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youraverageaemondsimp · 4 months ago

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Metanoia ;

Aemond Targaryen x Transmigrated!Strong!Reader

>> Chapter I : The Beginning.

Summary: "Be careful what you wish for" is what everyone says, you realise that you should've taken them seriously when you find yourself reincarnated as a character in the show who never existed.

WARNINGS: CANON TYPICAL INCEST, CONTAINS SPOILERS OF F&B, S1 AND S2, reader's appearance isn't described, only the fact that she is a strong, you can imagine her however you like, the picture used in the header is only to capture the feel of the story. A/N: divider credits to @cafekitsune

masterlist // next

“Jesus Christ, fuck this show, fuck everything, what the fuck is wrong with the writing?” You exclaim in annoyance after witnessing the scene that was supposed to be heavily impactful be butchered.

“That is the most anticlimactic death scene I've ever witnessed, this has to be a joke.” You furiously ramble. You decided to give House of The Dragon a try after your friend had recommended it, the show currently has released three seasons, with the fourth season in production, you thoroughly enjoyed season one and decided to binge all the seasons.

However, everything started to go downhill from season two, yet you still decided to watch for the sake of your favourite characters, daemon and aemond, only to witness the battle that was supposed to be intense and stressful get finished in the span of two minutes.

You stared at the screen, rolling your eyes in annoyance as you witnessed Aemond falling into the lake along with Vhagar, Daemon was knocked off Caraxes too and fell to his death.

They wrapped up the battle in mere moments, which made you angry as you were so hyped up to see them fight.

“Ugh, I never hated a show more than this, waste of my time, they did season one so well, what happened to rest? I did not expect this.” You sigh in frustration, feeling like you just wasted your time.

“If only… If only I ever get a chance, I'd change entire plot and script because fuck this.” You lay down on your sofa, staring at the ceiling, the show still playing in the background. You recollected the entire plot in your head, thinking of every moment in the show, trying to come up with an easy solution.

“If only they had married Jace to Helaena, it would have been peaceful.. Or at least if they had an older daughter married to Aegon or Aemond.” You mumble, but then shake your head, “What am I saying? Things still would've been complicated anyway.” You wonder in disbelief at your own words.

You yawned loudly, stretching out your limbs and blinking your eyes rapidly, your vision began to get blurry and you sighed in content, finally willingly wanting to sleep after you forced yourself to stay up all night to binge the series.

Your vision darkened slowly as you closed your eyelids, head spinning as you took slow breaths of air, cool breeze brushes past your cheeks and before you know it, you're slowly succumbing into slumber.

You blink your eyes open, realising you fell asleep, you sigh stirring on the soft sheets, entangling them between your legs.

Soft sheets?

Your sofa doesn't have any sheets.

You quickly blink again, taking the note of a translucent veil hanging from above, surrounding the bed you're in, creating a curtain around your bed.

Why were you in bed?

You sit up looking around, taking in your surroundings, your eyes widening in fear as you don't recognize this room at all, ancient tapestries, brown wooden furniture, and the source of light being only from the candle.

Have you been kidnapped?

You look down at your body, noticing you are in a white nightgown instead of the shorts you fell asleep in. Your heart begins to race and you panic, unable to understand where you are or how you got there. You steady your breathing, wondering if someone kidnapped you to play a role in a mediaeval film of theirs? But why would anyone do that?

The sound of metal clanking harshly against the floor and a small scream made your head turn the direction it came from, the liquid in the decanter spilling out rapidly as the person behind the fallen cutlery stood in shock.

“The princess is conscious!” She yells loudly before turning around and running out of the room in a hurry.

Princess?

Is this a prank?

You barely have any moment to think when you hear the sound of multiple footsteps coming from outside to your direction, you could almost feel the ground rumbling, noting that everyone was rushing to this room.

You push the veil to the side and stand up, getting out the bed and examining your surroundings, looking at the sigils and the paintings. All of this looked familiar somehow.

A small gasp echoed through the room, coming from the entrance, which made you turn around to take a look at who was in the room once again. Your eyes widened at the sight.

A lady with platinum blonde hair, blue eyes stood in front of you, someone who resembled Rhaenyra and next to her stood Jace and Luke breathing heavily, looking at you in shock.

Did the house of the dragon cast kidnap you to play a prank on you?

That sounds too unreasonable.

“Oh my sweet daughter!” Rhaenyra rushes over to you, embracing you tightly, tears flow down her cheeks as she peppers you with kisses “I-i i cannot believe this, you finally woke up after many years.” She sobs, you look at her questioningly. “Sister.” Jacaerys speaks up, coming to you and joining the embrace of you and Rhaenyra, Luke joins in as well.

“We missed you.” Jace says and you stare at all of them confused.

This has to be a joke.

They notice the expression on your face and their faces immediately drop, “Your grace, the princess woke up after many years, she might not be able to recognise you.” The maester chimes in, Rhaenyra nods, sniffling yet understanding your condition.

“Emma? Is this a joke?” You question, referring to the actor of Rhaenyra, “I’m not Aemma darling, she is your grandmother.” Rhaenyra corrects you. “I think she must be confusing the names of everyone due to her hazy memory.” The maester tries explaining, you sigh.

Yeah this must be a dream.

You shake your head gently and immediately slap yourself to wake yourself up.

“Ouch!” You yell in pain, cupping the cheek you slapped yourself on, Rhaenyra is mortified and the guards rush in and hold your arms back so you don't further hurt yourself.

This is not a dream.

You can’t feel pain in your dreams and you will wake up right before impact.

You look at Rhaenyra’s face, she is as real as a living person, standing right in front of you.

She looks just like Emma. of course, after all Rhaenyra is indeed played by them.

But this is not them.

She is not Emma

You can feel the vibe, it's very different.

You’ve met Emma before in costume, yet they did not give off the vibes as what Rhaenyra is giving off right now, after all, when you met them; it was just a show, but now it's your reality.

Did you die in your world?

You’ve definitely transmigrated into this show, but as who?

Did Rhaenyra ever have a daughter? You knew she didn't.

“Mirror, get me a mirror.” You ask and they look at you questioningly, your form begins to shake as the realisation is too overwhelming, there are many questions in your mind, “Please!” You cry, and immediately a servant moves and rushes over with a mirror.

Your eyes widen.

It's you.

You had not become someone else, but you remained as yourself. “What is my name?” You ask, “Y/N.” Rhaenyra replies. Your mind begins to spin, you are in another world as yourself, you have not possessed anyone else, which means your body must’ve disappeared from your world.

You try to stay calm in this situation, breathing heavily, “You are?” You ask, wanting to reconfirm, you watch as Rhaenyra's face crumples into that of a sad face, probably feeling hurt that her own daughter doesn't recognise her.

“I'm your mother, you are my eldest daughter, they—” She points at Jace, Luke and Joffrey, “—are your younger siblings.” You turn towards them.

You nod, pretending to play the part while you figure out everything. “I'm sorry, I do not remember.” You apologise and Rhaenyra shakes her head, “It is alright, you have been unconscious since the past six years, this is better than losing my daughter.” She replies.

“Six years… Did I fall unconscious after Aemond lost his eye?” You think out loud and Rhaenyra looks at you in shock, “You remember him?” She asks and you clear your throat, “It's hazy, my memory.” You answer back.

“Your grace, the event was probably traumatic for her, hence why she can remember it in parts.” The maester explains it to Rhaenyra, you mentally thank the maester for covering up for you always.

You noticed how they were all dressed up, looked as if they were about to leave but their plans were cut short, and you recognize this gown of Rhaenyra.

It was the gown she wore when she left for King's Landing, in order to settle the matter of Luke's right to driftmark. “You guys were departing somewhere?” You ask, wanting to really confirm it, “Hm? Huh, Yes, We were about to leave for King's Landing.” Jacaerys answers your question.

“Can I tag along?” You blurt the question.

“.. Tag along?” Lucerys repeats your words in confusion, your language confusing him.

“I mean to say, can I come along?” You ask the question in a proper manner, Rhaenyra shakes her head, “No- you've just woken up, you might still be weak- I cannot risk-”

“Mother! I am perfectly fine!” You cut her off, breaking free from the guards hands and running around the room, doing jumping jacks, showing her that you aren't weak and are perfectly capable of physical activity.

Rhaenyra watches in shock, seeing you move like this but she chuckles, shaking her head in comic disbelief, “I guess she has not changed after all.” The maester comments which makes Jace and Luke smile.

“Very well, Pack the princess’ belongings, and get her ready for departure, we will depart two days later.” Rhaenyra orders the maids and you smile at her.

“But mother, I do not have many dresses—”

“You do, I had them tailored every year, whenever you grew, hoping that you would wake up.” She replies softly and you just then realise how Rhaenyra loves her children.

“The maesters said that you might not ever wake up, and that your body will be stunted from growth, yet… I'm glad their predictions never came true.” She smiles gently at you, you smile back.

The maids come in with a bath as everyone leaves, some of them begin packing your belongings. You notice how your body doesn't look how a person in a coma state should be looking especially in the mediaeval times, but instead you seem to be well taken care of, treated as if you were alive.

The maids quickly finish your bath and dress you up, you have to pretend to get used to this atmosphere and era even though you're highly uncomfortable, the mere thought of having servants made you feel bad.

And with that, the night fell, you couldn't sleep thinking about how you're going to deal with everything, could you really prevent war from happening? It happens due to a misunderstanding in the show right? What if the misunderstanding doesn't occur? Your mind was filled with such thoughts through the whole night.

In King's Landing.

“My queen, Rhaenyra, has sent a letter saying that their arrival will be delayed further.” The master sums up the contents of the letter in the council room, in front of Aemond who had been called by Alicent for an urgent matter.

“Why so?” Alicent asks, furrowing her brows.

“Princess Y/N had woken up from her unconscious state.”

An ear piercing shattering sound of glass is heard through the entire room, when turned to look at the origin, It is known that Aemond had dropped the wine glass he was drinking from.

“Y/N is awake?” Aemond asks the maester.

“Yes my prince.” The maester replies.

Aemond's heart begins to pound in his chest loudly, his mind spiralling at the thought of you finally waking up all these years later.

“Please excuse me.” Aemond gets up from the chair, excusing himself from the council and leaving the room, his brain occupied with the thoughts of you.

There wasn't a day where Aemond hadn't thought of you, he would at least think about you once a day- the news of you waking up from unconsciousness made the adrenaline in his body rush.

He felt like a hungry snake that had been starved for many years who at last found a prey to feast on, he felt like a drought-stricken land finally receiving rainfall, he felt like a garden void of any flowers which started to bloom once again.

He was thrilled.

He reminisces of the fond memories you both shared, he could never ever forget them, smiling at the thought of you.

He wondered if you had changed or remained the same.

Whatever it was, he couldn't wait.

He couldn't wait to receive you.

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pucksandpower · 6 months ago

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Say My Name

Oscar Piastri x streamer!Reader

Summary: when fans mistake Oscar for your ex while he is hanging around in the background of your stream, you get introduced to a side of Oscar that you’ve never seen before

Warnings: 18+ content

Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you narrate the intense battle unfolding on your stream. “Oh damn, that was close! I almost got sniped there.” You lean in, eyes narrowed at the screen. “Gotta be more careful or this round is over.”

The chat explodes with messages cheering you on. Being one of the top female gaming streamers has its perks, like an incredibly loyal fanbase that hangs on your every word.

You glance at the viewer count — over 50,000 watching live. Not too shabby.

“Okay team, let’s rush B, I’ll try to draw their fire.” You move your character into position, heart pounding with anticipation.

Suddenly, a quiet thump comes from the living room behind you. You start, whipping your head around, but see nothing amiss through the open doorway. Must have been your imagination.

You refocus on the game, calling out tactics to your teammates. Another muffled sound, like something soft hitting the floor, catches your attention. You turn off your video and hit mute on your mic. “Hello? Is someone there?”

No response. You’re just about to unmute when a very familiar face pops into view from the hallway. It’s your boyfriend of nearly two years.

Your face splits into a huge grin as you take in his messy hair and the rumpled clothes he slept in on the flight. “Oscar! You’re back early!”

He crosses to you, bending to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Missed you,” he mumbles against your hair.

You tilt your face up for a proper kiss, “I missed you too, ba-”

But you’re cut off as his lips crash into yours, insistent and heated. Heat blooms in your cheeks at the sudden, passionate embrace. Far too soon, Oscar pulls away, leaving you flustered and breathless.

“Sorry,” he says with a smirk that suggests he’s anything but. “Couldn’t help myself.”

You shake your head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous. I’m working, you know.”

“So I noticed.” Oscar settles onto the couch just off-camera, casual as can be. “Don’t mind me, keep going.”

“You sure?” You eye him skeptically. The stream has been on a short period without your commentary and the chat is getting restless. “I can take a break if you want.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “No, no, I’m just going to hang out here for a bit. Go ahead.”

Hesitating only a moment, you turn your video back on and unmute your mic. “Alright folks, sorry about that little pause. I, uh, got a surprise visitor.” You gesture vaguely toward where Oscar lounges behind you.

The chat instantly lights up with questions about who was there. Smiling to yourself, you ignore them for now, re-focusing on the game.

Over the next hour, it becomes increasingly difficult to concentrate. Oscar keeps distracting you, making silly faces and gestures whenever you glance his way. More than once you have to stifle a laugh after catching sight of him. Your fans seem to find your giggly mood delightful, though they remain oblivious to the cause.

Finally, in a rare break between matches, you swivel in your chair to face him. “You’re being so disruptive,” you stage-whisper. “Don’t you have better things to do than pester me?”

Oscar feigns innocence. “Who, me? I’m just sitting here, love.”

Rolling your eyes, you stretch your arms overhead with a groan, back popping from sitting so long. Oscar’s gaze shamelessly rakes over you, darkening.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter, fighting a smile.

“Like what?” His eyes glint with mischief.

You open your mouth to respond, but a new donation notification pops up on your stream, cutting you off. “Oh, wow, thanks for the ten thousand bits, Legend27!” The expensive donation isn’t that unusual, but the comment attached gives you pause.

I’m so happy you and Eric made up! You two are couple goals for real.

Frowning, you scan the new barrage of messages flooding the chat … and find dozens echoing similar sentiments.

Your stomach drops as you finally realize what your viewers think is happening. They assume Oscar is actually your ex, the one you briefly dated and had an awful breakup with over two years ago. Apparently his surprise appearance has led them to believe you two have reconciled.

Heat floods your face at the misunderstanding. Objecting seems pointless though — you’ve learned it’s better not to discuss your private romantic life on stream. “Ah, thanks guys, you’re too kind,” you finally say, aiming for a neutral tone.

Beside you, Oscar stiffens, catching the implications of the messages. His jaw clenches and you watch as his face cycles through a series of micro-expressions — first surprise, then confusion, quickly followed by displeasure and … jealousy?

Uh oh. This could get messy fast if he gets worked up. You try to subtly shake your head at him in a silent plea to ignore the chat.

No such luck. His brow furrows deeper and you can practically see the tension ratcheting up in his shoulders.

Suddenly, Oscar surges to his feet with a muttered curse. Before you can react, he’s stalking around the side of your chair until he’s directly in view of the camera’s frame.

“Oscar, what are you-”

But he cuts you off by cupping your face in his hands and kissing you hard. Your startled squeak is smothered by his fierce, possessive mouth moving over yours.

Powerless to resist the onslaught of sensations, you melt bonelessly against him as the kiss stretches on and on. Only the escalating number of notifications showing the shock and exclamations from your viewers finally breaks through the heady fog.

With extreme reluctance, Oscar ends the kiss, both of you panting. He keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your flushed skin as he growls, “She’s mine.”

Then, before you can respond, he reaches past you and slams his palm into the power button of your streaming setup, shutting everything down.

The simultaneous howl of outrage from tens of thousands of confused fans cuts off abruptly as the screen goes black. Only the two of you are left in the ringing silence that follows.

“Oscar!” You finally manage. “What was that?”

He pulls away enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze, his brown eyes blazing with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I got … jealous,” he admits, seeming almost surprised at his own vehement reaction. “When they thought I was your ex. I didn’t like that at all.”

Your expression softens at his uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. Reaching out, you trace his sharp cheekbone with gentle fingers. “You have no reason to be jealous, silly man. It’s only ever been you.”

Some of the blazing heat in his stare banks into smoldering embers at your reassurance. “Yeah?” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Good.”

He leans in again until his lips are a hairsbreadth from yours. “Because you’re mine, okay? And I’m yours.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, dizzy with wanting him. “I’m all yours, Oscar.”

The possessive words seem to flip a switch in him. With a low, rumbling sound of approval, his mouth slants over yours once more in a searing, demanding kiss that makes your toes curl.

The abrupt ending to your stream is already causing a social media firestorm of epic proportions. But surrounded by the circle of Oscar’s arms, his familiar warmth and love, you can’t find it in yourself to care even a little bit.

After all, you think dizzily as he deepens the kiss, your fans should have recognized that you two were a couple from the very start — because Oscar Piastri is most definitely not your ex.

He’s your everything.

***

Oscar’s hands are everywhere, seemingly unable to get enough of you as his kisses grow more and more fervent. Your back hits the wall with a gentle thump as he crowds closer, caging you in with the solid warmth of his body.

“Missed you so much, love,” he rasps against the heated skin of your neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

A whimper escapes your lips at the scorching path his mouth blazes over your pulse point. “I m-missed you too, Oscar.”

His name falls from your lips like a prayer and he rewards you by sucking a mark into the sensitive spot just below your ear. Pleasure zings along your nerves at the hint of delicious possession in the act.

When he finally pulls back to gaze at you with dark, hooded eyes, his lips are reddened from enthusiastic use. The sight sends a molten flare of desire arrowing straight to your core.

“Say it again,” he commands roughly, voice gone low and gritty in that way that never fails to make you melt.

You blink up at him, momentarily lost in a lust-fueled haze. “W-What?”

“My name.” His large hands skim over the curve of your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt. “Say my name again.”

“Oscar,” you breathe without hesitation, watching raptly as his pupils blow wider at the sound. “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...”

Each breathy iteration seems to stoke his hunger hotter. His fingers flex against your sides like he’s holding himself back from something.

On a daring whim, you slant your mouth near his ear, letting your lips brush the shell with every word. “Oscar Piastri,” you practically purr. “My Oscar.”

A broken groan is your only warning before he’s on you again, mouths crashing together in a heated crash of lips, teeth, and tangling tongues. His hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck, angling your face for deeper exploration.

When you finally manage to tear your lips away, you’re both panting harshly, chests heaving. “What’s … gotten into you?” You pant.

Rather than answer, Oscar just shakes his head and dives back in for more fervent kisses, like a man dying of thirst and you’re the most delicious drink he’s ever tasted.

It’s not until he suddenly grips your waist and spins the two of you around, depositing you on the desk with a surprising lack of finesse, that you realize just how wildly affected he is.

Oscar licks into the seam of your lips like he’s staking a claim and something within you shatters at the stark, naked wanting in his eyes when he pulls back the tiniest bit.

He just stares at you, chest heaving, gaze roving hungrily over your features like he’s memorizing you all over again. His pupils are blown wide, just thin rings of molten brown remaining around the black.

