#and this idea could be the thing with bite | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mrmeowski · 3 days ago

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Hello~ I just read ur work "Can I" and aughhhh im falling in love with my biases more XD If it alright, could i make 2 requests and you can choose either one or both of em? the characters are fr dan heng, aventurine, dr ratio, jiaoqiu, jing yuan and ae!sunday 1. Them with a s/o who is sensitive to the cold but they refuse to complain to him thinking it may bother them. like how'd they

2. Them with a s/o who wants to exchange bites of food or sweets with them (they have one food and the boi has another that they wanna try basically so they askin fr a nibble). Tempted to see the fluffy behaviours or maybe teasing ones whichever u assume And just in case, I apologise if its too much wrk XP

.🍮♠💙

˚✧𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐄𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞✧˚

Synopsis: You’ve always caught colds quicker than others, and even when you’re uncomfortable, you struggle to speak up, prioritizing others over yourself. But what happens when you meet someone who makes your well-being theirt utmost priority?

CW: Coughing blood [Jing Yuan], injured soldiers [Jiaoqiu], slight character backstory spoilers [Aventurine, Jiaoqiu], slight suggestive

A/N: Hey Anon!! I'm really glad you liked my work and I'll be making both of your requests becuase they look sooo fun to make☺️ And since I'm dried up of HSR ideas

Word Count: 6.5k

Characters: 🧡༻✧ Aventurine [1.4k] 💜༻✧ Dan Heng [872] 🧡༻✧ Dr. Ratio [827] 💜༻✧ Jiaoqiu [985] 🧡༻✧ Jing Yuan [1.1k] 💜༻✧ Sunday [1.4k]

⋇⊰AVENTURINE⊱⋇

Sigonia-IV was a harsh world, its sun scorching during the day and its nights plunging into a cold that felt as though it could freeze your very bones. The people here learned to adapt, to survive under the relentless heat by day and the bitter chill by night.

But for you, the balance was difficult, especially during the cold nights when your body felt as if it were being shredded by the freezing temperatures. You could barely get any sleep, constantly waking in discomfort, wrapped in whatever rags you could find to keep yourself warm.

Your friend, Kakavasha was always the one to notice when you’d start wearing down, never letting you hide it for too long.

"Man, [Name]... you look awful." He pinched your cheek one morning as you rubbed your eyes, groaning as you tried to shake off the exhaustion.

"Shut up," you hissed, swatting his hand away.

You rolled your eyes, feeling the weight of the bags under them. You'd been running on fumes for days, the sleepless nights piling up on you.

His laughter following you as you walked through the dusty streets.

“You know, [Name]... we should skip the labor for the day. Your birthday’s coming up, riiight?”

You yawned and rubbed your eyes again, trying to ignore how tired you really were.

“...You know we can’t,” you muttered, not bothering to look at him.

You knew how it would go. The labor was constant here. There was no such thing as a break unless you could afford it—and you couldn’t. Not on Sigonia-IV.

"Augh, come on, look at you!" He nudged your shoulder with his elbow, forcing you to look at him. His grin was cheeky, a playful glint in his eyes. "You look like a corpse! Just.. one day. I know a spot!"

His persistence made you sigh in defeat. You’d been too exhausted to argue, and deep down, you knew he wasn’t going to let you say no.

“Fine,” you said, giving in with a resigned shrug. "But only this time." His eyes sparkled with excitement, and before you could brace yourself, he’d grabbed your arm, pulling you along as he charged forward.

“Wait—” you stammered, struggling to match his pace as you stumbled over the uneven ground, nearly tripping on rocks and loose debris. “V-Vasha, hold up!” But he either didn’t hear you or chose to ignore your plea, his laughter ringing out as he weaved through the sparse crowd.

Soon, the noise and remnants of the town faded, and you found yourself surrounded by open, barren land. The sun blazed overhead, intense enough that you had to pull your hood up to shield yourself from its harsh rays, but heseemed unfazed by the heat, charging ahead with an energy that felt endless.

“Are we close?” You panted, but he only grinned, slowing down just enough to keep the mystery alive.

You trailed him along a path winding up the side of a rocky slope. The terrain was uneven but soon you found yourself climbing higher until the view stretched out into something unexpected.

You were speechless, mouth slightly open as you gazed at the sight before you.

The endless expanse of desert and mountains glowed under the skies painted in a deep hues of red, purple, and a soft, golden orange that radiated from the sun. Feathery clouds streaked across the sky in hues of crimson and violet, blending into an almost surreal canvas.

"It's… beautiful," you whispered, transfixed by the stunning view, your eyes locked on the horizon.

“I know.” He murmured softly, but his gaze wasn’t on the horizon—it was on you, taking in the awe in your expression, the way your eyes reflected the colors of the sky. “It’s truly beautiful... Come on, no time for sightseeing! We're still not there," He called out, his hand suddenly grasping yours, giving it a gentle tug to bring you closer.

“Wait… this isn’t the spot?”

“It’s... a part of it, but the real gem is just ahead." He moved ahead, his hand still holding yours as he led you toward a cave entrance, hidden behind a curtain of beads.

The beads shimmered in the dying light of the day, the sound of them clinking lightly against one another as he pushed them aside, revealing the interior of the cave.

You gasped, stepping inside. The walls were lined with old trinkets—fragments of forgotten times, relics from some long-past era.

The flickering remnants of a campfire sat cold in the center, and around it were pillows and blankets, their fabric faded and worn.

“Do you like it?” His voice carrying a hint of nervousness as he watched you take in the small cave.

“Yes! So, you found all of this?” You reached out, tracing a finger over one of the metal pieces scattered about, fascinated by each strange object.

He grinned, looking pleased.

“Yeah! There are tons of these out here, though I couldn’t tell you where half of them came from,” he laughed, watching you examine one in particular with intrigue. Recognizing it, he moved closer. “Wait—give me that one for a second. I wanna show you something cool.”

From the on, the two of you spent hours talking, laughing, and experimenting with each trinket. But eventually, the light began to fade.

The sky outside the cave transformed into rich shades of red and purple as the sun dipped low, casting shadows across the cave walls. You blinked, realizing how late it had gotten.

“The sun’s going down…” you murmured, a hint of worry creeping into your voice. “I-I don’t think we’ll be able to get back in time.” He only gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“That’s fine,” he said, squatting down to gather some rocks. “I’ve spent the night here plenty of times. I’ll get a fire going. We’ll be warm.” You tried to smile, but the idea of spending a night in this cold made you tense.

For him, it might be comfortable enough, but for you…

The fire crackled softly, you asked him about his favorite piece, his eyes lighting up as he shared the memories.

Eventually, as the sun dimmed and the stories faded, the chill in the air grew sharper, but you tried not to let it show. You faked a smile as he settled down across from you, rolling onto his side with a yawn.

"Goodnight, [Name]..." he murmured, half-asleep already.

“Goodnight, Vasha,” you replied, burrowing into your thin blanket and tucking your legs into your hoodie.

As soon as his eyes were closed, your smile faded. You could feel the cold seeping into your bones, making you shiver despite your best efforts.

No matter how tightly you wrapped yourself, the fire offered little relief, and your fingers and toes started to go numb. Glancing over, you noticed that even he seemed affected; he shifted occasionally, his face scrunched up as he tried to stay warm in his sleep.

A thought flickered through your mind—perhaps you could just inch closer to him, share a little warmth. But then again, he was sound asleep now, his chest rising and falling steadily. You didn’t want to disturb him.

Instead, you pulled off your own thin blanket and quietly moved over to him, draping it around his shoulders. For a moment, you watched as he unconsciously snuggled into the extra warmth, a slight smile softening. You hoped it would help him rest a little better.

With your blanket now gone, you returned to the fire, trying to warm your hands over the low flames.

The chill was so intense that your entire body trembled, and you pulled your legs tighter to your chest. It was then that you heard a low, sleepy voice break the silence.

"[Name]...?" His voice heavy with sleep. "You're still awake?"

You froze, trying not to let on how miserable you felt. His gaze narrowing as he took in your shivering form. He noticed then, your thin blanket draped over him instead of you, and his expression shifted from confusion to concern.

He sat up slowly, his gaze lingering on your hunched figure for a moment before he crawled toward you without saying a word. He closed the distance, his brows furrowed.

Without warning, he pressed his side against yours, wrapping one of the blankets around both of you. You felt the warmth of his body as he pulled you close, his arm sliding around your shoulders to hold you firmly against him.

"Why didn’t you say anything, huh?" He murmured,

"I… I didn’t want to wake you," you admitted, cheeks flushing at his closeness.

He huffed softly, almost amused, as if the very idea was ridiculous.

"I’d rather be woken up than see you trying to freeze yourself like this. Giving up your only blanket like a self-sacrificing hero..." he teased, nudging his head on the crook of your neck.

"Guess you’re lucky I’m here to take over that role."

⋇⊰DAN HENG⊱⋇

Man, it sure is chilly here. You despised the cold—it crept into your bones, made your fingers stiff and your thoughts sluggish. Yet, somehow, you found yourself sitting in Dan Heng’s room, enduring what felt like the iciest atmosphere on the Astral Express.

How did this happen? Well, you had volunteered to help him with his research on a particular planet and its people. It had seemed like a good idea at the time—spending time with him, delving into his meticulous work, maybe even impressing him a little with your insights.

But you hadn’t considered one key detail: He liked his room cold, arctic even. And now, with the cooler set to its lowest possible temperature, you were fighting the urge to shiver.

You glanced at him, sitting calmly at his desk, completely unaffected by the temperature. He had always been composed, almost detached in his demeanor.

Asking him to turn down the cooler felt... intrusive, like you’d be disrupting his sense of balance. This was his space, after all, and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable in his own room.

“Hey, [Name], take a look at this." His calm voice pulled you from your thoughts.

He turned slightly, his teal gaze meeting yours, the faint glow of his device reflecting in his eyes. You pushed yourself up from where you were sitting.

Every step was a fight to suppress the shiver running through your body, your fingers numb despite being stuffed in your pockets.

“What is it?” Keeping your voice steady as you moved closer to him.

He gestured toward the display, a map of a distant planet spinning in holographic detail. “This planet—Denvalis-IV—caught my attention. Its climate is… unique.”

You leaned in to get a better look, but instead of focusing, your mind was drawn to the faint warmth radiating from his form. It was subtle, like a beacon against the icy atmosphere of his room.

For a moment, you let yourself indulge, thinking maybe, just maybe, you could edge a little closer without him noticing—

“[Name], are you even listening?”

The sharp question jolted you from your reverie, your eyes darting back to the screen.

“O-Of course!” You said quickly, trying to play it cool.

He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but he didn’t push.

“Hmph...” He turned his attention back to the screen. “What did you learn of this place?"

"Let me show you.” With a few tap, images of its habbitants displayed on the screen. "The inhabitants—look at them." You pointly but the moment you relieazed your hand was shaking you instantly put it down. "They’re… incredible."

The projection showed a group of Denvalis-IV's residents—tall, sinewy figures with thick, layered exoskeletons that shimmered faintly, almost like armor.

"Despite the violent storms, extreme temperatures further amplified by the Stellaron, they've been able to adapt," you continued. "And it’s not just physical. Look at these structures—they’ve developed entire cities that are mobile, designed to migrate with the weather patterns."

“It’s fascinating,” he murmured, leaning closer to study the images. “They’ve managed to build entire civilizations in this planet... even after the Stellaron erupted." His gaze flicked to you, something unreadable in his expression. “You’re knowledgeable,” he said, his voice soft. “And you’re also…”

You froze, sensing his next words before he spoke them.

“…cold.”

He then raised his hand, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. The warmth of his touch made you involuntarily lean toward him, seeking it like a moth to a flame.

His warmth was comforting, but it also amplified how much the freezing temperature of the room had bitten into you. Eyes softened slightly as he observed you.

“Your cheeks are puff..." He glance down, noticing your tembling hands, "and you’re shivering.” His lips pressed into a thin line, and with a sigh, he turned away to adjust the cooler.

The hum of the air system shifted, and the temperature in the room began to rise.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He asked, his back still to you.

You tried to shrug it off, shoving your hands into your pockets to conceal their shaking.

“You’re… quite observant.”

He turned back to you, his gaze piercing yet patient.

“Deflecting the question won’t help you," he said, his tone soft but firm.

You hesitated but finally, you admitted, "Well, I just… I-It’s your room. I didn’t want to bother you. I figured you like the cold, so—”

“So, you prioritize others’ comfort above your own?” He interrupted, stepping closer.

The sudden proximity made your breath hitch. He was so close now, his quiet intensity pulling all your focus. His warm breath brushed against your chilled skin, and for a moment, all you could do was stare.

He tilted his head slightly, observing you as though trying to read the thoughts you weren’t voicing. “Hmm...” he murmured, his voice lower now, almost teasing.

His arm moved, slow but deliberate, slipping around your waist and pulling you closer to him. Your pulse quickened as the heat of his body cut through the lingering chill in the room.

His expression remained composed, but the faint blush dusting his pale cheeks didn’t escape your notice.

“...I do enjoy being this close to you. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

⋇⊰DR. RATIO⊱⋇

The library was your sanctuary, a place where the air hummed softly with silence, inviting you to dive into your work. Today, it beckoned like a far-off paradise, you'd love to go there if the winter wind isn't creeping through the walls, chilling you to the bone.

Bundled up in your thickest jacket, you made a quick hot cocoa in the small kitchenette, hoping it’d warm you just enough to keep working. Your dormmate, Ratio Veritas, was engrossed in a dense-looking tome, his gaze fixed in a way that made him look almost statuesque, detached from the cold entirely.

You sighed, slipping back into your room, hoping to hide your shivering mess from him. You knew he disliked interruptions, and you didn’t want to hear him complain about you 'ruining his concentration' with your uncontrollable shivers.

You sat at your desk, fingers trembling as you flipped open your books, each word on the page starting to blur. But you refused to tell him and do something that can help.

It's no use anyway, he'd only huff, make some pointed comment about your lack of preparation, or worse, pretend to ignore you altogether. Besides, you didn’t want to burden him, especially when he was absorbed in his work.

Time passed, or so it felt. Your focus drifted, every fiber of your being caught in an cold-induced fatigue. You thought about getting up, maybe crawling under the covers of your bed, but as you pushed yourself to stand, the world swirled and faded into black.

When your eyes opened, you realized you were no longer at your room but on someone’s lap. Warmth wrapped around you, unfamiliar and yet... oddly comforting.

A gentle hand brushed through your hair, moving rhythmically, soothing you back to wakefulness. Blinking, you looked up, eyes trailing from a complicated book cover down to his familiar profile

“Veritas...?” You murmured, still disoriented.

He glanced down, face as unamused as always.

“Ah. You’re finally awake.” His voice held its usual cold tone, but his hand didn’t stop its careful stroking through your hair.

It felt far gentler than his gaze would ever imply.

“W-What happened?” Stammering, trying to shift, but he placed a hand on your shoulder to keep you still.

“You passed out,” he replied, his voice a low mutter as he went back to his book.

Your eyes widened. You... passed out? Now that he mentioned it, you could feel a faint throbbing in your head and a dull ache in your abdomen from the fall. Heat crept into your cheeks, embarrassed and unsure.

You hadn’t meant to make a scene, and you hadn’t meant for him to get involved.

“I’m… I-I’m sorry." The words rolled out your tounge before you even realized it.

He raised a brow, tilting his book slightly to inspect you as though you were an anomaly in need of explanation.

“Has the fall scrambled your brain?” He asked, his tone dry, even a bit amused. “What could you possibly be sorry for?” He closed his book completely, leaning in a bit, scrutinizing you with a detached but focused intensity. “Hmm... perhaps there’s an internal bleeding and affected your speech?” He mused.

Your cheeks flushed as you averted your gaze.

“No, no… It’s just… you were busy, and I didn’t want to bother you, so—”

“So, you chose to hide that your suffering?” He chuckled, a sound both mocking and strangely warm. “I would never undermine the value of academic focus, but you’ve taken it to the extreme. This involves you life, not just a mere distraction.” Leaning back, he reopened his book, though his eyes lingered on you, assessing. “In any case, I can study while you… stay here,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“What?” You shifted slightly, instinctively finding a more comfortable position, only to feel the firmness of his thigh tense under your head.

His fingers paused, but only for a moment, before he resumed the gentle circles on your scalp, thumb tracing patterns.

“I said, get some rest,” he replied, a slight edge in his voice, though the warmth in his touch betrayed any irritation.

For a man with such cutting words and an aloof demeanor, his touch was remarkably gentle, grounding you in a way that no words ever could explain.

Minutes passed in silence, the stillness of the room broken only by the faint rustle of the pages. Then, almost reluctantly, he bit back his pride and spoke, his voice softer, quieter.

“Hey... [Name],” he murmured, feeling you hum in response, shifting slightly in his lap. A shiver ran through him, though he quickly masked it.

Hidden behind his book, his cheeks flushed red, and he brought the book up to his face, hoping it concealed his expression.

“If... if you ever need anything or… if you want help with something,” he continued, voice barely a whisper. He swallowed, speaking through his own restraint. “Just… tell me, alright?”

⋇⊰JIAOQIU⊱⋇

You looked up at the artificial skies of Xianzhou Yaoqing, watching as what could only be described as raindrops fell from the simulated heavens. Though the rain was artificial, the chill it carried was all too real.

You shivered as the cold breeze brushed against your skin, and instinctively, you pulled your coat tighter, wishing it would do more to ward off the biting wind. The camp had just won a major battle, but the aftermath was far from over. The injured were many, and every hand was needed.

You couldn’t afford to slack off now, not when the medics were busy patching up soldiers and treating the wounded. The chill in the air was nothing compared to the urgency of the situation.

You swallowed your discomfort and turned toward the tents where the injured were being treated, your footsteps quickening as you walked deeper into the makeshift infirmary.

And then, you saw him—Jiaoqiu, focused as always, sitting beside a bed where a man lay, his hands deftly bandaging the soldier’s wounds.

The moment he heard your footsteps, his ears twitched, and he looked up, flashing you that signature, bright smile. His tail wagged, the motion almost too endearing.

"[Name]!" His voice was cheery, but there was a slight hesitation in it as his eyes lingered on your flushed cheeks. "You’re looking a little… flushed. Are you alright?"

You quickly masked your discomfort with a smile, trying to sound nonchalant despite the cold creeping into your bones. No, you couldn’t tell him. Not now, not when everyone needed all the help they could get.

"I'm fine," you said, though your voice lacked conviction. "Just.. a little tired. I-I’ll get going—there are still a lot of hands needed." You flashed him a quick smile, trying to appear unaffected. "See you later during your break."

With that, you hastily walked away, eager to get to work. What you didn’t notice was the way his eyes followed you.

Your movements had become sluggish as the day wore on. Your fingers were a bit stiff, the chill in your bones seeping into every part of your body, and you found yourself sniffling more than you cared to admit.

No, you couldn't—You couldn't let the Foxian or anyone see you like this. You were the one who was supposed to take care of the injured, not the other way around! You couldn't afford to show weakness.

"Dr. [Name]...?" A voice interrupted your thoughts. You blinked, looking down at the soldier in front of you. His face was pale, his breath shallow. "A-Are you alright?"

"Yes, of course," you answered too quickly, trying to brush off the unease you felt creeping up on you.

In reality, it was hard to focus on your work when you felt like your body was betraying you. Before you could go back to your task, you heard that voice again. It was familiar, and now, it sent a shiver down your spine—not from the cold, but from the sudden concern you knew it carried.

"As a medical student, I expect you to care of yourself, [Name]." His tone was lighter than usual, but you could still detect the hint of worry in it.

