literally fingering me"

• "yeah about that: are we gonna fuck? is that what we're doing? i need some clarification"

• you grunt and sit up, his hand still inside your panties. "i need some stress-relief, not a relationship. are you in?"

• "you're very naked on my kitchen and you look like a goddess- of course i'm in. i'm all in, i'm very, absolutely-" "shut the fuck up for the love of god"

• you kiss him again and push him back coming on your feet.

• "bedroom?" "too far"

• he just pulls you down on the floor with him and you manage to top him, sitting on his pelvis. you unbutton his jeans and throw them away along with his boxers and your panties.

• you don't even stroke him because he's READY. you align yourself and -finally- sit on him all the way down, riding him as your first time together.

• haechan lets out a loud moan arching his back on the floor and grasps your hips in his hands, helping you to match his thrusts.

• everything is a mess: you two moan without much shame or control, the floor is cold, the both of you started to sweat- but damn how GOOD it feels.

• and that orgasm- oh my god. you literally collapse on him panting and probably slapping his face with your ponytail.

• "that was-" "yeah"

• "can you come again tomorrow?" "same time?" "same time"

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

masterlist

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

[glossgojo]

the neighborhood keeps getting smaller

joel miller x reader

cw: 18+ MINORS DNI, p in v sex, joel has a big dick, breeding kink, size kink, pet names, MATING PRESS BRRR, slight dumbification, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids don’t be dumb)

can be read as a sequel to hold me across state lines

you and joel have been going slow whether you like it or not, you finally get a chance to spend some together when ellie is out for the night….

ellie had caught on pretty quickly that things had changed between you two. in fact the next morning at breakfast she blurted out, “you guys are fucking aren’t you?”

“oh my god ellie.” you clutched your head with your hands, elbows on the table as you felt a headache incoming. joel grumbled next to you and ellie almost gagged at his cheeks coloring pink. i mean, could you even blame her? you woke up this morning dredging into the kitchen in only what appeared to be joel’s shirt, looking around like a lost puppy until you met his eyes. joel wasn’t any better, his jaw dropped a little bit and his eyes swept over you quickly. ellie didn’t even hold back an eye roll; it wasn't like you two were paying her any attention anyways. you couldn’t raise your head and look the teenager in the eyes, you’d let joel handle this one. besides it wasn’t like you two had fucked you’d just gotten more intimate than two platonic partners ever did.

“ellie, first of all don’t talk like that especially when we’re eating, secondly we’re taking it slow and when we’re ready to tell you anything we’ll let you know.” joel’s tone, although gruff and stern, soothed your nerves. this wasn’t a one time thing and he was making it clear to both of you in that moment. when you woke up from the deepest sleep you’d had in a while you expected him to be next to you, so when you wandered into the kitchen this morning you needed comfort, you needed confirmation.

“okay fine but it’s not like it’s a surprise to anyone. the whole town thought you guys were practically married.” with that ellie scarfed down her remaining pancake and took her plate to the sink. you looked up at joel who looked equally confused as you were. were you both such fools? it seemed you two were the last to know. you waited until you could hear ellie stomp all the way upstairs and close her bedroom door behind her.

“God how am i gonna look her in the eyes?” you were a motherly figure to the girl, you felt mortified just thinking about facing her again.

“it’s fine, clearly the whole town was thinking it anyways.” joel had to admit he felt a sick thrill knowing the whole town thought you were his. it certainly explained why none of the younger eligible bachelors who snuck glances at you, but dared to approach you. he had likened it to his glaring, but clearly it was something more.

“jesus christ, they were, weren't they?” you scoffed and couldn’t help but take in joel’s appearance. he looked well-rested and as cheery as joel miller possibly could be. no wonder ellie had suspected something. “uhm joel.” joel didn’t think he could hear his name come out of your mouth without picturing you laid out for him, arched in pleasure and crying out his name like it was the only word you knew.

his mind stopped working for a moment as he looked at your messy hair and swollen eyes, and then he responded realizing he could only stare at you so long. a simple hum from him caused you to shiver as you scouted to the edge of your seat, your bare thigh brushing against his denim one.

“did you mean it when you said we’re taking things slow?” joel’s gaze traveled from your dilated pupils to your parted lips and found their home in your flushed cheeks. he wanted nothing more than to clear the table and cap off his meal with the dessert between your legs, but he wanted to know what you wanted. this was his last way to give you an out, to let you get ready of him easy. so it was only natural when he spoke next. your wide pretty eyes were clinging onto his every word as soon as his mouth opened and he itched to pull you close and kiss the air from your lungs.

“it’s up to you darling.” his voice was deep as he ground out his words. darling. with his southern drawl and your proclivity to find every word the man said to be sensual, you couldn’t even hide the chill that traveled down your spine. you were absolutely dazed as you swung your leg over his thighs and settled onto his lap. you barely fit in the space between him and the table but you didn’t care, you’d nestle in between his ribs if he let you. joel’s eyes took you in like you were the only thing in the world, studying your features and the pretty flush on your skin that seemed to go with him wherever he went. he wished he hadn’t wasted so much time with you.

“if you keep calling me darling, we’ll have to continue where we left off last night.” you leaned forward, whispering it into his good ear. joel could feel his blood traveling south, you sure knew how to make him feel young. fortunately, you were not quite on his bulge, otherwise he’s not sure either of you would be talking much longer. joel had his hands on your waist, he’d done it purposefully because if they went any south he’d have to find out just how south he could travel without you stopping him. he’d bet it was as much as he wanted.

“is that all it takes? pretty girl like you probably heard things like that often.” joel can imagine men and women alike throwing themselves at your feet. you were so damn gorgeous and good he felt like he’d won the lottery. a deep grumble resounded from your chest at his pet name once again, you’d let him do anything to you if he kept sweetening you up.

“don’t you know i’m gone for you miller?” you were slowly blinking, sleep still in your eyes and joel thought he felt his heart skip a beat. you looked like an angel sent just for him, he didn’t deserve an angel.

“i’m starting to pick up on that.” if you were far gone, joel was off the deep end.

“hmm well, it’s just you, no one else affects me like this.” you moved closer, your arms looped around his neck tightening. you could almost feel his bulge and joel had to groan as he felt his self-control slip. you smelled so good, like sex and honeysuckle. joel pressed a kiss to your forehead, you melted into him a little bit more.

“that makes us two of us sweetheart, but we should probably wait for when ellie’s not here.” he was warning you, trying to stop what was coming as he saw your eyes darken, your breathing picking up as your breast pressed into his chest.

“i can be quiet.” you were gonna be the death of him.

“tempting, but i’d rather hear you yell my name like you’ve gotten so fucking good at.” a small little smile painted your lips and joel fell a little more in love. instead of being shy, you seemed proud of yourself, like his name was made for you to scream.

“alright but go around calling me sweetheart, i might just crack.” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, your soft lips grazing against his rough beard, as you swung your leg back over and gave joel a good glimpse at your underwear.

it did nothing to help his hard-on.

since that breakfast with ellie you both had been good, stealing kisses when you could. the next night you both fell asleep with joel holding you close, just like you always did. but there was something simmering in both of you, you could feel it travel between your thighs and remain unattended. you three were having dinner at the community hall, when a girl ellie’s age asked her to watch a movie. you’d seen the girl hanging around ellie before, knew she was close with her as much as one could get to the wary teenager. “finish your dinner hon, then you can go do whatever you want.”

“is it okay if ellie sleeps over? the movie will end late.” you exchanged a look with joel, you weren’t giving up your kid that easily. you moved to stand up, the girl a little intimidated by you. you wondered if she’d start crying if joel had taken this one.

softening your expression slightly you asked, “where’s your parents?” the girl pointed in the direction of two people standing in line for food, ellie groaned in embarrassment and you ruffled her hair to tease her a bit more. it felt so plainly familiar that you thought about all the times you’d do the same with your little sister. joel couldn’t help but feel a shudder at the way you treated ellie, you always were so warm with her and he wished he could do it as easily as you did. ellie saw you as a mother, there was no doubt in his mind about that. you moved towards the couple with the girl following you. the couple was painfully normal and sweet, they seemed so well-adjusted you wondered if they’d ever even seen a clicker. despite your slight disdain for their blissful ignorance you couldn’t deny that they seemed perfectly normal and harmless. it also didn’t hurt that you were sure your ellie could take them any day of the week. with that you nodded at the parents and told the girl that ellie would find her after dinner. walking back to the table you found joel’s gaze on you, a look in his eye you couldn’t quite comprehend.

dinner passed by and joel and you said goodbye to ellie, telling her to be kind but not to hesitate to leave if she feels unsafe. it was the first night you’d spent apart since you joined them.

joel took your hand in his as you walked to the edge of town and made your way to your condo. you were surprised by his touch but welcomed it nonetheless, with joel you’d take whatever he gave you. “you think ellie’s okay right now?”

“just thinking about that myself actually.” you knew joel was as worried about her as you were. he didn’t let on just how much he worried but you knew, you could tell from the permanent frown had gotten deeper.

“we can swing by their place, i already asked maria for their address.” you and joel could probably break in and check on her but that would be a bit extreme even for you two.

“of course you did.” joel shot you a smirk, making your heart beat pick up. you both entered the home and you kicked off your boots, throwing off your jacket and hanging it up. you watched as joel did the same, taking in his broad chest that stretched against his shirt as he took off his jacket. you could watch him all day.

“gonna hop in the shower darlin’.” you nodded, slightly in a daze, following joel like a puppy as he walked towards your shared bedroom.

“can i join you?” joel pressed a kiss to your lips as he grabbed a towel and opened the bathroom door. you shivered at the feeling of his hot breath against your lips.

“how bout you just sit pretty and wait for me hm?” he motioned towards the bed and you nodded eagerly, joel found your enthusiasm maddening. he wanted you just as badly but he’d rather take you in the bed, it was the least you deserved. meanwhile you didn’t care where you were with him, as long as you could have him. after what felt like the longest 5 minutes of your life, the bathroom door cracked open, to reveal joel in only a towel around his waist. you didn’t even think twice before you padded over only in socks and one of joel’s shirts. your eyes widened as you outstretched a hand to feel the graying chest hair and maddening small gut surrounded by strong muscles. joel watched you wordlessly as your eyes narrowed at scars he’d gained over the years, your small hand inspecting and feeling whatever you could. joel felt something swell in his chest as you eyed him down, there was no hesitation in you to reach out for him. when you finally seemed satisfying joel stepped to the side so he could at least pull on a pair of boxers. your eyes never left him and joel could’ve laughed at how hungry you were for him if his mouth wasn’t salivating at the sight of your hard nipples through his fucking t-shirt.

joel toweled his hair dry, watching you as you continued to ogle him. he wasn’t any better, in the few seconds he wasn’t looking at your eyes he was taking in your curves or how he didn’t want you in anything other than his clothes. it was just as sexy as the suggestion of fabric you’d worn as lingerie before.

“come here darlin’,” you blushed instantly, moving towards him as he threw the towel to the side. your hands came up to smooth his hair down, it looked wild and you wanted to mess it for yourself later on. you raked a hand through his hair, your fingernails scraping his scalp, and joel let out a content grumble. your pussy clenched around air from the sound, you were exposed under this shirt, cool air making it clear to you how wet you were already getting. joel’s hands came up to your hips, squeezing and earning a gasp from your lips as your hands cupped his face. he pulled you closer, leaning down as he pressed a kiss to your lips, his tongue trailing the seam of your lips and you moaned out his name in response. “bed, now.” you wasted no time in backpedaling with joel’s hands still on your hips, not even breaking eye contact as you sighed out in content. when the back of your knees hit the bedframe, joel lifted you over it and dropped you onto the bed like you weighed nothing. you almost let out another whimper. joel climbed over you, his thighs caging you in as he sat up and raked over you.