When he speaks, his voice is low and gravelly in a way that vibrates through you. “Say. My. Name.”

“Oscar,” you respond immediately, not even having to think. His hungry gaze burns over you and you feel stripped bare and vulnerable under the weight of it.

But rather than make you want to cover up, it has the opposite effect — you’re reeling him in, hands fisted in his shirt to pull him closer. You never want this delirious, frantic sense of possession and desire to end.

“Again,” he grinds out, sounding utterly wrecked already.

“Oscar.” You bare your neck for him as you say it, like presenting an offering. He groans low and deep, instantly ducking to mouth along the column of your throat.

His hands are everywhere, pushing up the hem of your top, kneading along your sides and ribs as he nips and sucks bruising paths across your collarbones and chest.

“Don’t stop saying it,” he orders, more plea than demand.

So you let his name become a breathless prayer falling from your lips, over and over between gasps and keening whimpers. You lose yourself in a heady feedback loop — the more you speak his name with naked wanting, the wilder it seems to drive him until his touch grows scattered and devouring.

At some point his hands finally succeed in tugging your shirt up and off. Your name doesn’t even register when his scorching mouth closes over one peaked bud, your back bowing at the shuddering bolt of sensation that lances through you.

All you can seem to process is the feel of his calloused palms mapping every inch of newly-exposed skin and the desperate mumble of “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...” spilling shameless and endless from your lips.

Eventually, the heated exploration of his mouth and hands becomes too much to simply lay there and take. With a low, guttural sound you haul Oscar upright and swing your legs around his hips, relishing his full body shudder.

“Not enough,” you accuse roughly, rolling your core against his in clear invitation. “Need you closer, Oscar.”

His heated groan at your wanton demand is music to your ears. Strong hands grasp your thighs to hitch your legs higher around his waist as he surges against you.

“So impatient, my darling girl,” he teases. This close, you can make out the faintest brush of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones that you’ve mapped and memorized with lips and fingertips a hundred times before.

You can’t help but reach out to graze them with your thumb, gazing up at him with naked adoration. “My Oscar,” you murmur reverently.

His eyes slip shut for a beat, jaw ticking as if your words have an unexpectedly profound effect on him. When he opens them again, his gaze is fierce and intent.

“Yours,” he vows simply, leaning in to seal the promise against the plush of your lips.

The kiss is somehow softer and headier than before. You get lost in the lush glide of his mouth, every sliding brush of lip and tongue shorting out whatever rational thoughts remain until all you know is his name — the shape and taste and weight of it against your own.

It’s the only thing that seems real, vital, until at some point Oscar’s mouth leaves yours to trail hot, openmouthed kisses down your chest and stomach and lower still.

Your back bows as you squirm incoherently against the press of his lips and tongue. His restraint seems to have finally snapped, movements growing hungry and rough as he works you steadily higher.

“Oscar,” you sob out his name like you’re breaking apart, pleading for something you can’t quite name. He answers with a rumbling sound of satisfaction that vibrates hotly against your sensitized flesh.

More, is all you can think as he redoubles his efforts.

At some point, you must have arched helplessly off the desk because suddenly his hands are at the small of your back, fingertips digging in hard as he holds you arched for his questing mouth.

The intimate angle of his positioning has your jaw dropping open on a silent scream of overwhelmed pleasure. All that escapes is a strangled gasp of, “Oscar!”

He growls something incoherent against you that might be praise, might be reassurance, might just be your name groaned out roughly in shared bliss. But you honestly can’t tell anymore — you’ve transcended far past coherent speech and rational thought.

Everything has devolved into just sensation and feeling and the endless loop of his name spilling over and over from your lips like a benediction.

Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...

Just when you think you might actually shatter into pieces from the intensity he’s wringing out of you, strong hands are abruptly hauling you up and off the desk in one smooth motion.

You cling to him with heavy limbs, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he staggers the few steps to your shared bedroom. At some point his shirt has vanished, allowing your hands free rein to roam over flexing muscle and heated skin.

When the backs of his legs hit the edge of the mattress, he pauses to claim your mouth in another searing, shattering kiss. He whispers something fervent and intense against your lips, your name perhaps intertwined with endearments or promises.

You can’t be sure. All you know is the shape of his name against your tongue, the only word your mind seems capable of holding onto as he lowers you reverently to the sheets and stretches out over you.

When he finally sinks into you with a harsh groan of relief, your back bows and you let out a broken, high keen — his name once more torn from your lips in breathless ecstasy.

“There you are, that’s it love,” he growls hoarsely as he begins to move, words interspersed between drugging, thorough thrusts. “Let me hear you, let me hear my name on those pretty lips.”

So you do, shamelessly loud and incoherent now as he gradually unravels you from the inside out. His name and gasped pleas and frantic praise all blur together in a continuous stream of blissful delirium.

At some point, his own control seems to splinter apart, hips snapping hard and deep as his pace turns utterly unrestrained. Still, you chase that shattering edge, crying out for Oscar as your whole world narrows to the merciless intensity of his driving thrusts and demanding hands kneading your flesh with staking ownership.

When you finally go soaring over that dizzying peak with his name torn hoarse from your throat, he follows you over almost violently with a ragged shout. Oscar’s arms shake dangerously as he holds his weight off of you, pupils swallowing up the copper of his eyes entirely in onyx pools of spent lust.

As you slowly float back down from that searing high, limbs heavy and sated, you reach up to trace the sharp line of his cheekbone. He turns his face into your palm with a shuddering exhale as if grounding himself.

For several long breaths, all that can be heard is your shaky inhales mingling together while your racing heartbeats gradually return to normal.

Finally, Oscar presses a warm, lingering kiss to the center of your palm before shifting to stretch out beside you, his weight dipping the mattress.

You immediately curl into the reassuring heat of him, despite the sweat still cooling along your skin. One of his arms bands around your waist, holding you flush against his side while his other hand comes up to card soothingly through your hair.

Nestling your face into the curve where his shoulder meets his neck, you press a gentle kiss to the hollow of his throat and whisper, “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” he murmurs back, low and slightly scratchy in the aftermath. You can hear the smile in his voice as his fingers keep carding idly through your hair.

Silence falls again, comfortable and peaceful in the aftermath of your frantic passion, both of you simply basking in the warmth of shared nearness.

Eventually though, the question you’ve been avoiding asking slips out in a hazy murmur. “What brought all … that … on, Oscar?”

He’s quiet for so long, you begin to wonder if he fell asleep. Just when you’re about to shift to look at him though, he speaks up.

“When your fans assumed I was your ex … the way they were celebrating that the two of you got back together ...” His fingers stroke almost absentmindedly through your hair as he pauses. “I dunno, something in me just .. .snapped a little. Seeing them say over and over how perfect he was for you ...”

He trails off with a low chuckle, and you can’t resist craning your neck to glance up at him curiously. When your eyes meet his, his expression is rueful.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of any other name on your lips, love. Even your own.” His fingertips trace the line of your jaw with unbearable tenderness. “All I wanted was for you to say my name like that — like it’s the only word that matters in the entire world.”

Just like that, a fresh ember of want rekindles low in your belly at the slightly awed honesty in his voice. You exhale a shaky breath, searching his stormy gaze for … what? Evidence of how crazily affected you are by such a simple revelation?

Whatever he finds reflected in your stare seems to give him pause as well because his eyes almost immediately darken with renewed hunger.

“Say it again then,” he husks, rolling until he’s leaned over you, hands planted on either side of your head. There’s no demand in the words, just low, thrumming need thrilling between you both.

So you reach up to cup his face in your palms, rubbing your thumbs over the sandpapery stubble along his strong jawline as you gaze adoringly up at him.

“Oscar ...” you breathe out his name like a sacred invocation. “My Oscar.”

His eyes slip shut and he makes a low, ragged sound of pure satisfaction on an exhale that ghosts across your lips.

“Yeah,” he rasps, bending lower until his forehead rests against yours. “That’s it, love … that’s all I ever want to hear.”

You pull him back down to you then, unable and unwilling to resist sealing the promise of those words against his lips with your own.

And as everything inevitably dissolves into heat and need and formless ecstasy once more, you lose yourself to the endless chant of his name on your lips — your entire world whittled down to just that one exalted word, over and over and over.

Because really, what other name could ever matter when Oscar Piastri is the only name you’ll ever need?

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unboundprompts · 10 months ago

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how about a request for prompts where character A and character B are NOT dating (yet) but are both very obviously madly in love with each other. so while hanging out they begin to make some ambiguously romantic (physical) gestures towards each other. yknow, like stuff that isn’t overtly romantic but definitely could read as such?

Subtle Romantic Gestures

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

She never failed to notice that he always walked on the outside of the sidewalk. If they were ever walking down the street together, he would position himself between her and the road, gently moving her to his other side with a careful hand on the small of her back.

When they laughed, it made his heart swell. They would throw their head back nearly every time, as if it was the funniest joke in the world. He loved to watch the joy take over their features. It was like their laugh melted away all the bad things. His favorite part of their laughter, however, was how their hand would always land on his arm. It would linger on his skin as they giggled, sending fireworks through him.

When they were hanging out with a group, she noticed that her eyes were always meeting theirs. How long it took her to notice that she would look for them in a crowd, she didn't know. Nor did she know when they started looking for her.

As they walked side by side, he would playfully elbow her in her side with a bright smile. A teasing gesture, but it never failed to make her heart flutter.

"Can I walk you home?"

Their hands would brush, knuckle against knuckle. A brief warm touch on an otherwise cold day. She would savor that touch, make it last as long as she could. She wanted nothing more than to grab their hand with her own and rub soothing circles on the base of their thumb with hers.

Other Subtle Gestures

laughing too hard at their jokes

lingering eye contact

blushing

unnecessary touching (hand on arm, shoulder, knee, leg, etc)

random acts of kindness

making excuses to hang out

offering/asking favors

sharing secrets

putting more effort into your appearance before seeing them

holding doors, opening car doors

compliments, so many compliments

learning their interests, encouraging them to talk about things they enjoy

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

#writing prompts #dialogue prompt #creative writing #writeblr #otp prompts #prompt list #story prompt #soft prompts #prompts #ask box prompts #romance prompts

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everand1r · 1 month ago

Text

Yeah he’s my boyfriend, he just doesn’t know it yet

I do not know how to summarize this, it’s more crack than anything 💀

A/n: Reader is of a diva. And delusional. Chowder reference in Ace’s part lol

Warnings: I love using commas, reader has no gender or physical traits but is very feminine

Characters: Ace, Idia, Silver, Deuce, Jack, Sebek

Ace

Ace blankly stares ahead, ignoring you once again as you rant about how he just HAS to hold your hand.

He’s flattered really, such a pretty thing like you has taken such a liking to him, but you seem to be lost in your own little world sometimes.

“As my boyfriend it’s only natural-“ “we’re not dating,” pouting, you throw on your best puppy dog eyes.

Ace playfully rolled his eyes, “Oh cmon prefect that’s not gonna work on me.”

Hmph well that didn’t work

Alright then time for plan b

“Hold my hand, NOW!” You shout.

Startled, Ace shakily reaches his hand for yours, before you snatch it and squeeze.

“Gah! It burns!” He whines, gripping onto his arm. Ignoring his protest, you happily wave your interlocked hands, a satisfied smile adorning your face.

“Look everybody! We’re holding hands!” You shout, dragging Ace behind you in the courtyard as onlookers watch you with gazes of confusion and fear.

Idia

“Idiiiaaaaa~” you sang, banging on his door at an ungodly hour in the night. At first you wondered if coming at this time of the night was a good idea, but then you remembered Idia doesn’t really have a solid sleep schedule.

But it’s so quiet, is he ignoring you….? Nah you just gotta bang louder. Said man was currently hiding under his covers, silently begging for the gods to have mercy and hope someone will kick you out. Unfortunately for him, Ignihyde is scared of you.

Eventually he caves and opens his door, and your face practically lights up. “Idia! Oh finally I thought you were going to leave me out here!”

“…what do you want?”

You thrust an object in his hands, “here I need your help with this.” Idia glances down at his hands to see a broken glittery watch. Unimpressed, he glances back up to meet your eyes. “Seriously?” “One hundred percent!” You salute. “You couldn’t have waited till the morning?” “Well I thought about that…” You start, glancing off to the side as you play with your fingers,

“But I just missed you so much! Playing online with you is fun and all but I needed to see you again!”

Feeling his hair heat up, idia looks away. “W-Well you could’ve just asked, no need to bring an excuse,” he mumbled glancing at the watch. “Anyways come on in I’ll fix it for you”

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod you’re gonna hang out with Idia…. In his room! You’re practically foaming at the mouth as you walk in the room and sit down on his bed.

You couldn’t contain the giggles coming out of your mouth as Idia worriedly glances at you from the corner of his eye.

Sighing dreamily, you wonder how this night is going to go. You’re lost in thought, wondering how to get Idia into joining you on the bed before he shoves your newly fixed watch in your hands and throws you out. “Here’s your watch prefect, I’ve fixed it up for you. Goodnight.” He says before the closing the door on you.

Even hermits value their sleep.

You’re left standing there mouth agape before you slowly walk back to ramshackle, a new plan already brewing in your mind.

Mission failed, but don’t worry you’ll get him next time.

Silver

You tap your perfectly manicured nails on your chin as you sit in the courtyard, watching the man who has stolen your heart. Everything about him is perfect. His gorgeous eyes and hair, his smile, that chivalrous personality and those forearms! Ugh he’s perfect.

Groaning you bury your face in your knees. “How am I supposed to go talk to him!?!”

Malleus sits next you, amusedly watching your inner turmoil. “Why not go talk to him child of man? You have expressed your desire to do so to me mutiple times and yet you have not followed through, I am starting to think you’re chickening out as you humans like to say.”

Gasping, you snap your head up. “Chicken??? Oh hornton I am many things but I am no chicken!” You stand up and dust yourself off. “fine I’ll go talk to him.”

Malleus chuckles, “I see no reason to be nervous child of man, silver seems to have taken a liking to you as well.”

The cogs turn in your head as you process his words. Silver likes you? He likes you?! Well uhhh- I mean of course he does! Who doesn’t like you??

With your ego rising to dangerous levels you march over to silver conversing with a few birds near the well.

Clearing your throat to gain his attention, he looks up and gives you a pleasant smile.

“Hello there prefect, did you need something?”

“Yes actually I need you to go on a date with me.” You state matter of factly.

His eyes widen. “A date..?” Nodding you respond, “Yes, with me, at that new cafe in Sage island.”

Clearing his throat he responds “I-I would love to.” You watch as a faint blush dusts his face.

You had that affect on him! Your ego once again shoots through the roof.

“Great! I already made the reservations a while ago so let’s meet up on Friday at 7!”

“When did you do that-“ “Don’t be late!” You hastily interrupt, not wanting to answer that question. Rushing back to malleus you practically scream “He said yes! Ohmygosh malleus you have to help me pick out my outfit! I need something that’ll make him say Oh wow!” “Of course my dear, shall we go now?”

Going on a date with the most dreamy boy at NRC…Oh you hope this isn’t a dream!

Deuce

Vdc practice was more stressful today, with epel lashing out and storming off, deuce following after him.

It’s been awhile since they left. You hoped everything was ok with deuce. Oh and epel too.

Argh I should’ve given vil a piece of mind! Then deuce would’ve fallen for my fearless charm! Your hands slap onto your cheeks while your thoughts spiral.

As time goes on and deuce and epel return, you’re overjoyed! Although that joy doesn’t last long when you find out where they had gone.

“WHYY??” You shout, falling to the ground in despair.

He went on a date with epel? He went on a date with someone that wasn’t you?!

The poor boy was awkwardly watching you spiral right in front of him. He glances towards his group mates behind you for help. Only for them to turn around, seemingly finding the wall so interesting.

Damn

Deuce scratches behind his head, wondering how to console the sobbing mess on the floor (you). “We just uh went to the beach? Nothing happened, we just shouted at the waves..”

That seemed to do the trick

“Oh I knew it!” You spring up. “My plans for our first date aren’t ruined!” “First date? What do you mean by that!?” He sputters.

You ignore him, lost in thought about what date you should go on. Although a Blast cycle date is off the list!

Hmph epel is lucky nothing happened between those two, or he would’ve gone straight into your burn book.

Jack

Recently you’ve been daydreaming,

Daydreaming about jack carrying you in his arms specifically. You sigh once again as you realize he’s never once lifted you up in his arms. He has no reason to

But this shall remain a dream no longer! You were determined to make this a reality, and with you and him both going to Vargas camp, you had your chance.

The day before vargas camp, you relay your plan once again to grim. He does not care.

It’s for the tuna it’s for the tuna it’s for the tuna- grim probably

Now here you two were, alone, in the woods looking for grim. You had roped that poor little beast into your plan, having him get “lost” while you asked jack to help you look for him.

You had to buy him premium tuna and do his homework for a week but it was so worth it. You think to yourself as you walk alongside jack

Seeing a tree stump ahead, you figured now was the time to put your plan into action.

“Ouch!” You hissed. Jack looked back, only to see you dramatically fall to ground with the worst acting he had ever seen in his life.

“Oooh my ankle, I think I broke it.” you whined.

“I don’t think you could break it by-“ “OOOH THE PAIN!” You interrupt. “I don’t think I can walk any further, I’ll need somebody to carry me.”

“I think you can-“

“Only a strong 6’3, wolf beast man will be able to help me out of this crisis!”

Jack playfully sighed, knowing you’d only continue to cry on the floor until you got what you wanted.

He walks over and lifts you up in his arms. “You’re lucky I like you prefect.” He states, glancing down at you.

Wait what you bluesceeen.

“What’s the matter prefect? You got what you wanted didn’t you?” He smirks.

Averting your gaze you mumble, “I-uh let’s just keep looking for grim.”

You weren’t expecting him to fluster you!

Sebek

All week you’ve been trying to get sebek to spend more time with you. From studying together, to accidentally bumping into him in the halls.

But you didn’t want to ask to spend more time together! You wanted him to come to you! Although nothing has worked so far… ugh how unfair. Who wouldn’t want to spend time with you!

Fine it seems you have to resort to EXTREME measures you internally groan, walking up to him after class.

“Sebek you aren’t busy after school today right? I was hoping you could teach me how to fight using a sword today,” you start, clasping your hands behind your back and rocking on your feet. You hoped you didn’t look too desperate

“Hmph, you’re lucky I don’t have any training today, I’ll meet you in Diasmonia later.”

Oh look how easy that was

You’ve been practicing outside for quite a bit. Spending time with the knight is always a treat. Getting to stare at his sharp eyes as he focuses on honing his skills, his muscles bulging with each swing- Oh look you fell into the grass and ate shit

“Prefect!” He snapped. “Why ask me to practice sword fighting if you’re not going to pay attention!”

To be honest you didn’t really care for sword training, you could defend yourself just fine, but getting to spend time with Sebek was worth the blood sweat and tears…. Kind of

“Oh I just hate to get my face dirty!” You groan, pouting on the floor. With a heavy sigh, sebek reaches a hand out to you, “Well you’ll get even more dirty sitting on the floor.” with a fast beating heart and warm face you take his hands as he helps you up.