You turned to see him standing there, arms crossed, his smile gone, replaced by a frown.

"Ah, but I’m fine," you protested weakly, chuckling to dismiss the concern.

But when he closed the distance between you, his hand gently rested against your forehead, and the warmth from his touch made your heart skip a beat.

He hummed softly, the sound both soothing and commanding. "You have a cold, [Name]. It’s better to rest than push yourself." His voice was firm yet caring, and it made it impossible for you to argue.

"But—"

"No buts," he interrupted, his tone soft but resolute. Before you could react, he slipped his arms around your waist, effortlessly pulling you toward him. "Let's get you some rest, hm?" His smile returned, and it was warm and gentle, a stark contrast to his usual playful teasing.

You could feel your resolve crumbling as he drew you closer to his side. It felt like he was enjoying this a bit too much, if the sly smile playing on his lips as he led you away wasn't obvious enough.

"I could do it myself, Jiaoqiu! You need to go treat the soldiers!" You sighed in defeat, but you knew deep down that resistance was futile.

The moment he set his mind to something, you knew you’d lose.

"I’m on my break," he simply said, as if that explanation was enough to make you stop worrying. "I have nothing to do." Just as you were about to shoot another complaint, he raised his hand, signaling to one of the nearby medics.

"Need a hand over here!" He called out, his voice calm and commanding, directing the medic to help with the soldier you’d been treating earlier.

Turning back to you, he flashed you an innocent smile. "See? No need to worry about anything!" Every part of him practically pressed against you.

His arm was firmly wrapped around your waist, holding you close, and you could feel the soft, comforting weight of his tail winding gently around your leg.

Sure, it was a bit of a struggle to walk with him so near, but the heat from his body made it easy to ignore the chill that had settled deep within you.

You could feel the vibration of his chest as he chuckled, a soft sound that filled the air. His gaze lowered to meet yours, your eyes neatly closed and mouth slightly parted as though you were feeling heaven.

"I suppose I'm your medicine?" He mused, his finger tracing down the curve of your cheek with a gentle touch. He paused, his grin widening as he leaned closer. "Not that I mind... I could be all the warmth you'd ever need."

⋇⊰JING YUAN⊱⋇

You stared out from the fleet, watching as the snow-covered planet loomed into view, a world blanketed in endless ice. Even from behind the glass, you could feel a chill settling into your bones.

How did you end up here? Well, it had all started with a single slip of the tongue—admitting, without much thought, that you'd never once seen snow.

He’d looked at you curiously, his golden gaze sharp but gentle.

"Never seen snow?" He asked, surprised, his usual calm demeanor giving way to a hint of wonder.

You’d shrugged, brushing it off, mentioning briefly that your mother had never let you go anywhere with winter’s bite, then tried to change the subject.

But Jing Yuan had clearly taken it to heart. The General, in his subtle, thoughtful way, had decided he’d remedy that, and when the opportunity came—a mission to a world wrapped in eternal winter—he’d practically dragged you along.

Seeing his excitement, you hadn’t the heart to tell him the truth, that your mother hadn’t been overprotective without reason. She had known, as you did, that you were sensitive to the cold. But how could you ruin the General’s rare, genuine smile?

The doors slid open, and a harsh gust of icy wind hit you instantly, slicing through even the thick jacket he had insisted you wear.

You braced yourself, steeling against the cold. It wasn’t too bad—yet. Surely, you could hold out for a little while, right? Just enough to take in this strange, pristine winter world he’d wanted to show you.

"Isn't it magnificent?" He raised his gloved hand, catching a snowflake as it fluttered down.

He watched it melt into his palm, an almost childlike wonder on his face. The sight shook you from your thoughts, and, for the first time, you really looked around. Winter, in your mind, had always seemed bland—just a blur of whites and grays, cold and endless.

But standing here now, you could see the glistening world laid out before you. Snow blanketed the landscape, softening every angle, making everything look divine, untouched, as though you’d set foot into a world beyond reality.

You stepped out, your foot sinking deep into the snow. A sharp gasp escaped you at the sudden cold, and you whipped around, catching him chuckling behind you.

Embarrassment flared in your cheeks, warming them a bit as you muttered, “It’s not funny…” You turned your gaze back to the vast, shimmering landscape, hoping he wouldn’t notice the blush creeping up your cheeks. “But… it is beautiful.” You took a few more steps, each one slightly awkward as your feet sank into the soft, powdery snow.

The crunch underfoot was strangely satisfying, each step sending a tiny thrill through you. Just as you were getting used to it, you felt something hit your back with a soft, cold thud. Whirling around, you found the General standing there, a mischievous grin plastered on his face, a snowball in hand.

��A general, starting snowball fights?” You said, raising a brow, trying to keep a straight face.

He shrugged with a smirk, as if throwing snowballs were a part of some important tactical training.

“Come now, did you think I’d let you enjoy this in peace?”

You bent down to gather some snow, forming a snowball of your own.

“In that case, General." Smiling as you took aim, “Prepare for battle!” The snowball left your hand, hurtling toward him, but he dodged it effortlessly, flashing you a playful smirk as he prepared to throw his next one.

And so began a wild, impromptu snowball fight between you and the general, each of you laughing and teasing as snow flew back and forth. In the thrill of the moment, the biting cold around you seemed distant, almost... forgotten. But there was a dangerous oversight.

You had underestimated winter’s toll on you. Between handfuls of icy snow and the chilled wind cutting across your exposed face, your body quickly began to feel the effects. Reality crashed down on you suddenly; your knees wobbled, then buckled, sending you crumpling to the ground.

“[Name]? [Name]!” His voice broke through the haze, distant and muffled, as you felt yourself slipping.

Everything grew fuzzy and dim, until all you could see was the stark white ground tinged with an alarming splash of red. He knelt before you, his voice laced with a rare edge of worry.

“[Name]?” He called again, urgency straining his usually steady tone.

His strong hands tilted your face up, but you barely registered it as the void overtook your vision.

In what felt like seconds—or perhaps hours—you blinked your eyes open, squinting against the dim light. There was a gentle weight on you, the tickle of soft hair brushing against your neck.

Groggily, you let out a faint groan, your hand sluggishly rising to push away what felt like a very heavy, unyielding presence on top of you. Whoever it was clearly had no sense of their own weight.

A low rumble vibrated against your chest as if this someone was grumbling, “Awake, are we?” His usual calmness was there, but you could hear a faint tremor of relief as he lifted his head to meet your gaze. His face softened, though his brow remained furrowed with concern. “You worried me back there.”

He lifted his head to meet your eyes, his face softening, though his brow remained knitted with concern.

“I’m sorry…” The apology left you in a near-whisper, and he made a quiet, thoughtful hum as he continued observing your features with that intense, almost unrelenting gaze.

“Perhaps this is why you’ve never seen snow?” His voice laced with a gentle tease touched by a genuine worry. “The medics said you got cold so quickly… your fingertips were already turning purple, you know. It wasn’t something to brush off.” You swallowed, cheeks warming, not quite able to meet his eyes.

“Y-Yeah... I’ve always been sensitive quite to the cold,” you admitted.

His hand rose to your cheek, his thumb brushing gently along your skin, warm against the lingering cold.

“But you did enjoy it, right?” He murmured.

Caught off guard, you hesitated, the warmth of his touch melting away the lingering chill that had clung to you since you’d first stepped onto the snowy planet.

You gave a small, reluctant nod.

“Of course I did..."

He chuckled, the sound low and soothing, “Good." his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment longer before slipping down to rest on your shoulder, pulling you closer.

“Then perhaps next time, you’ll tell me if you’re cold, hm? I'd never forgive myself if I hurt you with my actions...”

⋇⊰SUNDAY⊱⋇

The halls and rooms of the Astral Express felt colder than usual. You couldn't quite pinpoint why. Maybe you were coming down with something, or maybe it was the emptiness of the train itself.

Most of the crew was out on a mission, leaving only you, the ever-adorable conductor Pom-Pom, and the Halovian from Penacony, the newest addition to the crew.

You still weren’t sure how to feel about Sunday after everything that happened on Penacony. His calm demeanor and polite words seemed genuine enough, but there was still a sliver of doubt lingering in the back of your mind. Yet, as time passed, part of you wanted to believe his sincerity.

Sniffling softly, you tapped your fingers on the table, waiting for the coffee maker to finish brewing. The silence of the Express was unnerving. You’d grown accustomed to the lively presence of the Trailblazer and March 7th, always filling the place with their laughter and chatter. Now, the quiet was heavy.

A faint sound—the flip of a page—caught your attention. You glanced over, your eyes landing on him, seated on a nearby sofa. He was engrossed in a book, his wings tucked neatly behind him. Those small, puffy wings at the side of his head caught your eye.

Halovians had three pairs of wings, you'd heard. How warm did they feel? You couldn’t help but wonder, and the thought of running your fingers through those feathers danced at the edge of your mind. Would they be soft? Would they radiate warmth? And where are his other two?

You shook your head slightly. That would be way too forward, especially since you barely knew him. It was a silly thought anyway, but the cold made your mind wander.

You tore your gaze from his wings, only to meet his calm, steady eyes watching you intently. For a moment, you froze, unsure if it was from the lingering cold or simply the intensity of his gaze.

“[Name]?”

Blinking, you scrambled to regain your composure, attempting to smile as you buried your shaking hands deeper into your pockets.

“Wha… What is it?” you asked sheepishly.

“Your coffee’s finished.” He tilted his head ever so slightly, watching you with that unflinching gaze.

Your breath caught, feeling embarrassed under his stare. You must have looked like a wierdo.

“A-Ah! Right… thank you.” You tried to play it off, reaching quickly for the mug’s handle.

But your fingers, numb from the cold, barely managed to grip it before the weight slipped from your grasp. Everything happened in a blur.

The mug began to tilt, and in a desperate attempt, you reached with your other hand to catch it, only to feel the sharp sting of its hot surface searing your palm. With a reflexive jerk, you dropped it, the mug shattering against the floor.

"Shit..." You muttered under your breath, frustration bubbling over as you crouched to survey the damage.

From the distance, a high-pitched screech shattered the silence. “[Name]!” Pom-Pom’s unmistakable voice rang through the room, their little paws on their cheeks in cartoonish shock. “What have you done??”

You turned to face the adorable conductor, their tiny body practically vibrating with indignation. “Hmph! Clean your mess this instant!” They declared, paws now firmly planted on their hips.

You swore smoke is puffing out of their ears from frustration.

“I-I’m sorry, Pom-Pom! I’ll clean it up right away!” You stammered, scurrying off to fetch a dustpan and broom.

The air felt even colder when you returned, and as you knelt to sweep up the broken shards, you couldn’t help but notice how your hands trembled uncontrollably, each movement sending shivers through your already frozen body. Your teeth chattered despite your attempts to keep them still.

Focused on the mess before you, you didn’t realize someone was standing behind you until you bumped into them. Startled, you flinched and spun around, nearly dropping the broom in your hands. There, mere centimeters away, stood he, his piercing gaze fixed on you.

“May I assist you?” The Halovian tilted his head ever so slightly. “You appear to be shaking like a deer.”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, perhaps a little too quickly, as you gripped the broom tighter in your trembling hands.

His brows knitted together, frowning.

“You’re clearly not fine. Your hands are trembling, and you’ve been shivering since earlier.” He crouched down to your level, his expression still composed but his gaze is a lot softer now.

“I said I’m fine,” you insisted, your tone firmer this time as you swept up a pile of shards, though your movements were clumsy and uneven.

His frown deepened, his golden eyes narrowing as they took in your trembling form.

"Enough." Before you could react, his gloved hands gently but firmly taking the dustpan and broom from your grasp.

You opened your mouth to protest, but the pointed look he shot you silenced you immediately.

"Get some rest, [Name]." His tone was calm yet commanding, leaving no room for argument. "If you'd like, I can brew you another coffee."

You stared at him, dumbfounded. The former head of the Oak Family, was kneeling on the floor to clean up a mess you had made? The thought alone was mortifying. More than that, you'd interrupted his reading—something you had tried so hard to avoid.

“I’m sorry...” You murmured, your voice barely audible as you quickly turned away and scurried down the hallway.

Once inside your room, you collapsed onto the bed with a sigh. The heater was on, but the cold seemed to seep through every crack and crevice, wrapping itself around you like an unwelcome guest. You tugged a blanket over your shoulders, but it did little to stop the shivers.

Moments later, a soft knock echoed through the door.

"May I come in?" His voice was smooth and quiet, like honey drizzling over a frozen lake.

You hesitated, clutching the blanket tighter.

"Y-Yeah." The door slid open, and he stepped inside, holding a steaming cup of coffee in one hand.

His elegant composure hadn’t faltered even for a bit. He set the cup down on the small table by your bedside before sitting beside you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his golden gaze sweeping over you with a hint of concern.

“I’m fine,” you lied, averting your eyes. “Just... a little chilly, that’s all.”

He reached for the coffee and handed it to you, his fingers brushing yours briefly. The warmth of the mug felt like a lifeline in your frozen grip.

“Drink,” he said simply, leaning back against the headboard.

You looked at him then at the steaming mug before taking a cautious sip, the heat spreading through your chest and chasing away some of the cold.

You didn’t notice him moving until you felt the weight of his coat drape over your shoulders.

“Sunday—”

“Shhh..." He instantly hushed you down.

As the coat fell more snugly around you, you caught sight of something dark behind him. Two faintly shimmering pairs of wings stretched just beyond his back, their colors deeper and more shadowed than the smaller set behind his ears. They shifted slightly before folding back.

Your eyes lingered on them longer than you intended, and his lips quirked into the faintest smirk.

“Curious?” He asked, his voice teasing yet calm.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “I wasn’t staring—”

“Oh? Then my eyes must be mistaken becuase you were,” he said, cutting you off again, though there was no malice in his tone.

“Oh? Then my eyes must be deceiving me, because you were,” he chuckled softly, a sound rich and melodic, like the first note of a forgotten song. "It’s fine, my dear," he murmured, though his voice faltered just slightly.

His gaze shifted momentarily, and for the briefest of moments, a shadow of vulnerability flickered across his features. His wings, darker and more imposing than usual, twitched faintly behind him, betraying his uneasiness.

But you paid no mind to his hesitation, far too enveloped in the unexpected warmth of his coat and presence. The heavy fabric wrapped around you like a cocoon, shielding you from the bitter cold that had clung to you all day.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable but instead soothing, like the calm after a storm. It was he who broke the serenity.

His voice low and steady as he spoke, “Next time, [Name], don’t shy away from me.”

Sweet Bites» [WIP] Request» Masterlist»

#honkai star rail #hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #hsr dan heng #dan heng x reader #hsr dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #hsr jiaoqiu #jiaoqiu x reader #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #hsr sunday #sunday x reader

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devosin · 1 day ago

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" be my burden " , gender neutral reader

a/n: for the girlies who hate being a burden & hate being attached to people or for those who get up mid-breakdown because it's embarrassing.

Malleus's arms wrap around you, gently pulling you into his lap, he felt warm, soothing almost, and the overwhelming scent of pinecone and sandalwood took over your senses, almost numbing your nerves. "I'm fine", you mutter under your breath, "I should go", and despite saying so, you find your body leaning into his touch, as if it was home.

Because he was home, in this unfamiliar place you did find a home . . in Malleus, and that was something so overwhelmingly pleasant, that it made you feel almost uncomfortable . . because it just didn't feel right, the fact that someone could make you feel so loved, that suddenly nothing is too hard to bear anymore.

"You're not", he responds after awhile, a hand reaching up, to ruffle your hair, everything about him felt so gently . . something was bound to go wrong somewhere down the lines, and you don't think you could bear that, when the time comes . .

"I will be fine, I'm just overwhelmed?", you take a deep breath, and close your eyes shut, hoping to melt into his comforting touch, "It's stupid anyways . . I'm overreacting." you mumble out softly.

". . .", he pauses, he could go on and on about how being fine, and maybe getting fine, are two vastly different things, but that's something he could touch on another time, "your feelings are anything but stupid", he answers gently, shifting your weight so his forehead could touch yours, and your forced to make eye-contact.

" . . So please don't try and hide them from me.", he asks so softly, his words coated in honey, and you'd allow yourself to drown in it, if you weren't so reluctant to the idea of, "I don't want to be a burden."

The words came out before you bite your tongue and hold them back, as per usual, ". . I don't want to burden you . . especially." you whisper, and suddenly everything felt a bit lighter, it was as if you had admitted to a crime that you had carried on your back for years on end, and then it came crashing down, as the familiar feeling of dread boiled in your stomach.

"Then be my burden", he responded back with a smile, a stupid smile as if his words could erase all the troubles that plagued you. "I want to share those burdens, I want to help you . ."

"But what if . . you stop wanting those things?", you ask cautiously, "You can't waste your life on what if's my love, I need you to trust me." he responded back, "Trust that I would never stop wanting to help you and share the burden of the thoughts that hold you back.", he answered so certainly, that it felt difficult to disagree.

"I love you . . that's something no amount of what if's could take away. I could die tomorrow, but I'd die in peace knowing I loved you and was loved in return.", he gently placed a soft kiss to you lips, a peck that left your cheeks tingling, "Now . . will you tell me what's wrong?"

Ko-fi / discord server / (2 days left) personalized advent calendar

@ devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 3 days ago

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Minors and Blank Blogs DNI (~600 words)

Do I think Jason Todd would take out a gun during sex? No. Do I think AK!Jason Todd would? ... yes.

But I also think he'd ease you into it. I think there would be a 'reason'. I think you wouldn't even know that it's happening, that that's what it was, until the cold steel is pressed to your temple.

You could tell he had been angry today, wound tighter than usual. But he hadn't taken it out on you. (He never has. Never would dream of it) You have an idea of what he is, what he's capable of, it's just– you've never seen it for yourself.

Well, not until he had your knees over his shoulders while he rutted his cock into your twitching hole. He'd been distracting, driving you closer and closer to release with rhythmic strokes.

Your focus was entirely consumed by the necklace of bruises he seemed intent on biting across your throat and collarbones, that you'd hadn't noticed his hand pawing for the gun.

The firm pressure on your temple had nearly kept you from registering his low words in your ear, the nip to draw your attention from his slowing thrusts, "You tried to contact Barbara."

The lazy, but no less factual drawl of his voice snaps you from your blissful haze. But it's the click of the safety that makes your heart rate spike, "What?"

He tuts at you, dragging the barrel from your temple to under your jaw, "Did you really think I wouldn't notice? That I wouldn't watch what you're doing?"

You knew he was. At least a part of you did. But it felt wrong, to not try and tell her that Jason was back. That he's planning something you weren't privy to.

You open your mouth. Maybe it's to apologize. Maybe it's to beg him to put the safety on. Or maybe it's to ask him not to stop fucking you.

He shoves the gun between your lips instead, not letting whatever excuse you want to try spill from your tongue, "Don't, Doll. You do what I tell you, and you don't do anything else. Understood?"

His voice never changes from that smooth, sleepy drawl. (It almost makes you relax, almost has you feeling safe)

You nod as best as you can around the unyielding metal, hating the way you clamp down on his cock when he punctuates his words with a harsh roll of his hips.

He hums at you, seemingly satisfied by the desperation that pricks at your eyes. "Good," he croons, pulling the gun from your mouth to watch the lines of spit that stretch from your mouth to the barrel, "You're being good, sweet thing. Just like you should be."

You nearly choke out a sob of relief when the safety clicks back on, and he drops the gun by your head, still within reach, but no longer a threat.