“y’don’t know how long i’ve been dreaming about this,” you gasped as his hands traveled down until they reached the edge of your shirt, his rough fingertips brushing the bare skin where the shirt met your thighs. you whined and grasped the bedsheets as you tried not to just pull him to you, you were already so desperate you didn’t know know how much more you could forsake your dignity.

“how long?” you practically whined it out when his fingertips dipped under the shirt, slowly making their way up.

“ever since i saw you.” you whined out his name as his hands found their way to either side of your hips, the calluses on his thumbs created friction as they swiped along your soft skin.

“no underwear huh?” joel’s brown eyes were wide, his pupils blown out like you were sure yours were. you swallowed down as his eyes kept staring you down, staring where you needed him most.

“why waste time?” you noted, as his hands shoved the material up, past your belly-button leaving you exposed. joel pushed the material up until your breasts were exposed and your nipples poked up into the air. you would’ve felt shy if not for the low curse joel muttered under his breath. without warning the man dove down, his mouth traveling up your navel leaving kisses and bites along your center. your hands found refuge in his hair, tangling the damp strands between your fingers and pulling when he bit you a little harder than you anticipated. joel, tantalizingly slow, kissed his way to your breasts. his mouth latched onto one nipple as his fingers teased the other. the bite of his teeth, the suck of his mouth, and the rough pad of his finger felt like fire against you and it made your mind swim with desire. joel was mean to your breasts, not letting up until you could see red marks blooming on your chest. you had tried to be quiet, knowing joel didn’t want the whole neighborhood to hear you but you couldn’t help it when he pulled you between his teeth and moved away, “joel!” the fucker laughed at your reaction, pressing his now free thumb to your lips. without much thought you stuck your tongue out to lick it, joel’s grip on your hip tightened.

“want you inside.” joel’s erection was straining his boxers and you wanted to feel him, you’d beg if you had to. he nodded at your words, seemingly in a daze from your actions and words. lowering down as his hand followed and moved to finger you. he pulled your ankles to rest on his shoulders, giving him easier access. although you loved his hands, you wouldn’t last much longer, not with him looking at you like this and not with desire coursing through you more than any sensible thought. you wanted to come with him, placing a hand over his you spoke. “joel please just fuck me, i’m prepped.” joel seriously doubted that being that you struggled to take three of his fingers last time, but nonetheless he nodded and pressed a kiss to your ankle. joel pushed his boxers down, taking them off in one swift movement and your jaw dropped.

it was the biggest dick you’d ever seen, thick and long, perfectly cropped gray dark hair at the base and your mouth watered at the sight of it. despite your desire, doubt creeped into your mind, “joel it’s so big, i don’t think it’ll fit.” your words sparked a fire in him and joel had to push down the very real need to plunge into you and make you sob from the stretch but he needed to soothe your doubt. and despite your wide eyes he could see your pussy clenching on air as if begging to take him. joel had to stifle a smirk at the sight.

“you can take it doll, you’re a big girl.” you swallowed as you nodded, trusting him implicitly and sitting up as you watched him. despite your earlier comments, joel still had to check that you weren’t too tight and he didn’t need to grab lube to make it easier on you, he stuck two fingers into you, a low moan resounding from your throat at the feeling of something finally touching you where you needed. sure enough, joel found you were practically dripping. he looked from his fingers glistening from your ichor back to you with a teasing curiosity in his eyes and you just sighed in defeat, throwing your head back. joel took this time to move closer to you, your ankles going past his head as your legs glided over his shoulders, lining himself up. joel looked at you for any hesitation, except you were just looking past his face, nodding in anticipation.

joel does his best to move slowly, pushing his head in first, you gasp at the stretch. you’re burning up and yet you need more, you want him to break you. your eyes roll to the back of your head when he pushes two inches in and joel thinks he should take a picture of your face to save forever. he can keep his composure, control his speed until you look him straight in the eyes and smile so wide he thinks he might be imagining it. joel can’t help but plunge into you. your mind instantly goes numb, the stretch burning and his tip hitting your cervix, tears sting your eyes as joel gives you time to adjust, “so fucking tight pretty girl, it’s like you were made for me.” and you can’t talk, the pleasure cutting off any connection between your mind and your body. joel feels so suffocated by your pussy, he’s not sure he’ll last long, not when you look so pretty crying over his cock or when you’re so warm and wet for him he feels overwhelmed by the notion alone.

so he starts moving slowly, fractionally moving in and out, you start clenching less as your body gets used to him. it doesn’t stop the mind-numbing shock you feel when his dick kisses your cervix, but it still keeps you sane. joel feels himself going insane, even with his bad ear he can perfectly hear how fucking wet you are and the downright pornographic sounds your bodies are making. he’s still a gentleman, still has some decency to warn you before he fucks you dumb.

“safe word is texas okay.” you nod enthusiastically, clutching your breast as joel pulls out completely and fucks into you with his full length. your jaw slackens, tears pooling at the edge of your eyes, and you can’t help but scream his name. joel’s pace doesn’t relent after that, he’s bruising your cervix and your mind and body can only agree on one thing and that’s joel. you scream his name as the angle of your bodies does nothing to help the intense pleasure you feel. joel stretches you and you don’t think you could ever want another dick in your life, not when you can feel his veins imprinting on your walls, or the throb of his cock inside you. you cum when he angles himself even deeper, white painting your vision as you arch and stiffen against him, joel whispering praises as he keeps his brutal rhythm. you feel joel grow close when his grunts turn to curses and interchange with your name.

you think joel must be feeling as brainless as you do when he starts muttering, “this pussy is mine, y/n fuck can’t have anyone else after this.” you feel yourself close to another orgasm and then joel pushes against your hips, your legs stretching to get him closer, your bodies flush against each other and while you thought that joel couldn’t stretch you any more you were totally wrong. he’s dragging against your walls like he was made for them. pressing into you like he wants to put a baby in you, and you are so fucked dumb, words barely escaping your mouth as he slides in and out of you. you’re babbling nonsense and joel thinks he’s no better as he feels himself close. his thumb finds your clit, massaging until he feels you clench around him.

“come with me doll.” you cry out his name and joel takes it as a yes, his pace slowing down to an equally torturous slow and deep one. he moves to pull out and you whine. joel almost loses his mind.

“no no no please want your cum.” you’d deal with the consequences tomorrow right now you’d go crazy if you didn’t feel filled by him. and he can’t bring himself to deny you. you have tears streaming down your face from desire, and he’s not a monster. joel comes inside, burying himself to the hilt and you feel warm from his cum, feeling it fill you up and it’s so much you’re starting to think you’ll never feel fuller. when joel pulls out, your juices combined with his spill down your cunt, and joel thinks he’s worked up an appetite.

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[kxttqi]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 .

s. gojo x f!reader ✧  fluff ; not proofread ahaha ; christmas special !

この 物語 で ⇢ he proposes to you on christmas eve .

soft moonlight gleams upon the snow-laden streets, blanketing them with a quiet stillness that only comes at the height of winter. each breath you take is visible in the cold december air, and your boots crunch lightly through the powdered frost beneath as you hurry to keep up. neon reds and greens reflect faintly off shop windows, a kaleidoscope of christmas lights blurring in your peripheral vision as the wind teases at your scarf. somewhere in the distance, the faint bell chime of a salvation army volunteer jingles like far-off sleigh bells, joining the distant hum of christmas songs spilling out of café doors and dim-lit storefronts.

"would you stop running off?" you whisper-yell, just as a puff of breath escapes your lips. satoru’s always like this — taller than anyone else, obliviously confident, and a streak of childlike mischief wrapped around an impenetrable core of too much power for one man to hold. his platinum hair is bright beneath the holiday lights, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat as he turns his head back toward you, grinning like a satisfied fox.

"i’m not running," he replies with a breezy shrug, placing extra emphasis on his long strides. “i’m leading. big difference.”

you mutter his name beneath your breath in semi-annoyance, and he slows down just enough for you to hobble at his side, cheeks flushed from exertion and the nip of the winter wind. he dips his head closer, amusement glittering unmistakably in those electric blue eyes of his, glowing even brighter than the string lights hanging up above.

“y’know, if your legs were just a little longer…” he starts, the corner of his mouth twitching.

you elbow him through his thick wool coat, immediately greeted with the unmistakable sound of his laughter, sharp and just a little too loud for this sleepy christmas eve. if it weren’t for the fact his face was sculpted like some modern michelangelo piece, you might have actually slugged him.

“i have the ticket home,” you remind him pointedly, fingers shoved into the warm depths of your coat pockets. “you really wanna miss our train back to tokyo? you’d sulk the whole ride tomorrow.”

“nah, i’m good,” he assures you, mock solemn as he ducks his head against another onslaught of wind. “in fact… this is me slowing down! such a considerate boyfriend, right?”

the streets have emptied; most people are home now, wrapped in blankets by crackling fires or sipping holiday drinks among friends and family. the two of you are outliers — wandering the quieter streets, half-aimless now. it’s not so cold that you mind. honestly, the world feels a little softer tonight, like every hard edge has been dulled beneath a layer of frost and good cheer.

"where are we even going, satoru?" you sigh finally, stopping in your tracks and crossing your arms against your chest. the streetlight above flickers faintly, casting warm golden hues against plates of unbroken snow and two long shadows stretching towards each other on the asphalt. it’s hard to look away from him — as always, he seems completely at home in the chaos he creates, dressed neatly but somehow slightly disheveled. snowflakes linger on his lashes, an annoying but endearing imperfection against the surreal sharpness of his face. it’s like he belongs to the winter itself, something untouchably beautiful yet cold enough to bite.

“wait,” you realize, groaning. “you don’t even have a plan, do you?”

satoru grins again, a little boyish now as he rubs the back of his neck. “do i ever?”

“you’re hopeless.”

“i do have… something in mind,” he insists, drawing out the pause dramatically. “c’mon, we’re almost there! well, sort of. we’re getting warmer.”

you squint at him suspiciously, but there’s only so much of that you can do when he’s peering at you like he knows all the world’s secrets, like he expects you to give up because he already knows how this scene is going to play out. you unfold your arms just to stuff your cold fingers deeper into the warmth of your coat. sighing, you follow him through the streets because you always do — no matter what antics gather like snowflakes around his heels, you’ve never been very good at walking away.

the city opens up after another stretch of blocks, the quiet streets falling into the sprawling expanse of frozen parks and the faint reflection of city skyscrapers off the inky black river just ahead. the snow by the riverbank crunches loud beneath your steps as the two of you veer slightly from the path, your breath hitching when you see the skyline faintly mirrored in the thin layer of ice atop the surface.

the stars, brighter here than in the heart of the city, twinkle faintly as orange and hazy blue lights stretch out row by row against the backdrop of the otherwise dark, glassy water.

“here we are,” satoru announces, raising his arms out like the proud ringmaster of an empty circus.

you glance around skeptically, brow raised.

“a frozen river in the middle of nowhere?”

“it’s called ambiance,” he corrects you with a playful tap to your nose. “you don’t get it.”

but then he’s pulling something from his pocket, his scarf slipping slightly as you watch him drop down to one knee. it's so unlike him to be still and steady like this, hands no longer performing flourished, over-the-top gestures. he looks up, the whiteness of snow alighting against his lashes and the tips of his impossibly pale hair. his gaze is raw now, utterly open, and the real weight of the moment presses itself against you like the chill in the wind. nothing about it feels real.

"i know," he starts, exhaling laughter out into the open air between you. it fogs up faintly, a fleeting blur of warmth in the barren cold. “it would make more sense to wait until christmas day, right? but it’s midnight somewhere, so technically…”

he’s babbling, you realize, watching the sheepish grin slowly tug at his lips — a rare thing for someone who prances through life as though he owns it.

“satoru,” you breathe, the waver in your voice making his grin deepen.

“i know,” he says again, this time softer. "but listen, you're kind of stuck with me, so i figured we should make it official."

your heart thuds painfully in your chest, and the moment he pulls a small velvet box from his pocket, your throat tightens. the ring shines faintly, reflecting flecks of orange the same way ice reflects firelight, but your eyes are on his face — on the steadiness of his words, of his gaze, of the unusual quiet awe there as he says your name and speaks plainly for once in his life.