“Come on let’s get you cleaned up-“ He offers, looking back at you only to be met with you staring with a lovesick smile.

Whipping his head back, “Don’t look like that!” He yells. To anyone else he may look mad, but that flushed face tells you otherwise. Smiling, you skip up to him and carefully link your pinky with his. The knight glances at you as you bat your eyelashes at him. Sighing once again, he grabs your hand as you both walk towards Ramshackle. A lovely shade of red coating his cheeks.

Hope you guys had as much fun reading as I did writing this lol

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bluesidez · 4 months ago

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hiii love 💗 may I request a nsfw and a sfw alphabet thingy for gymrat miguel. I just need more of that man 😫😫

[Gym Rat Miguel SFW + NSFW Alphabet]

lab tester: Anonymous Participant 🩻

pairing: GymRat!Miguel O’Hara x Chubby!Reader, PlusSize!Reader, fem!Reader

summary: Me answering questions and yapping about Gym Rat Miguel!

content warning: 18+ for the NSFW portion so MINORS DNI, most importantly THERE ARE SOME SPOILERS FOR THE ACTUAL STORY (nothing too crazy, but some of the questions are things that haven’t happened yet + they haven’t even been together a year yet in the current story so there’s still much to discuss), lots of fluff, possibly the incorrect use of a fidget spinner?? (it's cute I swear)

word count: 9.1k, halfway proofread (sigh...)

a/n: Hi hii!! 🩵 You don’t know how happy I was to receive this request!! Any chances to talk about my Miguels outside of their actual stories are golden. 🥺 I tried to keep the responses brief so about 2+ paragraphs per question but we all know how much I like to write and yap 😭 so there's bound to be some long paragraphs. I do hope you enjoy!!! (This also gave me a chance to flesh out his character even more, which I appreciate more than you know, so truly, thank you Anon!)

I just refer to GR!Miguel as Miguel here because…we all know who I’m talking about.

A = Affection How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel has a really giant heart so he’s extremely affectionate especially when it comes to his girlfriend. Usually, boys are taught to kind of control their emotions, but even with those teachings/societal rules hanging over his head, he was always a sweet and kind baby growing up. His abuela especially taught him to lead with kindness.

ᰔ ᩚ He shows affection often through action. While he’s really familiar with all of the love languages, he’s quicker to do something for someone (acts of service) before he does anything else. His second most used love language has to be words of affirmation. Words and communication are a sensitive thing for him so communication is key even if he can be oblivious about it sometimes.

B = Best friend What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel is definitely the "dad friend," or really, the "parent friend" that’s always making sure you’re ok. He knows how to parallel park and owns at least two of the ugliest ties you’ve ever seen in your life (thank you, George). He’s also EXTREMELY huggable, even in his tall and lanky days, and gives really nice advice. If you’re struggling with something, he would lay everything out and help you problem-solve. Overall, he’s just very sweet.

ᰔ ᩚ For Miguel, a friendship could start with you constantly talking to (bugging) him or being able to keep up with his nerdy hobbies. You want to hear him sort out quantum physics? He’s sold. On the other end, anyone who is nice to him and treats him like a human has a fair game of becoming his friend.

C = Cuddles Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?

ᰔ ᩚ Does he? He craves it! He will literally stop what he’s doing to find you just to cuddle. It’s like a way to regain his energy if you're in his arms. At the same time, he’s very comfortable despite all that hard muscle. At home, he usually wears soft sweaters and joggers so he is indeed like a giant teddy bear. The older he gets, the more his body gains a nice balance between fat and muscle so it’s just really comfortable all around.

ᰔ ᩚ When he cuddles, he’ll usually shove his face in some plush part of you. He definitely loves laying on your chest which he lovingly calls his pillows or your stomach or your lap. He’s really clingy. If you’re out and about, he'll cuddle you from behind with his chin on your head or keep an arm wrapped around your hips. When you ask for a cuddle, he’ll gladly hold you on top of him and probably fall asleep.

D = Domestic Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?

ᰔ ᩚ He wouldn’t mind settling down, but it depends more on how you feel rather than him. He’s heard many stories from his mother, Abuela, and tías about how hard childbirth is so he’s very wary of that pain being inflicted on you. His mother has told him multiple times about how giant he was when he was born so he’s scared that whatever baby he could give you might also be huge. After he learned of Tyler, Conchata told him that she wanted to cuss Tyler out, but all she had was George in the delivery room so he suffered her wrath not once, but twice.

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel has fantasized about you with his babies, but to his shame, it was more about the process of giving you his kids rather than having them run around. He has to admit, he would love to see chunky babies with a mix of you guys’ best qualities. One family reunion with you taking care of your baby cousins might put him in a spiral. He’s sure that you’ll be a great mama and he’s confident that he’ll be the best father. If that doesn’t work out, he’s aiming for tío of the year for the many nephews and nieces his brother is sure to have.

ᰔ ᩚ In terms of domestic qualities, he’s spent so much time with his abuela that he knows more dishes than his mom. He’s also had times when his mom got sick of constantly cooking for him, so he’ll be up at the crack of dawn fixing his own meals. His cleaning could use a lot of work. He knows the basics, but his family always fusses at him to do more than that. In front of you? He becomes a new person. All of a sudden, he remembers the ways his mother fussed at him to clean the house.

E = Ending If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?

ᰔ ᩚ Even though emotionally he’s extremely mature, he’d probably be a wreck when it comes to breaking up with you. He loves very deeply and separating from you has a high chance of sending him to the ER. If he doesn’t pass out while breaking up, he’d definitely be extremely sick afterwards.

ᰔ ᩚ If he had to break up with you, he’d do it face to face because anything else is an insult to you. It’ll be somewhere public enough that you’re free to walk away from, but private enough to where no one will be like “wtf is up with those two?” He'll write out what he wants to say a thousand times over and have his desk littered with notebook paper. In his ‘speech’ he’ll praise you heavily but say something along the lines of “even though you are my sun, I can’t continue to drain your light.” Just VERY dramatic and heartfelt. He’d probably be sick enough to puke after watching you go.

[Good thing this will NEVER HAPPEN. Even I, the angst lover, can not take that torture.]

F = Fiance(e) How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel is fully committed to you even without the ring. He is quite the planner, so as soon as he reaches the end of undergrad, he’s already planning out his proposal. Of course, he’s asked you how you feel about marriage and has peeked over your shoulder at your Pinterest boards so he has an idea of what you would like. However, he’s truly a romantic, so he’s pulling out all of the stops.

ᰔ ᩚ He doesn’t feel the need to get married right away because you both have huge futures to explore, but damn it, he wants people to know that you’re taken, so maybe he’ll buy you a promise ring. He’s willing to wait until you both have stable jobs before making the huge step to marriage, but he fights the urge to propose to you constantly. He also spoils you like crazy and he wants to earn the money for your rings rather than asking his family for help.

G = Gentle How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel is the definition of a Gentle Giant. Really, it’s something that first grew from his mom always fussing at him to be a big boy so as to not make Gabriel upset, but his Grandma has always been so kind to him because she felt that Conchata treated him differently than Gabriel.

ᰔ ᩚ Physically, he’s always extra aware of his surroundings because now, not only is he tall, but he’s also wide. There’s a new strength to him that he learned to control after roughhousing with Gabriel got a little too rough, ending in a fractured wrist bone. Miguel was crying more than Gabriel on the way to the hospital. He ended up helping him in saxophone practice for weeks. For you, you’re like his personal weighted plushie. He’s not going to be too rough, just firm squeezes every now and then.

ᰔ ᩚ Emotionally, he’s always careful of what he says to others. It takes A LOT for him to yell or blow a fuse. He knows how much words can hurt so he never wants what he says to be the reason that someone is hurt. He cries at the drop of a hat. He’s gotten better at not crying so easily, but he definitely can’t see people he cares about cry. That night that you sobbed in his arms, he cried a little with you then and a lot while you were in the shower. When you first got together, he feared that his tears might be the breaking point for you but every time he cries in front of you, you’re there to wipe them away.

He’s definitely crying on your wedding day.

H = Hugs Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?

ᰔ ᩚ He loves hugs, but he’s certain that his family is sick of his hugs. Just like how big dogs don’t realize how big they are when curling up somewhere, he is very similar when he goes to hug his closest family. His Abuela will often fuss about how he’s just a big baby and Gabriel sets a three-minute time limit, claiming that he’s going to transfer his body heat if he hugs past that. His dad is not really known for hugging and his mom gets irritated too fast. You are the only one who can stand his hugs that feel like they last a lifetime.

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel’s hugs feel like really warm firm clouds. His waist is itty bitty so your arms can completely go around it but if you put your hands in other areas, he’s bound to start borderline purring. You’re a lot softer than him so he craves seeking you out for hugs. He likes to give them for any occasion: when you’re about to part, when you see each other for the first time in a while, when you finish a set, when you’re sad, when you’re happy, when you’re out shopping and are indecisive about which color of a product you should buy, when you’re taking too long in the art store, when you’re fresh out the shower, etc. He’s just a cuddle bug read: clingy boyfriend.

I = I love you How fast do they say the L-word?

ᰔ ᩚ [According to the story] Miguel calls you his love over the phone during Thanksgiving break which is about four months after knowing you and about three months into dating. He calls you his darling by the time the New Year comes around, he also won over your mom a little after Valentine’s, and he admits to himself that he’s falling in love by the time the spring semester has ended.

ᰔ ᩚ He doesn’t say he loves you out loud until the dinner party after everyone pisses him off which is roughly seven months into dating. However, all of his actions from the handwritten cards to the handmade crafts to the thoughtful gifts to the sweet words have all been signs of his growing love for you. Quite frankly, he would have told you he loved you sooner if he didn’t want to freak you out and he tells you so the night his mother demeans you.

J = Jealousy How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?

ᰔ ᩚ You haven’t seen the extent of how jealous Miguel can get, truly, you just know of the couple of times he’s almost knocked people out or been completely rude to the people he’s thought were trying to lead you on when he was standing right there. He has shocked himself with how green he gets but it doesn’t stop him from feeling that way. When he gets jealous, he’ll find little ways to show others that you’re his such as PDA, lingering a bit too close to you, glaring directly at others whose eyes are planted on you for far too long, or getting really mean towards people who make advances.

ᰔ ᩚ Oddly enough, he’s never aware of the things that he does that attracts others because he’s so busy trying to be cordial that it may come off as flirty. It’s very hard for him to push people off him because that’s never really happened to him until he started bulking up and again, he doesn’t want to hurt people that haven’t hurt him.

K = Kisses What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel’s kisses are consuming and soft, warm and inviting. He gives you his full attention and pours his entire heart into it. The feeling of him against you only really leaves you wanting more, so you have to snap out of it and tell yourself to regain control. He could probably spend an entire day just in your face making out without ever going further, but he might need frequent trips to the bathroom to calm himself down.

ᰔ ᩚ He likes to kiss you on your lips mostly but his other favorite places to kiss you are your stomach, your collarbones, and your thighs. He has to limit himself from leaving marks all over your skin because he’s keen to do it if you don’t stop him. He also likes to be kissed on the lips and he especially loves it when he doesn’t expect them. Surprise kisses have him on cloud 9 for the rest of the day. He really loves it when you won’t bother to reach up to him or lean him down and you settle on kissing him in the middle of his chest. It feels like your lips warm up his heartbeat. Lastly, he feels ignited when you leave kisses on his back, especially the back of his neck. To him, it’s like a promise for more or a way to ignite him. Start kissing his back and he’s not letting you leave him for at least 20 minutes.

L = Little ones How are they around children?

ᰔ ᩚ Kids use him like a jungle gym. He is a fan favorite amongst his baby cousins who are always asking to be thrown in the air. He would think some babies would be afraid of him, but once they’re in his arms, they’re either really excited about how high off the ground they are or they’ll fall asleep instantly in his arms.

ᰔ ᩚ He’ll often tire the babies and kiddos out and his family will find him in a pile with him as the pillow to little heads.

ᰔ ᩚ Another key thing is that he won’t use baby voices with babies, but rather he’ll talk to them like normal human beings. It’s very useful when he has to break up fights between his baby cousins who often argue over who gets to play with him first.

M = Morning How are mornings spent with them?

ᰔ ᩚ Mornings with Miguel are more like Miguel going to do his workout while you sleep. You’re not really a morning person, so you’re a bit drowsy whenever he kisses you all over your face before he leaves. He always chuckles at your sleepy state and urges himself to not get distracted, but more often than not, he wants to stay with you. Some mornings, he’ll get right back in the bed with you after his shower and kiss you until you wake up.

ᰔ ᩚ On the mornings that you do go with him to the gym, it’s mostly him talking with you humming along one-word answers until you’re actually fighting for your life in the gym. Afterwards, he always takes you to go get breakfast whether that’s a smoothie or him making you something.

N = Night How are nights spent with them?

ᰔ ᩚ Nights with Miguel are very loving! If you let him, he’d do everything from shower with you to brushing teeth together to skincare to hair care and so on. Being that both introverts and creatives often work/operate better at night, sometimes you both are up at all times of night doing anything. You could be drawing on your iPad while he’s up playing games with your feet in his lap.

ᰔ ᩚ Sometimes this is also when he lets his most intimate thoughts slip out. With his head on your chest and your nails scratching against his scalp, he’s in his most vulnerable state.

O = Open When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?

ᰔ ᩚ Rather than revealing things about himself, all of his drama just happens to unfold for him. The way he brought up Tyler Stone, the super famous tech CEO, being his father just happened to be the time when you were doing something extremely serious.

ᰔ ᩚ He can tell you things and open up about his past, but you never really grasp how serious it is until it appears before your eyes. His turmoil with Kron was 4+ years in the making and the first time you met Kron just so happened to be the time Miguel connected his fist to his face. His relationship with his mom is something that’s been an uphill battle and you haven’t really seen how bad it can get, but you’ve felt how cruel she could be. Tyler's yearning for a relationship with his youngest son is something you see happening in real-time.

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel is as open as he can be, but nothing ever really prepares you for the real deal.

P = Patience How easily angered are they?

ᰔ ᩚ It takes a lot to push Miguel’s buttons because he often lets things pile up and boil over. He’s not easily pushed to true anger until someone hurts the people he loves. One time, Gabriel kept coming home crying but he wouldn’t tell Miguel who was hurting him. Once Miguel found out, he ripped the kid a new one which led to Conchatta grounding him for a week. His Abuela was proud of him for standing up for his brother and Gabriel snuck him sweets when he thought their parents weren’t looking.

ᰔ ᩚ He really wanted to say more to his mother that night she hurt you, but Kron took most of the brunt of that anger which helped him level out a more reasonable response to his mother. He doesn’t like seeing you hurt especially over things that he finds to be beautiful about you.

Q = Quizzes How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel has been taking in details about you ever since he first saw you in his Biology class. It was almost as if he was studying you. He knows your favorites, he remembers your friends, he listens to you constantly, and stores things for later. He even begins to know the subtle habits that you have.

ᰔ ᩚ The only things that tend to go over his head are when you mention really advanced art techniques. As much as he tries, it never really sticks. He also conveniently forgets how often he asks for cuddles.

R = Remember What is their favorite moment in your relationship?

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel has a bank of lovely memories about you stored in his mind (and many more to come 😗). One of his favorite memories was when you went out of your way to make sure that those sorority girls got suspended. He often lets bad things happen to him until he can't control it, but you immediately caught the situation and nipped it in the bud right away. He’s never really had anyone do anything to that extent for him as fast as you did and even though he knew he wanted to pursue a relationship with you before, from that moment he knew that you were special.

ᰔ ᩚ Another memory is the last-minute birthday present that you got for him. It was so thoughtful and sweet and he’s constantly using it. The two of you were only at the sproutings of a relationship so to make such an impactful gift meant a lot.

S = Security How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?

ᰔ ᩚ He’s extremely protective. This means little things from making sure that he’s the one walking closer to the street and watching your drink while you’re dancing to big things like intervening when men don’t catch the hint to roughing up men that don’t respect your boundaries. He’s willing to use his brute strength in order to make sure no harm comes to you but he hopes it never has to get to that point. He’d rather use his strength to carry you in his arms.

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel doesn’t really feel the need to be protected but when you go out of your way to protect him, he can’t help but think that it feels nice. Like, look at my girlfriend going out of her way to make sure that I’m alright, to make sure that I know that I deserve to be protected too. There’s really no other feeling like it to him.

T = Try How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel goes through so much effort for anything that involves you. He tends to go a little stir-crazy when planning. He marks up his calendar, sets appointments, makes calls, pulls certain strings: anything he can do to see a smile on your face. He remembers so many details about you just so he can pull together the perfect gift. With Tyler trying to get on his good side, he may or may not have asked him to help him out with things that are on the expensive side.

ᰔ ᩚ However, there are things he does that does not involve so much money. Your cafe dates, your study dates in the library, your handmade gifts, and your nights riding around in his Range Rover getting late-night food. If you’re sick, he’ll bring you tea and make you soup. He’s there when you’re cramping, soft hoodie on and heating pad in hand. He waits for you after your art classes, ready to carry your portfolio across campus. He takes your glasses off when you fall asleep with them on and soaks your oil brushes when you’re in a rush. He cares about you deeply.

ᰔ ᩚ Your one-year anniversary is soon…what does Miguel have planned? ��

U = Ugly What would be some bad habits of theirs?

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel has a nasty habit of overthinking. He often thinks too much for his own good, which is why exercising is so close to him as it forces him to focus on his form and his sets rather than the running hamster wheel of words in his mind. His overthinking could lead to imposter syndrome which in turn causes him to question whether or not he deserves the nice things he has, whether or not he deserves to be with you. With the big reveal of the man he’s known all of his life not actually being his dad, it really only dug a deeper hole into the habit he’s had ever since his mom’s different treatment of him versus Gabriel.

ᰔ ᩚ On the other end of the spectrum, he can be a bit of a perfectionist which can lead to stubbornness. Conchata has berated him all of his life, so at first, he felt the need to appeal to her good side as her son. The older he got, the more this turned into battles of proving her wrong. No, he wasn’t a bad influence on Gabriel. Yes, he could get all A’s and stay up playing video games. No, he wasn’t afraid to end up alone. Yes, he would try to go to some far-off college.

ᰔ ᩚ His relationship with his mother is far from fixed, and there's no telling how these habits are to continue to affect his other relationships.

V = Vanity How concerned are they with their looks?

ᰔ ᩚ At first, Miguel would just own a few nice looks here and there. He’d only really care about the quality of his graphic tees, the softness of his sweaters, and trying to avoid high-water pants. Between his parents and his grandma, a lot of the clothes he got made him resemble a lanky old man. It wasn’t until he started to bulk up that his wardrobe took a change. His old tees could barely fit over his arms and the bigger ones got turned into crop tops to chill out in. His sweaters went to Gabriel who threw them in the deepest pits of his closet.

ᰔ ᩚ Gabriel ended up styling him at one point which resulted in a lot of extra basketball shorts and god-awful t-shirt hoodies. If it weren’t for Dana and his older cousins telling him that he looked like an extra off of Jersey Shore, he would have never changed. He quietly asked Tyler for some kind of stylist which in turn helped him to find more clothes that fit his new body type.