Jason presses closer to you, almost folding you in half to grind his cock deeper against your walls. His face borders on feral, as he studies the glaze in your eyes, "You wouldn't do that again, would you?"

The rapid shake of your head has him kissing your jaw tenderly, like a twisted apology for scaring you. "Just making sure, doll," he murmurs softly, as if you can't still taste the gun power in your throat.

He fucks you like it's settled, then. Makes you cum like there isn't a gun still resting by your head. And when the stars clear from your vision and he's collecting a towel from the bathroom, you can't help but grab the gun from where it rests against the sheets.

You don't have a plan, it's just instinct, to get rid of the danger it poses.

You don't know how you feel, as you unload the gun with shaky hands, when you find there were never any bullets at all.

#arkham knight x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #cw guns #gun play in the way that it's fanfiction and no ones making you read it

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spatialwave · 1 day ago

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Hello my love. It’s my 24th birthday today and only one of my friends remembered so I was hoping for a lil pick me up.

How about ~

luring your lover back to bed with kisses & kisses while sitting in your lovers lap

With our dear Viktor?

I love your work 🥹🤎

OH MY GOODNESS! Happiest of birthdays to you, love!!! I’m so sorry that you’re feeling down on your special day. I hope this adds a bit of sparkle to your mood! ❤️

pairing: viktor x gender-neutral!reader word count: 712 tags: mdni! sfw, fluffy, kissing, super sweet, viktor is a bad boyfriend but makes it up to you, takes place between s1 act 1 and act 2. notes: ask came from this prompt!

“You’re working too hard,” you pouted, talking through a hard candy that rolled around your tongue–sucked on long enough that you could bite into it and swallow down the sweet strawberry flavour. You sat atop Viktor’s desk as he studied one of the hextech crystals. The rigid orb rolling between his fingers.

It was the early days of their research, and he had taken a steep nosedive into the work, allowing it to consume him. So much that you hadn’t had so much as a kiss from him in days.

“Not hard enough,” he retorted, sighing as he placed the crystal carefully onto velvet fabric to keep it stable. The last thing he needed was to replicate the explosion that had destroyed Jayce’s apartment.

He looked back down to a tome he borrowed from Jayce, fingers brushing against the paper as he read over histories of runes. Yet again, ignoring you.

“Do you know that it’s been exactly sixty-two hours since you last kissed me, and thirteen hours since you even touched me?” You whined, kicking your legs out as they dangled freely.

Viktor flickered his gaze to you, raising a defensive eyebrow, “it hasn’t been that long.”

“It has! I’ve been keeping track,” you were adamant, sitting upright again with a puffed chest, “why would I lie?”

He blinked a few times, gathering his bearings – at a loss for words, guilt rising up the back of his throat. He’d never been anything less than a great partner to you, and here he was ignoring you shamelessly.

Viktor sighed, shifting to turn his body toward you and reaching over, so his hand could rest over your thigh as you sat on his desk, “I’m sorry.”

The touch on your thigh kick-started a heat inside you, your heart thumping against your ribs. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrugged coyly and moved from the table to shift into his lap. The sudden movement caused the table to jerk slightly, and Viktor panicked, stilling your hips with his hands as he looked at the crystal—making sure it remained undisturbed.

You looked down at him, jutting your bottom lip out. Your arms strung lazily around his neck.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, a dusting of pink colouring his pale cheeks.

You rolled your eyes playful as your hands lifted to his hair, brushing through the brunette strands. You sighed dramatically, “it’s okay, I guess.”

That brought a smile to his lips, nimble fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt, “all is forgiven?” He asked, leaning toward you.

“Mostly,” you breathed, closing the remaining distance as you two shared a long-awaited kiss. You hummed against his lips, savouring the touch you had been craving for so long. Viktor’s own impatience hadn’t gone unnoticed, feeling the way he rolled his hips against yours and how his nails scraped at your skin.

It sparked an idea.

After your tongue licked at his bottom lip invitingly, you pulled back completely. Satisfied at the way Viktor watched you with his big, gold eyes. Silently, you slid from his lap, and he chased your lips. You’d gotten him up out of his chair, his hands reaching for you as he moaned into your mouth, before you broke the kiss for a second time.

“What are you doing?” He groaned as you stepped back, huffing.

You giggled, chewing on your bottom lip as you reached for his hand, acting as his support as you pulled him for a third kiss. Four hands explored each other’s bodies as you led him backward, slowly and carefully, as your kisses brought him all the way to the bedroom–careful with his limp.

Viktor had been so lost in tasting the strawberry on your tongue that he gasped when you spun him around and pushed him back onto the bed. He blinked up at you, lips parted and shuddering, as you crawled back over and straddled his lap.

“Do you still like hextech more than me?” You asked coyly, hands slowly unbuttoning his academy-issued vest.

Viktor smirked, shifting to lean up on his elbows. “Do you want a serious answer?”

“I hate you,” you whined, but he was quick to laugh and pull you down into a kiss that rightly shut you up.

#viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor league of legends #arcane x you #arcane x reader #arcane fic #arcane fanfic #viktor s1 #ask prompt #wordsbyspatial #spatialanswers

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moonlight-prose · 20 hours ago

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smoke and ash

a/n: this is based entirely on a post made by the amazing @cavillscurls and i was given permission to write it for her cause the idea actually made my brain go numb. plus just the thought of this man having an oral fixation paired with someone who also has an oral fixation?? beautiful. filthy. spectacular. it's quickly written cause i had the inspo at the time and really didn't want to lose it. so enjoy!

summary: cigar smoke trailed after him with every step, his mouth always desperate for something to wet, something to bite down on. and you with the match between your teeth indulged him every which way.

word count: 1.4k+

pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, oral fixation, spit kink, choking, dry humping, desperate!logan, overstimulation, cigars, they're fucking messy, dirty talk.

A dark stain of saliva coated the base of a match as you sat sprawled on his leather couch. Your teeth dug into it, creating an indent that would last until you decided it was time to strike the phosphorus and let it burn down. Sometimes they snapped. Other times you tossed them in the trash. Tonight you were intent on lighting it up—solely for the cigar currently stuffed in between his own lips.

He sucked at the end thoughtfully most nights. Glasses perched on the edge of his nose, a book he'd read a hundred times over propped in one hand—whiskey in his other. Half of it was already burnt through. Used within the span of a few days before stubbed out and saved.

“Interesting story?”

The soft hum was all he offered, his eyes flicking back and forth between the lines even though he could recite the words from memory. The pages were worn from use, spine cracked every which way, and you often considered buying him a new copy. If just to give the story a chance to breathe in his mind. Sink beneath the depths of memories that still floated along the surface—seeking to ruminate in the cracks of chaos.

“Logan.”

“Bub?”

“What does it taste like?”

At last he looked up, eyebrows lifted and fingers moving to drag the sticky wet cigar out of his mouth. “This?”

You nodded. “Good or bad or…”

“Better than those fuckin’ matches,” he scoffed, pointedly glaring at the splintered wood between your teeth—a nervous habit you had yet to kick. “C’mere and find out.”

Scrambling off the couch a bit too quickly, you found yourself perched in his lap, legs straddling his hips with a smile painted across your lips. He removed the match, flicking it into the discarded ashtray with contempt—happy to have your mouth empty and waiting. Only to place the soaked butt against your tongue, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip at the sight. You always imagined what the flavor resembled. Until it finally dawned on you.

This is how it tasted to kiss him. The bitter tang of the cigar muted by the flavor of the whiskey he drank and the mints he chewed in his spare time. You sucked on the remnants of his saliva, your mind lighting up at the feel of it. Of having something stuck between your lips, a thing you could fixate on.

“Taste’s like me don’t it?”

You nodded, shifting against his body as the first spark of heat began to slowly meld with the rest of your senses.

“Good girl,” he mumbled, the book forgotten to the side in favor of his hand sliding along your throat, thumb catching just beneath your chin. “Suck on it harder yeah? Want it to taste like ya when I smoke it again.”

A whine cracked in the back of your throat, your hips catching on the zipper of his jeans. “What about you?”

The mumbled words caused spit to drool down to your chin, his eyes tracking the slide of it with a heavy gaze. He wanted to lick it up. Swallow down what you offered. But the sight kept him transfixed—your tongue sliding along the end of the cigar as if it were his cock. Soaking it in your taste enough to drive him a bit closer to the edge, his other hand suddenly a harsh grip on your ass.

“I got what I need,” he replied with ease. “Yeah?”

You nodded, catching the glaze of desire in his dilated pupils. He wanted more than an empty mouth. The cigars appeased a side of him no one saw, a man who ached for something to bite down on, someone to taste even in the most mundane of ways. He was your guard dog looking to chew, to gnaw, even if spit flew out of his mouth with a feral edge of desperation. And with a grin, you stuffed three fingers into his mouth right down to the knuckle.

He took them with a moan, tongue laving over the length of them as his hips bucked up into yours. The hot cavern of his mouth and wet slide of his tongue drew out a sound you never knew you could make. A biting grunt that made spit fly everywhere, splattering against his cheek to mix with his own.

Ripping the cigar from your mouth, you hastily licked around his full mouth. “Suck harder for me baby.”

They met the back of his throat, choking him enough to force his head back. His eyes rolled, nostrils flared, and for a moment you felt the power dynamic shift. You were in charge. Telling him what to do to appease the ache of pleasure growing in the pit of your stomach. And it might have lasted. He very well could have given you complete submission if it weren’t for the lack of the cigar in your mouth.

A growl rumbled up from his chest, eyes flashing dark enough to send a thrill down your spine, and before you could fix your mistake he rectified it for you. Three fingers—to match your own—were pushed harshly against your tongue, hooking behind your teeth to drag your face closer to his. You didn’t need to hear him to know what he wanted.

The intent blazed in his hazel eyes well enough: suck.

Through the haze of wanton lust you felt his hand begin to guide your hips along his crotch. The bulge of his cock straining against denim, pushing the metal zipper up for your clit to catch on each time. Clad in his flannel and cotton panties, you found yourself plummeting towards the burning ache that built faster than you could comprehend.

You ripped your hand from his mouth, burying the spit soaked fingers into his hair to grip him close. But it never remained enough. He wanted to delve beneath your skin. Seek the warmth that seeped from your body where his fingers kneaded and pushed to drag you to a fro. His teeth latched onto your shoulder, the sweater pulled to the side while his fingers met the back of your throat, choking you with their size.

A cry slipped past his knuckles as you humped his clothed cock—dragging yourself inch by inch towards the release you could practically taste. It clung to the tip of your tongue—the saccharine flavor intertwined with the tobacco musk of his fingers. You swallowed around them, drool spilling down your throat and pooling at the top of your breasts.

“That’s it,” he gasped, a line of bites trailing right to the juncture of your neck, his spit smeared across your skin. “Gonna cum for me?”

You whined harshly, body going taut as your clit pulsed rapidly with the impending wave of bliss that tugged sharply on your spine. The pain of his teeth puncturing hard enough to draw blood dragged a knife through the thin strand of resistance. And you came with his name at the back of your throat and white bursting behind tightly shut eyelids.

“Yes. Fuck–” His growl ran down the length of your spine, body trembling in his tight grasp. “That’s my girl.”

Unconsciously your nails punctured the skin at the back of his neck and with a jolt, he groaned long and ragged against your throat. A dark wet patch formed beneath his jeans as you soaked him with a spit filled cry. The pleasure wrung your body dry, pulling the final dregs of your energy straight from the source. Your chest heaved, mouth a gentle suckle at the very base of his fingers, and Logan could feel you begin to collapse forward into his chest.

“You really like when your mouth is filled,” he mused, lips curling into a smile.

Nodding, your voice was a content hum—his fingers dragging at the back of your teeth, tracing their shape. A kiss was pressed to your head, body slumping further into the chair with you atop him.

“Gonna get you some more matches in the mornin’,” he mumbled lazily. “My pretty girl needs a treat for being so good.”

Your heart fluttered, eyes glistening with the devotion you’d never dare to hide. The love that burned with the power of an eternal flame. Settling into his body, you felt his hand drag along the expanse of your thigh. Calming the storm in his mind—a catastrophe you longed to weather with him.

You were the balm to his weathered soul.

A permanent fixation of smoke and ash that surrounded his charred and splintered heart that burned for you.

#logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #my writing

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ye4gerz · 1 day ago

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‧˚⭒ pairing: obsessive!mark x afab!reader 18+ MDNI ‧˚⭒ genre: smut! angst! ‧˚⭒ word count: 1k (sorry this one is longer than pt1😭) ‧˚⭒ cw: stalker / obsessive tendencies, m!masterbation, exhibitionist mark(once again lol), swearing, mark wants u sooo bad but you’re dating his best friend haechan, filming w/o the other party knowing.

» read part one here.

roommate mark who can’t help his secret crush on you. were you his best friend’s partner? yes. did that stop his feelings? absolutely not. he shared his space with donghyuck, aka your boyfriend, which only made things more complicated. there were certain times where mark caught himself staring at you a little too long, or perhaps his laugh lingered a bit too much after one of your jokes. he noticed—oh, he definitely noticed—the strange looks donghyuck would give him here and there. mark was fully aware of how it all looked, but he always tried his best to suppress it, burying his feelings deep where they couldn’t cause trouble.

what he didn’t expect, though, was to hear you in the room next to his, moaning his name.

interested and in pure shock, he froze. he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on you and hyuck’s intimate moment, but it had been so long since he’d last heard you like this, so needy and desperate. curiosity got the better of him, and he just wanted a better sense of what was happening—a clearer view, a clearer sound. he just wasn’t expecting to hear his name fall from your lips— not like this.

“mark…” he heard you moan, along with the silence that came after.

you said his name-not donghyuck's, but his. mark freezes, questioning if he heard you correctly, but the growing hardness between his legs confirms it. his breath hitches, his pulse quickening as his mind races. the silence from donghyuck's end only fuels his excitement, leaving mark to wonder what hyuck might do next-or if he'll do anything at all.

mark's thoughts spiral, dark and dangerous. he debates for a fleeting, reckless moment whether he should enter the room himself, finish what you started. the idea sends a shiver down his spine. he presses himself against the door, his head tipping forward as his hands brace against the frame. part of him just wants to hear you better, to catch every gasp and whisper, but the pressure offers him relief too, however fleeting.

his name. your voice. it echoes in his mind, over and over, unraveling him with every second, unaware of the true context behind it.

mark had his days where he would sneak off into hyuck’s room when no one was around. he’d find something of yours—a scarf, a stray hair tie, or even just a forgotten notebook—and hold it in awe, his fingers brushing over it like it was something sacred. sometimes, he’d take it back to his room, keeping it tucked away for later, when his thoughts would spiral, and his imagination would get the better of him. it was wrong, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself. you were intoxicating, even when you weren’t there.

like that pair of panties you thought you lost during laundry? they weren’t lost—they were left in hyuck’s room, right there on his floor. the same floor mark found himself staring at, biting his lip, questioning his next move. at the time, no one was home. no one.

so he grabbed your underwear from the floor and locked himself in his room. he spent the entire night with it wrapped around his cock as he got off to your scent.

only you could drive him this mad, and only he knew the dirty things he’d dreamt of doing to you. thoughts he had no right to entertain, yet they crept in during the quiet moments—when the apartment was still, and your laughter echoed faintly in his memory. you were off-limits, unattainable, but that didn’t stop his mind from wandering, didn’t stop the way his heart raced whenever you so much as glanced his way.

now he can’t help himself as he hears donghyuck scolding you while his pace fastens. marks cock already sprung out and his bare hand jerking himself off to the same pace as your boyfriend’s thrusts.

“is this what you want? you want mark to hear how good i fuck you? who makes you feel this good, baby? hm?” haechan mutters, the sound of wet skin echoing through the door.

“y-yes… fuck- hyuckie….” you forget about mark’s presence for a second as your boyfriend is about to help you reach your orgasm. you couldn’t care less if mark heard you right now.

“wait for me baby, please,” mark groans, his wrists readjusting as he starts thrusting himself into his hand deeper.

i wish this was your pretty pussy taking my cock instead, baby, he thought to himself.

“i’m close hyuckie!” you warn.

mark fastens his pace once more, deliberately giving attention to his tip. he had it all figured out in his imagination. he was the reason for all your moans. you couldn’t help yourself but ride him stupid. your hands roaming all over his body, his chest, tugging at his hair. these thoughts were all too much for him to bare.

and just like that, after hearing all of your incoherent noises, you finally release, mark soon following after. sweat dripping off from his forehead, he cums into his hand, hard. he uses his other hand to ride out his high, still in his own world of you and him.

“y/n…” he lets out a weakened sigh, his head falling back nearly hitting the door against him.

he thought he would end it here. he’d rush to pull his pants back around his waist and disappear into his room, pretending none of this ever happened—until he heard donghyuck go at you again.

“you’re going to fucking take it like a good girl, okay? cmon baby, give me one more,” he hears your boyfriend guiding you, trying to keep you for another.

mark's knees almost gave out from the realization. your whimpers and pleas spilled through the thin walls, sounding like forbidden music to his ears. he's too sensitive to touch himself again, every nerve in his body overstimulated, yet he's terrified he'll miss out on this fleeting, intoxicating moment. so, he does the only thing he can think of-he presses himself closer to the wall, his breath hitching as he tries to catch every sound, every whisper of you that slips through.

mark confirmed everything tonight—he really is infatuated with you. there’s no denying it, not after hearing his name fall from your lips, not after the way his heart nearly stopped at the sound. every carefully buried feeling, every glance he tried to hide, every suppressed thought—all of it surged to the surface in a rush he couldn’t control.

that night continues with mark's phone pressed against your boyfriend's door, recording every sound that escapes. after what feels like hours, he loses count of how many times hyuck pulls those broken cries and moans from you. mark smiles softly to himself, his mind spinning with the idea of being one step closer to finally joining you two. the thought shouldn't comfort him-it shouldn't excite him-but it does, and he doesn't even try to stop it anymore.

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kimmie2me · 2 days ago

Note

HEYYY I LUV UR POSTS LIKE HELLO?!?! also im sure u know abt the bakugo hc with him with him having hearing aids and is it ok of u make like a fic with him signing nasty stuff to reader cuz he can and nobody around them fully learned sign language yet? PLS AND THANK U!!! 💕💕💕

first of all, THANK YOU!! ILYSM!! second, i am BACK!!!! exams went well, i guess. i didnt PASS or FAIL, but whatever.. third, I LOVE THIS IDEA HAHAHHA!!! here is, what I think, a great welcoming back gift to give u all ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ (ignore that Kaminari's text is blue..there's no yellow. ALSO, mina is NAWT taking pink. thats OUR color now.)

Of Silence and Secrets

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Pro Hero!Bakugou x AFAB!Pro Hero!Reader

…..

Bakugou Katsuki hated his hearing aids.

Hated how they fit, hated how they felt, and most of all, hated what they represented. Weakness. A crack in the armor he’d spent his entire life forging. When the ringing in his ears started as a brat in middle school, he didn’t think much of it. Just the fallout from a quirk-boosted explosion, nothing he couldn’t handle.

Years passed. The ringing grew into dull hums, muffled voices, and missed sounds. A villain’s retreating taunt he couldn’t catch. The screech of a car he didn’t hear. Kirishima shouting his name three times before Bakugou finally turned around, snarling, “What the hell do you want!?” while Kirishima just looked… worried.

His hearing aids were a damn nuisance. At least, that’s what he told himself every single day.

They whined if someone got too close, buzzed when he adjusted them wrong, and gods forbid he so much as grazed them during a fight—one hard knock, and they’d go flying. He could hear again, sure, but better hearing came at a price: realizing just how insufferably loud the world actually was. Katsuki had spent months in denial, refusing to accept that his ears, like the rest of his high-octane life, couldn’t keep up with him.