"marry me," satoru says, light but not carelessly. "marry me so no one else can steal you away — as if they could — but, uh, let’s just make sure.” his words falter under the weight of a chuckle he doesn’t quite know what to do with, and despite the stillness of him, his fingers tighten over the box, like it might flutter away if he isn’t careful.

you feel your lungs collapse when you nod without speaking, your hands trembling slightly as you extend them towards him.

for once, satoru doesn’t bother to tease or gloat. he just blinks up at you, his smile gentler than you’ve ever seen it, and when he rises, smoothing the ring onto your trembling finger with the care he reserves for only the most fragile and precious things, you don’t bother hiding the bloom of tears against your cheeks.

he notices, of course. he always notices everything.

“crying already?” he murmurs, his voice soft but confident again, full of the easy dominance that makes satoru who he is. 

in place of a response, you loop your arms around his neck and feel the hum of his laughter in his chest before his hands find your waist. he pulls you just close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body, somehow thawing away even the bitterest part of winter.

the world belongs to you two tonight, snow dancing gently all around as you kiss him, his fingers coming to rest on the back of your neck with the tenderness of a moth’s wings.

© kxttqi — do not repost, copy, translate or steal my works without permission.

[moonstruckme]

Omg doctor!remus sounds like such a great bf!! I need him 😭 could you please write a full story (I can’t think of the name so I’m going with story) on it please? You’re writing is top notch honestly 🫶🫶 I absolutely love ittt

Thanks my lovely!

part 1 | part 2

Doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

When you get out of bed Remus is already in the kitchen, the smell of coffee and eggs wafting to meet you down the hallway. Normally you wake with your stomach already rumbling and the prospect of a ready-made breakfast from your sweet boyfriend would make you salivate, but this morning you can’t seem to locate your appetite. Must be due to the big dinner you had last night; the dahl James had sent Remus home with had been enough to feed a family, but the two of you had scarfed it all down nonetheless. 

“You slept in this morning,” Remus observes when he hears you come into the kitchen.

You snort, leaning against the counter to watch him work. “Yeah, a whole extra ten minutes.” 

“Hey, that’s a lot for you,” he replies teasingly, but it’s true. You’re almost always up before Remus’ alarm goes off, the sunrise enough to rouse you while Remus turns into his pillow, moaning and groaning. “You must have been sleeping hard. You were mouth breathing all night.” 

You know; you’d woken with a sore throat and drool crusted on one side of your chin. “You’re such a princess,” you tell him, sniffing harshly in an attempt to clear your nasal passages. They must have gotten clogged from you not breathing through them all night. “I can’t believe my mouth breathing wakes you up when I have to sleep through your snores every night.” 

“You love my snores, they’re like a kitten’s purr,” Remus contests lightly. He flips an egg, looking at you a little more closely as you lean hard against the counter, eyes still droopy and aching with exhaustion. You can’t seem to shake the sleep from you this morning. “You doing alright, sweetheart? You look a bit flushed.” 

“Hm?” you blink at him, having become transfixed upon the sizzling egg in the pan. “Yeah, m’just tired. How’re you, honey?” 

Remus’ stare narrows. “I’m good, but you’re redirecting.” He flips the egg onto a plate, turning to give you his full attention. “C’mere, darling. Let me have a look at you.” 

You sigh, a tad dramatic and your boyfriend’s smile indicates he knows it, but cross the kitchen to stand in front of him. Remus grips your hips in long-fingered hands, hoisting you onto the counter and positioning himself between your legs before you can protest.

You roll your eyes as he brings his knuckles to your forehead. His brows cinch, and he moves to cup the back of your neck, absentmindedly smoothing the baby hairs at your nape. “Mm, thought so,” he hums. “You’re running a bit hot, my love.” 

You make a low whining sound. “Seriously? I have to get ready for work in, like, ten minutes.” 

“Don’t worry about that, there’ll be no work for you today.” Remus gives your thigh a little pat. “Stay put while I get the thermometer.” 

You lean your head back against the cabinets, closing your eyes against the worsening ache in your temples. “This is overkill,” you call after him. “I don’t feel bad enough to call out of work.” 

“This,” Remus says, and you can hear the bathroom drawer opening and shutting, “is called getting ahead of it, dove.” You open your eyes as he comes back into the room, too late to avoid him seeing the lethargy in your features. A tiny divot appears between his brows. “I’m glad you don’t feel too poorly yet, but pushing through will only give it time to get worse,” he murmurs, cupping your face in one hand as he settles the thermometer in your opposite ear. His thumb strokes at your jaw while you wait for the beep. 

When it does go off, Remus pulls it away with a frown. “Alright, I guess we’re both staying home today.” 

“What?” you move to hop down from the counter, but Remus stops you with a hand on your shoulder, turning the thermometer so you can see it. 

“You’re on the high end of thirty eight, sweetheart. I’m not leaving you here by yourself when it could still get worse.” His touch slides up to your face again, thumbing sympathetically at the overwarm skin of your cheek. “What symptoms are you feeling?” 

“Please don’t call out of work because of me,” you insist. “I’ll take it easy, I promise. You have appointments, Rem.” 

“Not very many today, and Sheila can take some of those,” he says patiently. “What are your symptoms, honey?”

You try not to look too sullen, but now that Remus is hellbent on taking care of you, it’s difficult not to acknowledge the achy, feverish feeling you’ve carried out of bed with you. “My nose is stuffed up,” you admit, and Remus nods like he knows that already, “and my throat kind of hurts.” 

Remus hums sympathetically, rubbing at your leg. “Anything else? Nausea, muscle pain, headache?”

“Headache,” you confirm quietly. 

“Mhm.” His fingers probe gently at the lymph nodes around your neck and jaw. You do your best to stay still for him. “Did you have your flu jab?” 

You’re quiet, and Remus drops his hands, giving you a despondent look. 

“Dove. How many times did I remind you to go?” 

“It was never convenient!” You protest, growing sheepish under his accusatory gaze. “And I never usually get the flu anyways.” 

He makes an incredulous sound. “I seem to recall you saying the same thing last year.” 

“That was a cold,” you insist. 

“Right.” He rolls his eyes at you, but the squeeze he gives your knee indicates he’s not irredeemably upset with you, even if you are in trouble. “When you get your medical degree, you can try arguing that one.” He turns away from you, opening the fridge. “Until then, I want you to drink this—” he passes you a bottle of water “—and then go get in bed.” 

You grin. “Remus Lupin, if you wanted me in bed so badly, you didn’t have to come up with this whole charade to get me there.” 

Remus has learnt well how to hide a smile from spending so much time with James and Sirius, yet you swear you detect the faintest twitch of his lips as he rolls his eyes at you. “Glad to see your wit’s still intact somewhere in that slow-roasting brain of yours,” he comments. 

“You can’t set up one like that and expect me not to knock it down.” You shrug with a sniffle. He gives the water bottle in your hand a pointed look, and you open it, taking an exaggerated sip. “Thanks for taking care of me,” you say in a more genuine tone. 

Remus visibly softens, leaning forward to kiss your cheek. “That’s what I do,” he replies.

“I really brought your work home, huh?” 

“It’s not work, honey.” He closes his eyes, brushing another kiss against your forehead. “Not when it’s you.” 

You wonder if a heart can break your ribs from swelling too large. Maybe you’ll ask him sometime.

[love-anddeepression]

Feel free to ignore this, but I saw you want Miguel requests soooo.

Platonic Miguel x teen spider reader. Preferably gn. And like, he sees his daughter in the reader or smth, idk how to explain it, but I think it would be cute to see it

ONGOSH THANK YOU I absolutely love this<33 I wrote this on my phone but Im honestly so hyped up I love father figure!miguel. I hope you don’t mind but I’m doing this in the form of headcanons.

Miguel O’Hara x teen!spider!Reader

-okay so your obviously one of the only people Miguel loves tolerates.

-your universe isn’t “home” to you, Miguel is. He’s like the father you never had and at first, the both of you absolutely detested one and other. In fact, Jessica was the one who convinced him to recruit you, way before Gwen or even Peter came into the picture.

-at first, he was stand-offish and a total dickhead to you, but slowly warmed up and began to humour you. He’d smirk at your horrible jokes and pretend to roll his eyes when you teased him.

-in fact, when you first laughed your ass off at one of his remarks, something in him knew that he’d do anything to protect you.

-he already lost one daughter, he wasn’t losing you.

-In all honesty, your relationship is very similar to Joel and Ellie from the Last of Us.

-you have inside jokes that even Lyla doesn’t understand, and she’s an AI.

-It takes all his strength to not snort when you make faces behind someone’s back, he knows you do it to make him laugh.

-he gives you tips on how to take care of yourself.

-a whole bottle of baby powder suddenly appears in your room in spider society. He says he knows nothing.

-lyla shows you the camera footage of him placing it on your bedside table.

-he’s close to tears when you specially make him empanadas. He’d been in a bad mood and when he went to his desk, there was a plate of empanadas with a post it note from you.

- “dont waste them I spent like two hoursmaking them for you”

-he scarfs them down of course.

-like all fathers, he can be strict sometimes, especially because you’re a kid. He doesn’t want you getting hurt. If you’re hurt he helps patch you up himself.

-“you fucking crazy? What were you thinking, trying to catch a car instead of dodging it?”

-your arguments are shushed by him shoving a spoon of soup into your mouth.

-“don’t waste it.” He says, “I spent some time making it while you were asleep.”

-he can’t pinpoint an exact moment from when he started seeing you as his daughter, but it’s probably from the time he got super protective around hobie.

-ain’t no kid coming near his daughter.

-almost snarls when hobie jokingly flirts with you.

-he subtly pushes hobie away when the guy walks behind you.

-you’re the only person other than lyla who can snark him and get away with it without an insult being jabbed at you.

-he’s hugged you a total of two times.

-the first was when you almost died, the second was when he almost died and you freaked out.

-you’d already lost your family, you could not lose him too.

“Miguel, get up.” You tearfully say to his sleeping form, “I can’t do this without you.”

-when he’d stirred, the first thing he saw was your shocked face and then you tackled him.

-he loves you. Like, a whole lot.

-he smiles at you when you walk around in his office, rambling about random stuff. He’s glad that you’re comfortable enough around him to stop masking your personality.

-his jokes are LAME. Like dad jokes are his jam and they’re just so bad.

-“why do sharks live in salt water? because pepper water makes them sneeze.” “Miguel PLEASE-”

-did I mention he’d probably die for you? Like fuck the universe(s) he’s not losing his baby daughter again.

-OOO IMAGINE THE BOTH OF YOU AS DRACULA AND MAVIS

-it’s weird but it’s funny.

-Gwen loses her shit when she sees you sitting next to him with your head on his shoulder.

[paulyenvol6]

Bound by Flame (Chapter 6)

Contains: rape, non-con, dub-con, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), breeding kink, degrading, begging, edging, incest, manipulation, slight aftercare

Wordcount: ~4.78k

Masterlist of this story

Maera had lost a feeling for the passing time.

She could only roughly estimate the time of the day and thought that it might be around 9 or 10 in the evening because of the level of the sun. It had grown dark and meanwhile she had grown desperate.

The whole afternoon she had spent sitting on the bed, walking aimlessly around the room, staring out the window and browsing the book shelfs. And though she had passed some time by getting lost in a history book she had managed to find, it couldn't entertain her for the whole rest of the day.

At some point her eyes hurt and she couldn't ignore her headache any longer so Maera had had to put down the book and find another activity. Around two hours ago a servant had brought her something to eat, a plate of bread and meat as well as something to drink and she hadn't been quick enough to put a feet between the door so she had merely enjoyed the food in the darkness of her room.