ᰔ ᩚ When you come around, you expand his style even more with your eye for detail and your insistence on having coordinating outfits. You know what looks good on him and with the way your eyes trail his body, he for sure knows what you think is hot.

W = Whole Would they feel incomplete without you?

ᰔ ᩚ Absolutely. 1000%. (More of this will play out a bit in Part 10…)

ᰔ ᩚ Obviously, in any Honeymoon stage of a relationship, the couple can feel extremely lonely without their other half. Miguel is an absolute yearner. He hates parting ways no matter how at ease he feels by himself. He never really thought of himself as someone who needs a partner, but now that he has you, he’s trying to juggle between knowing when to give you space and knowing when to impede your space. He feels a lot lighter when you’re around, a lot freer. Tackling college felt so foreign to him, but with you, he feels like he can conquer anything.

ᰔ ᩚ If you were to ever leave this world before him, there would already be enough bits and pieces of you left to fill the half of his missing heart. The only thing is, he would miss your presence dearly and that radiant smile of yours. In his dreams would be the only place where he could feel whole again. X = Xtra A random headcanon for them.

I have three

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel loves PDA, but sometimes, you’re still a bit shy about it, so you found a compromise: a fidget ring. When he wants to love on you so bad that he can’t stand it, but you’re hyper-aware of the people around you, he’ll take your hand and just start spinning the ring. It’s your sign that he’s craving your touch. It doubles as a distraction when you’re in crowded spaces and his energy levels are low. You can tell when he’s ready to leave an event with the way he’s fidgeting with the ring. A slower tempo means he wants to exit a conversation, a faster tempo could mean he’s overwhelmed or nervous, and moving the entire ring around means he’s ready to go. It’s an effective system for communication between the two of you.

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel loves, loves, LOVES girly pop music. It gives him so much energy during his workouts and what’s better is that they’re really catchy. He hasn’t gone out of his way to watch any of the music videos or learn the dances, but take him to a concert, and he’s bound to know the words. He also has a high chance of being put on the Jumbotron or being called up on stage which could lead to intense screams from others and an awkward dance from him. Gabriel has a stan account that he refuses to show his brother’s face on because he knows it’s bound to be his most popular post.

ᰔ ᩚ Even though he’s extremely book smart and intelligent, when it comes to you, the Himbo gene activates. One compliment from you, no matter how small it is, could have him grinning like a fool all day. Whatever it is you complimented him on will be brought to the forefront constantly. He’ll buy a horrid amount of cologne just because you said you liked the way he smelled that day. He’ll take pictures of himself at the same angle because you thought one photo of him was good enough to put as your phone background. He’ll get worked up with one touch in public from you, especially if you haven’t touched him all day that day. He might even do something that you mentioned off-handedly from a TikTok or a tweet like buy a t-shirt with your face on it or have the lights on his Range Rover doors reflect your name. Sometimes you have to tell him to cool it, but if you praise him for it, he’s going to keep doing it.

Y = Yuck What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?

ᰔ ᩚ In general, Miguel doesn’t like when people aren’t direct. He’s not a mind reader so he prefers when people say exactly how they feel rather than beat around the bush. People have done that far too much with him so he gets irritated when he’s put in a situation where the other party is not being upfront with him. He also hates when people are bullies for no reason. He’s not here to figure out why someone is taking out their insecurities on others but he will put them in their place.

ᰔ ᩚ He also severely hates when people interrupt his sets. If you see he’s using the machine and he’s in the zone, why are you bothering him? He likes to think that he gives off the energy of a determined Gym Bro but in reality, he just looks really hot racking up those weights. Either way, don’t fuck up his set.

ᰔ ᩚ In a partner, he wouldn’t want someone that disrespects his family. He knows it’s a little dysfunctional, but his partner has to be truly dedicated to him before they even think about complaining about his family. He also tends to like his partners on the thicker side. He’s for all bodies, but he prefers when his partner has something he can feel so he honestly wouldn’t like it if his partner was too much smaller than him.

Z = Zzz What is a sleep habits of theirs?

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel always needs to hold onto something when he sleeps. Whether that be the pillow, the comforter, or you, he needs something in his arms. It can make for a very hot bed so whenever you guys are going to sleep together or taking a nap, you make sure to have a fan right by the bed. More often than not, he’s sleeping without a shirt on.

ᰔ ᩚ One other habit is how he gets when he’s really sleepy. He gets a bit whiny and grabby with tears threatening to fall with how much he’s yawning. He’ll say things that he won’t remember the next day like how pretty you are or how much he loves you. He might talk in his sleep a bit before he’s completely out of it which makes for hilarious videos. Like this, his snores are a little louder and his face pressed against the pillow is super cute.

ᰔ ᩚ In the morning time, when he doesn’t have a workout planned, he might have a little drool from how hard he slept. If you wake up before him, he’ll squint at the light and mumble about what time it is.

[THE MAJORITY OF THIS SECTION CONTAINS THE TRUE SPOILERS]

A = Aftercare what they’re like after sex

ᰔ ᩚ During sex, he gets in a specific mindset similar to the one he has in the gym, so it might take him a minute or so to snap out of it. He’ll be so wrapped up in the pleasure of the moment that he’ll forget that he needs to stop and make sure that you’re ok. Once he’s back focused, he’ll wipe your body clean and massage the muscles he’s sure to have stretched out. After that, he’s in dire need of cuddles and kisses.

B = Body part their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s

ᰔ ᩚ Other than his face, which he agrees is pretty hot, his favorite body part of his own might be his arms. He worked hard for them! He’s always shocked looking back at old pictures of himself, seeing how he’s nearly triple the size, and wondering who that guy is. He also thinks that the Stone side has blessed him greatly with his dick. He’s always been well-endowed. When you came into his life, he found a new great appreciation for his own thighs, although he’s still battling with the thought of you wanting to be choked in them.

ᰔ ᩚ For you, what part of you doesn’t he like? He couldn’t really choose if his life depended on it because there’s so much to love. However, there’s no better feeling than the weight of your ass and thighs against his lap. If you could use him as a chair constantly, he’ll never complain. It’s the perfect position for him to feel you up and plant his face right in your cleavage. If your back is to him while you’re on his lap, then his hands are immediately on your stomach. You used to hate it at first because he would just squeeze at it or tickle you constantly, but he really loves to place his hands on the warmest parts of you, and right under your stomach happens to be one of those zones.

ᰔ ᩚ If he said he liked his forehead being pressed up against your stomach while he ate you out, you wouldn’t get mad, right?

C = Cum anything to do with cum, basically

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel hasn’t really talked about it with you but, he especially loves it when he marks you. You always look so pretty with him painted across his skin, and he has so much to give. When his dick is down your throat and you try your best to swallow all of him, he feels feverish when it spills out down your face. He can’t help but think about how gorgeous you look. When he’s fucking your thighs and it spills onto your skin he just wants to rub it in.

ᰔ ᩚ When he’s inside of you and it just won’t stop dripping out of you, it riles him up even more. You’re his and his alone.

D = Dirty secret pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs

ᰔ ᩚ He does have a few! One of which is fantasizing about you riding him on the bench press bench while the other side of the gym is occupied. It’s so unlike him, and when the thought first passed his mind, he was so ashamed he couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eyes for a day, nor use the bench press without getting lightheaded. Just the thought of you leaning over him blocking out the bright lights of the gym, sweat dripping onto him, and watching your ass hit his skin in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors was enough to get him to plan out how to build out his gym in his future home.

ᰔ ᩚ Another is the amount of times he’s gotten off to the thought of you before you were officially together. He told you about the wet dreams, but he didn’t tell you how bad it was. He’s not sure if he’s ever produced that much cum in his life. It’s a wonder he was able to hold steady conversations with you with how head-over-heels he was. He fantasized about the sounds you would make and tried to remember how your body felt against his from the little touches you gave him. He tried to hone it down because, god, that’s creepy, but you were so radiant that you never really escaped his mind.

E = Experience how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel is what I deem as a “virgin slut.” He’s very inexperienced when it comes to love, relationships, and sex, but he knows too much by proxy. Again, he’s the parent friend that’s always giving advice, so for the most part, he knows what and what not to do. He’s heard about the things that his friends have done and he’s wondered what experiencing it would be like with you.

ᰔ ᩚ Would you like this position? Would you want to try this with him? Does he want to know what this would feel like? While he feels a little embarrassed to be so inexperienced, he’s happy that you’re excited to share these new experiences with him.

ᰔ ᩚ In terms of sex and foreplay, he’s learning as he goes, going with what feels good and what you react well to. He’s constantly researching, remembering, and trying out new techniques. You’re his first, and if he has any say in it, his last, so he feels that there is plenty of time to get to a more experienced level.

F = Favorite position this goes without saying

ᰔ ᩚ Any position where your breasts are in his face is a position he’s happy in. There’s nothing like watching them bounce while you ride him within an inch of his life. He wants to look at them, he wants to put his mouth on them, he wants to suck them, he wants to bite them: just put them in his face.

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel also really adores any position he can hold you in. He notices how excited your body gets when he’s balancing you in his arms while pounding away. You get so wet that he’s mesmerized. The tight feeling of both you around him and your shaking hands gripping his shoulders keeps him going. He really just wants to see every ounce of your body move with him.

ᰔ ᩚ Did he tell you that he wanted you to sit on his face today or did he forget to set his reminder?

G = Goofy are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel is very serious in the moment because nothing is funny about your pleasure. All the laughing and giggling will happen before he’s sinking into you. He’s very serious about watching your face and your body for anything new and familiar. Did you think something was funny before? Well, he’s making sure that you’re not laughing by the time he’s finished.

ᰔ ᩚ Rather than being goofy, he will ask you something out of left field in the middle of the moment if he feels that you two have something to work out.

H = Hair how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel is not the hairiest but he also doesn’t not have hair. His friend waxed him for practice one time and he’s certain that he’ll never let her do that shit again. He keeps his face clean because he feels like growing out his facial hair makes him look scruffy, although you’d argue that he looks pretty cute.

ᰔ ᩚ His happy trail does lead like a nice present to his gift that keeps giving. He will let you trim him from time to time and help him wax when the sun is getting too hot.

I = Intimacy how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect

ᰔ ᩚ He is very intimate during the moment, especially during your first few times together. He’s always reassuring you and holding you close. His eyes never really leave your face when you’re pleasuring yourself or reaching your peak. He loves to talk into your skin and your ears.

ᰔ ᩚ If he’s not grabbing onto you, he’s holding your hands and rocking into you. He’s kissing your wrists and your cheeks, wiping any tears away. Where you might not be able to speak, he’s asking yes or no questions, wiping your hair out of your face, and telling you to let go.

J = Jack off masturbation headcanon

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel’s sessions usually take a lot, but since gaining a roommate, he can’t go all out like he usually does. He cums a lot so he usually has to put a towel down or waits until he gets into the shower to fully let go. He prefers to use both hands whether that means lifting his hips off the bed while he jerks or holding his dick in one hand while playing with his nipple in another.

ᰔ ᩚ His sessions after you both get together were even messier, especially with you giving him new material. Voice recordings, polaroids, phone calls: all of it is being used for him to get off when you’re not near.

ᰔ ᩚ Once, you called him in the middle of one and he was winded as ever. You recognized those breaths the instant he talked and brought him to the hilt with your voice alone. He fell a little more in love with you that day but panicked when you wanted to switch to FaceTime.

ᰔ ᩚ His chest was….a mess, but you giggled at how cute he was anyway.

K = Kink one or more of their kinks

ᰔ ᩚ Praise kink: Miguel loves to hear that he’s doing well. Please tell him that he’s doing well, he craves it. There’s definitely a reason that he needs to hear you urge him on, but your voice always sounds so good when you’re in his ear. Tell him how good he made you feel, tell him you’re proud of him, and maybe call him a good boyfriend and he’ll start trembling.

ᰔ ᩚ Hair pulling: This is one that he didn’t know he had until you accidentally yanked his head too hard while trying to stop him from tickling your stomach with his breath. He kind of froze when the groan came out of him, leaving you staring at each other for about three minutes. Once he realized what happened, his face went beat red and he wouldn’t look you in the eyes for the rest of the night. You promised him it was ok, and tested out a little hair-pulling a few weeks later which he thoroughly enjoyed. He especially loves it when you pull his hair while he’s in between your legs. He cums almost instantly.

ᰔ ᩚ Semi-public sex: There’s something about fooling around in “private” public areas that turns him on. On the balconies of hotel rooms, in private yacht pools, in dressing rooms, in his car: he just can’t wait until he’s in the bedroom, he needs you now. Are you both louder than you should be? Yep. Does he care? Not really.

L = Location favorite places to do the do

ᰔ ᩚ Again, he loves semi-public sex, but he also really loves even more intimate places like on vacation in your hotel room or on your dorm bed when Jess isn’t in there. (Although you’ve told him many times that having sex in that open room could be rude. As a compromise, he brings you to his dorm and fucks you there instead. Peter can live.) He really wants to make love to you in his childhood bedroom (the room is full of him but he wants your scent in his sheets), but he knows his mom is far too nosy for that to even happen. He’s not even sure if he could make out with you without her coming in there to check on you two.

M = Motivation what turns them on, gets them going

ᰔ ᩚ Honestly, you could probably just stand there and Miguel would conjure up a way to be turned on. Seriously though, it’s little things like seeing your midriff or hearing you call him baby in a different tone, especially if you’re doing something sexual, that gets him going. If you do something like extensive PDA (rubbing up against him, kissing him long enough to use tongue, dancing on him), wear clothes that show off your body, or when you stare at him while he’s doing his work.

ᰔ ᩚ If you’re wearing a dress that he can see your fupa through? Hard. When you’re doing jumping jacks next to him in the gym during his sets? Turned on. When you wear his clothes? Rock solid. When you take the initiative? Puddy. When you let others know that he’s yours? You might not make it to your destination without him touching you in some way.

N = No something they wouldn’t do, turn offs

ᰔ ᩚ He’s not into degradation AT ALL. He’s way too much of a gentle lover/boyfriend to ever put you on a lower level than him whether it’s supposed to be enjoyable or not.

ᰔ ᩚ He is also not into pain specifically when it comes to giving it. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He might do a light smack every now and then but he can’t bring himself to inflict pain, especially if it bruises. The closest you might get to that is if he gets too carried away when pounding into you, and once it’s all over, he’ll feel like a dickhead. It takes him a while to realize that you don’t mind it when his skin is slapping against yours hard enough to sting later.

ᰔ ᩚ One last slight turn off is choking. He’s never going to be comfortable enough to wrap his hands around your neck. You’re determined to let his thighs squeeze you at least once, but if he hurts you by accident, he might do something incredibly drastic.

O = Oral preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel O’Hara is a munch. Miguel Munch O’Hara. He could stay down there for hours. Being that the first time he ate you out he actually had you screaming, he would say that he’s pretty good at it. But! There’s always room for improvement. For example, he wants you to sit on him and he wants to heat you out while you’re sitting on his shoulders. He’s slowly, but surely, inching his way there.

ᰔ ᩚ He likes giving more than receiving mostly because he can’t look down at you giving him head without losing his mind. At least if he’s eating you out, he can keep going if he cums. If he cums while you’re swallowing him, he needs at least a minute or two to reset. Not to mention, the sounds your throat makes when you’re sucking him in makes him conflicted. You promise you like it, and he loves the feeling, but he’s still wary of fucking into your mouth and hurting you.

P = Pace are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel’s pace is deep, slow, and sensual because he has to pace himself. If he’s wrapped up in you, he’s bound to forget about his own pleasure in place of making sure you’re feeling good, but once you get to sinking him in and squeezing so tight, he wants to hold that out as long as possible.

Q = Quickie their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.

ᰔ ᩚ They seem nice. If only he could commit to them. Quickies often turn from 10 minutes to 20 minutes to way too long in a compromising position. Also, there’s way too much to clean up for what he does with you to be considered a quickie.

R = Risk are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.

ᰔ ᩚ With you? He’s willing to try most things, although they’re mainly vanilla. Risks for him might lead to late night trips to CVS for a pregnancy test so it’s best that he researches and plans things out thoroughly. Right now, the most he might be eager to do is change up the positions and try not to touch you.

S = Stamina how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel has a lot of stamina! He’s not in the gym for shits and giggles. Still, to him, he has a lot of work to do in terms of going all night. Right now, he can last for about 2-3 rounds without breaking a sweat. If he focuses on you, he can extend that number to about 4 rounds. His refractory period is also pretty stellar if he must say so himself.

ᰔ ᩚ Now, whether or not you can keep up with him is to be determined.

T = Toys do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel has been too scared to own a toy living in his mother’s home, so he’s never bought one. (How Gabriel got away with buying the most obscure things, he’ll never know) The only thing he has is the bottle of lube that he frequents and his extra sets of towels to cover his bed.

ᰔ ᩚ On you, he’s happy to try out whatever you’ve got. He was really fascinated with the mechanics of your rose toy, but he’s also determined to make you have the same reaction with just his mouth alone. What kind of boyfriend is he if he can’t make you forget about your tiny pieces of plastic?

ᰔ ᩚ He’s also interested in trying out different types of lube, but he’s got to research which ones are really worth it.

U = Unfair how much they like to tease

ᰔ ᩚ Open the dictionary, flip to the T section, slide down the pages until you find the word “tease,” and you’ll see Miguel’s government name on the third definition of the word. He likes to claim that you’re a tease when really, he’s just a horny himbo. He knows what he’s doing when he sends you sweaty gym pictures. He knows what he’s doing when he dresses up all nice for you. He knows what he’s doing he’s all in your face in public, feening for a reaction out of you. He messes with you on purpose.

ᰔ ᩚ Let this behavior make it to the bedroom and he’s either going to regret it once you take over OR he’s going to continue it until you’re coming apart in his arms. Teasing you always leads to great, great sex.

V = Volume how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel is loud as fuck. He has to cover his mouth when he’s alone in his room thinking about you. When he’s inside of you, if he’s not moaning into your mouth, he’s breathing heavy right in your ear or groaning loudly right into your shoulders. He’ll often be louder than you. If you’re moaning with him, he encourages you and sings right along with you.

ᰔ ᩚ If you’re focusing on his pleasure, he’s hyper-aware of the sounds he makes so he tries to muffle them which leads to whimpers and whines. You love it when he gets this way.

W = Wild card a random headcanon for the character

ᰔ ᩚ Hip thrusts are a great exercise for the lower half of your body and should never be missed on leg day. They pinpoint the glutes, the abs, the hips, the hamstrings, the back, and the quads. With a steady added weight, anyone who is doing this exercise possibly is sure to grow those muscles greatly over time.

ᰔ ᩚ Miguel is never missing a chance to do hip thrusts because he is determined to fuck you this way. He can only imagine the shock on your face as he holds you up and pumps into you with a steady rhythm.

ᰔ ᩚ He’s never missing leg day.

X = X-ray let’s see what’s going on under those clothes

ᰔ ᩚ He’s definitely a shower which is why his tiny little exercise shorts can get buck-eyed looks sometimes. The first time you saw him, you felt yourself panic a bit. But the weight in your mouth? Indescribable.