The ringing had started in his late teens, growing louder until it followed him everywhere. He blamed it on the explosions, the debris, the constant yelling—but really, he knew. His mom did too, though she’d spared him the lecture until the day Kirishima cornered him in his agency office with a sheepish grin and her voice on speakerphone.

“Katsuki.” The way she said his name—sharp, biting, and so unlike her usual bark of “Oi, you brat!”—made his stomach drop. “What if somethin’ happens? What if you miss an evac order or—hell—a cry for help? Hah? What then?”

“… Tch.” He had scowled so hard it hurt. “Fine. I’ll get the damn things.”

The intervention was humiliating, but the worst part? She was right. He hated that more than anything.

That was the first night he slept with the hearing aids sitting on the nightstand. He’d finally picked them up after a year of constant badgering—from his mom, Kirishima, hell, even that damn Deku. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear better—it was the admission that killed him.

But now? Now the stupid things were glued to him. Mostly.

The tech was incredible, of course. Damn nerds at Hero Support had outdone themselves. The hearing aids didn’t just amplify sound; they filtered it, isolating voices during chaos and syncing with comm units. They were waterproof, explosion-proof—Bakugou-proof. Allegedly.

But they weren’t indestructible. He’d broken five pairs in six months. Kaminari had nicknamed him “Break-aid” after the third replacement. Bakugou threatened to shove them where the sun didn’t shine.

And yet… they worked. Too well.

He could hear the scratch of pens during hero conferences, the obnoxious tapping of Kaminari’s foot against the table, the quiet sigh of his own breath. The worst part? The incessant talking. It was everywhere. Fans, reporters, civilians—people who thought their every word needed an audience.

Thankfully, he’d discovered the mute button.

The first time he used it, Kaminari was midway through a rant about his latest gadget. Bakugou, in a rare moment of self-control, didn’t yell. He just flicked the switch, leaned back in his chair, and smirked as Kaminari kept babbling. No explosions, no shouting, just blissful silence.

But there were downsides.

Combat was a nightmare when they broke. Shouting “HUH!?” every five seconds wasn’t exactly strategic. That’s when he decided to learn sign language. Not because anyone suggested it—hell no. But because he’d be damned if he relied on a gadget to do his job.

The process was… frustrating. Hands clumsy, movements stiff. Kirishima tried to help, but his signs were barely legible. Kaminari? Useless. Sero was too busy laughing to be much better or resorted to typing in the Notes app on his phone when it was pretty serious. Deku? That nerd had picked it up in a week, naturally.

But you? You made it bearable.

“Like this,” you’d said, your fingers forming a perfect sign. “Thumb tucked in.”

Bakugou grumbled, but copied you.

“Good. See? That wasn’t so bad, was it, ’Suki?”

Your patience annoyed him almost as much as it calmed him. And somehow, over weeks of practice, his stiff movements turned fluid. He’d never admit it, but he liked having this… language, this connection, with you.

And then he realized something else.

You understood him. Not just the signs, but him. The sharpness he couldn’t quite soften, the quiet gratitude he couldn’t voice. And better yet? No one else around him could understand a damn thing he was saying.

It started innocently enough—well, innocent by his standards.

“Bored out of my goddamn mind,” he’d signed at you during a hero conference.

You’d smirked and replied, “Same.”

But then, Bakugou being Bakugou, had an epiphany: he could sign anything.

The first time he tried it, you were sitting across from him at a formal hero banquet. The room was filled with pro heroes, reporters, and politicians. Everyone was dressed to the nines, sipping champagne and pretending the world wasn’t on fire outside.

Bakugou caught your eye and, with the most deadpan expression, signed: Wanna fuck?

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly knocked your glass over. You choked, coughing into your hand, and when someone asked if you were okay, you waved them off, avoiding his gaze.

He smirked, sipping his water like he hadn’t just propositioned you in a room full of Japan’s elite.

…..

It got worse.

During a meeting with the Hero Public Safety Commission, while a bureaucrat droned on about policy changes, Bakugou’s hands moved under the table. He made sure you were looking before signing: I’d rather have you ride me than sit here with these extras.

You froze mid-note, the pen slipping from your fingers. Your face burned as you ducked your head, pretending to scribble something in your notebook. Across the room, Kirishima noticed your sudden movement.

“Hey, you good?” he whispered.

“Fine!” you squeaked, glaring at Bakugou.

He tilted his head, feigning confusion, then casually leaned back in his chair. He looked so smug you wanted to scream.

At a press conference, surrounded by the press corps, TV cameras, and the elite of the hero world, Bakugou stood stiffly at the podium, bored out of his skull. Beside him, you shuffled the note cards you’d prepared, doing your best to stay focused on Midoriya’s answer to a question about villain reform strategies.

Bakugou glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, smirking at how focused you looked. That only made the idea pop into his head faster. He adjusted his stance, one hand casually coming up to rub his neck as the other signed with precision:

I’d fuck you so hard over this podium, the microphones would short out.

Your brain stalled like a computer blue-screening. The cards slipped from your hands, scattering onto the stage floor. You froze in horror as a sea of reporters looked up from their notebooks.

Midoriya, ever the anxious public speaker, stopped mid-sentence. “Uh, are you okay?” he asked.

“Y-yeah! Just... clumsy!” you stammered, dropping to your knees to collect the cards. You didn’t dare look at Bakugou, whose hand came up to his mouth as though stifling a yawn—but you knew he was hiding a smirk.

To make things worse, while you scrambled on the floor, he signed again, deliberately slower so you couldn’t miss it:

Would’ve pulled your hair too, just to hear you scream.

Your face burned so hot you were sure you’d melt through the stage.

It didn’t stop there.

At the next agency-wide meeting, Bakugou sat across from you in the conference room, arms crossed as a pro-hero you couldn't bother to listen to went on and on about new combat protocols. The room was packed with pro heroes, all seated shoulder-to-shoulder.

Bakugou, who’d already tuned out after the first ten minutes, caught your gaze and raised an eyebrow. Before you could react, his hands moved subtly under the table:

I’d eat you out on this table, right in front of everyone, and make sure you couldn’t stay quiet.

The coffee cup in your hand slipped, splashing onto your notes. You cursed under your breath, grabbing napkins to clean the mess.

Kirishima, sitting beside you, leaned over. “Whoa, you okay? You’ve been jumpy lately.”

You forced a smile, not daring to look at Bakugou, whose expression remained infuriatingly neutral. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

It became a game to him.

While Kirishima nodded and went back to his notes, Bakugou adjusted in his chair and signed again:

Bet you’d cry if I used my mouth the way I’m thinking. Probably beg me to stop—but you wouldn’t really mean it.

You slammed your pen down so hard it startled Kaminari, who glanced over with a confused look.

“You good?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you snapped, refusing to look up.

Across the table, Bakugou leaned back, feigning boredom, but his eyes glinted with amusement.

It escalated during a casual outing with the crew.

Everyone had gathered at a bustling ramen joint after a long patrol, crowding into a booth that was way too small for so many people. Bakugou sat to your right, thigh pressed against yours under the table. As the conversation flowed around him, he picked up a pair of chopsticks and casually started eating.

Then, as Mina told a story about her latest villain takedown, he turned his head slightly toward you and signed with one hand:

The things I’d do to you under this table would make you scream so loud they’d kick us out.

You froze, chopsticks hovering mid-air. He didn’t even blink, slurping his noodles like he hadn’t just dropped a verbal nuke into your lap.

“What’s wrong?” Mina asked, noticing your deer-in-headlights expression.

“Uh… spicy broth,” you choked out, grabbing your water and gulping it down.

Bakugou, still chewing, glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and added another one for good measure:

Bet I could make you cum without anyone noticing. Wanna test that theory?

You almost choked on your drink, coughing so hard Kirishima patted your back in concern.

At a charity event, he raised the bar again.

The ballroom was filled with reporters, politicians, and wealthy donors, all eager to mingle with Japan’s most famous heroes. Bakugou hated these events with a burning passion, but at least you were there to make it tolerable.

You stood beside him, chatting politely with a group of businessmen, when you felt his gaze on you. Slowly, you turned your head, already dreading what was coming.

He didn’t disappoint. With the straightest face you’d ever seen, he signed:

You’d look so much better on your knees, with my cock down your throat, than in that dress.

Your hand shot out, nearly spilling your champagne as you fumbled to keep your composure. The Pro Hero you were speaking to paused mid-sentence, giving you a concerned look.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

“I—I’m fine,” you stuttered, setting the glass down before you could break it.

Bakugou tilted his head innocently, signing again:

Bet you’d love it if I bent you over that balcony upstairs. Bet you’d be dripping by the time I was done.

Your jaw dropped, and you 'accidentally' kicked his shin under the table. He didn’t even flinch.

It wasn’t just formal settings, either. Bakugou would strike anywhere.

During a team training session, you were sparring with Kaminari while Bakugou watched from the sidelines. When you finally landed a clean hit, knocking Kaminari flat on his ass, Bakugou clapped slowly, catching your attention.

Wanna know what else you could knock flat? Me. On my back. With you riding me till I forget my own goddamn name.

Your sparring stance faltered, and Kaminari took the opportunity to trip you.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked, offering a hand to help you up.

“I’m fine!” you snapped, shooting a glare at Bakugou, who was grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

The worst of all came during a live broadcast.

The Hero Public Safety Commission had organized a televised Q&A with Japan’s top heroes. You sat between Bakugou and Midoriya, fielding questions from both the moderator and the live audience. Bakugou had been unusually quiet for most of the event, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded.

But then, while the moderator addressed Midoriya, Bakugou caught your attention.

His hands moved lazily, almost imperceptibly, as he signed:

After this, I’m gonna pin you to the wall in the dressing room and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk out of here straight.

Your eyes widened, and you immediately looked away, heart hammering in your chest.

“And what about you?” the moderator asked, pulling your attention back to the present.

“I—I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?” you stammered, cheeks flaming.

Beside you, Bakugou leaned back in his chair, smirking as the moderator repeated the question. His hands shifted again, just enough for you to catch his next message:

If you blush any harder, they’re gonna think you’re into this.

You resisted the urge to scream.

Because, for Bakugou, nothing was funnier than watching you squirm. And knowing you were the only one who could decode his filthy little secrets? That was just the icing on the cake.

…..

Over time, the signing became a secret game. A language only the two of you shared, even if it was insanely one sided. In battle, it was strategic—efficient, silent communication when words couldn’t cut through the noise. Off the field? It was something else entirely.

After a particularly grueling patrol, Bakugou flopped onto the couch beside you, tugging his hearing aids out and tossing them onto the table.

“Another shitty day,” he muttered.

You hummed in agreement, leaning against him.

Without thinking, he signed: You’re the only thing that doesn’t piss me off.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Nothin’, Cupcake. Just watch the TV..”

And for once, you didn’t press.

Because sometimes, silence said enough.

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clown-demon · 1 day ago

Note

"Yes, we are very aware this is a dangerous job, but I do not plan to let I nor Dazai-kun ever bite the dust~. Love gives you strength to overcome any such things that might be a danger to the one you love's life~."

It might sound like a cliche saying, but it was true.. Nikolai didn't know what overcame him, but when Dazai was in danger, or his kids, an unknown force of strength entered him, and he'd kill anything that endangered his loved ones...

"Besides-- I am sure you can find a capable woman who is able to fend for herself~. I have an idea of maybe WHO you could maybe meet, but ah-- she's not exactly a normal looking human... But she's got a heart of gold~!" It was one person was Bailey but... the mutant was not your average looking human...

"I wouldn't know how to be a Husband if I tried. Besides, I know how cheerful you both are, but did it never occur to you that this is a dangerous job and we could all die at any time? I'd rather not drag an innocent woman into it."

"Of course that's occurred to us. We're not stupid, Kuni-kun." Dazai waved a hand in the other's direction. "We have a plan in place for the children and the animals in case something happens to us."

#kitxkatrp #I don't wanna live a day without you; I just wanna be the one that makes you happy / NikoZai #Hey put on a happy face; Then everything's okay / Nikolai #Take it back to the start; I've had a change of heart / ADA V.

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satorulovebot · 9 hours ago

Text

cursed seas chapter six | the lakes

pairing — satoru gojou x fem!reader

summary — all your life you’ve been taught to hate pirates and the sins they have committed against god. you've always strived to be a good citizen upholding the law and avoiding the lawless, but when you meet the infamous captain gojou, known to be dangerous and cunning, you realize that survival in this world often requires sacrifices. sometimes, that sacrifice is your sanity.

word count — 5.6k

warnings — nsfw (minors dni), explicit sexual content, fellatio, cunnilingus, explicit smut, profanity, alcohol consumption, heavy angst, age difference

notes — this is like my second time writing smut in like 2 years gimmie a break pls. anyways. hello to my cursed seas babies, don't worry i will never abandon my og child you can be assured its my first priority, unless i have writers block which unfortunately happened and thats why this chapter is short and why i SEVERELY dislike it. enjoy ;)

series masterlist // pinterest moodboard // general masterlist

♪ the lakes — taylor swift

previous chap. you're on your own, kid | next chap. (coming coon)

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of your father's small, cozy home, casting warm light across the room as you silently folded the last of your clothing into a worn leather bag.

Your father sat at the table in the dining room, watching you with a pensive expression, his hands resting on his lap. It had been a few days since you returned to Elysport, and in that time, he had treated you like the little girl he had lost so many years ago. Considering your relationship over the last few years, the affection he had shown you was more than you had expected.

“Are you sure you want to go? There might be another way to find out what happened to your mother.”

You paused, looking down at your packed bag before facing him. “Father I’m sure. There are things I need to know—about Mom. And I think this is the only way I will get any answers.”

He frowned, his brows furrowing. “Alright, but promise me something—promise me you’ll be safe.”

You nodded. “I promise,” you whispered.

He wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. You didn't want to leave, not really. This small part of Elysport, your father’s home—it was a sanctuary compared to the madness of the ship you were about to return to. But you had made your choice and you knew that you couldn’t stay here forever.

“I’ll be back,” you said softly, “Soon.”

Your father smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be here, waiting.”

With a final glance around the room, you hoisted your bag over your shoulder and headed for the door.

Making your way through the streets of Elysport gave you time to think about what going back to Gojou’s ship meant. And it meant diving headfirst into a world of chaos once again and having to face him after everything that had happened.

And you didn't like that idea.

The docks soon came into view and you could see the massive silhouette of Gojou’s ship towering above the rest. You hesitated as you stood at the pier's edge, watching crew members bustling about, preparing for the next leg of their journey.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and began walking toward the gangplank. You found him near the helm overseeing his ship as he usually would. When he spotted you approaching, his eyes widened briefly before narrowing in that familiar way that made your stomach twist.

“Back already?”

You set your bag down, taking a deep breath before answering. “I told you I’d be back last night.”

Gojou’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. He looked at you for a moment before shrugging and turning his attention back to the crew.

"Well, you're just in time. We're setting sail soon. Grab your things and get ready."

You waited for more—some snide comment, some half-hearted insult—but it never came. His voice lacked that usual bite and he avoided directly looking at you, which was strange in itself.

It was strange, this new version of him—one that didn’t bark orders or throw insults your way at every opportunity.

It was... comforting in a way.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of something bright—a familiar tuft of pink hair. Yuuji was perched high in the crow's nest, his energy impossible to miss, even from afar. He instantly noticed you, his face lighting up as he waved enthusiastically, calling your name across the deck. You couldn’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through you at the sight of him. His energy was infectious and his kindness was a rare comfort. You lifted your hand in return, waving back.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you found yourself standing near the railing watching the waves lap against the side of the ship. You heard footsteps behind you and turned to see Captain Gojou approaching.

He leaned against the railing beside you, his gaze fixed on the horizon. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between the two of you like a taught wire.

“You won’t ask why I let you back so easily?”

You glanced at him, surprised by the question. “I figured you just wanted to get rid of me as soon as possible,” you said, your words laced with a hint of bitterness.

Gojou chuckled, though there was no real humor in it. “Yeah, well... maybe I’m not as heartless as you think.”

You raised an eyebrow, not sure if you believed him. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He winced at that, and for a moment, you thought he might snap back at you, but instead, he just sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not good at this... at any of this. You want to hate me, I get that. Hell, maybe I deserve it. But I’m trying, alright?” His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. The Gojou standing next to you wasn’t the arrogant, reckless captain you had grown accustomed to.

“I don’t hate you,” you said quietly. “But you make it really hard sometimes.”

Gojou let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m good at that.” He paused, his expression softening. “But I meant what I said. You did good back there. And... I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you.”

You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe the Gojou who you had kissed so desperately in that hotel room was not as far away as you thought. The waves lapped steadily against the ship’s hull, the sound calming as you stood in silence next to Gojou.

“About earlier,” he began. “When I left your room… I just—” He paused, seemingly frustrated, like he was trying to find the right words. “I didn’t mean to be such an ass.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden confession. “You always mean to be an ass.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But not like that. Not this time.”

You turned to face him, fully leaning against the railing. The fading evening light casting shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the pale strands of his hair that moved gently with the breeze. When you looked at him, you didn’t see the infamous captain you had grown to know—he looked… tired.

“It’s not like you to apologize. What’s going on?”

He frowned, his gaze dropping to the deck below, his hand absently drumming against the wooden railing. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “It’s just… you’ve been different. This whole situation has been different.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he began slowly, as if testing each word before saying it, “I don’t know why I keep pushing you away when I don’t want to.”

Your heart fluttered at his confession. He wasn’t the type to open up easily—especially about things like this. And for him to admit that he didn’t want to push you away… it was almost too much to process.

“But you do,” you pointed out, your voice barely above a whisper. “You push me away every chance you get.”

He let out a long sigh, his head dropping for a moment before he straightened, running a hand through his hair. “I know. It’s just… easier, I guess.” His gaze finally met yours, and the sincerity in his blue eyes was enough to take your breath away. “I’ve lost a lot of people. Crew, friends, family.” His voice grew quieter. “It’s easier not to get attached.”

“And me?” you asked softly, your voice barely above the sound of the waves. “Am I just another person to lose?”

Gojou hesitated, his gaze never leaving yours. “I don’t want you to be.”

This wasn’t just the arrogant, reckless captain speaking—this was Satoru, the man behind the mask. And the way he looked at you in that moment, like he was finally seeing you for the first time, sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could say anything more, Gojou spoke again, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “You’re really leaving your father for this?” he asked, his eyes flicking to your bag.

You nodded. “I need to know the truth about what happened to my mother. And… I need to find that treasure and be with the map.”

A shadow crossed his face at the mention of the map, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the horizon, his jaw clenched tight. You knew he didn’t like talking about the map—it was the one thing that seemed to come between the two of you time and time again.

“I’ll take you back onboard. But I need you to understand something.” He turned to face you fully now, his expression serious. “This isn’t a game. Whatever you’re getting yourself into with Sukuna, it’s dangerous. It's more dangerous than you realize. I don’t trust him or whatever he is up to.”

Sukuna.

That must have been the man with the pink hair you were talking to in the marketplace. You didn’t expect Gojou to know who he was, or at least know him enough to have that look on his face.

“I know,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze. “But I have to do this.”

Then, slowly, Gojou nodded, as if finally accepting your decision. “Fine,” he said, his voice resigned. “But if anything happens, I’ll kill Sukuna myself.”

Without another word, Gojou turned and began walking back toward the ship, his usual swagger returning with each step. You followed, your heart pounding in your chest, the thought of what lay ahead heavy on your mind.