She was bored now and just wished she at least knew what Daemon had in mind. How long would he keep her in here? Would he treat her like a captive now and would he even return to their chambers? The latter turned out to be answered soon because suddenly, while Maera was leaning against the table, juggling with three oranges, she heard steps outside and a person turned the key in the lock. She put the fruit back on the table at once and then her uncle entered the room. He definitely looked softer now which gave her some relief and then their eyes met.

"Did they bring you any food?" She nodded.

"Good."

Maera's gaze followed him while he walked to sit on the edge of the bed and exhaled loudly.

"Come here. Sit on my lap, little one."

He tapped on his thigh a few times and his niece gulped but then pushed herself away from the table. She nervously chewed on her lower lip and yet obeyed him when she reached him. Mainly because she found that doing as she was told was the easiest way to handle the situation. Daemon had made clear that he would punish her if she wouldn't do as he commanded and she didn't want to be locked in here for another day. So Maera lowered herself to sit on his thighs the wrong way around and his hands held her hips gently.

"Good girl.", he praised and really seemed content with her because his face looked kinder and merciful now.

"I brought you something.", he then stated and only then did his niece notice the basket he had carried with him. It was made of wood with a scarf covering it. He heaved it and then removed the cover so Maera could see what laid underneath.

"Strawberries.", she commented and relaxed a little. She didn't know what she had expected but definitely not this.

"Yes. I know how much you like them. And I wanted to bring you something that makes you happy after your punishment."

She really did love strawberries and it made a little smile play around her lips. It was the first time in almost two days that she had smiled and it felt strange and unfamiliar. For a brief second she forgot whose lap she was sitting on and merely examined the sweet red fruits with glistening eyes.

"Take one.", her uncle demanded with a smug smirk and for the first time, Maera was happy to oblige.

She reached with her hand into the basket and took an especially big and juicy-looking one. Then she brought it to her lips and ate the strawberry. No fruit or vegetable could ever taste better than a strawberry, she was certain. Funny how after two days of horror, the littlest and simplest thing could bring you so much joy, Maera thought. She swallowed it now and opened her eyes that she had closed in relish.

"Thank you.", she quietly mumbled.

"You're welcome.", Daemon answered and now there was a prominent and confident smile that covered his face.

But then he got serious again and straightened up.

"I would like to state something one more time, Maera. I am not you're enemy here and though you sometimes might think that I'm cruel to you, this is not the case. The things I do, I do because I love you. I locked you in here today because you weren't obedient and you tried to sneak away from me. And because I'm meant to protect you and I know that I'm the only one who actually can, I have to make sure that I'm at your side. Which I can't be when you try and escape from Dragonstone."

He sounded angrier now which Maera didn't like so she swiftly nodded at him and submissively lowered her head. Daemon cupped her face but this time it wasn't forceful but more like he just wanted to feel her skin.

Something about sitting on his lap felt very right and good to Maera. Perhaps this was the case because she had been in this position so many hundred times as a child so her body remembered all the times when her uncle had read to her, comforted her or how she used to fall asleep on his lap at times. And though she despised him so much right now, those were happy memories that came to the surface while sitting in this familiar position.

His thumb caressed her skin and he watched her intensely through his grey eyes.

"I'm sorry.", Maera whispered, barely more than a breath and Daemon graciously nodded with his head.

"Good."

And in that moment she felt like a child again. Like she had broke a rule or disbehaved and her uncle had just told her what she had done wrong. Daemon examined her for another second and then gently pushed her off his thighs. Once her feet touched the stoney ground he held her by her waist while tilting his head.

"Get on your knees.", he whispered and Maera widened her doll eyes.

The floor was cold and hard and it would destroy her knees. But still, she obeyed and sank down until she knelt between his slightly spread legs. Daemon breathed heavily while keeping his flashing eyes on her and lifting his hips to pull down his pants and breeches. With a swift movement he freed his cock that was already half-hardened and then wrapped his right hand around his thick shaft.

"You're gonna be a good girl for me now, Maera, is that right? You're gonna suck my cock just the way you used to suck on your little thumb. I know that you can do that."

She had his eyes on his manhood while Daemon guided his tip to her lips.

"Open your mouth.", he spoke lowly and his niece parted her lips to offer him entrance. Daemon pushed his cock inside and sighed out when he felt Maera's warm and wet throat stimulating his sensitive member.

"Breathe through your nose.", he ordered next which she immediately tried and it turned out to be good advice because his thick cock didn't allow a lot of air entering her lungs. Daemon had his hand on the back of her head to guide and hold her to his liking while he accordingly moved his hips to hit the deepest spot in her throat with each thrust.

"Perfect little mouth.", he snarled and smugly looked down to where his cock went past her lips.

She looked so pretty like this, Daemon thought. On her knees with her swollen lips wrapped around his manhood and her eyes that were fluttering sometimes when he went particulary deep and his little niece couldn't take it anymore and had to gag. And the way that her soft silver hair felt in his hand… She was a dream. Daemon became faster and more eager now because his pleasure grew and he knew that he wouldn't last very long.

"Fuck. Ohhh I'm gonna make you swallow all of it, little one. M'gonna coat this pretty face of yours with my seed and paint your lips."

Though he wanted to throw his head back in ecstasy he forced himself to keep his eyes on her because this picture was way too beautiful not to be seen. Every once in a while she let out a sigh or moan that sent vibrations through Daemon's body and her hands held on to his thighs in order to have more stability.

"Take it, Maera… Yes. You're doing so well, I knew you could do it.", Daemon hissed and pressed the girl's head closer to his balls. "You're gonna take all of it. Fuck…"

And then he came and exploded inside of her mouth.

"Oh gods be good.", he moaned and held Maera's head pressed to his center until he was certain he had spilled every last drop of his seed inside of her mouth and then let her go. She loudly gasped for air and had her eyes wide open but calmed herself while Daemon recovered from his high. He stayed by the edge of the bed supporting himself on his elbows until his panting had calmed down and then he turned his attention back to Maera.

She was still sitting on the floor, tears and traces of his seed marking her skin but Daemon thought that she had never looked cuter and the sight made his cock almost hard again.

"Get up.", he said and helped her by pulling her onto his lap once again. But then he was quick to change their position and heaved her through the air like she was a doll until Daemon was seated with his back against the headboard and his niece sat between his legs with her back to his chest. He wrapped an arm around her waist and Maera wasn't sure if he did it to feel her or to make sure that she couldn't get away from him.

Daemon held her close to him for a few minutes and kissed her neck until she felt a hand on her thigh that wandered further up until it slipped under her dress and to the most intimate part of her body. She dealt with all of this with a coldness, a numbness. She was beyond fighting him or trying to convince him not to do this because her experience had shown her that it didn't matter anyway. So she took it, just as he ordered her to.

His hand cupped her sex and then he was so eager that he couldn't tease her for long. He swiftly pulled down her underwear, removed it from her body and then ran a finger through her almost completely dry slit. He was determined to make sure that it would change soon.

So he started by coating his thumb with his own spit and then circled her still sensitive pearl. Soon he could use her own natural arousal for it because although she didn't like it, she was soaked in a matter of minutes and Daemon could almost smell the excitement and desire on her. It filled him with a profane satisfaction and at this point he could feel his cock swelling and pressing against Maera's back.

"I know you like that, little pet.", he purred in her ear when there was an unmistakable moan leaving her mouth and Maera bit her lip.

"Say it, babygirl. Say that you want me to continue. Say that you need me.", he growled and his touch on her bundle of nerves came to a halt.

She squirmed and whinced in his arms because at first she was too proud to tell him how much she enjoyed this and tried to signale him that with a complaining moan but then when he stopped, Maera felt so heated and desperate that she turned and shifted between his legs. Daemon secured his arm around her body and pressed his head against her neck.

"Say it.", he whispered. "Beg me to go on or I won't."

There was a light brush over her pearl that almost made her cry out but as sudden as it had come did it stop again. Just very quietly did her voice cut through the air.

"Please.", she whimpered and Daemon smirked against her hair.

"What was that?"

"Please, uncle. I need it."

He chuckled with his husky voice and kissed her head. "There we go. Isn't everything so much better when you obey me, Maera? Isn't all of this so much easier that way?"

She didn't give him an answer because even through her pleasure there was still her anxiety and this loathing she felt for her uncle. But right now every thought in her head vanished when his finger came back to circling her nub and her muscles tensed when he flicked and rubbed and pressed into this heavenly spot. She relaxed in his arms, let out little sighs and even dropped her head to his shoulder while trying to get her breathing under control.

"Mhmm… Oh gods.", she whined and Daemon gently removed the hood that covered her pearl to directly graze over it.

"The gods wouldn't be able to make you feel that good, doll.", he chuckled and Maera cried out at the intense feeling.

He did it so well, touched her pearl at the exact right pace to make her melt in his his arms. Everything was so overwhelming, so passionate that tears welled in her eyes as though. She gasped for air and felt a tear leaving the corner of her eye. She assumed that this reaction was caused by a mixture of two things.

On one hand she was overwhelmed and enjoyed what he was doing so much that she just had to cry and her tears were a natural reaction to the pleasure but on the other hand it was her anger directed at herself for liking it. She couldn't enjoy it but she did. She couldn't want him to continue but she did. He was just too good.

Daemon's hand stroke her hair and kissed her right next to her ear, well aware of Maera's reaction to his touch.

"Aww don't cry sweet niece, it's okay to like it. I'm your husband after all, aren't I?"

Soon Maera was about to release but to her disappointment her uncle stopped again which made the girl abruptly turn to him and questioningly and with big eyes stare at him.

"Please… What are you doing?"

In response he flipped the two of them over so she was on her stomach with Daemon pressing her into the mattress. With swift hands he pulled up her skirts until her bare arse was revealed. Maera turned her head to look over her shoulder while his fingers eagerly dug into the flesh of her hips and arse. He couldn't wait to bury himself into her inviting wet cunt and quietly cursed to himself at the sight of her rosy pink entrance. Daemon connected his hand with her back and gently held her down so she wouldn't squirm so much while he intended to thrust into her. "

Spread your legs a little.", he demanded.

Maera did and it gave Daemon enough space to slide his cock between her folds. She was dripping with arousal and he wouldn't need to do anything to wet her further so he rubbed over her entrance a few times and then entered her in one movement.

Both gasped for air and for a moment Maera felt a pain in her core again, just like the first time that he had claimed her but this time the stretch faded quickly and when her uncle started to move inside of her there was almost nothing of the discomfort left. Daemon squeezed his eyes and almost felt like stopping for a moment because he feared he couldn't take it. She was so tight, seven hells and he knew he wouldn't last long despite already having emptied himself that night. Her warm walls wrapped around his shaft so perfectly and each thrust he felt like sliding through heaven.

While pounding her cunt he had his left hand on her waist and his right had grabbed her neck. He gently pressed the girl underneath him in the sheets but made sure that she was still able to breathe.

"Perfect little cunt. She was fucking made for me, made to be taken by me. You're mine, sweet girl. Mine to ravish… and claim… and fuck the way I want to."

He had breathed these last words and pushed so deep inside her, emphasizing every word, that Maera felt him in his belly. She moaned but the sound was mostly absorbed by the pillow her head was shoved in.

"Gods be god.", Daemon sighed and pressed little kisses on her shoulder. "Touch yourself, Maera. On your little nub. So you can release with me."

Though she yearned for some stimulation on her throbbing bud, she was a little uncertain when she connected her finger with her pearl just like Daemon had done. She simply hadn't pleasured herself before so she was inexperienced with what techniques would make her feel good. But Maera merely did what she enjoyed most and soon her finger effortlessly danced around her pearl.

Sweat was running down her face, it seemed like she felt Daemon everywhere around her and she was so caught up in her pleasure that she forgot everything at this moment except this incredibly feeling threatening to explode in her tummy. She forgot about the last days, about who it was pinning her down right now and what he had made her feel. All she could concentrate on was how bad she needed to release and reach this state again that she had entered last night when Daemon had pleasured her with his mouth. She needed this addictive emotion and right now Maera seemingly had good chances of having a taste of  it again. Her finger circling her pearl sent shock waves through her body and her legs were shaking which Daemon noticed.