ᰔ ᩚ To you, he’s the prettiest you’ve ever seen. If you had to guess, he’s probably 8- 9 inches, but it doesn’t really matter when you’re watching him leak like a faucet. He curves so nicely and definitely feel the effect of it when he lands. Watching it twitch to life has given you more inspiration than you care to admit.

Y = Yearning how high is their sex drive?

ᰔ ᩚ It’s too high for his own good. He can switch like a light and be ready to go down in you within minutes. It’s that foggy himbo mindset and the fact that you’re his first girlfriend. There have been many times where he’s gotten distracted by just thinking about you and the things he wants to do. He riles himself up when researching techniques, so of course he’s ready to be in you at any time.

Z = Zzz how quickly they fall asleep afterwards

ᰔ ᩚ Once you’ve both settled down, he’s out like a log. Let’s be real, not only has he probably worked himself up, but you definitely knocked him out with how good you gave it to him. He uses all the stamina during sex and when it’s over, the energy just fizzles out. It’s funny because you would think you were supposed to be the one that’s barely holding on, but there he is, mumbling into your skin.

ᰔ ᩚ This is definitely the time to get really soft responses out of him: satisfied, pussy-whipped, and dozing off.

This was really fun! As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

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ashtheketchum · 3 months ago

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How would the Sawyer family react to their first kiss? (+ Thomas Hewitt)

A/N: I thought for a long time about whether I really wanted to start something with the horror fandom here and I've decided to do it! I'm a huge Texas Chainsaw Massacre fan and accordingly I'm going to write something about these characters. This is my first time writing for the Sawyers and Thomas, so please show mercy!

Warnings: GN.Reader, mention of s(c)ex, mention of cannibalism, I use they/them pronouns for Bubba

Characters: Bubba Sawyer, Drayton Sawyer, Chop Top Sawyer, Nubbins Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt

______________________________

Bubba Sawyer:

They would squeal loudly and mumble something that you can't understand

They never thought that someone as adorable as you would ever kiss them!

They would also be so happy that they would hug you and spin around on the spot

If your ribs aren't broken from the hug, they wouldn't let go until you couldn't breathe anymore

Then they would apologize with loud whimpers and squeaking noises

If the brothers found out, they would be a little shy before admitting it

They would make fun of it in their own way, but you didn't mind

But they themself would never kiss you on the mouth afterwards, but on the cheek or forehead

They just feel too insecure to kiss you on the mouth without really knowing that you want it too (But oh boy, you want it)

But you also respect that they doesn't want to step out of their comfort zone

Drayton Sawyer:

This poor old man would say insults under his breath

Don't expect too much of a reaction from him, he doesn't believe much in love and (as he would spell it) scex

But he's an old fashion man that means he would also give you a peck back (But only if his brothers aren´t around-)

But nothing more

"Why would you kiss an old man like me now?" would be a question he would ask you, but he still has a slight grin on his lips

Sometimes he also teases you that these lips recently ate a human

If his brothers found out about this, he would beat them with his broom

Bubba would just shyly turn away and cover their eyes, so Drayton only insults them

Don't you dare kiss him in front of his family! He doesn't like to do it, but if you provoke him, he'll use the broom on you too!

With him, there would only be small pecks, don't expect more from him

Chop Top Sawyer:

He would jump around happily and scream loudly

"I just got a kiss! I just got a kiss!"

Then he would ask you for a kiss again

And then again

And then again-

His brothers wouldn't even have to find out, he would tell his brothers himself

When Drayton acts disgusted or disappointed, Chop Top just teases him about being jealous

When you're alone, you always listen to music together and while listening to the music, you would kiss over and over again

Chop Top says that you should time your kisses to the beat

After your first kiss, there would be no more "normal" kisses, only passionate kisses

Nubbins Sawyer:

He would be similar to his twin brother

After your first kiss, which was just a small kiss, you wouldn't kiss normally anymore

Sometimes he would take pictures of him kissing your cheek or gently biting you (aka. His way of kissing you)

I can really imagine that sometimes he would just gently bite you instead of kissing you

"B-b-but this is m-my way t-t-o kiss you, y-y-y/n!"

You accept it as long as he doesn't bite you hard

The pictures he takes he would hang on your wall or try to sell to some victims

Just like his twin brother, Nubbins would just tell everyone (Even the victims-)

He would be like: "Y-y-y-you know…! I-i just ha-ad my first k-kiss!"

He might be a little too proud of it, but give him this moment

Thomas Hewitt:

At first he would be completely overwhelmed

For a whole minute he would just stare at you and not move at all before he would flinch and shake his head slightly

Although you could hardly see it through his mask, he would turn completely red

After that he would gently stroke your cheek and grunt quietly

Luda May would just smile lovingly at you two and murmur quietly how proud she was of her son

Hoyt would just gag quietly before sending Thomas back to the basement to continue working on the ,,dinner"

Thomas would only kiss you in the basement or when Hoyt wasn´t near you two

When you go to sleep, you sometimes kiss more passionately, but only when you go to sleep

You would play with his long hair while he would stroke your back

Before he goes out to hunt the victims, he gives you a quick kiss on the lips

#slashers #slasher x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #sawyer family #sawyer family x reader #bubba sawyer #bubba sawyer x reader #drayton sawyer #drayton sawyer x reader #chop top sawyer #chop top sawyer x reader #nubbins sawyer #nubbins sawyer x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #tcm #tcm x reader

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uzurimisery · 2 months ago

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bitter frost, honey i'm coming home. / logan howlett x reader / nsfw

warnings: MDNI, angst, p in v, mention of vomit, makeup sex, death (not character), thoughts of suicidal ideation, sappy emotional sex, old man cums quick, Logan yells at reader, smoking, knotting (not a/b/o)

wc: 9k

A/N: I do not know brevity. This was only meant to be 4k max

It’s cold on the ranch now. The first frost came barrelling through, ice crystals hanging on the barbed wire fences and freezing over the troughs out in the pasture. Days on the ranch start early, often before dawn, the first rays of light peeking over the crest of the mountains, painting it pink and golden. He’d step out into the crisp morning air and go to the barn, where he’d feed the animals. The chickens were too loud if he didn’t feed them first, the two roosters crowing till he did, so they went first. After the chickens, it was time for the two horses and the cows. After three years of doing it, he moved with practiced precision. Scattering hay, pouring oats, and spreading seeds are all mindless tasks.

Logan had to venture out on Weston, a reliable but honorary son of a bitch, with an icebreaker to free up the water for the herd. Then, he had to head into the barns and ensure they weren’t frozen. He should pull out the heated troughs, kept convincing himself he’d do it next weekend 27 weekends ago, and now it was necessary. His back ached a bit at the thought. Pulling out all the equipment and placing it was a full day's job with just himself doing it. He was getting a fucking headache just thinking about it.

It’s not that he wasn’t strong enough. He was just old. He was far too old to run a ranch independently with so little help. Each winter felt a bit long as if there was too much work. Maybe he had grown lazier, too, over the years. No more fighting and not working at Xavier’s school; he was just living on the land now. Cattle ranching. Felt like an All-American cowboy when he had on wranglers, flannel, Justin boots, and some hat he had picked up at the tractor supply store a year back. The hat had seen better days, and the ridge was beaten up and dented from all the times he’d fold it in half and tuck it into his back pocket. He didn’t bother with a jacket, be far too warm that way.

The ranch was quiet, save for the sound of cattle and horses. Now, the yellow pasture stretches out from the start of his property line on the road to near the base of the mountains. His little private valley. At first, the quiet made him anxious, like he was waiting for another catastrophe to come and tear it apart. That he’d wake up with someone trying to kill him, and all too often, he’d close his eyes and envision all the torture he’d been through—too much pain and suffering in his life.

The quiet also gave him too much time to think about everything he’d done. Everything he’d lost. He was a man who had known mainly suffering for all his life. Sometimes, he felt he didn’t deserve this peace, this serenity. It was dissonant. He was a fighter, a soldier, a weapon made human to kill and kill and kill again until the only color he knew was red, the only scent he smelt iron, till the collar around his neck pulled so tight it’d break it.

His hands ached, claws threatening to come out as he worked himself up, the sting of vomit on his tongue. The back of his knuckles split open like they weren’t even there, like there was no skin or muscle for the adamantine to cut through. Like it didn’t hurt every time it did.

Weston whinnied under him, tired of lazily trotting around the barn to check for coyote marks. He wanted to gallop around the outskirts of the land while Logan sniffed out any danger to the herd. Didn’t need a cattle dog when he was a glorified one.

“Yeah yeah, asshole.” His spurs dig into Weston’s sides, urging the horse into a gallop. He might as well get the morning round done now.

The horse broke into a gallop, bouncing Logan in the saddle, wind whipping him in the face. For a moment, the noise in his head quieted. There was no constant thought of you, just what he had to do after rounds.

As they reached the fence line, Logan scanned the horizon, senses on high alert. He knew he was never looking for just coyotes or stray animals; he was always searching for something more. A threat that might never come. Some bullshit hopped-up mutant on a vendetta or some power-hungry human looking to use him.

Now, at a canter, the two patrolled the whole property line as he took deep breaths, inhaling the cold air, trying to focus on the present. On the life he had here. Not what he had left behind. But the past is never far behind, and he had so much past to run from. It would always be near him, lurking in the shadows. The ranch could never drown it out, cover it up, and make him forget. Maybe it was just another reminder he could never truly escape who he was, no matter how hard he tried.

“Easy now,” he murmured, pulling Weston to a stop near the far edge of the property. He could see everything from here. It was beautiful and peaceful, but all he could feel was the weight of what he was missing.

Sometimes, he swore he smelt your perfume on the breeze.

“Let’s head back.” Weston turned around, ready to run the way back toward the barn. This routine was the only thing that kept him sane. The work. The responsibilities. Barely enough to keep him busy but not enough to keep him from sinking too far into the darkness in his thoughts.

He’d gotten lazy the past week and fallen behind on the hay maintenance, so he’d need to buck it today. Move it all from being covered under some tarps to the hay barn. Move them all one by one. He was glad that 150 pounds felt like nothing to him in times like that.

The chicken coop also needed a roof repair. The last storm did a number on it. Logan bought the supplies the last time he was in town. It just meant stripping the old one off, resecuring the waterproof liner, and hammering the steel roof. Maybe he’d add some more insulation next weekend in preparation for the winter.

Today was going to be a long one.

───※ ·❆· ※───

A knock on the door echoed in the ranch house, slicing through the quiet thrum of the fridge kicking on and the TV volume on low. He wasn’t expecting company as he stopped mid-swig of his beer, brow furrowed. The neighbors knew by now to leave him the hell alone and had enough run-ins to steer clear of him unless it was an emergency. There were no ranch hands due to arrive until next Monday.

His boots thudded with heavy steps as he rose from the couch and walked over. The tips of his claws cut through his skin, the metallic ring soft as he reached the door.

He grabbed the handle, ready for it to be blown off the hinges by someone knocking it down.

“Logan, it’s me.” That's a voice he’d recognize anywhere, unmistakable and achingly familiar. The one he longed to hear to the point it drove him crazy. The one he dreamed of every night, of all the terrible things it had said to him because of what he’d done. Heard it in his sleep and his waking hour like a fucking ghost haunting him.

“Can you open the door already? I know you’re in there.”

He blinked as he did, trying to grapple with his emotions brought to light by the reality of you standing there.

“What?” his voice cracked. “What are you doing here?”

You looked so sad, a deep sorrow in your eyes—the kind that had been there when the two of you had argued the night before he left. It made him feel like he missed something crucial like you had lost a part of yourself—one that settled deep in your bones and moved in your muscles and ligaments.

“Charles told me where you were.”

His throat felt painfully tight, as if the words were squeezing his neck. He didn’t expect this- hadn’t expected you to ever ask Xavier where he was and come see him.

Neither of you moved, the door half-open as he stood blocking it.

“You ain’t supposed to be here.” His tone was gruff. He had been smoking more since coming to the ranch, trying to dull his brain.

Your voice was steady but filled with so much sadness it made him want to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. Plead with you to transgress his sins. Go to confession and tell all his wrongdoings. “I needed to see you again.”

He looked out into the driveway, seeing nothing but emptiness.

“Did you fly over here? You don’t even have your suit on.”

“It’s fine,” you said with a shrug, “it’s dark out anyways.”

He stared at you. The porch lights set a soft, warm glow on your skin, the panes of your face made clear. You looked beautiful, mesmerizingly so, as you stared up at him.

“You gonna let me in or not?”

“Don’t get comfortable,” he grumbled, his tone softer now that you were closer. He opened the door wider, letting you walk past him.

He had the fire going, for which you were grateful. Flying without your suit always left you frigid afterward, especially since Logan had taken to living in the middle of nowhere nestled in the Rocky Mountains. You had always been jealous Storm didn’t have to deal with that.

The ranch house Logan was living in was quaint. It was a three-bedroom, two-story house built in the 1880s that the previous owners renovated in recent years to feature modern amenities. The floors creaked as you walked, clearly still the original hardwood. He hadn’t done much decorating. It was clear that Charles had been the one to decorate the place for him.

He wasn’t ready to see you. Ready to talk about why he left you in the middle of the night four years ago.

You quickly found your way into the living and dining room. Logan had left pocket doors open in these two separate rooms. Sitting on the couch, you could see through to the kitchen. A large pot was on the gas stove, the flames flickering on low. It smelled like beef stew.

Logan lingered by the entrance to the living room off of the entry space, unsure of what to do next. Watching you settle into the beat-up couch made him feel a mess of relief and anxiety. He was glad to see you were okay. Your hair was shorter, and you must have cut it after he left at some point. Grey hairs were coming through at your temples.

“It’s, uh, good to see you.” Having his eyes on you like this made you feel small again. Like he was leaving you all over again.

Logan nodded, swallowing hard. “You too.”

You smiled at him, and it hurt. Cut him like a thousand glass pieces over and over again. He was getting sandblasted and healing through it.

He walked into the kitchen, trying to distance himself from you and his feelings, and stirred the stew. “I wasn’t expecting company,” he commented his back to you.

Your hands wrung together automatically, anxiety creeping up your throat. Maybe it was a mistake to come here and see him again when he had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do to you the night he left. “It’s fine, I don’t need to eat.”

The wooden spoon clatters against the rest, and he puts it down harshly, making you wince. “Nonsense. I can hear your fucking teeth chattering from here.”

“I’m fine, really. It's just wind chill.”

“Just take the damn food!” Logan bellowed, his hand slamming down against the counter, breathing heavily. “Just take the damn food.”

You were silent for a moment, reeling. He’d never been like this with you before. “Okay.”

Logan closed his eyes, took a deep breath through his nose, and pushed it out of his mouth, trying to steady himself. He didn’t mean to lash out at you, to snap, but just seeing you again put him in confrontation with his past and his own feelings. It was more than he could handle. He grabbed a second bowl from the cabinet, ladling the stew between the both of them. Even after all this time, he took care to give you more potatoes than beef and half his carrots.

“Come sit at the table. Don’t want soup on the damn couch.”

You moved quietly, always did. It unnerved him when he first met you. Your mutation lets you float more than walk and never hear any footfall when you move. He sat across from you, and you could finally get a good look at him. The years had never been kind to him, but he seemed older now than ever. The past three had been the worst of his life. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and the wrinkles on his face seemed more pronounced.

The silence between you was thick with unspoken words, cut only by the scrapping of metal spoons against ceramic bowls. The sound echoed in the quiet house with the TV now shut off.

As you finished up your food, he looked antsy. His left leg bounced up and down, hand strumming on the table.

“Thank you for the stew.” you pipped up, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, well, you look like you needed it. " Despite all these years, he still cared for you and loved you. It was evident to you.

You both sat there momentarily, the silence returning but now filled with different tension. The possibility of reconciliation hurts more than anger.

“Why did you come here?” he puzzled. “After all this time, why now?”

You tapped against the bowl, inconsistent drumming on the sharp ceramic cutting against his ears. “I needed to see you.”

“Bullshit, what do you want”

“Jesus, Logan,’ you finally snapped, lightning crackling as you did. He acted like the wounded party when he was the one who had left you. “Am I not allowed to want to see you?”

You didn’t mean for it to happen. Far past the age that your powers slipping up due to your emotions should be embarrassing. Static electricity builds up around you.

“You left,” you continued, to reel in your emotions, to keep them in check. “You left me without a word, without an explanation, and now you’re demanding an answer as to why I'm here? Do you have any idea what you did to me?”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling as he looked to the side. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t have this conversation with you. Not now. The night he left, you felt like he was ripping out his own heart, running from his feelings and the truth about the world around him.

It was like he was on autopilot as he stood from the table, knocking his chair off balance as he went. Like a bull in a china shop, that’s how he moved. He could hear you talking and feel the vibrations in the air, but none of the words meant anything. You were begging him to just sit down and talk to you, a pleading whine in your tone.

But he couldn’t.

Just like the last time he saw you, he walked out the door with nothing but the clothes on his back into the night down the porch steps.

The screen door slammed shut as you walked out after him, your body trembling with the intensity of your emotions, your hair standing on end from the static. He never told you what was wrong or why he did what he did. He just left. Tears blur your vision as your back hits the siding of the house, sinking down.

“Logan!” you yelled, calling out after him, voice breaking. “Please just talk to me!”

He didn’t turn around. His figure grew smaller, illuminated by the porch lights flickering from your lack of control. It felt like your heart was breaking again. The ache of his absence, familiar and painful, made all the more unbearable by seeing him again.

───※ ·❆· ※───

“I’m staying here till you talk to me.”

When he finally came back to the house, knowing all too damn well, he had to take care of the ranch, that was the first thing you told him. He didn’t like it but found it hard to argue with you and Charles. It was impossible to change Charles’ mind; he knew you were too stubborn to leave. So he let it happen.

Letting you sleep in the guest bedroom across from his was easier. It felt like he slept better since you had shown up. Even if you woke him up in the middle of the night, the floorboards creaking in protest under your weight as you went pee around 4:15 a.m. every night.

He’d lie in his bed, now fully aware of the space in it next to him, listening to the sounds of the house. The gentle rise and fall of your breathing, the ticking of the clock downstairs, the wind outside. He would never admit it, but you being there gave him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in years. The night terrors that plagued him endlessly seemed to ease. For the first time in a long time, he could close his eyes without fear of being swallowed up and spit out by the past.

During the day, you had a tentative routine with him, and he woke up earlier than you did. It had only been a week since you had shown up. You had left at one point to fly back to the school and get some of your belongings. Every morning, you’d go out to the chicken coop, collect the eggs, and make breakfast. It was nothing fancy, some variation of a bread product, eggs, and a protein. Sometimes, it was pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Other times, it was steak and eggs. Today, it was omelets.

You’d help out in other ways, too. Go out and move the steer to a different part of their sectioned-off pasture. You were faster at de-ice the troughs, flying, and whatnot, so he let you take over that job. It was hard work, and your muscles ached like they hadn’t for a long time.