Captain Gojou leaned against the ship's railing, gazing out at the ocean and the small port where they’d docked. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and workers from the docks were beginning to head home. His crew had grown restless after days without a break, so he’d ordered a stop at a quieter port for some shore leave. But he hadn’t been completely honest about why he gave the order—it was mostly for the map. He wanted a chance to study it carefully and had recently decided they would soon start the journey it promised, especially now that you had rejoined them. The treasure it led to was dangerous, and he knew he’d need a solid plan if he, you, and his crew were going to make it out alive.

After a moment of contemplation, he looked over his shoulder and spotted you coming up from below deck. He grinned, giving you a casual wave. “Looks like everyone’s scattered,” he said. “You wanna go for a walk?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh, sure. But what’s the reason?”

“Because I asked you nicely, Y/N.”

“Fine, I could use some fresh air anyway. Your ship’s unnaturally stuffy.”

Before the two of you departed the ship, Gojou made his way to his captain’s quarters to stow the map away safely. You assumed it was for security reasons, considering how much of a pain in the ass he’d been when trying to take it from you. After he returned, you both took off your shoes and walked down the gangplank together, stepping into the shallow water and heading down the beach toward the port town. Gojou’s ship was too large to fit in the small port, so he’d had to anchor it a little way off the coast. It was a bit of a hassle, but you didn’t mind.

You and Gojou had made it halfway down the beach before he broke the silence. "You know, I wasn't born a pirate."

You turned to him, surprised by his revelation. "Really? I wouldn't have guessed. Although, now that I think about it, you seem like a child who was spoiled far more than he should have been."

He gave a small shrug. "Pretty much. When I was a child, I ran away from home. I had met a young pirate, the same age as me, and he showed me another side of life. The place where I grew up felt like a prison and I wanted out."

"Oh. What happened?" you asked quietly.

"My family… my family had high expectations for me. They expected me to marry another girl from a rich family, a girl I had never met, a girl I didn't love. They expected me to be the head of the family when my father died and live up to the Gojou family legacy. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I left in the middle of the night. No one came looking, either.” His voice softened. “Guess they were happy to be rid of me.”

"Was it hard to live like that?"

"I stole for a little while, I had no name, no ship, and barely any money. After a few months to a year, I was able to make a living for myself and I never looked back."

“You never went back? Not even to see how your family is doing?”

"No, my father was a bastard and could have given two shits about how his own family felt about him. I actually spent some time living in Saltstone Port when I was eighteen, it wasn't too bad. You used to live there, right?"

Wait how did he know that?

"Anyway, we're almost there, do you wanna find a bar? Since you know, you like drinking."

“Who said I like drinking?”

“I did,” he said with a smirk.

And that's how the two of you found yourself in a dimly lit corner of a booth, ordering round after round as a way to “unwind” as Gojou said. Somehow, unwinding meant downing enough drinks to make the room spin.

“To—” He paused, squinting at you. “To us, and to making it through yet another day without you murdering me,” he toasted, raising his mug with a smirk. You clinked your glass against his as you sipped, feeling the warmth of the alcohol seep into your veins. As the alcohol loosened you up, you began telling Captain Gojou things you shouldn’t have, things you probably won’t remember in the morning.

As the night went on, the two of you began inching closer and closer to each other. At some point, he’d moved his arm around your shoulders, and you’d stopped noticing, letting yourself melt into his warmth.

“Y’know,” he slurred, eyes glassy as he looked at you. “I always thought I was fine alone.”

You tilted your head, blinking slowly as you tried to focus on his face, which kept swimming in and out of view. “That so?” you mumbled, giggling as you took another sip of your drink. “Thought you liked being all ‘mysterious and distant,’ Captain.”

“I… I dunno.”

Your heart did a funny little skip, and you glanced up at him, your gaze meeting his. “Maybe it’s the drinks talking,” he muttered. “Or maybe it’s just…you make things… less lonely.”

Gojou,” you started, but before you could finish, he leaned in, his lips brushing your forehead in a clumsy, affectionate gesture.

“I like having you around,” he mumbled. His gaze flicked down to the empty glasses on the table. “But we should… get back to the ship, yeah?”

You could barely remember the journey back to the ship. When you made it back to his ship, you stumbled towards his captain’s quarters, exhausted from your night out. As you reached his bed, you tugged on your shirt, frowning. “Ugh, I can’t sleep in this. It’s filthy.” The fabric was sticky and wrinkled, and the thought of crawling into bed with it on was almost unbearable.

Gojou chuckled, leaning against the doorframe with a lopsided grin. “You’re a bit of a handful, you know that?”

Ignoring his teasing, you started to strip off your clothes, too tired and too drunk to care about modesty. You caught the faintest widening of his eyes before he quickly looked away, a strange sort of awkwardness flashing over his face.

“Better than being boring,” you retorted, your voice muffled as you ducked under the covers, the warmth of the bed wrapping around you. The soft linens felt heavenly, and you sank into them with a sigh, your eyes already drifting shut.

“Goodnight, Gojou,” you murmured, barely managing to keep your eyes open as you watched him from beneath half-closed lids.

“Goodnight,” he said softly. He hesitated, his hand resting on the doorframe for a moment longer, before he finally slipped out of the room, leaving you to the gentle lull of sleep.

When morning came, the sunlight filtered softly through the small window. You stretched, blinking sleepily as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. The memory of the previous night came flooding back, and as you shifted beneath the covers, you became very aware that you were still bare under the blanket. You stifled a groan, recalling your insistence on sleeping without your filthy clothes, and your face flushed with embarrassment. At least Gojou had seemed too out of it to really care.

Quickly, you climbed out of bed, searching the room until you found your discarded clothes from the night before. You tugged them on hastily, smoothing out the wrinkles and trying to compose yourself as best you could.

You stepped out onto the deck, the salty morning air filling your lungs as you glanced around. You wanted to ask him something, and to ask him that something you needed to find him first. You managed to find him perched on a higher part of the deck. Noticing your footsteps, he turned around and before he could speak you opened your mouth first.

“I need a bath.”

The words left your mouth with a bluntness that surprised even you. You were covered in grime from the ship and smelled like salt from the sea, it made every inch of your skin itch for a proper soak. After days of being at sea, all you wanted to do was feel clean.

“Well, this place doesn’t exactly have the best facilities for that,” he said, surveying the streets. “But… I might know a spot.”

You tilted your head. “Not exactly helpful, Captain.”

“Follow me, then. It’s a bit of a walk, but if you’re willing, I’ll show you a river that’s a hell of a lot nicer than any of the baths in town.”

You and Gojou made your way out of the port city and through winding paths that eventually opened up to a dense forest just beyond the edge of town. Gojou was quiet as he guided you through the bush towards the spot, glancing back at you every now and then.

The two of you reached a clearing where the trees parted to reveal a serene river winding through the open land. The water sparkled underneath the sun, so crystal clear and inviting it nearly hurt to look at.

“Not bad, huh?” Gojou said, standing beside you.

“It’s… beautiful.”

Gojou shrugged, feigning indifference. “It’ll do the job. Go on.”

Your gaze looked to him as he leaned against a tree, arms crossed, watching you with a smirk. “What, you think I’m just going to strip down right here?” you teased.

“Not my fault if you can’t handle a little river bath. Besides, who’s gonna see?”

With a deep breath, you started to peel off your outer layers, feeling the rough fabric leave your skin before carefully folding it on a rock nearby. You kept your eyes trained on the river, trying to ignore that he was sneaking glances, but you secretly didn’t mind. You turned to meet his gaze before turning your back to him, realizing how close the two of you actually were.

Once you shimmied out of the rest of your clothes, you waded into the river, the chill of the water sending goosebumps through your body. You went deeper into the water, washing away the grime and heat of the day. When you turned back, you saw that Gojou hadn't moved from his spot; he simply watched from where he stood.

“You know, the water’s plenty big enough for two,” you called out to him, splashing in his direction with a grin. “Or are you too scared of a little cold?”

Something mischievous sparkled in his eyes. You think I’m scared of a little cold water?”

He began unbuckling his belt with a smirk, tugging his shirt over his head and dropping it onto the ground. His toned frame caught the sunlight, the faint scars scattered across his torso telling stories he rarely spoke of. “Let’s see who’ll be begging to get out first,” he teased.

Your eyes trailed down his body as he began walking into the water. When your eyes made it toward his pelvis before you had to stop yourself from going any lower, reminding yourself it was indecent.

“It's as warm as the sea,” you teased, floating on your back and letting the gentle current carry you.

“No, but it’s a hell of a lot quieter.”

The two of you were naked, but you didn’t seem to mind, and neither did he.

“So, where did you learn to be so comfortable in the water?” he asked, kicking lazily as he floated beside you.

“My father,” you replied, glancing up at the canopy of leaves overhead. “He used to bring me to rivers like this when I was a kid. Said it was the best way to wash away the world for a while.”

Gojou nodded thoughtfully, his eyes studying you. “Smart man.”

You chuckled, meeting his gaze again. “He is. Sometimes I wonder if I’m disappointing him by being… here.” You gestured around you. “Running off to play pirate with people that are hardly respectable.”

“You’re not disappointing anyone,” he murmured, the words so soft you almost missed them. “And, honestly, I think it’s brave. Not many would have the guts to do what you’ve done.”

“Thanks,” you said quietly.

Gojou continued to float nearby as sunlight filtered through the trees overhead. He didn't try to hide the way his eyes roamed over your body, and you could feel he was growing bolder by the minute.

"You know, you clean up real nice," he muttered, his voice lower than usual.

You let out a small chuckle, feeling your cheeks warm under his intense stare. "I could say the same for you."

Silence enveloped the two of you as he drifted closer, standing up when he got close to you. You were in a shallow part of the water, which made the water about waist height. It was unfortunate that it was the only thing that covered his lower half because it was see-through. His fingers came up to brush your arm, lingering for a moment too long, the feeling sending a shiver down your spine.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you two, standing so close that you could feel his warm breath fan your face. His hand drifted to your waist, feeling the soft, plush skin before sliding his hand around your back as his other hand came up to trace along your jaw. When you leaned in, you found yourself tilting your head up, your lips parting instinctively.

The kiss was soft at first, testing the waters in a way the two of you had only done once before. But then the kiss deepened, his fingers tightening on your waist as if he was afraid to let go. You let yourself melt into him, your own hands finding their way to his broad shoulders as you traced the muscles there, losing yourself in the kiss.

Gojou shifted the two of you, pressing you gently against the smooth edge of a nearby rock. One hand braced himself beside you against the rock with the other made its way down your backside.

His lips trailed along your jawline, sending sparks throughout your body, and when he kissed you again, it was like he was claiming something he had not dared touch before.

The kiss slowed as both of you caught your breath, still tangled in each other's arms as you steadied yourselves. Gojou's lips hovered near yours, his expression filled with desire.

"Hey," he murmured, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “If you're up for it… we don’t have to stay out here." His fingers traced gentle circles against your back. “There’s places in town. Places a bit more... private.”

You felt your pulse quicken and your heart race at his suggestion. “Yeah... let’s go.”

Neither of you wasted another second. Hands fumbling, you slipped back into your clothes, laughter and shared glances filling the space between you. Gojou helped you fasten a few buttons that wouldn’t cooperate. Once dressed, the two of you scrambled over rocks and brush, the cool evening air sharp against your skin after your bath—but in the heat of the moment, you hardly noticed.

You made your way back the way you came, with Satoru practically dragging you through town, looking for somewhere that wouldn’t ask too many questions. The sky was now dark, and the nightlife of the port had begun. Finally, he stopped in front of a modest hotel along a quiet street, breathing heavily from his excitement.

“Here,” he said.

You both hurried inside, catching the attention of the older man at the front desk. His eyebrow lifted as he eyed the two of you, taking in your windswept appearance and the clear look of anticipation you both wore. He sighed, passing you a key with a knowing look. “Just… keep it down, eh?”

A mischievous laugh escaped Gojou as he snagged the key and tossed you a wink. “No promises."

The two of you dashed up the narrow staircase, careful not to trip in your haste. When you finally found the room, Gojou fumbled with the key, his hands practically trembling as he tried to unlock the door. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him—a pirate captain, renowned for his cool composure, completely undone by anticipation.

“Need some help?" you teased, biting back a grin.

“Hey, keep that up and I might reconsider,” he shot back.

After fumbling with the key for a while, he finally managed to get it inside the lock and unlock the door. The room wasn't much, with only a small bed, a few chairs, and a vanity to decorate it, but it would do.

The two of you stumbled inside the room kissing fervently as he closed the door with his foot. You walked backward, leading him to the small bed in the center of the room.

“You're so beautiful to me,” he spoke in a hushed voice.

Your fingers reach up to his collar, gently pulling him down and pressing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. Nothing prevented you from him when your fingers began to work on the already half-undone buttons of his shirt with slow and deliberate movements.

You continued your path to the bed and before long you felt the back of your legs hit the bed and you fell backwards on the plush cushions. The desire was mutual, you could see it in his eyes, and there was an urgent need to be closer on a level beyond words. Satoru moved his hands up and down your sides, caressing the curve of your back and touching the delicate skin of your waist.

He broke the kiss before moving down to your bust, removing the layers of your clothing to reveal your supple breasts. His pupils were fully blown completely covering his cerulean eyes, wanting to submit to his carnal desires. He leaned down kissing you once more, feeling the slopes of your breasts pressed against his chest in your lip-locking exchange.

You sat up before flipping the two of you over so you could be on top, a wave of confidence overtaking you. You slowly kissed down his body before reaching his trousers and undoing the ties of his breeches. Before you knew it, you were crawling off of his lap and laying on your stomach between his legs.

To be completely honest, you had never pleasured yourself before, let alone a man.

Your eyes widened as you pulled off his breeches, releasing his aching member that revealed a size that was proportional to his height.

"Sweetheart—ngh! Don't tease me like that."

You looked up at him with those beautiful doe eyes he had dreamed about, and he thinks he somehow got harder.

"But what if I want to?"

"Ah fuck, please sweetheart? I'm so hard already," he whined.

"Um, I don't really know how to do this… so please forgive me."

You had a friend back in Elysport who was a courtesan for the wealthy, often having sex with married men for money. You never judged her, as she was a friend, but she had taught you a couple of things including how to give a man a hand job, but you had never thought you would need to use it, not in a situation like this with a man like him.

Satoru looked down at you, and awaiting your next move he decided to wrap a hand around his cock.

"Fuck sweetheart," he moaned. "You don't know how many times I dreamed of doing this with you."

Something inside you awakened when he said that—something bold, you decided to replace his hand with your mouth. His deep and guttural moans were enough to encourage you to keep going and take his entire length.

Your mouth is so warm and fuck babe was all you could hear him say. It gave you a confidence boost hearing his constant praise.

You continued until he suddenly tugged your hair, pulling you off his cock. Frowning, you looked at him wondering why he did that when he seemed to be enjoying it.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I was about to cum."

Disappointed you made your way back up his body, kissing him deeply once more. He flipped the two of you over so he was back on top, kissing your neck and feathering soft kisses around the bruised skin before moving down to your breasts. He alternated between both of them, giving them equal amounts of attention by biting and sucking at the flesh and biting at your nipple.

"S-Satoru," you moaned, arching your back to meet his chest, as he descended further and further own your body to where you needed him the most. On his way down, he muttered a "Lift your legs." before removing your soaked pair of panties that he threw somewhere in the room, not caring where they landed. He was quick to dive head-first into your sopping cunt, lapping at your entrance with his tongue, exploring your walls until you were softly moaning his name.

"Fuck you taste so sweet," you could hear his muffled voice from between your legs. He encircled his thumb on your sensitive bud before looking back at your slit, slightly spreading your lips apart to look at your weeping hole. He sat up, grabbing hold of his cock and rubbing it up and down your slit, teasing you to the point of tears.

"S-Satoru, Please!"

"Fuck. Good Girl," he muttered before sliding himself in.

“Ngh—! Y-You—aaah!” You could feel your body being dragged back and forth, your hips being jostled as he continued to sink himself into you.

He was insatiable, he couldn't get enough of the tightness of your cunt. He was moaning loudly from the feeling of your warm, velvet walls milking his cock. He continued to thrust inside you, sitting up with his hands on your hips, keeping you steady as he rammed his cock inside you.

"That's it, gotta stretch you out," he says. “You’re taking me so well,” he groans, burying his face in your neck.

"Satoru," you moan, your walls clenching around his length. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer as you feel the ends of his soft hair.

He knows what he's doing, and you can feel that smirk he always has on his lips but surprisingly, he peppers kisses on your neck before he pulls away.

"Can you get on all fours?" he asks, halting his thrusts.

Wanting to please him, you quickly get on all fours and he immediately presses you back down onto the mattress. He lifts your ass as you arch your back even more. He palms the flesh of your ass in his hands before entering you once more.

You gasp, clutching the sheets in your small hands. When Satoru notices this he moves to interlock your fingers, pressing his chest against your back to pound into you.

"Satoru, ah—" you whine.

"I know, I know," he grunts. You can feel your walls tightening around his thick cock "Fuck—so good." you moan.

“Gonna make you cum so hard.”

His balls slapping against your ass feels euphoric, leaving you breathless and wanting to reach your orgasm. A couple of more thrusts against your g-spot bring you the most incredible orgasm.

“Fuck Sweetheart, I’m close.”

It takes a few more thrusts before his movements become erratic and you feel his cock twitch inside you. You feel his sweaty forehead drop against your shoulder as you both struggle to catch your breath. After a few moments, he lifts his head off your shoulder and moves to lie next to you. You flip yourself on your side, eyes focused on the ship's wooden panels as your chest heaves.

You feel Satoru shift next to you, pressing his chest to your back as he wraps his arms around you.

“Thank you, baby. Thank you.”

cursed seas taglist: @jaegersity @moonlightlexie @avyshi @sukunadckrider @v4mpieres @arabelluhhh4200 @seikamuzu

note: if you asked to be added to the taglist and i cannot tag you please turn on your tags :)

taglist status: open

#series: cursed seas #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x y/n #jjk gojo #gojo smut #gojo angst #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader

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arc-misadventures · 15 hours ago

Text

A Rebranding

Jaune: Jessica.

Jessica: Jaune...?Jaune! You're here! You're...? Uhhh... W-Who are you?

Coco: Hello.

Jessica: Hi...?

Jaune: Coco here is my partner...

Jessica: P-Partner...?

Jaune: Yes, she is my partner in the, 'Beacons Fashion Trio.'

Jessica: Oh thank gods... not that kind of partner...

Coco: Don't hold your breath love~!

Jessica: EEP?! Y-You head me?!

Jaune: We are here to judge your outfit, and render judgement upon you.

Jessica: J-Judgement...?

Coco: Yes, and be warned; Our judgement bares quite severe consequences...

Jessica: Consequences...? W-What kind of consequences...?

Jaune: Worry not... unless you have something to worry about...?

Jessica: N-N-No... I think...?

Jaune: The judgement begins... with, Jessica's current outfit...

Coco: ...

Jessica: Please have mercy...

Coco: ...

Coco: You look...

Jessica: EEEEEE!?!

Coco: So adorable!

Jessica: Wha...?

Coco: You look so adorable! Oh, I love the shades of greens, are complementized beautifully by the whites, and blacks! And, your hair! I love this shade of green in your hair it is fantastic! And, this mark around your eye! GODS! You are so adorable I could eat you up!

Jessica: W-Wha...?

Jaune: I told you you'd like her outfit. I didn't expect you to like it that much though.

Coco: It's fantastic! I have yet to see a terrible outfit! Why did you want me to judge this adorable hamster!