"Aww, you're gonna come for me, little niece?", he whispered against the crouch of her neck and the girl nodded but couldn't bring out a word.

"Gonna come on my cock? Thought you didn't like it. Thought you didn't want me."

She squinted her eyes unable to react to him but felt humiliation in her stomach. It made it twist and turn and a cold feeling ran down her back.

"Come then. Let go for me.", he breathed.

And then it happened and Maera felt like she was ascending from the bed into the sky. The knot in her tummy exctracted and this warmth flooded her body. While she was crying and moaning in the pillow Daemon mercilessly pounded her cunt and then with one last sharp and deep thrust he finished a second time this night only that now it was her cunt he filled up. There was a dark growl leaving his mouth and then, still having his cock buried inside of her, he laid on top of her feeling relaxed and content. His rapid panting slowly grew more quiet and then Daemon thought it was time to look after his niece.

He moved her hair to the side so he could take a look at the side of her face. To his surprise her face was tensed and there was a sour look around her mouth. Now that her high had faded away Maera was filled with anger and frustration as well as embarrassement. How could she have given herself to him so easily? How could she have enjoyed this?

Different to Daemon there wasn't any peace inside of her, she merely wanted to slap both her uncle and herself. Daemon, because she still didn't want this and hated that he just took her now whenever he felt the desire to and herself because she hadn't been strong enough to resist and instead had let her emotion take control over her action. And her embarrassement for the way she had had enjoyed the pleasure she had received turned into fury and stubbornness as well so Maera pouted at him once she noticed his eyes on her face.

"What is it, darling?", Daemon asked with lifted eyebrows. Her eyes spit fire and she squirmed underneathe him.

"Let me go.", she complained but Daemon's body held her down.

"What is it? Are you in pain?"

He almost sounded concerned but she wouldn't fall for this now. Maera shifted and turned and tried to crawl away so desperately that at some point he granted her it and rolled off her. The girl sat up on the bed and adjusted her dress at once, all while glaring at him with small eyes. The rogue prince had enough now and rolled his eyes. He grabbed her arm forcefully.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you sulking at me this time, mhm?" Maera tried to free herself from his grip but his hand was like iron. "You know I don't like it when you pout at me, little one. So you're either gonna tell me what's the cause for this or you're gonna swallow it and act like a good girl again."

"NO.", she spitted and for a moment Daemon was so surprised that he loosened his grip on her upper arm which gave his niece the opportunity to bring some distance between the two of them which she did. She pulled away from him and hasted towards the door. Because although Maera knew that she couldn't just escape from Dragonstone that way, she thought that she at least might be able to flee from his presence during the night if she would be able to hide somewhere in the castle. Or lock herself in a room…?

These thoughts clearly were unnecessary because even before she was halfway to the door, Daemon took hold of her arm, shoved her back and pressed her to his body. His mouth brushed her hairline, a motion that seemed gentle at first but then suddenly a hand wrapped around Maera's throat and even squeezed a little.

"You little beast. And I thought you learned something today.", he hissed. "Would you really like me to do this again? Locking you in here for another day?"

She assumed that it was a rethorical question because she wasn't able to answer him right now with his hand around her throat. Only croaked hums and moans could go past her lips so she just shifted in his arms.

"Will you be obedient now? Or do I have to make myself even more clearly?"

He slightly shook her and dangerously towered over her. In any other case Maera would have been scared and nodded just so he would let her go but there was something inside of her right now that made her so angry with everything that she didn't.

She hated the fact that she had enjoyed what he had done to her for a moment so much that she had to deal with her emotions somehow and right now the easiest way was by disobeying him and just letting her wrath out. With a new power Maera wriggled and writhed trying to make him stop but he wouldn't which frustrated her. Daemon tightened his grip around her neck as a reply and lowered his head to her ear.

"Fucking listen to me. I'll lock you in these chambers for the next years if that's what it takes. I'm not gonna let you out and only come in here every night to fuck and breed you until you're with child and then I'm gonna do it over and over again. Does that sound pleasant to you, you little slut, mhm? Right now you're not giving me a lot of alternatives."

His hand around her throat started to make her feel panicky and she helplessly put her hand on his. Perhaps she would just die right here right now. Strangled by her uncle who she had once loved and admired so much. But it didn't happen and the light that she next saw wasn't the holy light welcoming her to the afterlife but the candles that lit up the room. Daemon had loosened his grip a little, sensing that Maera was seriously struggling and allowed her to greedily gasp for air while she opened her eyes again. Killing her was the last thing he wanted after all.

Once she had calmed down a little with Daemon's hand still keeping her in place he turned her around and came with his face close to hers.

"Will you behave yourself now? Will you be good?"

She chewed on her buttom lip, still a pouty expression in her eyes and he could clearly see her anger.

"Fine.", she grumbled nevertheless and her words made Daemon straighten up again.

"If you won't your punishment will only get worse for you. This is my last fucking warning, Maera and I swear to the gods I will not be merciful if you will disobey me again."

Now that they were already standing Daemon led her to one of the chairs just like he had done last night to clean her up. He let go of her not because he particulary trusted that she wouldn't do anything that would upset him but because he knew that he was stronger than her anyway and even if she attempted to flee, he would catch her in a matter of seconds. But Maera kept her promise for now and only breathed heavily while sitting on the chair. He used a washcloth to clean her cunt and inner thighs and this time the girl's resistance didn't last long.

With one powerful motion the rogue prince spread her legs, quickly made sure that she was clean for the night and then removed the remains of his seed that he had spilled on her face with another wipe. It was a loving gesture in deep contrast to his previous actions and Maera was able to relax for a few minutes.

There were always these moments when he seemed so familiar again, like the loving uncle he had been to her as a child when he would comb her hair or comfort her when she was crying. Or how he used to take care of her wounds from romping around outside with her brother sometimes. He would clean the cuts with a washcloth just like this one and then apply an ointment that was supposed to reduce the pain. Daemon then would hold her and soothingly kiss her hair until she grew so tired that she would fall asleep and he could carry her to her bed.

Right now it felt like that again, like he was merely taking care of her after she had suffered or craved his attention. She was at peace for a while until he was finished and got to his feet again. Then he helped her up, wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led her back to the bed as if he was scared she would fall down if she did it on her own.

Once they were by the bed Daemon pulled back the blanket so his niece could slip under it. The goosebumps on her arms gave away how could she felt and she even slightly shivered as she climbed on her side of the bed.

"Do you need a second blanket, love?", Daemon asked softly but Maera shook her head.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. It's fine."

He had his eyebrows raised, not entirely satisfied but accepted her answer and went walking around the room to blow out the candles until it was so dark, Maera could barely see her own hands in front of her. She only heard Daemon when he approached the bed again and then after he had adjusted his pillow, it at least sounded like that, he turned on his side.

"Sleep well, sweetling.", he whispered and for a moment she was pondering whether to answer him or not.

Saying it back would be like giving up once more and she hated it. She hated doing as he told and giving him what he wanted. But maybe he would only be harder on her if she continued to be so stubborn and protest at any given chance. Almost two minutes after Daemon had said it, and she was lucky he was still awake as he was already slowly drifting away, she opened her mouth.

"Goodnight.", Maera murmured, so quietly that he almost couldn't hear it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@smashee0789 @classicsimpforaaronwarner @hangmanscoming @ninihrtss @coffeebooksrain18 @aleemendoza2425-blog @chiminies-noona

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Christmas special Eri x RoR please? (This might be a bit scary)

Reader was told about not just Santa but also about Krampus and feels sad for him

So she tries to stay up the whole night to meet Krampus because she wants to give him something

She falls asleep only to wake up to the sound of hooves and is shocked to see Krampus in her home! (He came for Loki to punish him for being naughty again this year)

Rather than be afraid of Krampus, Eri runs over to him and gifts him the scarf she wanted to give him so he can stay warm as well as some cookies she made with the help of Mama Eve (Krampus is touched by her generosity as he simply pats her head and leaves, sparring Loki for being punished this year)

This is not based off the Krampus movie but Krampus from German Mythology (I want to think of Krampus as a sort of Demon that only comes around Christmas)

Krampus mostly comes to punish Loki for constantly being naughty (No one helps Loki because they don’t want to be on Krampus’ ‘Shit List’)

Krampus is the son of Hel from Norse Mythology

Please get plenty of rest and take your time!

-You were still learning about Christmas, being with your new family, and that it was celebrated differently all over the world, with some things being the same, like presents and pretty decorations.

-It was Nikola who told you about someone named Krampus. Some, like Adam, were worried that you might get scared hearing about the scarier spirit of Christmas, who would come to teach naughty children a lesson alongside Santa, beating them with birch branches.

-You learned of the Krampus parades, seeing people dressing up to walk the streets, scaring children into behaving, and that even many adults, like Loki, were scared of him.

-You learned Loki was a repeat offender causing Krampus to visit almost every year to punish Loki, but instead of feeling scared, you shocked Nikola, Loki, and Adam by bursting into tears, feeling sorry for Krampus, as he was just doing his job.

-It took almost a half an hour and some fresh baked cookies from Eve to calm you down, but she thought it was sweet that you were so sympathetic towards Krampus, showing your kind heart.

-When you told your family you were going to stay up to meet Krampus, they were amused, thinking you were going to try to wait up to see Santa. You begged Brunnhilde to take you out so you could go shopping, finding a long scarf, using your allowance money to buy a scarf and you did your best in wrapping it, but it didn’t look pretty compared to the beautifully wrapped presents under the tree, but you were determined to make Krampus know that he was loved just as much as Santa!

-When the night finally arrived, you had two plates of cookies, one for Santa and one for Krampus, and carrots for the reindeer, as well as your present for Krampus, a blanket wrapped around you as you were determined to meet him!

-You made it about forty minutes before you tipped over, fast asleep.

-Thankfully, that night you were a light sleeper, and you awoke to the sound of footsteps and what sounded like hooves as you saw up, looking a bit delirious as both Santa and Krampus froze, seeing you awake.

-You froze, your eyes going wide and Santa was going to play interference, not wanting you to get scared of Krampus, only for you to leap off the couch and rush towards Krampus, leaping into his arms.

-They both froze, Krampus looking at Santa with a ‘what do I do’ look on his face as he was panicking as you pulled back, your eyes sparkling brightly, “You really came! I’m so happy!” what the what?

-You scurried back to the couch, grabbing your present, handing it to him, “Here, this is for you!” Krampus was stunned as he kneeled, seeing the gift for him, and he opened it, finding a scarf and he looked at you, seeing your beaming face before he lifted a clawed hand and patted your head.

-Santa chuckled warmly, coming over and patted your head as well, “What a sweet child you are Y/N- you have such a big heart.” You looked a bit sheepish, apologizing to Santa that you didn’t have a gift for him, which made him pat your head even more, “Silly Y/N- you already gave me your gift, you showed me an example of the true meaning of the season, helping and being kind to others.”

-You beamed, happy that you managed to give him a gift too, as they both enjoyed your cookies. Krampus agreed to let Loki go this year but left him a letter with a hoofprint on it, a warning, while Santa took you outside, letting you feed and pet his reindeer before they returned you to the couch where you quickly knocked out again.

-The following morning Loki was hugging you, tears streaming down his face as he thanked you for saving him this year while Odin couldn’t help but laugh, seeing the threatening letter Krampus had left for him, but he knew Loki wouldn’t behave, it wasn’t in his nature.

[pandapetals]

Holiday Feast

The X-Men have a feast before everyone leaves for the holidays.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor, christmas dinner, holiday vibes

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @saradika

It was a week before Christmas, and the mansion was filled with the warm, festive chaos of Xavier’s holiday feast. The kitchen was a disaster zone, with Scott and Ororo chopping, stirring, and debating spices, while Hank muttered to himself over an elaborate five-course menu. The aroma of roasting vegetables, fresh bread, and spiced cider drifted through the mansion, wrapping everyone in a cozy holiday glow.