Logan had to admit it’s helpful having you on the ranch. He’s got a greenhouse and some therapy project Charles talked him into, but that’s been looking worse for wear. The weather pattern changed the past couple of weeks, and there’s been an inversion that has left the valley with no direct sunlight. All the plants inside had started to wilt and were on the path to dying, not that he cared. He’d survive without some tomatoes. Then you threw open the door, solar energy pouring out from your palms, and they’d perk right up. You had that effect on plants, hell, people too.

Something about you, even if you didn’t have your mutation, would have made you shine as bright as the fucking sun to anyone. All wild curls and big smiles, a helping hand to those in need—just one of those people who made the world a better place by breathing. You always said you were just doing your part, but god, there was so much good, so much sweetness in you. If he took a bite, he’d even get a cavity. Seeing you wrapped up in an old wool sweater of his, bent over coaxing a plant back to life, made him feel so ashamed of himself.

“The plants in the greenhouse look a lot better this week.”

Some of the leaves crunched underfoot, but most of them were soggy in the mud as you walked over to the steer barn where he was working. One of the steers had a rock impacting his back hoof, and he had to get it out. Logan had just finished spraying it with salicylic acid and wrapping it as you walked in.

“Like I said, you don’t need to be doing all that.” He grumbled, standing from the stool and leading the cow back to the enclosure.

Where he spoke dissent and anger, you heard what he really felt. Fear. He was still that little boy in his father's manor.

“It’s not a problem.”

It hurts to be this close to him and not have him, to know that things could just be better if he were honest.

You'd cook him dinner in the evening, sit at the old wooden table, and comment about the school. About what you’d been up to. You steered away from the elephant in the room. It was best to talk about the mundane things. Sometimes, you’d slip and tell him something more personal than you meant to. He didn’t add much to the conversation because he hadn’t been doing much since leaving you, but he’d chime in about the animals. About the fox that kept creeping around the chicken coop.

Logan still had moments of withdrawal, times when he’d just disappear from the ranch, and you wouldn’t see him till the morning. It was hard on you, a reminder of just how much had changed between the two of you. You used to come home to him after a day of teaching and collapse into his arms on the couch. He’d offer you a sip of his beer, something dark and hoppy, and you’d taste it and declare it’s gross. Logan had told you one day, he’d find a beer you liked, and he’d stock the fridge with it. The closest you’d gotten was some Mangocart IPA that he told you was meant for 17-year-olds, and you told him to go fuck himself.

Healing wasn’t a straight path forward. And healing couldn’t start until you cut out the festering parts. You can never go backward, but you must go forward while looking at the past.

The two of you sat on the porch tonight, twilight hues, deep indigo taking over the sky, and the stars coming out. The first night you were out here with him, you couldn’t stop staring at them. Had a whole thing about them since they charged up your mutation, but he just thought you looked gorgeous. Older but still gorgeous.

That was another thing that scared him. You are aging. He didn’t know how long he had left to live, hell, if he could even die. Some wounds should have killed him many times over, but they never did. They never do. But he's seen you bleeding out and broken after a fight with Magneto, a laceration so severe you had to self-cauterize the wound on the spot and passed out multiple times while doing so. You were getting older, and he was staying the same.

You were 24 when the two of you first met. Your parents were good folks, never held any bias towards mutants, and helped you learn to control your powers and keep yourself hidden from the government when they were still rounding up mutants. The only reason you got found out was because of Cerebro and Charles. With so little training, it should have scared him how strong you were back then. A few years with Charles, and you were deadly. Deadly, but a pacifist.

The air was cold. You could see your breath as you rocked in the rocking chair he had out there. Wafts of pungent tobacco hit your nose as he lit up a cigar. He had stopped when you lived together. You looked over at him, feeling the weight of his eyes on you. As soon as your own met his, he looked back out into the night sky. The silence was heavy.

“Do you ever miss it?” you asked softly.

“Miss what?” he drew another drag from his cigar.

“The school. The kids. The…purpose.”

“I think about the students daily. It was good work. Important work. But…” Logan trailed off, searching for the right words. What were the right words to say without telling you everything? “It got complicated.”

You nodded, understanding the unspoken part of his statement, drawing your knees to your chest. “It’s still important. And the kids still need you.”

After all this time, you still wanted him. Despite every wrong he had done to you and all the harm he caused you. The most pathetic part of him was ready to take your kindness, love, and care and bathe in it. Draw you back into the bottomless pit of his life and ruin you like he had all the others.

You saw him clench his jaw. A twisting wave of guilt and self-loathing ate him up. A man made to destroy and he was afraid to destroy you too.

“The kids will be fine without me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Well, they’ve been fine without me so far.” He shot back, but there was a hollow note in his voice. There wasn’t any gumption behind it.

“They’ve managed, but that doesn’t mean they’re fine. You gave them something no one else could, Logan. They relied on you, they needed you-they need you.” You corrected gently, reaching out to touch his thigh. He was always so warm.

He took another drag, blowing the smoke away from you. “They’ll move on. They’re better off without me.”

“They didn’t move on, and they aren't okay without you.”

Logan looked down at your hand on his thigh, his expression a mixture of pain and something else. Something so soft, buried deep beneath the layers of hardened exterior. He didn’t pull away, but you could see his temptation rising.

“I’m not me without you, Logan. Please just talk to me.” Your grip tightened, the denim rough under your fingers, and you begged him to let you in again. To tell you why he left you, why you haven't heard from him since.

He needed to keep you safe from himself.

“You should leave.” Standing from his chair, he threw open the screen door, letting it slam shut behind him as he walked over to the living room.

You rose after him, chasing him into the house, your heart pounding in your chest. The floorboards cracked up the both of you, echoing in the house. He moved with a desperate, frantic everything. His broad shoulders tense as if he could outrun the conversation you were about to have.

“Why won’t you let me care about you!” You cried out, voice breaking, trembling with the weight of the emotions you've been holding back. He didn’t stop, didn’t turn around, but kept going, and your words spilled out like a damn bursting. “I am begging you to let me in, to let me love you, to stop pushing me away like you do every time! You left me. In the middle of the night, you left. I woke up, and you were gone. And all I have ever asked of you is to let me love you.”

From behind, he looked like a man barely holding together as he reached the living room.

“I don’t want you to.” he ground out. Each word hurt to say, and he hated lying to you.

“We both know that's a lie, Logan. I’m not stupid. I know you love me. Just please let me in. Why won't you let me in?”

“Because I don’t want you to wind up fucking dead!” His voice reverberated off the walls. “Everyone and everything I have ever loved is buried six feet fucking deep, and I don’t want you to join the shithole graveyard that is my life.”

Logan’s voice cut deep through the room, his shoulder hunched as he leaned over the back of the couch. The sob was settling in his chest as he tried to keep it at bay. He didn’t want you to see him crying. It was like he could see you now, lying in that grave, another name added to the long list of people he’d killed or gotten killed.

“You think leaving me is protecting me? You think that by pushing me away, you're saving me?” You hated being an angry crier, the tears welling in your eyes. “I’m already in this. I’ve been in this for years. You leaving didn’t save me—it fucking broke me.”

“I just,” his breath was shaky, knuckles white against the couch as the wood splintered from his grip. “I can’t lose you too.”

You stepped closer, a hesitant hand hanging in the air a moment before it made contact. Slipping over his back, meeting your other hand in the front as you hugged him from behind.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, voice soft and thick with sadness. “I’m right here, and I’m not leaving. I’m not letting you leave this time.”

He shook his head, tilting it backward to keep the tears from falling. “You don’t understand. I keep telling you that I’m cursed, that everyone who gets close to me, everyone that I love,” the crack in his voice hurt you, “ends up dead. And I can’t let that happen to you.”

“You’re not cursed,” you mumbled into his back. “You’ve been through hell, but you deserve a chance at happiness and love.”

His shoulders shook as the sob he had been holding back finally broke free. He crumples against the back of the couch, wrenching at his waist as his head meets his hands. You went down with him, following the curve of his back with your front, holding him tightly as he cried.

“I’m here,” you cooed into his ear, your tears cresting down your cheeks. “I’m here, baby.”

“I don’t deserve you.” he choked out between sobs.

You tightened your hold on him, wishing that the pressure could soothe his aches and worries and make him feel whole again. That it would wash away all the suffering he’s been through and wipe it from his mind, even if you knew that pain was part of what made him him.

“Yes, you do. You deserve love and happiness and to find that with me.”

“I’m just going to hurt you again, like I have before.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me-”

“God dammit, I’ve killed people,” he stood up straight to face you, his voice jumping in volume, shaking you off balance. As you stumbled, he reached out, a hand on your hip to steady you. “I’ve killed so many people that it’d take them years to find all the bodies that I’ve fucking piled up in my 230 years of life. I am a fucking mess of a man who is so goddamn broken, and I don’t want to drag you down in the mess that I have made.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes darting around your face as he did. His beard was grown out, the greys now outnumbered the black, jaw trembling as he spoke.

“And just when I think I can start to be okay without you in my life, you show up, doll, and it ruins all that progress I made, if I even fucking made any in the first place. Make me realize just how damn much I need you. And how much I am so fucking scared of losing you because I can’t take it if I do.”

You reached up, hand cupping his face against the scruff of his beard. “I know that I’ve always known the life you lived before meeting Charles, and it doesn’t scare me. What scares me is the thought of you shutting me out and living out here on your own till you die. You’re not this terrible monster you think you are. Yes, you’ve done terrible things, but you’ve also done so much good in the world. You’ve saved just as many lives as you’ve taken.”

His eyes softened, tongue darting out to wet dry lips that stuck to his teeth.

“I can’t change who I am. I can’t be someone you deserve.”

“I’m not asking you to change.”

His other hand met your hip, both of them squeezing them tightly as his body shook. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” you promised. It was easy to promise that to him. As much as he needed you, you needed him. “You and me, we’ll get through this, and all that's to come.” You wrapped your arms around his neck.

For a long while, he just stared at you, listening to your heartbeat, his eyes searching yours, looking for any doubt or lie in what you said. Fearful you’d sweep the rug out from under him and leave. He couldn’t find any indication of the sort. All he could see was how much you loved him, how much the distance between you had hurt, and how badly you wanted him to let you in.

Logan let out a shaky breath before pulling you into a kiss. His facial hair tickled your face as your lips met. It was intense as his lips moved against yours, his hands sliding down to your ass to pick you up and hold you. You could feel all his longing, desperation, and the despair he had been holding back. His lips were chapped from working outside, not caring for for himself like he should be, but you didn’t mind.

It sent a shiver down your spine, having him so close after so long. He was so warm against you. Your hands slid up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. Logan groaned as you did, parting his mouth enough that your tongue could meet his.

The kiss deepened. You could taste the salt of his tears mingling with your own. His grip on your ass tightened, pulling you flush against his body like he was afraid you might disappear. His mouth moved hungrily against your own tongue, nearly forcing yours into submission as he held you close. He felt like a man starved.

You matched his intensity, trying to pour all your love and care into the kiss, your lips moving together in a way that felt both familiar and new. Hoping that enough of your love could spill into his cup and fill him so full it didn’t matter what spilled out his cracks. There’d be more poured in every second. A rediscovery of what the love between the two of you had been.

The two of you have to part far sooner than he liked, your lung capacity smaller than his own. His eyes were still wet with tears as he watched you, your chest rising and falling as you gulped down the air.

He leaned in towards you, placing a small kiss on your forehead as he rested his head against your own, moving your ass to rest against the back of the couch. You had changed your conditioner; it smelled like honey now, but no matter how fragrant it was, it couldn’t cut through the smell of you to him. You smelled like home.

“I’m sorry, doll.” his voice was a murmur against your scalp, heavy with regret. If hammer home the point, he’d bend nail after nail into soft wood, splitting it down the middle with how much metal he’d drive into it, just how sorry he was.

“I forgive you.”

Somehow, he gripped you tighter.“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“I know you will.” you pulled away from your position tucked against his chest to look up at him. “Kiss me again?”

He compiled without hesitation, his lips finding yours so tenderly. It was slow, deliberate, a melting of his body with yours. A promise, shared understanding, a soul tie that bound the two of you together.

Pulling away, his eyes met yours, and all he could see was love.

“You gonna take me to bed or what, big boy?”

Logan moved quickly up the stairs, taking two of them at a time. The promise of having you again was all the incentive he needed. He missed you. The way you felt under him, the way your pussy felt against his dick. How you fluttered around him every time he angled just right, how you smelt. He'd been jacking off to the thought of you for years now, and finally getting to have you again was like a fevered dream.

It wasn’t graceful the way he swung open his door and tossed you on the bed. You bounced a few times, mattress springs creaking as you did, before propping yourself up with an eyebrow raised, questioning him. No doubt he’d never hear the end of it; could hear you nagging him now. “A spring mattress? Logan? You’re made of metal. You can't have a spring mattress. You know this.”

You raised a finger, curling in towards yourself, beckoning him closer. He was a dog on a leash for you, moving like a well-trained animal. If they’d found you during Project K, he would have listened to every command they gave. Hell, he’d roll over right now if you told him to.

His knees enclosed your legs as he crawled over you, dog tags slipping out from his white tank top and dangling in your face. You smelled like him. His body wash and house, mixed with your fruit conditioner. Underneath it all, he could just smell you. The salt on your skin, the heady scent of your arousal. Logan lowered himself, tucking his head into your neck, and took a deep breath, groaning at the smell of you.

“Need you logan.”

That was something he’d missed. That pitched whine in the back of your throat you got when you were all horny and needy for him. Your voice turned raspy and low, caressed his ears so smoothly, and it made him want to purr like a fucking cat. The cadence just scratched an itch in his skull, setting his nerves on fire.

With a low growl, he cradled your face in his hands, thumbs tracing over your cheekbones, relishing the heat coming off your skin. The little bumps and scars that crossed your skin felt like home to him, a map he’d always know how to read no matter how many years passed. He leaned in, lips meeting yours, and it just felt right. It always felt right. He was stupid for trying to run from you all this time.

Your fingers laced in his hair on the nape of his neck, fingernails scraping his scalp. He groaned low, wanton, animalistic, your tongue meeting his own in a warm, wet dance. Logan devoured your lips, his hunger for you impossible to sate. It was messy, desperate, the way he clung to you. Grabbing your waist and lifting you closer to him, you felt like a feather to him, all soft flesh and curves against his hard angles.

He pulled away from the kiss, moving along your jawline and neck, stubble brushing your skin, making it more sensitive than it already was. Not stopping at your neck, he continued down over your collarbones and the expanse of your chest, all the skin he could access in the v-neck you wore. His fingers tugged at the hem of your sweater, pulling it over your head. You weren’t wearing a bra, perfect fucking nipples already perking up for him.

Logan leaned forward, his lips closing around your nipple. You gasped, back arching off the bed, the cool metal of his dog tags stinging against your skin. His tongue swirled around your nipple, fingers digging in at your waist before he pulled away with a pop, your chest heaving. You always looked so beautiful coming under him, over him, beside him, any position in which your naked body was near his and your flesh met in sinful desire.

“Oh,” his voice was ragged like he had fought all his battles and wars at once. “Oh god, doll…”

Testament and faith could be read about in books and studied. The Bible could teach you of Jesus’ preaching, but true faith, true trust in the unknown, could never be read about. It had to be felt and experienced. Logan slid to his knees, pulling your hips to the edge of the bed as he went. The fabric of your leggings felt too thick, separating him from his worship. He could smell you through them, through the lace of your panties. Heady, musky, a whine rumbles through his chest as his face falls against your thigh, nose pressed against the fast of your pussy. He breathes in deep, savoring your scent, his mouth watering like he can taste you.

“Doll, please,” he begged, opening his bloodshot eyes, his voice needy. “Let me taste you?”

“You don't have to ask, Logan,” you replied, smiling. “I’m yours, always yours.”

Logan hooked his finger into the waistband of your legging and panties, tugging them down in one swift motion. The cold air of the room met your skin as he did, but you didn't have long to think about it as he parted your legs, and his hot breath made contact with your pussy. His mouth hovered above for a moment, just wafting in your scent, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Fucking love the smell of this pussy.” he murmured to himself, a low growl, before he dove in, tongue parting your folds.

Wet muscle slid between you so easily before swirling around your sensitive clit, teasing it. His hot breath ghosted over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your fingers flew to his head, trying to find purchase in his hair as he went. Logan was ferocious. He went from your clit to your hole, delving inside you, trying to taste every inch of you. He grabbed your hips, tilting them upwards, making you squeal as he opened his mouth wider on you. Working himself into a frenzy, growling, the vibrations amplified by his adamantium skeleton. It rumbled through you, low and deep, like the base setting of a vibrator.

He takes a second, not quite remembering the perfect rhythm for you right away, but he gets to it quickly. Starts playing with your pussy like a fine-tuned machine the way he has you gushing in minutes. Your wetness coats his tongue, and that engine is firing.

Each stroke, each flick of his tongue on your clit brought you closer to ecstasy. The stars might power you, but he’d have you see them tonight. He devours your pussy like a man starved, primal hunger driving him. You couldn’t fight back, not that you wanted to. All that you could do was let him keep going. Let him take you to the edge. Push you past it. Over it. Your breath hitches, heart pounding in your chest so hard you feel it in your temples.

You push his head back, abdomen muscles flexing, a thick line of spit and arousal connecting Logan’s mouth to your pussy. His pupils were blown wide, eyes unfocused, hungry. A red, ruddy color spread across his cheeks. He felt hard enough to cut steel with his length, rutting against the bed. They move on their own accord, desperate for friction. There’s a growing wet spot of precum at the front of his darkening blue jeans.

“Cum for me, doll, please, I need to taste it.” That low vibration of his voice made you whine, hips bucking against him.

Logan spread his tongue flat and mercilessly kept going at your clit. Your moans grew louder, fingernails digging into his scalp as he manhandled you around like you weighed nothing. He gripped your hips tighter, tilting them further, ensuring he had better access to your pussy, before taking your clit in his mouth and sucking on it. An involuntary squeal came out of you as the added pressure made your back arch.

The suction made your stomach drop, and your toes curl. He kept swiping his tongue side to side, little pulses of suction in time. It left you writhing and gasping. One of his hands released your hips, moving so that he could slip two fingers into your wet hole. You were so soaked he met no resistance, walls clenching around his digits as he slid them in, desperate for something to clamp down on. The pads of his fingers brush against your G-spot, and the lights of the room glow brighter as you begin to lose control. You’re so close so quickly it feels like you can’t breathe from how overstimulating it was.

You push his head back, abdomen muscles flexing, a thick line of spit and arousal connecting Logan’s mouth to your pussy. His pupils were blown wide, eyes unfocused, hungry. A red, ruddy color spread across his cheeks. He felt hard enough to cut steel with his length, rutting against the bed. Your vision blurred, light filling your eyes, your only point of focus in the world, his mouth on your sensitive pussy.

“Taste so goddamn good,” he licked his lips, breaking the strand before diving back in. Your legs shook, thighs clamping down around his ears. You were so close, you could taste it. Logan picked up the pace, his tongue rapidly flicking over your clit, pumping his fingers in and out of your fluttering hole.

The room was filled with sloppy, wet sounds of Logans eating you out mixed with your cries of pleasure. He presses your pussy harder against his face, moaning as he does. You clench around him, body drawing tight like a bow as your release nears, his fangs scrape on the fat of your pussy lips. It's like you leave your body for a minute, your ears ringing and your heart pumping. Every nerve in your body is lit up.