Jessica: H-Hamster?

Jaune: Well, I wanted you to see her outfit, and how cute, Jessica is...

Jessica: You think I'm cute~?

Jaune: But, I wanted you to judge her super hero 'outfit.'

Coco: Her what?'

Jessica: Oh, he's talking about this:

Coco: HISSSS!!!

Coco: What is that ungodly abomination?!

Jessica: W-What?

Coco: I see seven different styles clashing colours clashing?! Why would they dress you up like that?!

Jaune: Actually... The green ring thingy makes her outfit based on her thoughts... This... thing was her idea...

Coco: (GASP?!)

Coco: You made that thing yourself?!

Jessica: Y-Y-Yes...?

Coco: ...?!

Coco: BURN IT WITH FIRE! BURN HER ALONG WITH IT!!! CLEANSE THE UNIVERSE OF THIS ABOMINATION!!! NOW?!!?!?!

Jaune: Now now. Coco... We're not doing that. We're here to fix this... And, I have an idea how to fix this... Oi! Stop biting me!

Coco: Let me at her! Let me destroy the cute hamster!

Jaune: No. You'll be sad if you destroy the cute hamster. And, at potential fashion redesign... Probably more than that one...

Coco: Fashion redesign...?

Jaune: Yes... We can think of a new outfit for her to wear, one that isn't an ungodly abomination.

Coco: A non-ungodly abomination...

Jaune: And, I have a perfect idea for an outfit.

Coco: You do?

Jaune: Yes. This one...

Coco: ...?

Jessica: ...?

Jaune: So what do you two think of it?

Coco: ...

Jessica: ...

Coco: I love it!

Jessica: Its gorgeous!

Jaune: Ha, knew it.

Jessica: I can change my outfit right now!

Jessica: How do I look?! How do I look?!

Coco: OHH~! That's such an elegant outfit on you, Jessica! The colours compliment you so perfectly! I love it so much! You look beautiful!

Jessica: this is the coolest outfit I ever wore in my whole life! Everyone is going to be so jealous of my awesome style! Jaune thank you so much! This new outfit is amazing!

Coco: I agree with, Jessica, Jaune. That is a beautiful outfit. You've out done yourself.

Jaune: To be fair, anything is better than her previous outfit.

Coco: True. So, Jessica you up to celebrating a new outfit?

Jessica: Sure!

Jessica: ...

Jessica: How?

Coco: First: We strip, Jaune of his~!

Jaune: For a new outfit right?

Coco: (Wiggles eyebrows~!)

Jaune: For a new outfit right...?

Jessica: Let's do this!

Jaune: Oh no...

#rwby #jaune arc #coco adel #jessica cruz #coco x jaune #jaune x coco #jaune x jessica #jessica x jaune #rwby french roast #rwby knightlight #rwby colourguard

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muchosbesitos · 18 hours ago

Text

RUNNIN’ OUT OF TIME!— miguel o’hara x fem reader

after countless missed dates and hundreds of text messages gone unanswered, you’d grown okay with the negligence from miguel towards your marriage. only coming to your breaking point after he missed your daughter’s birthday.

contents: angst (lol), mentions of divorce, smut, oral (f receiving), ‘just the tip’, unprotected p in v (wrap it 🫵🏼), doggy, ass spanking (like once), orgasm denial, use of toy (m receiving), switch reader + miguel

author’s note: so i know i said i wasn’t gonna write for him (and the atsv fandom’s pretty dead) but the fic’s my baby so i wanted to repost it 🥹

word count: 11k

There wasn't a big A-Ha! moment when you came to the realization that you loved Miguel O'Hara. The words just slipped out naturally the moment he'd said them to you, like they belonged to him alone. Because in all actuality, they only did belong to him. There was no one else you could see yourself waking up to next in the morning. No one else you wanted to spend time with for the foreseeable future. Maybe it was the memories between the two of you that helped you come to the conclusion that you loved him.

From the time that he carried you back to your shared apartment

Your legs wobbled with every step you took on the concrete, the heels you had on digging into the back of your ankle and the sides of your toes. You didn't have to take the heels off to know that you were mostly likely bleeding. "Wait, Miguel. Just wait up a bit," you were trying to catch up to his long strides, failing miserably with each new sting of pain that shot up your foot. You made a mental note not to wear heels whenever Miguel suggested a 'brisk walk' as a date idea.

He looked back to see you leaning against a pole, taking off your heels for some kind of temporary relief before you continued the rest of the walk. Not that you looked too enthusiastic about that either. Though he couldn't have his pretty girlfriend standing on a dirty sidewalk, could he? With what seemed to be no effort, he took you in his arms and resumed the walk. "How bad's the pain?" He looked down at you once he was sure he wouldn't bump into anyone in a three block radius.

You opened up your mouth to speak, about to tell him that it was bearable enough to the point you could still walk, but he interrupted you by saying, "Don't lie to me because you think you're inconveniencing me. Just tell me the truth." The truth was that you were debating on staying on that sidewalk and calling an Uber at this time of night. Not that he needed to know that, though. "It's not so bad now that you're carrying me," you reluctantly admitted, looking away from him.

If at any point during the night he struggled with the task, he didn't seem to show it. He hadn't even cracked a sweat. Somehow he'd managed to maneuver the front door open, setting you down on the couch with the utmost care necessary. "I'm gonna go get you the first aid kit. Is there something else you need?" You shook your head, laying back onto the couch cushion while you waited for him to come back.

He came back, raising your feet before taking a seat down next to you. He put your feet down on his lap, getting an ointment from the box. You wondered just how many things he had in there for these types of occasions. Throughout the couple months of dating, you'd seen him pull out an ointment for ant bites, scratches, and now blisters. "Try to stay still for me, will you?" He murmured, starting to rub the ointment over the exposed skin. His touch was the gentlest you'd ever felt, barely feeling the subtle brush of his fingers.

"Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana," he hummed as he finished applying the bandages, making sure that they were well wrapped before standing up. You made no attempt to stand up from your spot on the couch just yet, letting your feet recover from wearing those heels for five hours straight. "You need some help getting into the bedroom?" He questioned, scooping you into his arms with that same ease as before when you nodded.

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, my lady."

To the time that he begrudgingly agreed to dance with you in the rain

"Come on, just indulge me a bit," you stood in the middle of the empty road, extending your hand out to him while the rain poured down relentlessly. "I'll indulge you inside where we don't have any chance of catching a cold," he grumbled from his spot on the sidewalk, trying to appear menacing. He really did just look like a sopping wet cat, especially with the way that his brows furrowed slightly. "Mami, let's go. I'll let you dance with me inside, please. Any song you want, too."

You kept your arm extended to him, waiting. You knew that he was bound to fall for your whims any second. He let out a small groan, pushing himself off the sidewalk before walking over to where you were standing. "If you get sick, I won't hesitate to tell you that I told you so," he intertwined his hand with yours, the warmth from his body a nice contrast to the chill air surrounding the two of you. "Do you know how rare it is for Nueva York streets to be this empty?"

Usually, there was at least a mad man that would be running around the streets. Even in these conditions. But the two of you were alone, streetlights illuminating your 'dance floor.' His reluctance seemed to fade away as the two of you swayed on the street, with seemingly no rhythm whatsoever. "If you wanted to sway with me, we could've done that inside," he pointed out, letting out a small snort. "Just because I said I wanted to dance didn't mean that I promised to be good at it."

He guided you through a slow rhythm, his coordination slightly better than what you would've given him credit for. His feet moving to a silent melody in his head. "I was a chambelán at this quince, they had us practice the routine until we ended up crying or collapsing from exhaustion," he spoke up before you had the chance to ask, "But at least it's given me some pretty gnarly dance moves."

"Hey, Miguel?"

"¿Qué paso?"

"Never say 'gnarly' again. You sound older than what you are," you burst out into little giggles at the scoff that left his lips. "I'll let you know that all the scientific studies I've participated on have shown that gnarly's making a comeback."

"Hey, Miguel?" You were debating on if this was the right time to admit what had been threatening to escape your lips for a while now. All you could do was hope that he didn't think that this admission was too soon.

"If you're gonna ask me about the resources that I have for those studies, I don't have them on me now. I'll get them later, though," you could only roll your eyes at his persistence, a laugh bubbling from your chest. Even as the laugh echoed through the empty street, you weren't exactly too concerned with how loud you were being. It wasn't like it compared to the way your heart was beating against your rib cage, your hands starting to clam up in his grasp.

"No, it's not about that. Not that gnarly's making a comeback either way."

"Mark my words. Gnarly. Will. Be. Making. A. Comeback," he accentuated his words carefully, giving you a mock glare before he continued to speak, "But if it's not about that, then what's up?"

The moment of truth. Maybe this was a mistake. You could feel your throat close up, your movements starting to get a little sloppy. Just tell him. His reaction can't be that bad, right? You knew he had no reason to react negatively but every single worst-case scenario started to run through your head relentlessly. "I love you."

"I love you too," while it was the response that you were expecting, it still caught you off-guard. He held your gaze, showing no signs of regret or hesitation as he whispered those words to you. "I don't think that I've loved someone the same way that I love you," and even now, he had to top off your admission. You weren't sure how much time had passed by while the two of you danced away, all that you knew was that the cold tomorrow was probably worth it. If only to say that you got the chance at this experience.

He didn't say anything the next morning when you woke up with a cough, your skin on your nose starting to get raw from how many times you'd gotten up to wipe it. Even though you could tell that he was itching to tell you, the words practically on the top of his tongue if you had to guess. "I got you some chicken soup," he spoke up after you woke up from what seemed to be your 50th nap on the day, the faint aroma from the soup wafting up your stuffy nose.

Definitely worth it.

And even the time that he'd gone up to receive his award with your lipstick all over his face

"I need my good luck kiss, c'mon," he gently pinched your side, a small laugh escaping from your lips as you attempted to push his hand away. "You'll get my lipstick all over you," you pointed out, remembering that the Chanel lipstick you had on was in fact, not transfer-proof. Miguel didn't seem to care too much though, a grin on his face as he leaned in to kiss you. "At least they'll know that my lady loves me."

You'd imprinted the mark of your lips on his cheeks and the tip of his nose, satisfied by the work you'd done when you looked at it. Perhaps you'd gotten a little carried away. Not that he looked bad covered in your red lipstick, by any means. He was no longer Miguel O'Hara, the world-renowned geneticist with more awards under his belt than he could count. He was simply just a love struck idiot with a grin on his face. A love struck idiot for you.

"What time do the awards start again?" You wiped away the lipstick on the side of your mouth and under your lips, grabbing the tube from your purse to fix it. The last thing that the two of you needed was to hear Aaron's snide remarks about how Miguel was incompetent. You went to hand him a clean makeup wipe, but he rejected the advance. "I believe they started about five minutes ago," he responded, pulling his jacket sleeve to look at the watch adorning his wrist.

"Why are you not freaking out about this more?" You questioned him, panic evident on your voice as you pushed everything inside your purse and moved to get out the car. He put his hand on your thigh, gently rubbing it through the material of the silk dress you'd worn for tonight. "Why are you freaking so much about it?" For someone who valued punctuality, he seemed to be oddly calm in this situation. Well, you supposed there was nothing you could do now that you both were late. You took a couple deep breaths, grabbing the stuff you'd missed when you were in a rush.

While you were busy gathering your bearings, he went around the car and opened the door for you. Extending a hand out to you. He grasped your fingers in between his own, helping you with getting out of the car before he even thought of stepping into the building. "They're about to announce your name, O'Hara. Get in there," Delgato hissed as the two of you walked past him, his head craning up to look up at Miguel. "Maybe if you stopped standing in my way, I might be able to."

You could practically see the sheer anger in Delgato's face as he muttered to himself, moving out of the way nonetheless. "Now I know why you end up so stressed," you muttered, making your way down the stairs to take a seat. The room was a bit packed but the two of you managed to find some good seats in the middle. A couple people turned to look at the two of you but their attention was captured once more by the person speaking up on stage. Something about a drug slowing the speed in which some disease grew.

"And now for our next award of the night, please give a hand to Dr. Miguel O'Hara from Alchemax."

The cameras started clicking immediately as soon as he stepped onto the stage, a couple whispers of how unprofessional he was being being shared around in the audience. A couple thank you's were shared, to his lab colleagues and assistants who all simply just nodded upon being acknowledged, before he delved into what the topic of his research had been about. Well, just enough to keep the audience and you entertained. Even though only a couple of the words coming out his mouth actually managed to stick, you couldn't help but listen intently.

To the way that he described his work, with such passion and dedication. The way that he visibly lightened up whenever he got to speak about something that was fascinating to him. Even with all the talk circulating through the audience, you just couldn't help but be so proud of him. His eyes met yours through the sea of people, a smile on his face as he finished with the summary he'd gone over time and time again in front of the bathroom mirror. "Are there any questions?"

He was starting to get agitated, even you could tell from a distance. Well, it's not like you could exactly blame either parties here. The audience wanted to know why he'd shown up with lipstick adorning almost every corner of his face and he wanted to get asked questions about his research. "Any questions that aren't related to my current appearance?" He decided to ask, and it was almost comical how many hands went down. He answered the questions of those who remained, about five. But all he seemed to care about was having your attention in the audience as he spoke.

And while you'd expected him to win tonight, you hadn't expected this. Having him on one knee while you two were supposed to be celebrating his achievement. "So I didn't really prepare a speech before this or anything. But I was just wondering if you'd give me the second win of the night and agree to marry me," As corny as it was, you found yourself nodding to his proposal. "You mean to tell me that worked?" He asked, hesitatingly reaching over to grab your hand to slide the ring on.

"Yes, you idiot. You're acting like I expected anything more from you," you answered, watching as he slid the band on. It was fairly simple, a small stone perched on the middle of it. Your birth stone. "I promise to make you the happiest woman alive," he murmured against your lips, gently tilting your chin so you'd be looking at him. "You already are," it was your turn to be smooth. He let out a small chuckle, his lips gently pressing against yours.

So how did it get to this point?

To the point of having dozens of your calls and messages ignored, and if there was a response, it'd be a simple one-worded response. Enough for you to want to drop the subject all together. Dates between the two of you were a common occurrence, or at least often enough to the point where you didn't have to spend five minutes wondering when the last one had been. Promises left unfulfilled, accumulating only to be left discarded in the dust.

As much as you tried to resist it at first, you started to grow.. okay with it. It felt almost selfish to ask more of him, knowing how much effort he put into making sure that the three of you had a roof over your head. You were able to get a part-time job, giving you more time to spend with Gabriella. A nagging thought kept bugging you though. You married him for the purpose of having him as a husband, not solely a provider. Maybe you weren't as okay with it as you thought.

Your eye twitched when the last balloon was being filled up. How was it that almost every member of his family was capable of showing up and he wasn't? Even some of them came from Mexico for the week. For all the events that he'd missed, you at least would've thought that he would make some attempt to show up for Gabriella's party. You could see her looking around, with the hope of catching a glimpse of her father. It wouldn't hurt to call his work to see what was so important that he couldn't get off, right?

"Alchemax Industries. What can I help you with today?" The receptionist's bored tone came through the other end of the line after spending a couple minutes on hold, your foot irritably tapping against the hardwood floor. All you could do was hope that they wouldn't send you to another line like the previous five times.

"Hi, I'm calling about one of your employees. Miguel O'Hara. I was wondering until what time he was scheduled to work today," you answered quietly, in attempts that no one would overhear. The last thing you needed were any additional comments from his family about how you couldn't keep him around. You listened as the receptionist on the other side started typing out on their computer, silently thanking them.

"¡Te voy agarrar!" You heard yelling behind you, moving to the side before you ended up getting trampled by a bunch of five year olds. "Okay, sorry about taking a while. So about the employee that you're calling, there's a mistake. Miguel hasn't-" The rest of it fell onto deaf ears, your grip on the phone tightening as you struggled to keep up your composure. "Ma'am?" You heard the receptionist ask after a couple moments of silence. The fact that the call had ended hadn't even registered until a while later.

The words kept sounding through your head as the party continued, despite how much you'd tried to drown them out. With water balloon fights in the backyard with some of the kids, karaoke with Gabriella, and the breaking of the piñata. But you couldn't. Your eyes kept darting over to the door, almost expecting to find Miguel walking in at any given moment now. Though you weren't exactly surprised when it remained shut after the first five times that you'd checked. Everyone was having a good time and all you could do was miss him.

Chatter and laughter filled the atmosphere as you made your way through the penthouse, trying to find Gabriella. She'd disappeared right after the cake was cut with the pretense that she needed to use the bathroom about half an hour ago. And while she did spend up to that in the bathroom, it was only really whenever you gave her your cellphone to play around with. And you knew that none of the kids were playing hide and seek. "Gabi!" You called out, searching for her in the guest room.

The last time you'd seen her, she was busy talking with her tías. Nice women, really. Just too involved in finding out whatever chisme they could get out of Gabriella without any regards towards her feelings or the setting they were currently in. You wouldn't be surprised if they brought up the topic of separation to the poor girl. "Hey, have you seen Gabi around?" You didn't even question why Gabriel was exiting one of the rooms with one of your friends, too concerned about Gabi.

Gabriel wiped some spit from the corner of his mouth, shaking his head. "I'll let you know if we find her," he assured you, trying to hide your friend with his body. Like that'd erase the suspicion. Though you guessed it wasn't the right time to go over the whole 'don't hurt them' spiel. You'd do that when you knew your daughter was safe. "Okay, thank you," you told him, going to look for her in the secret spots you knew she liked to hide. In the laundry room. The library. Out in the balcony.

You stepped inside your shared closet with Miguel, not expecting to find her inside. You only really bothered to check as a last resort. But there she was. Her knees pulled up to her chest with her head buried deep in them, sniffling that was almost enough to bring you down to your knees. You walked over to her, sitting down in front of her before gently pulling her hands away from her face.

Only then could you see the extent of her pain. Her cheeks were tear-streaked and her nose was starting to turn pink at the tip from how much she'd been rubbing at it. "What's wrong, mija?" You wiped away the tears that brimmed at the edge of her waterline with your thumb, drying it on your jeans. All you'd been trying to do was make sure she was having a good time at the party and your efforts had all but flopped.

"Why didn't he show up?" With every little crack of her voice, you could feel a piece of your heart shatter. You knew perfectly well who she was referring to her. Just like you'd been waiting for him to arrive, you caught small glimpses of Gabriella searching hopelessly around for her father. "I don't know. I wish I knew what could've been so important but I don't," you whispered, holding her close to your chest. There wasn't any use lying to her, not when you knew she'd look through it.

"Mami, me duele la cabeza," Gabriella spoke up after a couple seconds, looking up at you. You could only guess. From what you could gather, you figured that she must've been crying at least for the previous half hour. "I can't give you any pills.. but I'll read you a story once you lay down for bed," you told her, helping her stand up from her spot on the floor. Gabriella left the closet to go brush her teeth and get ready for bed, leaving you in the deafening silence of the closet.

"Party's over," you announced on your way downstairs, already imagining the flurry of complaints that would come your way. You knew that if it was up to everyone else, they would find a way to keep the party going until two in the morning. After thanking everyone for coming and sending them home with leftovers that would last them through the weekend, you cleaned up the house a bit. Picking up a couple candy wrappers from the floor and sweeping off the multitude of streamers on the floor.

You'd spent the next hour tidying up the house, cleaning up juice stains from your once pristine white floors. Well, at least Gabriella managed to have a good time. Mostly. You'd almost expected her to fall asleep by the time you went back upstairs, but you saw her peering over at you when you opened up the door. "Alright, what story did you want me to read?" You questioned, stepping over to the library she had in the corner of her room. Naming off the first suggestions that appeared in your field of vision. "Can we do The Little Prince?"