You and Logan had retreated to the living room, sitting side by side on the couch, watching the flurry of activity with amusement. Logan’s arm was slung around your shoulders, and you nestled into his warmth, feeling content. Most of the team lingered nearby, helping out when needed—or at least trying to. Bobby had managed to drop a whole bowl of flour earlier, and Jean had confiscated Scott’s spatula after he attempted to rearrange her perfectly layered dessert.

The door burst open, and Rogue and Remy stumbled in, laughing and brushing snow off their coats. They’d clearly been in the middle of an impromptu snowball fight, and a gust of cold air followed them in, cutting through the warmth.

"Well, there goes the cozy atmosphere," you teased, snuggling even closer to Logan as you pulled the blanket over both of you. "We finally got it warm in here, and then you two show up."

"Sorry," Rogue said, grinning as she peeled off her damp scarf, while Remy just smirked, shaking snow out of his hair with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Don’t worry," Remy drawled, giving Rogue a wink. "We bring the heat everywhere we go."

Logan huffed, rolling his eyes as he tightened his arm around you, pulling you closer as if to shield you from the chill they’d brought in.

Remy caught Logan’s look and smirked even wider. "Aww, Wolverine gettin’ all cozy on the couch? Now that’s a holiday miracle."

You laughed, nudging Logan’s side. "He’s actually quite the cuddler, believe it or not."

Logan scowled, feigning irritation, though there was a warmth in his gaze that told you he didn’t mind one bit. "Careful, darlin’," he muttered, "or I’ll tell everyone who’s really the clingy one."

You shot him a playful glare, then glanced around the room as everyone finally began to settle, the smell of freshly baked rolls and herb-crusted turkey filling the air. Plates and glasses were set, and Xavier wheeled into the room with a knowing smile, motioning for everyone to gather.

"Alright, everyone," he began, "before we dig in, I think it would be fitting to have a few words." He paused, eyes twinkling as he looked pointedly at Logan. "Perhaps Logan would like to share a bit of holiday wisdom with us?"

The entire room went quiet, and Logan’s face went blank with mild horror as every pair of eyes turned to him.

"Oh no," he muttered, shooting you a look of pure betrayal. "I don’t have anything to say."

You grinned innocently, patting his arm. "Come on, Logan. Just a few words. You’re practically the heart of this place."

Remy snickered from across the room. "Yeah, Logan, give us somethin’ inspiring, mon ami."

Logan grumbled, shifting uncomfortably, but you squeezed his hand encouragingly, and he sighed resignedly. "Fine, fine," he muttered, standing up slowly as he scratched the back of his neck, looking more like he was facing down a firing squad than giving a holiday toast.

Clearing his throat, Logan surveyed the room, his gaze landing briefly on each face—Rogue and Remy, their heads close together, Jean and Scott standing side by side, Hank and Ororo by the kitchen door, and you, watching him with that familiar, affectionate smile. For all his grumbling, he felt a certain warmth settle over him, and he softened, his rough edges melting just a bit.

"Alright, listen up," he started, his voice gruff. "I ain't much for speeches, so don't expect anything fancy."

A few chuckles rippled through the group, and Logan’s mouth quirked into a reluctant half-smile. "Guess I’ll just say… it’s good to be here with all of you. Feels like… well, it feels like family."

You could see his jaw tense as he struggled to find the right words, his hands fidgeting at his sides. "I know I’m not the easiest guy to get along with," he added, his gaze flicking to Scott, who smirked and gave a small nod. "But somehow… you all put up with me anyway. And for that, I’m grateful."

The room was silent, the warmth of his words settling over everyone. Logan cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the attention, and added gruffly, "So… Merry Christmas, or Happy Holidays, or whatever you wanna call it. Now can we eat already?"

Everyone laughed, a mix of fondness and amusement filling the room. You reached up, tugging him back down beside you, a proud smile on your face. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

Logan rolled his eyes, though there was a warm glint in his gaze. "Next time, you’re giving the speech," he muttered, nudging you with his shoulder. The two of you settled down at the large dining table as food began to be passed around.

"Next time?" You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh no, I’ll leave the speech-making to Scott."

Scott chuckled from across the table, lifting his glass with a grin. "Hey, I don’t think I could’ve said it better myself," he said, giving Logan an approving nod. "You surprised us, Logan."

Logan let out a low grumble, taking a sip from his own glass as he muttered, "Don’t get used to it."

Jean leaned over, nudging Scott. "Maybe we should record that for next year, just in case. Can’t have him backing out."

Logan shot her a mock glare. "If you do, I’ll disappear next Christmas," he threatened, though the faint smile tugging at his lips softened the words.

"Disappearing for the holidays? Where’s your festive spirit, Logan?" Rogue teased, leaning forward with a grin. "I thought you were all about tradition now."

"Yeah, like hidin’ out in a cabin somewhere," Logan replied with a smirk, though he squeezed your hand under the table, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your knuckles.

"So, does anyone have actual plans for this year?" Bobby asked, looking around the table as he piled more mashed potatoes onto his plate. "Not all of us are grumpy loners like some people."

Scott chuckled, taking Jean’s hand. "We’re headed to her parents’ place for Christmas Eve," he said, giving her a warm smile. "Jean’s mom insists on doing this huge dinner every year—she says it’s not Christmas until she’s fed everyone twice over."

Jean groaned, though there was fondness in her eyes. "And I’ll probably end up playing Christmas carols on the piano while my mom belts out every note off-key," she admitted with a laugh. "It’s a little… chaotic, but it’s home."

Ororo smiled, her eyes softening. "I’ll be heading back to Kenya for a few days," she said. "It’s tradition to spend Christmas with the village elders, sharing stories and songs. There’s nothing quite like a warm night under the stars, surrounded by family."

Remy’s eyes lit up, and he leaned in with a grin. "Guess I’ll be showin’ Rogue the wild wonders of New Orleans," he said, wrapping an arm around her. "Gonna teach her how we really do the holidays down there."

Rogue chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Remy’s idea of ‘holiday tradition’ mostly involves gumbo, crawfish, and more than a few rounds of poker," she teased, but you could see the excitement in her eyes.

"Sounds like a party," Hank said with a warm chuckle, adjusting his glasses as he piled another serving of stuffing onto his plate. "I’ll be heading back to Illinois to see my family. Maybe I’ll actually get a chance to finish that book I started last year… if I can read on the plane without someone spilling coffee on me this time."

Scott smirked. "Pretty sure you bring half a library every time you travel, Hank. It’s bound to happen."

Hank shrugged good-naturedly, his eyes twinkling. "Can you blame me? Long flights are the perfect excuse for uninterrupted reading."

Logan, sitting beside you, glanced around at the familiar faces sharing their holiday plans, and you noticed a faint, rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "So while the rest of you are off gettin’ fed and spoiled, looks like it’ll just be me and my wife, keepin' an eye on the mansion," he muttered, tilting his head toward you.

You couldn’t help but smile, nudging him with your elbow. "Guess it’s just you and me, then. I’ll have to hide all the eggnog from you."

He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking. "Oh yeah? Good luck with that. I’ll find it, sweetheart."

Jean chuckled from across the table, leaning forward with a grin. "So, just the two of you, huh? I’m betting you’ll turn the place into a little holiday fortress. Maybe string up some mistletoe?"

"Or maybe some snowball fights on the lawn?" Rogue suggested, giving Logan a playful wink.

"Don’t give him ideas," you said, laughing as you looked up at Logan. "He’ll have the whole mansion booby-trapped with holiday lights and tinsel by the time everyone gets back."

Logan snorted, crossing his arms but clearly enjoying the teasing. "Sounds like a plan to me. Might even put on one of those terrible holiday movies you love so much. Y’know, just to drive myself crazy."

You rolled your eyes, patting his shoulder. "Oh please, you secretly love them. Admit it."

"No, I don’t," he grumbled, though the glimmer in his eyes betrayed him.

Remy leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Sounds like you two got yourself a cozy little holiday ahead."

Scott shot Logan a knowing smile. "Just try not to destroy the place while we're gone. I’d like to come back to an intact mansion."

"Yeah, yeah," Logan muttered, giving Scott a mock glare. "You all just enjoy your family gatherings. We got it covered."

You squeezed Logan’s hand under the table, smiling up at him. "Looks like we’re in for a quiet Christmas."

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice softening as he glanced down at you, that rare, warm smile returning. "Guess that doesn’t sound so bad."

As everyone laughed and chatted about their plans, you felt a cozy, unspoken promise settle between you and Logan—a quiet holiday, just the two of you, sharing the peace and warmth of the season. 

[justwinginglife]

Growing Pains

25 Days of Simpmas: Day Fourteen December 14th: Satoru Gojo, Rank 12 Anime: Jujutsu Kaisen Event Masterlist

Guys, don't hate me for putting Gojo so low on my list, okay? LOL. I do really love this fic though, I feel like it could be a whole series, honestly. I had the best time writing it, so I hope yall enjoy!

“Smells like trash, must be a Zenin nearby.” 

Gojo pretended to examine his surroundings, peering over his sunglasses as he sniffed the air. His eyes finally landed on you. 

You flipped him off, retorting back, “Smells like shit, must be a Gojo with his head so far up his own ass.” 

He grinned, amused. “Now, now, is that anyway to treat your fellow co-parent?”

You scoffed. “You started it, dipshit. Now, where’s the kid? It’s my weekend.”

“The kid is not a kid, and he’s sick of you two doing this every week. You know everyone else can hear you guys, right?” Megumi appeared from behind, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder as he jerked his thumb towards the high school, where all the other students were watching curiously from the windows, whispering to each other “Fushiguro’s folks are at it again.”

While you had no direct relation to Megumi and Gojo had no relation at all, you’d both retained this arrangement with each other ever since Megumi was a child. Although you came from separate clans, and lived completely separate lives, somehow, after catching wind of Megumi’s cruel fate, you’d both had the bright idea to swoop in and save him. Maybe you were sympathetic, or maybe you both just had savior complexes, but either way, before he knew it, Megumi had gone from having no parents at all to having two eager, adoptive parents. 

And they both loved him to pieces but they were constantly at odds with each other. 

Gojo frequently doubted your intentions, wondering why a Zenin -and a high ranking one, no less- who’d never been interested in Megumi before was suddenly playing mom in his kitchen. He assumed every act of kindness was a ploy used to ensnare the impressionable, young boy and chain him to the Zenin clan forever. What he didn’t realize was that you knew better than anyone the horrors of being a Zenin, and it was because you were a Zenin that you could protect him in a way that no one else could, even from your own family. So it didn’t matter that Gojo didn’t trust you- your intentions were important to no one else but yourself and you would stay true to them until your last dying breath. You would protect Megumi the way no one ever protected you. 

But even though it didn’t matter what Gojo thought of you, it sure drove you abso-fucking-lutely crazy the way he expressed his thoughts of you. 

You still remember one of the first weekends you’d spent with Megumi. At the time, you’d had no idea how to cook, having had servants to do the job for you your entire life, so you’d woken up well before dawn had even breached the sky just to attempt pancakes. By the time Megumi woke up, you’d finally managed to proudly present him with a stack of half decent food when Gojo burst in and scarfed down the whole damn plate, claiming it was for Megumi’s own safety, after all- you might’ve poisoned the dish. In revenge, you claimed that maybe you’d spread the poison across the surface of the plate too, maybe Megumi would die upon contact, so it was only fair that the plate be demolished too; you smashed the glass down on top of Gojo’s big, stupid head. And then, for good measure, you hit him with the frying pan you’d used to cook. Who knows? Maybe you’d poisoned the pan too. Unfortunately for Gojo, he had not yet mastered infinity. After that day, he had a bump the size of Japan on his head for a solid month and he cursed you every damn day that he was inflicted with it. Claimed it killed the vibe with the ladies. Good, you thought. Maybe one day you’d get around to killing him too. All in due time. 