Logan reaches up to grope at your breasts, and with a pinch of your nipple, you cum with a loud moan that startles the cows, the lightbulbs exploding as you do. Your body trembles and shakes, juices gushing onto his palette like a tall glass of iced tea after a long day of work during the summer, and his thirst is quenched, but his appetite is only hungrier. You felt like you were melting, pleasure pouring out of you.

“Fuck,” you sound winded, “I haven’t had that happen since I was 24.” Your smile shows crow's feet, crinkling comforts near the sides of your eyes as you smile, really smile at him for the first time this week.

“Getting old, kid.”

“Oh, shut up!”

He ducks to the side to dodge the pillow you throw his way.

“You want to keep going?”

“With you, I don’t ever want to stop.”

His eyes go all soft at the corners, caught up in his feelings. “Promise you won’t ever have to again.”

“Good.”

He picks you up and places you up on the center of the bed, grabbing the pillow you threw at him to place under your hips for support. His clothes come off, and his blue Wrangler jeans drop to the floor with his tank top and boxer briefs. The dog tags stay on. He knows you’ve got a thing for them. They glint in the dim light, steel catching your eye.

Rough, calloused hands slide up your legs, starting at your ankles, and he kneels between your legs on the bed. He folds you nearly in half, hooking your knees over his shoulders, his hip meeting yours. You feel the curling wisps of his pubes tickle against the back of your thighs. Always been a hairy guy, told you it's how he was so warm all the time. It makes your stomach flutter.

Logan leans down, capturing your lips against his own in a kiss before lining up his pre-cum soaked tip with your entrance. He eases into you with a hiss, your walls squeezing him tightly. The length was never an issue, he was only about an inch and a half above average, but it was the girth that made your jaw go slack and droll pool out the sides as he fucked you. The stretch is delicious as he slides inside you.

The first inch yielded a slick gushing sound from your pussy, while the second made you gasp, and the third had your walls tighten around him, taking his and your breath away. The stretch felt so good with how fat of a cock he had. One that felt so much girthier than you’d ever imagine it to be. His cock twitched, heavy, inside you, his pulse beating in time with yous.

“Jesus, princess, you’re squeezing me so tight. Relax,” he rolled his hip about halfway in and still meeting resistance. Relax.” It came out like a pant. Fuck you were so tighter, like a vice around him. He wanted to take it slow, cherish you, show you how much he’d been missing you, but he was an old dog, and he wouldn’t last that long with how bad you were squeezing him.

Your hands gripped the sheets, nails cutting the threadbare cheap cotton ones he’d been using for all these years. “Too much Logan.” You could barely breathe, let alone get the words out.

“You can take it, doll, remember?” he groaned, finally sliding in, flesh meeting yours in a wet slap. Your poor little hole stretched to the max as you whimpered. “See? You can take it.” Logan emphasized each word with a thrust of his hips.

He felt his control slipping, thrusts starting to pick up, super strength coming into play. It coiled deep in his belly as he buried himself to the hilt inside you. “Feel so fucking good. Oh fuck. You’re so perfect, perfect little pussy.”

Logan’s hands move to grab your breasts, pushing them together. He plays with your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and index finger. His pace is brutal, and the position allows him to hit that perfect spot on your gummy walls that has you seeing stars. He’s all grunts and whimpers, silver tips eclipsing the skin of his knuckles. It gets to the point he wants to go faster, the need to cum inside you far too great, and he lets go of your tits and balances himself on the bed.

The base of his cock swelled, his knot beginning to grow. This was the part you missed the most. The way he’d stretch you out so good on his dick, only to then slip his knot inside you and stretch you even further.

“Ain’t gonna last much longer, doll.”

You moan, reaching down to play with your messy clit. It’s so wet between your legs it’s hard to find any purchase, and the sensitive nub slides back and forth so easily. The bed creaks, the wood floors groan, and the bed frame slams against the wall. He’s getting rougher by the second, his knot starting to press against you.

“Give it to me, I’m ready.”

Logan thrusts forward, his knot sliding in with a satisfying pop, your words spurring him on. He pulses, cock swelling impossibly large before he cums. Thick, hot white ropes paint your insides as he stutters and groans, nearly growls, dropping to his elbows and forcing your knees to your chest. His hips don’t stop moving, still rutting up into you as you play with your clit. You just need a little bit more to push you over the edge.

His voice is gravely in your ear as he careens over you, half squishing you with his weight. “I love you.”

It’s the emotion of the moment that makes you cum. Tears in your eyes and love in your heart. Love is a lot like faith, blind trust in the unknown. A bishop can train his whole life, be a theologian, a scholar of the bible, know all of his god’s teachings inside out, and have less faith than a man who’s lived through hell. Putting your trust into the unknown and praying that good comes back to you. You felt like you were finally home, like that piece of yourself you’ve been missing for years is clicking back into place.

Logan didn’t know romance. He was gruff and awkward, snappy at the random way things. But he stood on the outside when you walked along the street, never let you carry anything, and opened every door for you. Never bought you flowers because he hated the local guy who sold them. But he picked them for you daily on his runs. Didn’t ever wash your laundry, but he folded every piece of clothing you owned and hung up all your shirts, all of it, just because you mentioned hating folding clothes to him once.

He’d never be able to admit to you how much you meant to him fully. When you came into his life, he was close to ending things. There had been so many dark, endless days that only he remembered now. Horrors beyond human comprehension were his burden, shadowing his every waking moment until you came walking into his life.

There’d be a conversation in the morning that probably would rise into an argument. He’d likely storm off, and you’d be there waiting, telling him to get therapy, and this time, he would. This time, he’d go talk to a shrink about the mess in his head and sort it out for you, for himself. This time he wouldn’t fuck it up and leave you in the middle of the night. He’d have the difficult, uncomfortable conversations that activate his fight or flight.

You were soft under him as he lifted off of you, still unable to pull out due to his knot. He rotated the two of you so you were on top, your chests pressed together as he lazily traced your spine.

“I love you too.”

“I love you more, sunbeam.”

“Oh, absolutely not. You know I hate that name.”

thank you @txjis for beta reading

#uzuri writes #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #xmen imagine #marvel xmen #xmen fanfiction #logan howlett imagine #wolverine imagine #logan howlett smut #xmen #x-men

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temis-de-leon · 7 months ago

Text

Shy gn!reader confesses to the Dateables

Characters: Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon (x reader, separately)

Masterlist

Part 1 , Part 3 , Demon brothers version

Anon request: Could I request headcanons for Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, and Simeon react to shy gn crush confessing to him nervously?

A/N: I made this so the Dateables were already crushing on the reader for a while, but it's the reader who confesses. Once again, Simeon gave me no inspiration and yet his section was the one I enjoyed the most

Diavolo

He’s used to loneliness and sacrifices, dedicating his limited free time to a small inner circle that he’s unable to expand. The rest of his devotions goes to his dreams and his duties, and that includes, above many other things, the student exchange program.

The only human he personally knows is Solomon and everybody is aware of the sorcerer’s peculiar personality, so he’s quick to accept that you’re going to be different from everything he’s ever known.

He just didn’t know how much.

You build a friendship with him, treating him without inhibitions while still respecting him. You accept and join his childish whims, ask for his advice in more serious matters and speak your mind without fear.

You make him feel normal, helping his love for you grow slow but steady over a strong foundation.

But then your behaviour around him changes and he feels completely lost. There’s a sort of restraint he’s never seen in you, your recent silence and your avoidance to look at him in the eye making him wonder in hurt if you finally know enough about him to be afraid.

Diavolo feels his heart sink when you ask to speak to him in private and he’s willing to accept he has lost you.

How wrong he is.

Your confession leaves him speechless, but the more you talk with a stammer while twisting your fingers, the more he feels his cheeks blush.

He doesn’t confess back. He directly asks you out on a date.

Barbatos

His duty to the Young Master doesn’t feel like a sacrifice to him. It’s an honour he’s glad to act in, so, although he likes to keep some free time for his private life, Barbatos is more than happy to set Lord Diavolo above everything else.

He doesn’t pay you much attention at first, given that there’s little to no connexion between you two. In fact, the first few times you hang out together outside official matters it’s always organized by someone else, mainly Luke.

The young angel enjoys baking and even his prejudices decrease upon the demon’s talents in the kitchen.

He also enjoys spending time with you.

So he combines both of those things. That’s how Barbatos gets to know you better.

He revels in the discovery of your resilience and your kindness despite what surrounds you. Your smile while measuring ingredients with Luke, your attentiveness at his teaching.

He knows Lord Diavolo appreciates him and thanks his presence, but you’re the first one to treat him so… highly? You admire him, you hear him, you seek him.

His busy mind and busy schedule give him almost no time to ruminate his feelings, but he can’t run away for much longer.

It’s around the same time he finally accepts his need to be with you that you start to fidget around him. He sees you looking at him under your lashes, timidly smiling and looking at him when you think he isn’t paying attention.

Your feelings are obvious to him, but he lets himself enjoy the situation for as long as possible. It’s too adorable to let go.

When you finally gather the courage you need to confess and it’s his turn to be sincere, his words are worth more than a hundred romance books.

Solomon

At the beginning, his interest in you is entirely academic. A regular human living amongst the most powerful demons of the Devildom? Now, that is something worth his while!

Witnessing first-hand how your humanity is put to the test on the daily is fun at first, but then again… You still have humanity. Once lost, it wouldn’t come back.

He ultimately decides to side with you. It makes him feel a little better too.

Although you both have a cordial relationship, barely a friendship, he isn’t your priority. To be fair, you aren’t his either, so he can’t complain.

But then time passes and his infatuation starts to grow.

You remind him of better things. Those he lost long time ago and those he knows he’s incapable of reaching. You make him want to be better, to try and to be someone that you could be prouder of.

He uses his vast knowledge to compete for your attention. His stories and his studies, his vulnerability slowly showing to you. It’s difficult, but you’re worth it.

He knows it’s working when you go out of your way to spend time with him, a difficult task when half of your roommates, if not all of them, don’t trust him at all. That makes him elated, but insecure at the same time.

He doesn’t know how to move things forward without spoiling them, so he waits until you make the first move. When the moment comes, he forces himself to memorize every second of it.

Solomon doesn’t want to forget your timid expression or the way you can’t decide what to say to put your feelings on display. He doesn’t want to forget the wide smile you show when he reciprocates your affections.

Simeon

He cares for you since the beginning, even before forming a friendship. It’s in his nature to be kind and caring and he can’t help but to act on it with you.

Your personality immediately draws him closer. How positive you are despite your situation as well as your determination to keep going forward, proving the demons wrong.

Simeon feels a strange satisfaction whenever Lucifer’s brow twitches at your misdeeds.

It’s thanks to Luke, who wants to keep two of his favourite people close, that he gets the chance to know you better.

He enjoys every occasion you visit Purgatory Hall. Sometimes you’re invited by Luke to help him cook, study or even make puzzles; and other times is Simeon himself who asks you to spend time with them.

The evenings you manage to have dinner with them are the most fulfilling for him.

He’s never felt a love so strong before, but he’s a world renounced writer and a romantic at heart, so the only thing he’s capable of doing in this situation is to pour his affections and hope for you to accept his heart.

The conclusion reaches an end when he manages to reset his DDD yet again.

Luke, although irritated at him, manages to call you before going to the castle to hung out with Barbatos, but Simeon doesn’t mind. More than that, he prefers it.

The sole idea of being alone with you brings warmth to his heart, after all.

He knows you feel the same too. Seeing the light in your eyes, the curve of your smile and the tenderness in your shy-filled whispers is enough for him to know.

You don’t even have time to confess on your own.

Simeon asks with a sweet voice if his interpretations of your feelings are correct. If they are, bless his heart, he feels the very same.

#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#om! shall we date #om! swd #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me simeon #obey me simeon x reader #obey me x reader #obey me x gn!reader #obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #obey me requests

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eloquent-edits · 8 months ago

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🗡️ “I can assure you, we are just friends.”

definitely not something that’s a little more than friends 🗡️ friends with benefits prompts 🗡️ 18+ prompts

While Person A is chatting with their friends, Person B sidles up to A and subtly trails a finger up their spine (does A stutter? go completely silent at the electricity going through their body? start to get red but manage to keep their composure? TELL ME WHAT HAPPENS)

B begs A to not leave any marks because they just can’t let this secret get out

For that beach episode: A takes off their shirt, exposing scratch marks from a recent session… B hides a sly grin as A is questioned about who they’re with

A is very physically affectionate in general, but has fallen into the habit of only bothering B in public with it

^ A wants to interact with B in many ways and just ends up biting their arm jokingly to satiate that desire (yes, their friends think this is weird)

B needs to be held accountable for finishing their work, so A comes over to hang out… they do not get work done for a while

At a party, B can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy when they spot A flirting with someone

A’s childhood friend is in town and A is super excited to have them meet B (B is quietly panicking over making a good impression and wondering what A has said about them)

A and B are in the same anatomy class and they spend a lot of time studying together (A is most certainly a hands-on learner hehehehe)

“Is that B’s shirt?” “What? Oh, uh, yes… My shirt got dirty the last time I was over there so they’re washing mine for me.”

“Is that A’s shirt?” “Yes. What about it?” “…Does A know you have their shirt?” “Nope!”

They really only planned on the midnight rendezvous, not falling asleep afterwards, so A and B go get morning coffee together (they are both very grumpy but still enjoying each other’s company)

Inside jokes during sexy times bleed into their normal banter, leading to some questionable looks from their friends

A gets a little drunk and B expects them to slip up and expose their true relationship, but instead A is very wholesome and remains steadfast on their boundaries; B is so proud of them for this

B is desperately trying to get something off their mind, so A offers a distraction for the night… it’s Mario Kart and whoever loses owes the other a favor

Any of their plans to go out have to include wiggle room in case they get preoccupied (soon it’s not just B that’s always late to events)

While their friends are occupied in another room, A and B intertwine their bodies and try to stay quiet—key word here is TRY

“I bet A would really like [insert kink here]…” “Nah, they’re not really into that.” “How the fuck do you know that?”

All their friends take the BDSM test as a joke and A and B secretly take notes on what the other person likes/dislikes to make the benefits side better

If given the choice, A will always pick the seat next to B so they can tease them under the table

During a passionate session, A accidentally draws blood while gripping B’s back (A apologizes over and over while tending to B, who just has a shit-eating grin the whole time)

Whenever B cracks yet another terrible joke, A has to refrain from kissing it off their face

A and B take a break from the benefits whenever one of them wants to pursue someone else (your characters can have healthy boundaries and communication!!! I am BEGGING y’all to write characters that actually communicate with each other)

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dontlookatmytmntcollection · 7 months ago

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Donatello (NSFW Alphabet)

Bayverse Donatello x F!Reader

Donatello is a giving, fast-paced, enthusiastic character that has tendencies to people-please; with a deep seated desire to belong. I see him being a submissive lover most of the time; needing the freedom from his busy brain and busy life. Donnie would give in to anything his lover would need from him. But you would also notice he struggles to indulge in taking what he wants, in fear of inconveniencing, pressuring, or disgusting you. Which makes those occasional moments when he takes over and give in to his dominant urges all the more delicious.

Brief mentions of masochism, somnophilia, bondage, pegging and exhibitionalism. Word count: 2200.

Enjoy!

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex) - After sex Donnie is a dumbass. Doesn’t matter what kind of sex. He’s fucked out and a bit of a goofball, so you will get cuddles and jokes and he will make you laugh. But until you ask, he’s not thinking about the mess at all. Or about water. Or food. Or anything really. It’s when you actually ask, “Babe, I can’t move, will you please grab-” He will first be horrified, then he will SCRAMBLE out of bed. He’ll wack his head against a light or something or trip over his underwear flat on his face- he’s so fucking cute.

B - Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) - If you compliment anything about his physical appearance or physic, he says stuff like “Naww.” “Staap.” “No you don’t.” But he loves the size difference. He loves how small you look against him and in his bed. Sometimes he stares at how big his hands and fingers are while fingering your little pussy and he goes brain dead.

C- Cum (Anything to do with cum basically) - Donnie whimpers, shakes, and moves a lot during orgasm. He can’t help it. It’s one of those moments he is 100000% completely, utterly checked out. It’s so fucking hot. He also needs to be holding something. Always. He prefers to grab you into a tight, shakey hug. But if he can’t do that, he also grabs his own head and face. Donnie has also bent metal before, broken handcuffs and torn rope. He’s replaced your headboard twice now. Bit of a head pusher, so unless you are into that, tie him up or tell him to hang on to something.

D - Dirty Secret - He would love to be pegged. Already loves it when you finger and eat out his cloaca, so having you in control of his pleasure and body? It drives him insane.

E - Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) - Donnie’s nature is to research and to meet head-on. Between all the long term-relationship, healthy sex-life, deep-dive research (and his porn consumption); he is actually pretty prepared to have good sex. But what makes sex and his first-time terrifying is the turtle thing, his fear of you thinking he’s ugly and disgusting, and not being good for you.. His trauma and sensitive nature is completely exposed those first few times. So you taking the lead and being in charge was his saving grace.

F - Favorite Position - Donnie does not have a favorite. He loves to change things up. But he does have a tendency to fall into a routine, and succums pleasure and intimacy. He’s not stopping a fuck to change up the position unless you tell him to do so.

G - Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous) - Depends on how much stress he is under and how much sleep he has had. If he is well rested and life is being a little more on the good side, he is incredibly playful and cute. But if he hasn’t slept in two days, sex is overwhelming and intense and he needs that burst of good chemicals. If he is being cute and dorky while life is falling apart, its always before you start getting in his pants and directly after you’ve both finished.

H - Hair - He doesn’t care

I - Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect) - Sex is one of the few ways you can easily pull him out of his head, so it does get intense for him. Donnie’s brain checks out once shit gets rolling, and he stays checked out when you take the lead; which is something he desperately needs. But those moments when he needs to take for once instead of give, you gotta be prepared for the most intense fucking of your life.

J - Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon) - Donnie is the one who is a little more sloppy and risky when it comes to jerking off. Because when he needs it, he needs it, okay? He loses brain cells when he’s horney, so jerking off in his lab when one of his brothers is still awake in the kitchen over there starts feeling like a good idea. Post-nut clarity hits Donnie so hard when he’s by himself. It’s hilarious.

K - Kink (One or more of their kinks) - Donnie is a kinky mother fucker, okay, and he is so shy about it. He will not put in requests. You will have to get it out of him, because he feels a bit of shame in that he wants to be on the receiving end of things, usually. He’s into sensory deprivation, bondage, exhibitionalism, toys, somnophilia, masochism, breeding, free-use, phone sex, all of it.

L - Location (Favorite places to do the do) - Okay, so you gotta be careful because if you get Donnie horny enough, anywhere starts looking like ‘this will do’. It can get him in trouble, and you’re gonna have to call the shots on that one. But he does get pretty paranoid in the lair and lack of privacy, so a bedroom will be best for a while. Let him get more confident in his body and his relationship with you before y’all start getting crazy.

M - Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going) - In a scenario in which he is glued to the screens and you need lovin’s; praise. Pet names. Tracing his neck or arms. It will get his attention super fast. Everytime. He is also always horny waking up, but he is not a morning person, so you will have to do most of the work. But his noises and desperation are always worth it.

N - NO (Something they wouldn't do, turn offs) - He doesn't like being hit, or in pain; and actually being restrained is horrifying to him. If he can’t actually snap the handcuffs or rope, and he’s being held down- things go from sexy to he doesn't want to be touched for three days. It’s a fine line, one that he didn’t know existed until it happened. Unaddressed trauma, you know?

O - Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc) - Donnie fucking loves head, okay? One of his longest fantasies was having a partner suck him off while he games. It’s a classic. And he loves giving you head, and takes massive pride in being the best there possibly is at giving it to him.

P - Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual) - All of it. All of it. There are moments when he needs to take over, and he does get intense. But even in his most needy moments- it still doesn’t mean he’s rough. He definitely can be- but it all depends on the mood and the scenario and what you need. He’s all over.

Q - Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often.) - He has some trouble initiating. The fear of inconveniencing you or being overly needy is prevalent in his heart. Especially at the beginning. So even if he is insanely, deliriously horny for you, he’s gonna struggle asking for relief. However, if you initiate- he’s all in. He will do whatever, whenever, however. Just keep touching him. Tell him what you need, what he should do. He will be there, please, baby.

R - Risk (Are they game to experience, do they take risks.) - If you need him and your in charge, he gets a little pussy drunk. He will want to do whatever you want, whenever you want. He does have some fantasies of having you in semi-public areas (like his truck on a road trip). But not only does he secretly want to try everything in the book, but he is here to please you. He wants you and he wants to be yours. Ask him and he will be of service.

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last) - Donnie possesses athleticism on a level that is otherworldly. You are dating a superhero. So his stamina shows it. He can have sex all day, and be running around saving the world after. The question is, when does he find time to sleep. So sometimes, fucking him should be a seque to getting him to passing out, at last.

T - Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves) - Donnie loves toys. Loves using them on you, loves it when you use them on him. He kinda likes the thought of building sophisticated ones for you to enjoy. He likes to watch you use toys on yourself, he likes you watching him use them- he adores it all. The introduction of toys in the bedroom was very quick, and he’d have a collection somewhere very, super hidden.

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease) - He doesn’t like to tease you at all. He’s not the type. What you ask of him is exactly what he will give, so he struggles to deny you pleasure. However, he kinda loves when you tease him. Flirting with him, denying him, teasing him, edging him all get him feeling super hot. You become his whole world when you do, and that’s exactly how he likes it.

V - Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make) - Donnie whimpers. He is the most gorgeous whimperer in the entire planet. He shakes and whines and moans, and he begs. His voice can get super low and then can get high and whispery- you have told him several times he could make audio porn and he doesn’t believe you. He gets a little insecure about it, because most of the time he doesn’t have a whole lot of brain power to control that.

W - Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice) - He was fucking you hard in the back of the lab. On the old cot he kept there for emergency uses. He was getting so riled up that his brothers, just outside, were in danger of overhearing his whispers and whines. Your solution? You grabbed his face hard, yanking him close with your palm cupped over his mouth with your other hand cupping the nape of his neck. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, falling further into your shoulder and bracing under the new wave of arousal while his thrusts quickened with desperation. “That’s it, baby.” You whispered, struggling to keep quiet yourself. “That’s it, good boy, sweetheart…fuck-”

X -X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words) - Team cloaca. He has a cloaca just under the plates of his plastron. His dick is HUGE, and gorgeously dark purple, and there is a reason it needs to be packed away. It takes a lot of time and a lot of patience, even with the assist of his and your natural lubrication, it takes a while to get his huge size inside of you.

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive) - In the beginning, you are all Donnie could think about. He wanted you so badly, and he wanted you to want him. He had trouble focusing on tasks he had never had a problem focusing on before. He wasn’t getting things done, he was messing up more during training, and he had troubles not talking about you to others. But after things have been official for a while, that fades to a much more healthy amount. But he does have an issue getting lost in his interests, projects and duties. His sex drive is high, but he has attention issues lol.

Z - ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards) - Donnie is a sleep deprived monster. While he can continue on after sex as if nothing happened (he does that a lot), sex is one of the only things that will actually put him to sleep quickly. So if that is your objective, after he orgasms…when he’s still shaky and out of breath- all you gotta do is rub his shoulders, kiss his face and pull him into a tight hug, prevent him from getting too goofy, and it’s over. If you are under him, he can fall asleep on top of you. If you two are curled up in the lab chair, he will pass out with his head on your shoulder. If you guys are on the couch, he will drop out, his mouth open and glasses skewed with you on his chest. He is always a hard sleeper, so getting him to wake up especially after a good fuck- is damn near impossible. But it’s also something that honestly, while you stare down at his cute face snoozing away, waking him up is the last thing that you want to do.

#bayverse #donatello #tmnt bayverse #bayverse tmnt #my writing #tmnt headcanons #tmnt #bayverse donatello #bayverse donnie #tmnt x reader #tmnt x you #tmnt 2016

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inbarfink · 9 months ago

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After all these years, ‘I Remember You’ is still one of the great highlights of Adventure Time Storytelling. And not just in the basic ‘what???? Silly children’s cartoon does something SAD??? HOLY SHIT MIND BLOWN’ way. But with the execution of that Something Sad. How it manages to pack so many Complex Emotions into just 11-minutes of television. And especially the way it utilizes the basic Adventure Time format for that purpose.

So Adventure Time is a Board-based show. Each episode has an outline pitched and written down by the writer’s room, and then this outline goes to a team of (usually) two Storyboard Artists who develop that simple outline into a full story. And with the show’s art-style deliberately eschewing staying perfectly ‘on-model’ in favor of having the animators take direct reference from how the different storyboarders draw the characters

And the show being generally extremely versatile in terms of themes and tone - AT has allowed a lot of their Storyboarders to really express themselves and their unique artistic vision as part of the Big Collaborative Narrative that is Adventure Time.

Now, the Boarders who worked on ‘I Remember You’ are Cole Sanchez and Rebecca Sugar. These two were a Storyboarding Duo from the start of S4 and until Sugar left the AT Crew during S5, and they always struck me as a curious combination. I think really from all of the individual boarders working on AT during that time, these two really are the closest to having like… Totally Opposite Artistic Sensibilities as boarders.

With Sugar favoring a style that is very loose and sketchy and also very rounded. Focusing on expressions and subtle body language and lighting. And being famous for going deep in depth into Big Moments of Emotional Catharsis

And Sanchez having a very clear art style that emphasizes strong silhouettes and clear lines that suggest flatness. Focusing more on major poses and the character’s positions in the space. And having just a really great eye for AT’s brand of silly humor.

Like, I almost kinda suspect these two were paired together so they can each cover for the other’s “weakspots” in writing ‘Adventure Time’.

And there were a few episodes that did some really interesting stuff with this very contrasting pair - ‘Jake the Dog’ is another example. Giving most of the Farmworld scenes to Sugar and most of the Time Room scenes to Sanchez both plays to their personal strengths as storyboarders and helps to emphasize the strong emotional contrast between these two scenarios.

And ‘I Remember You’ is actually kinda unique among Adventure Time episodes cause… Most episodes will have the two boarders alternate between working on the episode throughout it. Like you’d have Boarder A draw a bit and then Boarder B and then Boarder A again… But “I Remember You” is divided between Sanchez and Sugar… basically perfectly in the middle.

So the entirety of the first half of the episode was boarded by Sanchez

Until Ice King pushes Marceline and then leaves the room in shame.

And then, Sugar takes over.

And, like, even if you don’t know anything about the Behind the Scenes of Adventure Time or who Cole Sanchez and Rebecca Sugar even are - the Shift is noticeable. The shift in tone, in narrative focus, in the subtleties in which the characters are drawn.

The entire first half of the episode has this thin veneer of just being a Silly Goofy Ice King Episode. Sanchez’s talent for Adventure Time’s brand of comedy is on full display… but there is also this underlying feeling that Something is Happening just under the surface. And these hints of the Big Emotions of ‘IRY’ expressed via Sanchez’s kinda goofy style really create this balance between putting the audience into a false sense of security that this is just a Very Normal Episode about two characters hanging out and the Tension constantly brewing in the subtext.

And then it all comes to a blow.

And then the Shift happens. And now we are in Sugar’s court.

And this subtle shift in the artstyle and storytelling also coincide with Marceline finally openly expressing her feelings and the Reveal of Simon and Marcy's shared past. The episode changes focus from Ice King's silly antics to Marceline's feelings. Everything changes, everything in the first part of the episode gets recontextualized and... even on the most basic level, the episode is now Noticeably Different.

I would almost say that Sanchez’s half of the episode has Ice King define the tone, while Sugar’s half of the episode has Marceline define the tone. But more than anything it’s the catharsis. The reveal and release of those emotions that were building up so expertly through the Sanchez half of the episode. All of the Sugar-boarded scenes in this episode are really heartbreaking on their own, just through the tragedy of the story and Sugar’s expert knowledge of howto convey emotion in the visual medium - but it’s so enchanted by what came before it.

“I Remember You” is truly a great testament to how ‘Adventure Time’ could use every aspect of its medium to tell a great story in such a short time.

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shirefantasies · 3 months ago

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LoTR Characters When They Accidentally Walk in on You Changing (GN!Reader)

I love this scenario it’s so funny every time to me 😆

Warnings: bit suggestive at times

Aragorn

The ranger spun around as quickly as he'd entered, reeling so as not to face you even though all you'd done thus far was remove your coat and bare your feet to the room's open air. "My apologies," Aragorn remarked as he turned. "You assume that I would ask you to leave," you countered as the man took his first booted step away, prompting him to tentatively face you once more. "Would you not?" He asked, head tilted faintly in a hint of confusion. Questioning. "I trust you," you simply whispered in response, taking your own strides to cross the distance between you both.

Legolas

Shrugging off layer after layer, you exhaled in relief as air hit the exposed skin of your back. Leaning further, you reached forward to retrieve the lighter garment you were replacing yourself with. Before your fingers could curl and close around the soft material, the creak of the door behind you struck your ears. Turning, you started and gave a cry of shock, darting behind the rack dangling your new clothes and tugging them over your bare chest. Your wide eyes were met with the sight of Legolas in the doorway, his body whirling around even faster than yours had. “My apologies,” he told you hastily, “I did not know.” “I know,” you replied with a shaky laugh, well aware that if anyone were to peep at you it certainly wouldn’t be the elf prince, “The apology is mine. I, after all, am sorry you had to see that.” Legolas’s head tilted ever so slightly back your way at that, revealing what looked to be a dusting of pink upon his cheeks. “Don’t be,” he said.

Boromir

You had inadvertently made the decision to peel off your entire remaining clothing right as Boromir had walked in. Back to the door, you were only alerted to a presence when his voice rang out behind you. "Oh, is that what we are doing?" It was then that you swiveled on your heels, removed layer clutched against your chest and hanging down to your legs, to see Boromir unlacing his own tunic, beginning to reveal more and more of his chest. Time froze as thickly as your body, which was rendered all but unable to move in the shock of it all. "Wait, what do you mean?" At that, the man before you stopped, fingers pausing and hand steadying to reach out your way. "I'm sorry. Perhaps I misread the signs. Leaned a bit too far into my own wishes... I will depart if you ask it of me." "And if I do not?" You teased, still stood firmly in place.

Gimli

“Oh! Oh! My stars! I had no idea!” Probably against your better judgment and definitely out of pure reflex, you swiveled around toward the voice at your back. Giving a very wide-eyed, jaw-dropped Gimli a full frontal view of you in your undergarments rather than just the sight of you bent over. Your own lips parted in a gasp of shock as your gazes locked, neither body moving an inch. “Would it be better or worse if I told you you looked nice?” Chuckling, you finally broke form, body relaxing as you shook your head with a smile. “Alright, off with you,” you told him, waving a hand, but judging by Gimli’s smile, he saw right through your teasing.

Frodo

Pushing the curtain aside, you reached for where your fresh clothing hung, only for your heart to drop and flip rapidly back up again at the sight of Frodo on the other side, his tunic freshly peeled off to reveal his bare torso. With a squeak of surprise, you ducked back behind the curtain just as the hobbit’s wide blue eyes met yours. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, “Merry told me it would be alright if I dressed in this room.” “That’s strange,” you heard Frodo reply, catching the silhouette of his head tilting in confusion, flushing at the way his curls kissed the nape of his neck, “He told me the same. What a scamp! The apology should be his and his alone.” “Well,” tensing you paused for just a moment before venturing your reply, “I am not so upset with him.” “No?” Frodo sounded surprised, but pleasantly. “Me neither. The company is nice. And out of everyone I am glad it was you.” “As am I, Frodo.”

Sam

“Here Mr. Frodo, try this one on for size, it’s a mite shorter-” “Mr. Frodo? Not quite,” you shot back, ducking behind a bed in the room so only your head to shoulders showed. “Oh,” Sam exclaimed, whirling around instantaneously, “I’m sorry! I’m not a peeper, honest I didn’t mean to!” Despite the embarrassing predicament, you couldn’t resist letting the chuckle rising in your chest to escape at Sam’s words. “I know you, Sam. I know you wouldn’t. Now go, off to give Frodo his shirt!” “Oh,” the hobbit flushed, glancing once more at your ducked form before scurrying out the door, “Right.”

Merry

“Oh!” You heard Merry before you saw him, turning around to see he who made the exclamation doing the very same. “I had no idea,” the hobbit apologized, his back to you, “They said I could change in here, so I just-” “It’s fine,” you chuckled, pulling your new outfit on, “In fact, you are being quite the gentleman. Far more, I suspect, than many others in your army would be.” “Of course,” Merry replied, this time much more jovially, “I wouldn’t look unless you told me to. …Wait, that is to say…. I only mean that, well…” “I’ll tell you to if that shocks your mind back into place,” you teased him.

Pippin

A scream rang out from both of you as you swiveled around, tunic clutched in one hand and only undergarments on your person, to face a wide-eyed Pippin, who immediately turned tail and ran. Hastily throwing on your clothes, you made your way back out, where he rapidly shed apologies. “I didn’t know. Honest. I truly had no idea.” “I know,” you told him, resting a hand on his shoulder, the way his gaze tracked that motion unable to escape your notice, “I’m sorry you had to see that.” “I’m not.” Realization immediately crossed Pippin’s face, dropping his expression back into one of pure shock. “Wait. Well, I guess I just mean I don’t want you to think you look bad, because you don’t. You really don’t. But I certainly wouldn’t-” Smiling, you cut him off. “I know what you mean.”

Faramir

“H-hello?” The stuttering entreaty had you leaning, poking your head from the other side of the curtain you changed behind. Faramir. His eyes widened, clearly taken aback at the sight of you, even if all he could see was your head and one shoulder. “Oh!” He spoke your name softly as he glanced to the floor. “I will come back when you’re finished.” “Did you need something?” You asked, hands tightly gripping the curtain you hid behind. “My cloak was hanging on the other side of the room, but really, I can wait.” “Nonsense.” Letting go, you disappeared behind the veil, moving deliberately in case Faramir could see your silhouette. It seemed he could, too, for when you popped back out and dangled his coat for him, his face was quite red indeed.

Eomer

“How many times did must I remind you to- oh.” Eomer’s teasing tone dropped as soon as he found himself looking upon not the form of his expected comrade but rather of you. You as you had just removed a pair of trousers, leaving half of you clad only in undergarments and not the most of them you could have been, frankly. His smile alternately dropped and raised again, eyes trying and failing to demagnetize from the sight of your skin bared before him. You were frozen, too, looking into his hazel eyes questioningly, brows furrowing before the rose in silent inquiry. “Apologies,” Eomer told you, finally moving to incline his head, “But may I say what nice legs you have?”

Eowyn

“I’m sorry!” Eowyn apologized as soon as she stepped into the room, but you stopped her with a shake of your head. “Worry not, I’m still fully dressed! Beside that, I could actually use your help.” “Oh?” Facing you entirely, Eowyn’s golden brows rose. “Yes?” “This clasp always sticks,” you told her, back still partially turned to her, “Would you mind?” “Of course not,” she answered with a full, radiant smile. Her fingers were soft against the exposing skin of your back; you found yourself exhaling a small sigh beneath the sensation of her touch, muscles relaxing…. “It- it is loose now, isn’t it?” Almost starting, you shook free from your reverie as the fabric slid down your chest and shoulders. “Ah, yes it is. Thank you.” “Anytime I can help.” Was it your imagination or had her smile grown even wider?

Haldir

Fortunately for you, the door swung open before you had even fully unfastened the armor about your shoulders. Your head turned more to track the sound than anything else, a smile rising to your face when you met Haldir’s eyes. It was he who spoke first. “I can help you,” he suggested, sweeping some golden hair from his shoulders. Nodding, you moved again, this time to face him with your back, where you felt the gentle touch of hands upon the fastens of your steel. Weight dropped from your body as Haldir worked, finally leaving you in faintly sweat-soaked fabrics. The warmth left you at this point as Haldir stepped back, palms still bared. “I leave you here,” he told you with a small smile. “But you did so well with the rest,” you quipped back, chuckling at the elf’s flustered look when he disappeared out the door.

Galadriel

“Oh, are you changing, too?” Tilting her head at your words, Galadriel moved quietly closer, eyes fixed on yours. Never darting downward. “You have no concern for the intrusion.” Said like a statement yet clearly posing a question. Shrugging off your upper layer to nearly bare your chest, you tilt your head back at the golden-haired elf. “Have you not seen this all in your mind? I was under the impression there was little privacy in Lothlórien,” you answered simply. At that, Galadriel’s lips tugged upward, her fair brows raising too. “Not in such regards. Such things are to be kept,” she answered, “However, I must confess I have seen this before, though only in the mind’s machinations of desire.”

Elrond

Screaming the moment the intrusion began, you pelted a pair of stockings at the offender, only to feel the blood drain from your face at the sight of Lord Elrond himself with your underthings draped unceremoniously upon his shoulder, one bit even dangling off a corner of his silver circlet. “My Lord, I- I-” “I understand,” Elrond cut you off, clearly suppressing laughter, the corners of his lips tugging upward even as he fought them, “You have every right to defend yourself, and might I say quite the reflexes? I leave you in peace, of course,” he told you, hands raised and blue eyes never leaving yours, just as you would have expected of the Lord of Rivendell.

Arwen

Clothing slowly fell off your body, each piece abandoned upon the nearest rock. Warm springs rushed at your side, beckoning you with the faint steam curling from their waters. Lost in the feeling of fabric sliding off your shoulder, you had not heard the footsteps, not until they were accompanied by a soft “oh”. Arms crossing over your chest, you hurried toward the water, warmth encasing you and rising to your already heated cheeks. Relief flooded your body, though, exhaling throughout you when you saw it was Arwen. Her eyes met yours as you sunk in deeper, then stood fully again, a flicker of hope swimming in the blue therein. A nod was all it took from you for her hand to begin working fabric off her own shoulders, lips curling faintly upward.

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