Gabriella scooted over on the bed to let you sit down next to her, listening intently as you begin to read the story. Almost like she hadn't been listening to this story for the previous two weeks. At some point, she'd learned some of the passages from memory and began to recite them from the top of her head. You finished the book, half expecting her to still be awake and wanting another book. But no. Her eyes were shut, her arms tightly wrapped around one of her plushies while her breathing slowed down.

"Que sueñes con los angelitos," you whispered, pushing a couple loose strands of her hair back before kissing her forehead. She stirred in her sleep, her grip on the blankets tightening slightly. You moved when she finally managed to still, putting the book back on the shelf where it belonged. Prepping it for tomorrow. You made your way out the room, making sure to leave her night lamp on before shutting the door behind you. At least her headache hadn't bothered her too badly.

You poured yourself a glass of wine from a trip you'd taken with Miguel to Italy, swirling the burgundy liquid around. Much how your own thoughts were currently swirling around without any clear direction. Not your usual drink of choice, you had to admit. But it was a nice distraction. The subtle glow from the moonlight illuminated the otherwise empty room, the quietness almost too much to bear. There was nothing to distract you from the thoughts running rampant inside your head, each one of them leading to what seemed to be the same conclusion.

A divorce.

Even thinking about it felt wrong, though. You and Miguel made a pact upon getting married—stating that no matter how mad the two of you got at one another, that word would never be mentioned. Not even as a joke. But you supposed that was made during a different time. A time where Miguel wouldn't put his family on the back burner simply because of work affairs. A time where you didn't have to come up with excuses for his behavior.

It wasn't just for yourself that you were considering this solution. But also for Gabriella. His absence was starting to affect her in more ways than you could possibly fathom. Not just today for her birthday, but also throughout the last couple months. You could see the different attempts that Gabriella had made to talk to her dad, most of them ending up unsuccessful. Only leaving her more and more confused. Leaving her wondering what she'd done wrong.

"¡Mami!" Gabriella called out from the other room while you were busy finishing up dinner in the kitchen, setting a separate plate for Miguel to put in the microwave. A nudging feeling that you would find the plate the same way you'd left it running through your head. You walked over to Gabi, spotting her in the kitchen table with a coloring book set in front of her. You were almost impressed by how precise she was at such a young age.

She'd managed to color in the photos without going through the lines once. She was always a bit of a perfectionist though, much like her father. It felt like staring at a reflection of a mini Miguel at times. If only he would try to maintain that relationship you knew Gabriella needed in her life.

"Yeah, what's up?" You wiped your hands on a napkin before taking a seat next to her. Looking over at the design on her book, you decided to commit the sight to memory. It wouldn't hurt to search it up later and use it as a form of gift inspiration for her birthday party coming up. "There's this parent career day tomorrow and I was hoping that you could come."

You wouldn't have expected her to ask you for help first. Given that your job mostly consisted of logistics and paperwork most of the day. The last interesting thing that had happened in the office was an affair between one of the CEO's and an intern. "You sure you don't want your dad to go instead?" Even if it wasn't by much, you figured that genetics would be more interesting than how graph analysis works. Gabriella played with her pens, avoiding looking at you.

"What's the point of asking if he's not gonna show up?" She spoke up after a couple moments, a small sigh escaping from your lips. You couldn't lie to her any better than you could lie to yourself, you knew that much. But you at least had to try. If only to stop that frown from forming on her face. "How about I present what your dad does for work? So it's almost like he's there," Except he wouldn't be. You figured it was a good enough compromise for her though. "But why can't he show up? Do we not matter to him anymore?"

The same question that clouded your thoughts while you laid in bed, arms wrapped around one of his pillows so it wouldn't feel so empty. So you wouldn't be reminded that the stupid California King was too big just for you to lay on it. "We do matter, he's just busy with work. It's how we're able to live the way we do," you answered, trying to keep your answer simple without dumbing it down. She was smart enough to understand. Smarter than you sometimes gave her credit for. "Okay. Your option sounds good."

You'd stayed up well past midnight that night, reading through a couple of Miguel's research papers in some attempt to figure out what you needed to describe. So far, all you had was talking about flasks and the basics of chemistry that you'd learned. Adorning a poster board with glitter also proved to be more work than you would've imagined, the clean-up taking longer than you would've expected. At least it didn't look too bad. Well, just enough to impress a classroom full of ten year olds.

Just the fact that Gabriella wasn't even making the effort anymore was enough to reassure the decision that maybe a divorce was necessary. Even if the thought was still painful to think about. At some level, you still loved Miguel just as much as the first day that you'd uttered those words to him. Just as much as the day you showed up on the aisle to officially intertwine your life with his. But you knew that neither you or Gabriella could be content just expecting the minimum from him.

The front door swung open, a loud groan escaping from Miguel's lips as he stepped into the threshold. His work shoes squeaked against the floors you'd just cleaned as he trudged over to the living room. "Hey, where's Gabi?" His lips barely grazed your cheek when he bent down to greet you, his voice riddled with exhaustion. He took a seat on the couch, his back slouched against the cushions. "She's asleep. Given that it's currently midnight."

You heard shuffling from his side, the bright phone screen illuminating his face. From this angle, you could see the dark circles underneath his eyes. It almost made you regret wanting to even bring this topic up. He squinted, tapping at the screen with his pointer finger to turn down the brightness. "Ah shock, you're right. I missed her birthday," Normally you would've been okay with the fact that he'd even bothered to remember the event he'd missed.

"Where were you?" You questioned, reaching over to turn on the lamp. You felt like one of those detectives in the old movies you'd watched with Miguel, the light dim enough to create an ominous shadow over yourself. "What do you mean? I was at work all day," he responded, rubbing a hand through his face. He was committed to making the lie work, you had to give him that. He even had the Alchemax lab coat and badge on. And under normal circumstances, you might've just let that slide. Like all the other previous instances.

You calmly took a sip from your drink, letting the suspense marinate for just a little while longer. "I called Alchemax. It's funny that you say that, given that their system shows that you quit months ago. So, I'll give you one more chance to tell me the truth," you told him, his eyes widening almost comedically. The silence was enough of a tell for you to realize that you had him cornered now. He managed to meet your gaze after a couple seconds, speaking almost begrudgingly, "You called my job?"

You gave him a dirty look, almost surprised that it was what he was choosing to focus on. "Right, right. Not the point," he muttered, rubbing his temples. The silence was almost deafening, the two of you trying to keep things quiet for the sake of keeping some normalcy in front of Gabriella. "She kept asking about you, you know?" You started off, setting the wine glass with a thump before speaking again, "I kept lying to her. Telling her that something at work was more important than you being able to show up to her party."

"I want a divorce." It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, and you could almost see the different wheels in his head work. The wedding ring around your finger suddenly felt too heavy, the life that the two of you built together threatening to crash down in a mere matter of seconds just by that single sentence. "The least that you could do now is tell me the truth. Because what I'm imagining right now is that you have some kind of secret family on the down low."

In your defense, what more were you supposed to think? Especially when he's made no effort to tell you anything up to this point? You picked up the wine glass, glancing over at him to see what he'd do now. You'd be lying if you said that you fully expected him to start telling you the truth. But you hoped he did. If only to make you reconsider the idea of getting a divorce. If only to let you sleep better at night.

"Okay. Fine, I'll tell you. Just please.. consider the divorce one more time. Please. And believe me when I say there is no other family," he stood up from his spot, his hands clasped together as he stood in front of you. This was starting to sound dangerously similar to the number of excuses that he'd given you before but you decided on giving him the benefit of the doubt. You stayed silent and he took that as a cue to continue, "I haven't been around because... I'm Spider-Man."

The wine in your mouth poured down your nose, the liquid have gone down the wrong pipe. You coughed, attempting to clear your throat as the words settled in. There was no way that he was being serious. But the way that he was looking at you made it seem like he was. "And I know that it doesn't justify putting the two of you on the back burner but there's a lot of crime in Nueva York and throughout the universes in case you haven't realized." Universes?

Now you were certain he'd either lost it or he was just pulling excuses out of his ass. Probably a combination of both if you had to guess. "You're kidding," you deadpanned, waiting for some kind of indication that this was all just a joke. He flicked his wrist, a string of what seemed to be a web sticking onto the lamp next to you. You reached over, tentatively scooping the substance onto your pointer finger to examine what it was. It was indeed.. a web. You were starting to wonder if you'd drunk too much wine.

Nope. Still half a glass left. You punched the side of your arm, waiting for some kind of indication that you were dreaming. All you received was a sharp shot of pain though. Now all you had left to do was actually acknowledge the situation. Accept the fact that your husband was the self-proclaimed vigilante of Nueva York.

"Why didn't you tell me in the first place?" You managed to ask after the initial shock had died down, clearing your throat. He shifted his feet awkwardly, sitting down next to you once more. "Because I've seen too many instances of this play out. I didn't want any danger to come to you after you found out," he responded, his hands reaching out to hold your own. "But please, trust me. I only have eyes for you. Every single of my absences has been for the better of Nueva York."

It all started to make sense, though. The amount of files scattered on his desk, information on previous villains. A couple comic books from the previous Spider-Man on his bedside table. The awkward disappearances when the two of you were out on the street.

"Please say something," he urged after a couple seconds of your silence, his calloused thumb rubbing small circles on your hand. What could you really say, though? It felt wrong to still be pissed off at him while he went off to save the city, and yet.. you still couldn't find it in yourself to forgive him just yet. "I know that the city of Nueva York needs you. But so does Gabriella. She doesn't deserve to be questioning what she's doing wrong as a child."

He was about to speak up but you quickly interrupted him, "She thinks she's not doing enough. That all those trophies in her room aren't enough for you to be proud of her. I beg of you to find some kind of balance before you end up losing the both of us for good." With that, you downed the rest of your wine before retreating to the kitchen to clean up the glass. You expected him to come back to bed, though you hadn't heard him come in after half an hour of tossing and turning. All you heard was the guest room door being opened.

You were awoken to the sweet scent of buttermilk, all kinds of different alarms going off in your head. The thought of Gabriella burning herself in the kitchen was starting to imprint itself in your brain. It certainly wasn't Miguel. Despite how groggy you were, you quickly rubbed your eyes and made your way over to the kitchen. Niña Bonita welcomed you as soon as you stepped inside, noticing Miguel stirring some batter with Gabriella by his side. At least she wasn't too close to the stove.

"Mi niña bonita, my dulce princesa," he hummed along to the song, gently ruffling Gabriella's hair. You stood at the doorway in silence, a small smile making itself known on your face despite how mad you were at Miguel. Gabriella attempted to push off his hands, but even she couldn't hide how much she was enjoying this time with him. "Mami, you finally got up!" Gabriella called you over once she noticed you.

"When'd you take the time to learn how to make these?" Usually it was you that took care of the cooking. "I'm not completely useless in the kitchen, I'll have you know," Miguel retorted, flipping a pancake with practiced ease. Though you knew better. You could see a couple pancake pieces sticking up to the ceiling. Just how long had he been up to try to perfect this skill for Gabriella? "Take a seat, they'll almost be done. The sous chef's been doing an excellent job helping."

"Papi promised we'd go to the aquarium today, to make up for missing my birthday," Gabriella announced as you were in the middle of pouring syrup onto your pancakes. You had to forcibly stop yourself from reacting, trying to ensure that you wouldn't be having syrup with a side of pancakes. "You sure you can handle it?" You gritted under your teeth when Gabriella went to retrieve her tablet in the living room. "I wouldn't have suggested it if I couldn't. Haven't given you any reason to but have some faith in me."

You raised your brows, waiting for him to realize just how contradictory that statement was. Not that it ever came, though. "Can I stay the night over at my friend's house?" Gabriella piped once she finished her pancakes, all too eager to grab your plate along with Miguel's. You glanced over at Miguel, seeing the resistance on his expression. "Which friend is it?" You questioned, trying to rack your brain if it was something that she mentioned before. "The one from soccer practice, Candice."

After making some calls to Candice's mom to make sure that sleepover was actually something that she was aware of, you gave Gabriella the go-ahead. She practically rushed into her bedroom after the three of you had finished with breakfast, picking out a pair of pajamas and clothes before stuffing them into her backpack. Triple checking it so there would be no reason for room to doubt her preparation. While she was in the shower, you snuck in her stuffed animal. Just as a safety precaution.

The trip to the aquarium was honestly more trouble than it was worth, in your opinion. Parking was nearly impossible, the vein on Miguel's forehead threatening to pop with each turn that he made around the lot. Waiting patiently for whatever spot would open up for half an hour before realizing that no one was leaving. Even Gabriella had started to get fidgety in the back seat, asking Miguel if you all were there yet over and over again. "Just get the valet, I'm sure it won't be that expensive," you suggested, hoping that it wouldn't add on to the frustration Miguel was feeling.

"Wait, hold on," like a beacon of hope, one of the spots opened up just as soon as you said that. Before he had the chance to park the car though, one of the newly arriving guests immediately seized the opportunity and took it before he had the chance. With one slam to the steering wheel, he relented and went over to get in line for the valet parking. "Here, you can watch a documentary on turtles," you pulled it up on your phone before leaving, not that you thought you would have to use it. And just like that, Gabriella immersed herself on what was on the screen.

Seeing the price of valet parking almost made you want to regret ever suggesting at all. Seriously, who charged $50 just for a parking spot? Gabriella let her grip on your phone slip when she was handing it to you, your brows furrowing as you already started to imagine the crack on screen just from the sound it made hitting the concrete. You quickly picked up, pocketing it up before Gabriella started to feel guilty. "Don't worry about it. I was due for a new one anyways," you assured her, holding to her hand while Miguel held her other one.

The three of you were visibly annoyed as soon as you stepped foot into the aquarium, the excitement towards this trip dying down with every single thing that kept going wrong. Not only had it taken half an hour and $50 to even enter, but now, none of the shows were even available? Even the dolphins had gone down with some kind of fish flu. Why it was even so full was beyond you. "Come on, we'll still have a good time," Miguel sounded like he was trying to collectively convince all three of you, offering Gabriella a piggy back ride as compensation.

Gabriella didn't seem to mind it too much, her head raised like she was royalty while perched on Miguel's shoulders. His grip on her legs was tight, assuring she wouldn't fall down. Given that she had a tendency to test herself and lean as forward as she could when one of the fish approached. You'd never seen her this excited about a trip before. You quickly realized the reason for her excitement. Miguel kept giving her subtle facts about each of the different species that you approached, whether from his own brain or the information board put up.

And she held on to every single word that escaped from his mouth, listening to him like he was the most interesting man in the world.

After seeing how full the gift shop was at the end of the tour, you decided to wait outside with a couple other guests. All you could hope was that Miguel would talk to her while the two of them were inside, give her some of that connection that she longed for. She came back bouncing back with a shark plushie— one identical to the one Miguel had gotten you on a prior date. Just the sight make your resolve melt a bit. You glanced over at Miguel, seeing him give you a shrug. "It's what the princess wanted."

Exiting the aquarium was almost as troublesome as entering, a line of cars parked at the exit. Gabriella didn't seem to mind it as much, plotting a story line with her as a mermaid with the shark. It'd been a while since you got the chance to see her be so animated. Throughout the car ride, she couldn't stop talking about how the trip at the aquarium and explaining the exhibits to you in explicit detail. Well, that was until you got to Candice's house. She was quick to leave as soon as she saw her friend waiting outside, her two feet almost too slow to match her energy.

The tension in the air was thick from the moment Gabriella had departed the car but it was much more obvious now that the two of you were stuck in a room together. After making a beeline to go change into a pair of shorts and a shirt—calling it a night, you were surprised to find Miguel still laying on the bed. Idly tapping at his phone with one finger, the faint sound of a Candy Crush! reaching your ears. You figured that he would've left to go monitor the city after spending the day with Gabriella. Maybe he was determined to make it work this time around.

No.

You couldn't start thinking that way just because he bothered to stick around for one evening.

He settled in between your legs, continuing to tap away at the screen. As much as you wanted to protest, you decided not to. From this angle, you could see him struggling with solving level 3976. How much time had he seriously dedicated to this game? Time that he hadn't spent dedicating towards you. Great. Just the thought was enough to piss you off once more. You grabbed your own phone from the bed stand, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes every time one of those stupid family channels showed up. If you had to bet, you'd guess their marriage wasn't that good either.

Miguel looked up at you from his spot in between your legs, with furrowed brows and brown irises practically boring into you. He looked so needy.. so desperate. "Please mamita, I need you. I need to touch you again," he pleaded, his lips leaving a searing sensation as he kissed up your leg. It'd been too long since you'd received any form of intimacy from anything other than your fingers and your vibrator. And while they did get the job done, they didn't exactly offer this kind of foreplay.

He moved the flimsy material of your pajama shorts to the side, kissing the innermost part of your thighs. Your fingers tugged at the strands, trying to pull him to your cunt. With every single teasing breath against the thin material, you could feel yourself clenching around nothing and dripping onto your panties. "Not yet," and the bastard had the nerve to laugh. It was the last sound you heard before you felt a small sting on your thigh, your eyes almost popping out of your skull. When he said he was Spider-Man, you'd been expecting the whole swinging around.

What you hadn't been expecting, however, was a pair of fangs that were almost the same length as your head. Just how far did the extent of these spider powers go? You were thinking of every possibility, unaware that you'd even spaced out. He regained your attention by pulling the waistband of your shorts, the elastic snapping against your skin. "Only thing you have to be focused is on me," he spoke up before you had the chance to say anything, moving to take off your shorts off. You raised your hips, your panties and shorts falling off in one swift motion.

He'd been nothing but desperate earlier, but his touch almost seemed reverent this time around. Kissing up your legs as if you were something to worship, drinking up your gasps as if they were the finest tunes he'd ever listened to. His hands pried your thighs open, leaving you completely exposed to him. Only before he got the chance to lean in was that you got the chance to see just how desperate for this he truly was. His pointer finger ran through your folds, collecting whatever slick had started to accumulate.

"You say you want a divorce but this pretty cunt's telling me a different thing," almost like he was timing it—which he was, he pulled his fingers out of your cunt. A loud squelch echoed through the otherwise silent room, a small groan escaping from your lips. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of letting him hear your moans. "Let me hear you mamita. Let me hear good I'm making you feel," he prodded, his fingers moving in a scissoring motions. You bit on your bottom lip, a muffled moan escaping your lips.

"Eso, no me nieges. Te lo ruego."

Miguel pulled his fingers out of your cunt, his eyes boring into yours as he licked the glistening slick off them. Practically feining to get every single drop. He leaned in to be face-level with your cunt, licking a stripe up your folds before parting them apart with his tongue. "Oh fuck," the moan slipped out of your lips before you had a chance to think better of it, the small chuckle he let out against your cunt vibrating throughout your body. His head moved from side to side, practically engulfing himself in between your legs with his nose pressing against your clit.

Your legs trembled in his grasp, struggling to keep them open when all you wanted to do was close them around his head. You wanted him to stop. You wanted him to keep going. The constant whiplash was enough to make you into a whining mess underneath him, despite your better judgement. "Please," you didn't even make sense to yourself. You weren't exactly sure what it is that you were even begging for. "Shh, it's okay. I'll give you what you need," and yet, he seemed to understand your pleas perfectly.