But as much as Gojo drove you crazy, you drove him equally crazy. Once he’d been on a date and had forgotten that it was his turn to pick up Megumi. So, like any sane person would, you showed up to the date, with Megumi in hand, and wailed in front of the entire restaurant, “How could you do this to me?? How could you do this to our son?? And while I’m pregnant with your second child, too!! Oh, the horror, the betrayal, the heartbreak!! I’ll never love again!!” And after Gojo had glared daggers at you and then run off to explain to his fleeing date, you and Megumi simply enjoyed the most expensive dinner that money could buy and told the waitstaff to put it on Gojo’s bill. They were happy to do so. 

A decade later, and you were still butting heads and waging wars on a regular basis, only barely tolerating each other. But as the years went by, the two of you quickly learned that there was something even more troubling than your tiresome relationship: a teenager.

Though Megumi had never been the most in tune with or properly expressive of his own emotions as a child, it was still clear that he appreciated, valued, and even loved the family he’d found in you both, even as dysfunctional as it was. You remember when he used to insist that he didn’t need someone to tuck him into bed, scoffing and ridiculing the idea, but the minute you showed signs of neglecting this little step in his nighttime routine, he’d grumble that there was something wrong with the blanket or chide you for not properly checking his bed for bugs, and you’d smile and say “Oh, but of course,” and you’d perform your examination of his bed and then pull the covers over him, nice and snug. And it always made you laugh the way he’d egg Gojo on by calling him short, claiming that maybe that was the reason you weren’t very fond of him, or the reason he could never hold down a relationship for very long, but when Gojo would hoist him up on his shoulders to prove his towering height, you didn’t miss the way Megumi would smile slightly, enjoying his view from up high. 

And as much as you disagreed with Gojo, you knew this was the one commonality you shared. You knew he had just as many wonderful memories raising Megumi as you did and at the end of the day, even though he was a dick, even though he was a douche, he was still Megumi’s dad and you were still Megumi’s mom. You were partners. And you shared this love for Megumi. Which was why you both went absolutely berserk realizing that your son had now grown up, and had now grown detached. If you thought learning how to cook was hard or remembering when Megumi had to get to class or attempting to help with his math homework or continuously shopping for new clothes every time the boy grew -which was a lot- it wasn’t nearly as hellish as dealing with a teenager. You and Gojo were in complete, utter agreement on that. 

So now that Megumi was scowling as he chided the two of you for embarrassing him in front of all his classmates, you and Gojo now stood in total solidarity with each other, completely forgetting your previous feuds.

“Hey now, that’s no way to talk to your mother.” Gojo lightly karate chopped Megumi’s head. Megumi then slapped his hand away to which Gojo gasped in exaggerated offense. You rested your hand on his arm in support.

“Be nice to your father, you only have the one.” You reprimanded Megumi in Gojo’s defense. 

Megumi rolled his eyes. 

Gojo threw his hand out in exasperation, gesturing to Megumi’s snarky expression. “Do you see this kid- did he just roll eyes at us??” Gojo exclaimed, giving you a “The Nerve of Him” look, a look that you understood all too well. 

A decade of not being able to understand Gojo and all it took was one teenager to bring you together. Suddenly, you were able to understand his thoughts and feelings better than you ever had before. Suddenly, you understood him better than anyone else could ever begin to. And now you were starting to think that he was the only one who truly understood you too. You were in this parenting thing together. Soldiers in arms. 

“I’m not a kid and you’re not my parents.” Megumi grumbled, annoyed.

Gojo made several incoherent noises. 

“I know, I know. It’s like, we raise the kid and he’s not even grateful.” You shook your head in disbelief. “You know what, Megumi? If we’re not your parents, then maybe you can drive yourself back to the house, yeah? And after that, you can cook yourself your own dinner. How’s that?”

Gojo nodded emphatically. “Oooh, yeah, yeah, what she said!” Then he leaned over to whisper in your ear, “Genius idea, by the way.”

If you weren’t trying to appear stern, you might’ve laughed. You never thought the day would come that Gojo Satoru would side with you, let alone call you a genius. It was a nice change of pace. 

“Gojo literally taught me how to drive and you literally taught me how to cook. How is that supposed to be a threat?” Megumi crossed his arms, staring you down defiantly.

“You taught him how to drive??” You hissed at Gojo under your breath.

He threw his hands up in a panic. “Well who was the one who taught him how to cook?? Why would you do something like that?? Now he won’t need us!” He hissed back. 

Megumi rolled his eyes again.

“Would you tell him to quit doing that??” Gojo exclaimed.

“You’re his dad, you tell him!”

“Well you’re his mom!”

“-yeah, Uncle Geto? Listen, could I stay at your place tonight? They’re at it again.”

You and Gojo whipped around to face your teenage son who was now on the phone, very blatantly ignoring the two of you. 

“UNCLE GETO???” Gojo bellowed.

“Since when is he uncle? We can’t be mom and dad, but he’s uncle??” You questioned in shock. 

“Suguru, I swear, when I get my hands on you-”

You clapped a hand down on Gojo’s shoulder. “Let’s not be hasty, maybe it’s a one time thing. He is a teenager, after all, maybe he’s just doing this to get in our heads.”

Right as Gojo’s breathing began to even out again, Megumi continued, “Well if you’re busy, that’s fine, I’ll just call Aunt Ieiri.” 

“I’m sorry, WHAT?! Did he just call Shoko- Megumi, did you just call Shoko-” Your protests were drowned out by the sound of your car’s engine roaring to life. 

Megumi was stealing your car. Now he was driving away with your car. Now he was speeding in your car. Now he was disappearing around the corner. With your car.

“What just- did he just- where is he- what the-” You sputtered. 

Surprisingly, Gojo began to laugh. He laughed and he laughed and he laughed, and you thought he’d gone mad.

“Get it together, Gojo! Our kid just committed theft and is now on the run!” You smacked him on the arm.

“C’mon, we know where he’s going- Suguru’s or Shoko’s. Don’t be such a worrywart.”

You glared at the stranger who’d now materialized before you. You thought he’d understood you. You thought he was on the same page. As a matter of fact, he’d just been freaking out with you not TWO seconds ago! What was going on with him? Why was he now siding against you? You thought you’d finally come to an agreement for once in your exhausting relationship together. And you were finally liking it. You didn’t appreciate going back to your opposite sides of the fence again. “Oh, I’m the worrywart?? Who was the one that was just telling me that I shouldn’t have taught him how to cook, so that he would, ‘need us,’ as you so desperately put it??”

He laughed again, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I? But hey. Did you see the way he put the car in reverse? The lil dude even signaled before he merged into traffic and took off with your car.”

You blinked. He… signaled? “Yeah… you’re right. Didn’t hit a damn thing. You… you actually -and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but- you taught him well.” 

He nudged your arm with his. “We taught him well. I was wondering why there were fresh tacos at the dinner table the other night. Suppose that was all your teaching.”

“T-tacos…? Yeah, I… I suppose it was.” You said quietly. 

God, Megumi was grown and you hadn’t even realized it.

He nudged you again. “C’mon. Don’t make that face, I don’t like when you get all sad. Let’s go get our kid, yeah?” 

You nodded and let Gojo lead you to his car. 

When you arrived at Geto’s place, Megumi was knocked out on the couch.

As the two of you watched him sleep peacefully, Gojo suddenly threw an arm around your shoulders, leaning some of his weight on you. For once, you didn’t mind. “Would ya look at that? He’s so tall now, he barely fits on Suguru’s lil sofa. Crazy.”

You nodded again. “So crazy. It’s like it was just yesterday that he was just begging me to cut his bangs.”

“I know, right? Can’t fit him on my shoulders anymore, that’s for sure.” Gojo laughed softly.

You grinned. “I mean, you could try. And hey, if he breaks a couple of your bones in the process, I won’t be too upset.” You teased. 

He rolled his eyes but laughed again, nonetheless. “How very cruel and very like you. But… you know. I’m starting to think you’re not all that bad, yeah?” He squeezed your shoulder playfully.

You snorted. “Oh, after ten years, I’m not that bad, huh? You finally think so, yeah? Well you’re only half decent.”

He chuckled. “Half decent, huh? I can work with that.”

You raised a brow. “Aaaand what are we working towards?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Dunno. You. Me. Megumi. One house. One family.”

Your eyes found the floor as your cheeks began to heat up. But you found the strength to speak. “We… we already are one family, like it or not.”

“I like it. I like it a lot. I like it more when you don’t hate me. When you’re laughing like that. When you’re blushing like that. When your-” He suddenly brought a hand up to his mouth to muffle his laughter, “when your eyes are half bulging out of your head because our kid just stole your car right out from under your nose. By the way, does that disqualify you as a sorcerer if even a teenager can get the better of you so easily?” He teased, nuzzling against your ear. 

You waved him away, retorting, “Need I remind you, that teenager got the better of you too, Mr. Special Grade Sorcerer. Not so great and powerful now, are you?” But after a moment’s hesitation, you finally muttered, “But I… I guess I like it too. The way you are. The way we are, or I guess, the way we’re getting to be. Took us some time to come around to each other, but we still made it here, all the same.”

His arm tightened around your shoulder. “Yeah. We finally made it to a good place.” He tilted his head towards Megumi. “He’ll make it there too. We took our sweet time, now we just need to give him some time. He’ll get there. After all, we did raise him. He’ll turn out just fine.”

You smiled softly. “You know, Satoru, you’re surprisingly good at this advice thing. Maybe you should be a teacher.”

He laughed.

“Me?"

"A teacher?”

“Maybe in another life.”

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @minasfwoopyponytail @ouiouimochi @inkytypewriter

[beautifulterriblequeen]

You have subscribed to Ethari angst facts

I'm just looking respectfully at all these fine details okay

Ethari's shirt looks like it could be green, like Runaan's, but it's actually blue. Hard to say what the true color is with the way the Silvergrove dome works, but it's possible this is basically the same color as his OG shirt.

The metal shoulder-top collar bits look similar to jack chain, a protective minimalist version of plate armor with a really cool vibe:

I don't know that it says Ethari has been doing more combat, per se. With everything else he has going on, it could be part of an overly formal and overly restrictive collar that's "just decorative."

These metal circles on the front of his shoulders look to be inspired by Runaan's shoulder markings. The connection is emphasized by the blue gems inset:

These decorations are on his front, so everyone who approaches him will have to see and acknowledge this part of his look. I'm not sure he could shout any louder that he's still devoted to (and mourning) his missing husband without going hoarse every day.

His forge sleeves and his brown undersleeves are still the same, it seems! Which means he's still doing his tinkering and he still needs his stitched enchantments from his forge.

New earring! It looks like a cuff, but maybe it's two rings close together? Leaning slightly toward the cuff because it could reference Runaan's hair cuffs, and that's angstier, and this man seems to be wearing all his sorrows, clasping himself in their metal forms, every day.

Oh. Hm. Yeah, okay, that feels like it holds together. Ethari is wearing a lot more metal now than before, and all three things are angsty in some way. They weigh him down. Grief does that too. He's just... given it a shape.

His horn cuff has a new design as well. It's overall shape is slightly different, as if he's made himself a whole new pair of them perhaps? But he's still got the same gems from the old pair, and they look heavily armored or anchored in place, as if he's afraid of them casually falling out and being lost - he's making extra sure that the gems that represent his husband's eyes, the gems that tell everyone who he chose to give his heart to, will remain with him. He's lost everything else, you see.

His hair is longer too, which has a weight of its own. He could be growing it out to remember Runaan's long hair, but the way it's scruffy near his right horn also speaks to neglect, as if he's simply doing nothing at all with it except for perhaps occasionally clipping handfuls short when they get in his way at work. (Does this mean Runaan used to shave the sides of Ethari's undercut for him and now he's not there to do it so it grows out? new headcanon unlocked)

But something is missing that should be here:

WHERE is this man's PURPLE SCARF. It was the cutest, softest thing about him, and it's gone missing! This bodes, and not well. For Ethari to take off his scarf could mean he's given up some of his softness. It could imply the scarf was a gift from Runaan, and he can't bear to wear it without his husband. It could also just mean it's summer and Ethari can't stand hot weather so he's set it aside. But scarves are important for pulling close and kissing reasons, you see - where do you think Rayla got that move from - so there is some romantic angst associated with the absence of a once-present scarf!

And lastly, Ethari's pose. It's hard to tell from a still, but it does look like he's either making a fist over his (missing) heart, or grasping for a necklace he's not wearing anymore. Either way... ow.

Thank you for subscribing to Ethari Angst Facts.

[allywthsr]

WANNA BUILD A SNOWMAN| (l.norris)

summary: you and Lando go outside when it snows

wordcount: 1.1k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: none!

notes: what are we thinking??

advent calendar

”Lando! It’s snowing!“

You sat on the couch when you looked outside and saw the white flakes falling from the sky.

”It’s just snow“, he chuckled.

”But it rarely snows in the UK!“

”I‘m sure it won’t even stay for long, it‘ll probably melt right away.“

With a pout you looked at him and continued swiping through instagram, liking fan edits. Today was a chill day, Lando had no training and you had no work, it was perfect. Lando turned on the TV and put on something random on YouTube, you two were cuddling on the couch, he lay on the long end of the couch, while you were laying almost on top of him, cuddling to his side with your head resting on his chest and your legs tangled. To no surprise, you two fell asleep pretty quickly, and when you woke up, some random stuff was playing on the TV, when you slowly blinked and looked outside the window, the whole garden was white and covered with a thick layer of snow. It was still snowing pretty heavily and your jaw dropped at the sight, you looked at Lando and saw him still sound asleep. Either you woke him up or went outside without him, you couldn’t wait to get out there, even if it made you seem like a two-year-old, you loved snow and loved building snowmen. You turned off the TV and grabbed your phone to look at the time, 4:00 pm, what a perfect timing to spend the rest of the day outside.

To your luck, Lando began to stir because you weren’t lying next to him anymore, with a groan he opened his eyes and stretched his arms over his head.

”Why did you move away?“, he mumbled with closed eyes and a hand searching for you, you grabbed that hand and linked your fingers together.

”Look outside baby, it snowed!“

He opened one eye and looked outside the window, ”Do you wanna build a snowman?“, he quoted the Frozen song.

”Oh baby, that was probably the most romantic thing you ever said.“

He burst out laughing and the high-pitched sound echoed through the house, it made you smile. He kissed your hand and got up, checking his phone quickly before you two got ready for the cold. You stole another hoodie from Lando and pulled it on, the big quadrant logo was hidden by your winter jacket, your gloves and beanies were put on and you were ready to go outside. Lando was looking just like you, like a little marshmallow, wrapped in his jacket, beanie, gloves, and scarf on.

You opened the living room door and together you went outside, the snowflakes landed on your beanie, and Lando pulled out his phone and took a picture of you, you were looking super cute.

But quickly you got to work, forming a small ball of snow and rolling it around the ground, Lando was doing the same, rolling the ball until it got big enough. You worked on the bottom ball and Lando was doing the middle, you were walking through the whole backyard, collecting the snow.

Lando and you felt like little kids again, playing in the snow like you saw it for the first time.

Lando placed the head of the snowman on the other two balls and you went searching for rocks, to place as his eyes and mouth. When you returned, Lando was just walking inside to look for a carrot in your fridge, yesterday you made him a snack plate with different vegetables and he didn’t know if the carrots were still there. Luckily a few were lying on the bottom of the fridge, he grabbed one and headed outside again.

He pressed the carrot in the snow and you looked at the snowman in front of you, it made you so happy, clapping your hands and jumping up and down, literally like a three-year-old, but Lando still looked at you with adoration in his eyes. He pulled you in for a kiss and a hug, squeezing you tight.

”I wanna take a picture“, you wiggled out of his grip and put your phone against a glass that stood on top of the table, opening the camera app and setting the timer on ten seconds.

Quickly you run back to Lando, in his arms, and kissed his lips until you hear the shutter go off. You grabbed your phone and looked at the picture, you could clearly see you kissing in the foreground and the snow and the snowflakes in the distance. You made a mental note, that you had to set it as your background later. While you were busy with your phone, Lando hit your back with a snowball.

”No, you did not“, with a grin you packed your phone back in your pocket and grabbed snow in your hands, and formed it into a ball. You threw it towards Lando but failed the direction miserably. He started laughing and formed another snowball, hitting you this time on your leg, you tried again, creating a smaller ball, and threw it towards him, this time hitting him lightly on his stomach.

You hid behind trees, but it was no use, Lando found you every time and hit you, even if it was very briefly, with a snowball.

When he turned his back to you, you seized the opportunity and ran as quietly as you could behind him, grabbing a bunch of snow and letting that go directly over his head, so he was showered with snow. With a shocked expression, he looked at you, ”You‘ll get that back!“.

He grabbed your shoulders and pushed you gently into the snow, laying down on top of you, securing your body between his and the ground. You two looked into each others eyes and the sexual tension started to rise, but before anything happened, Lando kissed your forehead and pushed himself to the floor next to you. He started to make a snow angel, moving his arms and legs through the snow, motivating you to do the same.

When you sat in the living room with a hot drink in your hands and Lando cuddling with you under the blanket, you looked back to the beautiful snow day you had.

[dirtyvulture]

Natasha Romanoff x Male!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Requested by anon: Um *clears throat* Hello, I’m new in discovering your fics, and you’re the first writer I find who writes for male reader x Natasha Romanoff! I’ve only ever seen writers write for only female reader- BUT I UNDERSTAND REALLY, Natasha displayed major lesbian vibes and etc, and I fully support it really. But uh, as a male myself, and having Natasha as my favorite MCU character, it’s been rare finding fics for male reader, but again I’m not complaining, I fully support writers writing female writers!

Sorry I’m rambling, I just wanted to request, if you’re okay with it, something with male reader x Natasha with Father’s Day as the theme? Perhaps maybe Nat surprises reader that they’re gonna have a baby and all that? Of course there needs to be smut involved, I’ve read all your fics and clearly smut is a must have for the fic! Perhaps some daddy kink to throw in the mix?

And again, if it’s not on the books, I’ll understand!

AN: Enjoy, anon!

Natasha stares down at the little plastic stick in her trembling hands, blinking rapidly to make sure she’s not seeing blurred. There are two lines on the little window, matching the symbol for “Pregnant.”

She had never thought this could be possible, given what she had thought had happened in the Red Room, but maybe that hadn’t been an entirely honest truth--not that she was complaining. 

She thinks about how she’s going to tell you, knowing how much you always wanted to be a father, but had accepted that biologically having children with her might have been a huge challenge. Maybe it wasn’t as difficult as either of you thought after all.

Natasha knows she can barely keep the news hidden for long, so she wraps the pregnancy test up carefully and hides it. She goes to make dinner before you come home, deciding to cook your favorite meal instead of her planned one.

The smell of sizzling steak greets you the moment you open the front door, and you’re shocked for a moment because Natasha had texted you that she was going to make spaghetti and meatballs instead. Not that you’re upset, you’re always grateful when she cooks for you. But steak was more of a special occasion kind of meal, and your personal favorite.

“Nat honey? I’m home,” you call out, dropping your work bag at the door and slipping off your shoes.

“In the kitchen!”

You walk through the living room and find your girlfriend standing at the stove, moving an impressively thick cut of meat from cast-iron pan to a plate.   

“That looks really good, babe,” you say, greeting her with a kiss before going to help set the rest of the table.

“I made a salad, it’s in the fridge if you can get that out.”

“Sure.” You’re tempted to ask the occasion, but you wait. You grab the big glass bowl of salad and place it on the table. Natasha brings over two plates, one steak almost twice the size of the other, and puts the bigger one down in front of you. 

“Thanks for cooking, Nat. I’m starving,” you say, eagerly grabbing your fork and knife and carving into the meat. Natasha clears her throat, offering you the salad bowl and you relent, making sure to take a healthy portion of vegetables to balance out the pure protein on your plate. 

The meal is finished in relative silence--you would’ve struck up more conversation with her, but were too busy scarfing down your steak. It’s only when the last piece is gone that you sit back, patting your belly and smiling at her.

“That was amazing, Nat. What was the occasion?” you finally ask.

Natasha bounces in her seat, as if she had been waiting the whole time for you to ask. “You’re not gonna believe it, babe,” she says, getting up and grabbing something from behind the sink. She holds it out to you, wrapped in a napkin.

Slowly, you unravel it, surprised to see that it’s a pregnancy test, but even more surprised when you see that it’s showing a positive result.

“Is this...Is this yours?” you ask, not realizing how stupid the question is until it comes out of your mouth.

“Yes!” Natasha squeals, throwing herself at you and wrapping her arms around your waist tightly. 

“Oh my God.” You squeeze her back, trying to comprehend the meaning of the pregnancy test. You can’t believe it. Natasha had told you she couldn’t get pregnant, so you had never bothered to use protection with her, but that wasn’t to say you didn’t want to be or were not ready to become a father. It was one of the few dreams you had carried with you your whole life, and while you had been a little sad about Natasha’s situation, she was still open to adoption and you knew you didn’t need to be biologically related to your child to be a good father.

“I can’t believe it, Nat,” you say, pressing a kiss to her head.

“You’re gonna be a daddy. My daddy.”

The word makes your head spin, and also causes a tightening at the front of your pants. You look down at yourself, slightly embarrassed, and Natasha caresses your growing bulge, causing your hips to jerk forward at the contact. 

“Bedroom?” is all you can get out of your mouth before she takes your hand and drags you out of the kitchen. Both of you make quick work of your clothes and you join your girlfriend on the bed, your hands running along her sides with a soft reverence. 

“I love you so much, Nat,” you say, kissing her. “You’re gonna be the best mother to our child.”

“Our child,” she repeats, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. You wipe them away and press your forehead to hers, not saying anything for a moment as your hand goes down and rests on her flat belly. Of course, it’s too early for her to show or for you to feel anything, but you still cannot wrap your head around the idea that you and Natasha are finally going to have a child together. 

Natasha scratches up and down your back, digging her nails impatiently into your shoulder blades. You rock your hips against hers, your cock hardening faster when it rubs against the insides of her thighs. 

“I want you, Daddy,” Natasha pleads, and this new use of the term has all the blood rushing down to your cock so fast you think you might pass out. 

“You can have me, Nat,” you insist, leaning back to guide your tip to her entrance. You push into her gently, still wanting to be gentle with her even more than before, and her velvet walls wrap around your member with a familiar warmth. “Fuck,” you mutter, rolling your hips in short strokes, resisting the urge to pound into her without abandon. 

“More,” Natasha demands, her hands curving around the back of your thighs and trying to pull you into her. “You don’t have to be careful with me,” she says, but you can’t imagine being rough with her anymore. 

But the pulsing and squeezing around your cock overtakes your willpower and Natasha moans loudly as you finally begin slamming into her, driving your cock deep into her with each stroke. 

“Yes, just like that, Daddy,” she whines, holding onto her knees to keep them as wide as possible. You watch with drool on your lips as your cock thrusts in and out of her soaking pussy. Your entire body begins to tremble as you feel yourself ready to finish. 

“N-Nat, I’m gonna...I’m gonna...” you pant.

“Finish in me,” Natasha says, and the reminder that the thought that you don’t have to pull out because she’s already pregnant causes you to erupt instantly. Hot ropes of cum pulse out of your cock, and the effort, combined with the heavy meal you just had, causes you to almost collapse on top of Natasha. You wrap your arms around her, dropping your head onto her chest as she strokes your hair softly. 

“I’m so happy you’re the one I get to start a family with,” is the last thing you hear Natasha say before you fall asleep.

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