His mouth closed around your clit, his eyes boring into yours as he sucked on the neglected nub. Your nails dug into his scalp, a groan escaping from his lips. Like a domino effect, that small groan vibrated against your clit which caused you to only tighten your grip on his hair. You bucked your hips to meet his lips, his grip on your legs tightening. "I got you mamita, just let me take my time pleasing you," he murmured, kissing a trail from your inner thigh to your folds once more. His tongue fell flat, licking a stripe up your glistening folds.

The tip of his tongue prodded at your entrance before the wet muscle pushed inside, your juices leaking down to his mouth almost instantaneously. If anything, he didn't seem to mind it. He almost looked like he was in complete bliss. Miguel made no attempt to continue the ploy he'd started with the eye contact earlier, his eyes shut as he got lost in the taste of your essence. "Oh, Mig, Mig, Mig-" Broken fragments of his name escaped from your lips as his pointer finger rubbed small circles on your clit, the dual stimulation enough to have your toes curling.

You reached down to play with your erect nipples, rolling them in between your fingers. The orgasm you were chasing was so close, so attainable. "Gonna cum, gonna cum," every single word from your vocabulary seemed limited. All you could do was repeat yourself and hope that he would get the picture. "That's it, you got it," he coaxed you into an orgasm, your toes curling and your grip on his hair tightening. If anything, he seemed to revel in how you were gripping him.

Every word at the tip of your tongue failed you as you came with a shudder, your release coating his mouth and chin in the process. Miguel eagerly took every drop that you had to give, even going back into your cunt to get anything that he might've missed. You practically had to push him off before he started to eat you out again. While you knew that he could handle it, you weren't too sure that you could. You let your back hit the mattress, basking in the afterglow from your orgasm.

Before Miguel had the chance to finish with unbuttoning his pants, you took the chance to clear your throat. His hands halted their movements, his eyes shooting up to you like a deer caught in headlights. "With the way you've been acting, do you seriously think you've earned the right to fuck me?" You questioned, seeing his expression visibly deflate as he removed his hands from the buttons. "Please. I'll do anything, mi vida. Es tortura tenerte tan cerca y no poder tocarte," it was a rare sight to see.

Miguel prided himself in being above begging. And yet, here he was.

"Go on and lay on the bed for me," your tone offered no room for protests, his steps quick as he went to lay down on the bed. You trailed your hand from his knee to his crotch, cupping his heavy balls in your palm. "Look at me and tell me you have the right to fuck me, if that's the case," you spoke up, looking over at him as your hand switched from one ball to the other. Giving each the same amount of attention. You watched as he opened his mouth, closed it back up again, and repeated the process until he eventually gave up.

"I can't," he huffed out, almost in a whisper. You reached over in your bedside table, pulling out your trusty vibrator. "And why's that?" You asked him, your touch featherlight when you rubbed the vibrator against the outline of his cock. Just enough to give him a taste of what he could have. "Because I don't deserve to fuck you. I know. But I'm still selfish," he admitted after a while, his words barely above a whisper. Good enough of an answer for now.

A shaky groan escaped from his lips when you turned the vibrator on, the lowest intensity almost too painful to bear. Shudders ran across his body as you rubbed the vibrator on the tip of his cock, sliding it down to his frenulum. "Ngh, don't stop," his voice was practically a whimper by this point, his hips bucking to meet your touch. Not that you allowed for that continue for long though. You pushed your thighs down with one hand, his muscles flexing underneath your grasp.

You moved the vibrator to rest against the tip of his cock, precum leaking onto the tip of it. You tentatively brought it up to your lips, swirling your tongue around it as the familiar salty taste overwhelmed your senses. His eyes were locked on yours, his hips bucking up in some miserable attempt to gain some friction. You set the vibrator back on the tip of his cock, a hiss escaping from his lips. "Turn it up."

"What's the magic word?" You shifted to grab the remote, lowering the intensity despite the groans that escaped from his lips. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, if you had to be honest. Well, the closest he could get to that point anyways. "Pl.." he couldn't finish his sentence, a choked groan escaping from his lips. He looked over at you, like he was expecting you to understand. And while you did, you also wanted him to use his words. Hear how pretty he sounded begging.

"P-Ple-nghh."

“Plea-shockk."

"P-Ay mierda."

It was a cruel game you were playing, you were aware. You kept the vibrator at the same speed, raising a brow as you looked at him. "Sounds like you don't really want it," you taunted, deciding to put the vibrator to the highest level possible. Only for a fraction of a second, though. Just as quickly as relief had come for him, it was gone. He let out a groan, trying to will the word to slip out of his mouth. Just one word.

"Please," it seemed like your little show of motivation had finally paid off. You turned the intensity of the vibrator gradually this time around, allowing him to get used to the sensation. "See what you get when you ask nicely," you decided to taunt him even further despite knowing better. You knew your cunt would be paying the consequences for your relentless teasing later in the night. Not like the thought mattered now, though. Not when you had Miguel begging and at the verge of tears just for your touch.

His balls felt heavy to the touch, almost like he was at the point of cumming. You gave both of them equal attention, rolling them in your hand. Miguel's eyes could only clamp shut, his mouth parted. "Please let me cum, so close," he begged so nicely, a couple drops of precum leaking down to your thigh. You could always be generous and let him cum. Then again, the idea of prolonging his orgasm was just too enticing to resist. Each buck of his hips became more erratic, more needy. Before he got to that point of climax, you pulled the vibrator away from his cock.

"I asked nicely," he pointed out, his voice cracking slightly. He scrambled to sit up, almost searching your expression to see if he'd done something wrong. "I'm aware," you simply responded, wiping your vibrator before placing it on the nightstand to clean it throughly later. "I just didn't feel like letting you," you added, waiting to see if he'd offer more resistance. You could see he wanted to say something, but he was holding himself from saying anything. Smart man.

Miguel set a pillow underneath your stomach, your back set in a mean arch as you laid on it. He stepped behind you, his thumb rubbing against your folds before he dipped it inside. Your wetness immediately engulfed his finger, your walls stretching out as he pushed it deeper inside. "What happened to the attitude you had earlier, hm?" He used the same taunting tone that you had, mocking you. A protest died in your throat as the tip of his cock went inside your folds, your head craning back to look at him.

"Just the t-"

"Yes, yes, just the tip. I promise," he cut you off before you had the chance to finish speaking, rolling his eyes. You were already testing his patience by allowing just the tip. He retracted, the tip of his cock an angry shade of red as precum dripped down his shaft. Your walls clenched and unclenched rhythmically, your own body betraying your resolve. He pushed the tip inside once more, keeping it inside your wet cunt. "Please, let me fuck you properly. You're punishing both of us, not just me."

And here you would've figured that his negotiations were reserved just for the state of Nueva York. You shook your head, determined to see this through. "If it's not enough for you, we can just stop here," And how you wished your voice would've come out with more bite. Now you sounded just as needy as he did. Maybe even more. "No, no, it's fine," he was quick to respond, retracting. It was almost painful how slow he was going, almost making you want to give up on this whole argument. Getting stubborn wasn't getting you anywhere.

"Please let me fuck you properly," he pleaded after a couple thrusts, his hands on your hips. Well. At least you didn't have to give in first. "Fine," you tried to sound annoyed, though you weren't convincing him any better than you were yourself. A strangled gasp left your mouth as he bottomed out, your cunt stretched out to the brim. Your walls clenched against his shaft rhythmically, trying to get used to the intrusion. Your hands reached over for the pillow above you, your grip on it tightening as he pulled out.

His skin slapped against your own with each thrust that he made, his grip on your hips tightening. "Don't stop, Mig! So, so good," he'd turned you into a babbling mess within a matter of seconds. "Wasn't planning on it," he responded quickly, each word punctuated with a harsh thrust. You craned your head to look at him, the sight having a new wave of arousal coat his cock. His head was lolled back, his face contorted into one of pure pleasure. You rocked your hips to match his rhythm to the best of his ability, your ass smacking against his hips with every movement.

"Oh shock, slow down," he was mesmerized by the sight of your ass rippling with each move that you made, one of his hands reaching down to cup the flesh. "Not gonna last long if you keep at it," he added, raising his hand before giving your ass a slap. The mixture of pain and pleasure mixed together, your own release starting to approach. "Fill me up, Mig!" You could only whine that out, a groan escaping from his lips at your words. The hand on your ass moved down to your clit, his thumb rubbing on the nub in circles. Fervent circles to match the pace of his sloppy thrusts.

You clamped tightly around his cock, your arousal coming out of you in waves. Your stomach hit the pillow underneath you, your body giving out on you. As soon as you clamped around him, Miguel knew his own orgasm wasn't too far off. With one final thrust, he shot his cum up your cunt. Filling you up like you'd asked. He pulled his flaccid cock out of you a couple moments later, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His fingers pushed back the cum threatening to drip down before he went over to get a wet towel to clean you up.

"It shouldn't take me threatening to divorce you for you to get your act together," you spoke up once you managed to catch your breath, wiping the sweat off your forehead. Not exactly the topic that you would've imagined talking about after sex. But you figured it was important for him to know that just a good lay wouldn't be enough to resolve this issue. He swiped his arm over his forehead, wiping away at nonexistent sweat beads. Something to do while he tried to figure out what to say.

"I know. And I'm sorry that it ever got to this point, I promise that I'll spend the rest of my life trying to prove to you how worthy I am to be next to you," he spoke up after a few moments, turning to face you. His hands itched to be wrapped around you, for some semblance of that intimacy that he'd neglected for so long. But he didn't make any effort to touch you. He knew it'd take a while for you to get to that point. The conflicted expression on your face was enough to tell him that you didn't believe him.

And it's not like you were looking forward to starting any issues between the two of you. But with the amount of empty promises and "I'm sorry's", you figured that you'd earned the right to doubt him. You got up, putting up your pajamas in an attempt to divert the conversation. You didn't want to voice that you were worried about him failing to fulfill his promise. "I know you don't believe me, but I promise I'll do my best to prove it to you," he whispered, pulling the blanket over the two of you before exhaustion overtook your body.

Instead of the usual emptiness that you'd grown used to waking up to, you found Miguel laying by your side with his arms tightly wrapped around your body. Like he didn't want to let you go. "I can feel you staring," he mumbled, half asleep as he begun to stir. He kept one arm wrapped around you, bringing the other hand up to his face to rub his eyes. "Just surprised you're not at work yet," you responded, pushing a couple stray hairs away from his forehead. "Well, I'm trying to prioritize my family a bit more."

His promises didn't feel as empty as the ones he'd spoken about before. He seemed determined to bring them into fruition this time around. Or at least you hoped that he would. For you and Gabriella. "I know it doesn't amount to much with how many times I've said it, but I really am sorry for neglecting you for so long. I got so carried away into maintaining the safety of Nueva York that I forgot to maintain my own marriage."

"I know you can't be everywhere at once. Me and Gabriella are aware you have responsibilities but still.. I don't want to have to feel like I'm being selfish for asking for some time with my husband," you spoke up after a couple seconds, looking over at him. Neither of you made any attempt to leave your bed just yet, too engulfed in the temporary state of bliss. "And you won't have to feel that way anymore, I promise."

Maybe things would work out for the better this time around.

#muchosbesitos ✐ᝰ.ᐟ #marriage in trouble trope follows me even now #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfic #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x fem!reader

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saltnsugarbear · 20 hours ago

Note

Lip with “Fuck, wait — shit. Mm— fuck. Wh-where did you learn to do that?” “Well, the noises you make are a pretty good indication of how you like it.” “…God you sound so fucking cocky right now and it’s turning me on even more.”

so like on the low i ate this up

word count: 1.0k

content warnings: KAREN SLANDER IM SO SORRY (I don't like her but I hate slut shaming more) they don't enthusiastically consent but they're both into it I'm sorry 😔, so ig dubcon, oral (m!receiving) (don't ask for this ever again), Lip is kind of mean (the voices olive got to me on that one)

side note: don't expect any bj fics again cause I hate the idea of giving men head SORRY also I like triggered my own life apocalypse (got sick at work, power went out, etc)

come celebrate!

One of Lip's favorite things about you is your competitive nature. Not that he'd ever say that out loud, but it's one of the things that endeared him to you.

It made him like pushing your buttons even more.

So complaining while you actually work on your group project is the perfect way to annoy you today. However you've stopped paying him any mind, about three minutes into his griping. So he tries a new approach.

Bringing up his most recent conquests. So obviously that means he feels the need to mention Karen.

And the fact that instead of being tutored, she gave Lip head instead. The story makes you roll your eyes, shaking your head when he comments that it's probably the best blowjob he's ever gotten.

"It could not have been that good.." You scoff, trying to focus on finishing the sentence you're writing. "Actually, I take that back. Given how big of a slut she is, she's probably had plenty of practice."

"Oh fuck you-" Lip starts.

"Am I wrong?" You challenge him quickly, glaring up from your page.

"You're just pissed off you're not getting any." He sneers. You roll your eyes, you're not having this conversation with him.

Lip takes your silence as agreement, snickering lightly. "No wonder you're so uptight, you're not getting laid."

You have to bite your tongue to keep from retorting. He's fucking insufferable.

"Everything makes so much more sense now. Because I kept asking myself, y'know, why you're such a bitch. But it makes sense now, you're not getting away so you need to take your frustrations out another way."

"You're such a fucking asshole, Gallagher. You don't know shit about who I'm fucking." You snap at him, putting your pen down none too gently.

"Right, like anyone would be able to fuck you. Probably too fucking tight up there, can't even get a finger in you." Lip's look is gloating, like he's won some verbal sparring match.

You don't know why you're moving. Pushing out of your chair and tugging Lip's back. Lip sputters at the abruptness of your yanking, arms flying out for balance. Once there's enough space for you, you quickly step in between his legs before dropping down to your knees.

You're a little surprised at the small tent in Lip's slacks already, scoffing after you piece it together. "You get off on the sound of your own voice?"

"What? No. What are you-" You cut Lip's questioning off quickly, pushing yourself up to rest on your toes so you can easily rest your arm on his thigh as you press your palm against his half hard dick. Lip's words are muddled as you bully him through the fabric, fighting himself for some composure.

With one last squeeze, you bring both of your hands to his hips, pulling him forward until he's sitting at the very edge. You don't miss how he inhales sharply at your rough handling.

Once he's positioned better, you sit flat on your feet before looking up at him through your lashes and leaning forward, licking at his erection through his slacks. Lip groans as you continue to mouth at his cock, head falling back as you suck softly around the fabric.

Once you're satisfied with the wet patch you've made in his pants, you bring your hands to unbutton and unzip them before tugging them down slightly. Lip helps you out by lifting his hips up, letting drag them down past his knees. Your saliva bled through his pants, dampening his boxers where you had been teasing him.

Taking your time, you go back to mouthing at his erection. You can hear him shifting above you, glancing up to see him bring his hands around. Lip's hands are pushy as they hold the back of your head.

"Uh-uh.." You pull away from his bulge, catching his wrists before leaning forward and tucking them behind his back. "Those stay there."

"Fuck..." Lip mutters.

"Lift." You tap his hips as you curl your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. Lip is a quick listener, lifting his hips up so you can tug his boxers down to his pants. He breathes out heavily when his cock springs free, hitting his stomach.

You're quick to take him in your mouth, sliding your tongue along the underneath of his length. There's a sense of pride as Lip struggles to form any words, the only things leaving his mouth a mix of whines and groans.

"Fuck, wait- shit-" Lip grunts as you sink back down to the base, glancing up at him with your nose brushing against his happy trail. "Mm- fuck. Wh-where did you learn to do that?"

You hum around his length, feeling how he twitches in your mouth before pulling all the way off.

"Well, the noises you're making are a pretty good indication of how you like it." You grin up at him, bringing your hand to wrap around the base of his cock.

"...God you sound so fucking cocky right now and it's turning me on even more." Lip's eyes are lidded as he looks down at you, watching as you slowly jerk him off. You roll your eyes at him, leaning back towards his cock.

"I liked you better when you could barely speak," you tell him before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around the head of him.

"Fuu- ughh.." Lip grunts as you suckle at his head. His hips buck up into your mouth, pushing himself farther in. You hum sharply, taking your hands away from his base and pushing back against his hips. Lip breathes heavily as you keep his hips in place, flicking your tongue over the slit before pressing gently at the underside of his head.

"Wait-" Lip chokes out, hips bucking up again. "Shit, shit- fuck-"

Lip's release is thick on your tongue and you're quick to open your mouth, letting him watch as his cum coats your tongue. Doing such makes Lip swear, another rope covering your tongue. You pull away from him, sticking your tongue out for him to see all of his release before making a show of swallowing it.

"Still think she gave you the best blowjob of your life?"

#saltnsugarbear #200 grains of salt [ 200 followers celebration ]#lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher fanfic #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher fanfiction #lip gallagher smut #too much salt (18+)#cloak and dagger of it all [ anon ]

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famoussharkhairdoknight · 1 day ago

Text

NSFW ALPHABET- Pope Heyward

Wearing: +18,smut, English is not my first language

a = aftercare (how they feel after sex):

would definitely be extremely attentive and kind after sex. Constantly ask if it hurts you and check your body. He’s afraid of hurting you because he has a bigger dick than the average.

He is ready to take care of you right after having sex. She cleans you by kissing you tenderly and telling you how good you felt; she always asks if you have cramps of penetration and if you do so she makes you a nice warm compress to put on. He keeps you safe and cuddly, giving you sweet cheeks on your forehead to make you feel safe.

b=favorite body part (favorite part of your body and his):

He loves every part of your body, he loves your smile that can calm him when he is nervous.

He loves your ass very much, is obsessed. He can’t stop slapping and squeezing him... loves to kiss and bite him and the sight of your ass all red from his slaps makes him crazy...

His favorite part of his body is his beautiful muscular physique and he loves when you look at his muscles without shame, he knows well that this thing makes you wet; and above all he is very proud of what he carries between his legs (his friends always tease him saying he has a third leg because it’s bigger)

He loves it when you are impressed every time you see him naked (no matter how many times you have seen him like this) and when he fights to get his dick... he gets crazy.

c = cum (anything to do with sperm):

he sure loves cumming inside you. for him there is nothing better than finishing inside you and seeing his sperm drip out; he would never admit it out loud, but the idea of cumming inside you excited him even more

d = dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, one of their dirty secrets):

It gets even harder when you suck his dick

I= intimacy (what is it like right now? the romantic aspect):

It has two faces, so it will depend a lot on the occasion and his mood. There will be days when it will be harder, but there will also be days when it will be tender and say sweet words and sweet kisses that make your heart beat faster.

k = node (one or more of its nodes):

• Praise Kink: That man loves to receive compliments but also loves to give them; he just loves saying nice things for you and letting you know how good you are doing. He also likes it when you compliment him, when you let him know how good it makes you feel or how great he feels or even how beautiful he is, he drives him crazy.

•Blowjob Kink: he loves it when you suck his cock so well and try to take it all even if he can’t. He loves it when you play with his balls and you stoke around his dick

L-Location (favorite places to do the activity):

At first it seemed shy but actually it’s not: your first time was on the beach.

He loves to fuck you anywhere and he loves to tease you in public

m= motivation (what excites them, keeps them going):

Just seeing you makes him hard

n = no (something he wouldn't do):

certainly nothing that can hurt you; also, he doesn't like sharing you with anyone (no matter who it is) you are his and just thinking about another man touching you would make him very jealous and angry

o-oral (preference in giving or receiving skills, etc.):

Pope is a huge pussy eater and would definitely make you fall apart with those gorgeous lips but he also likes to get a good blowjob, he can't get over the image of your lips wrapped around his cock as you struggle to take it all and sometimes you choke because it's too long and thick for your mouth but you love taking it and he loves it really fuck your mouth.

r =risk (are they willing to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

The idea of someone catching you excites him especially because he loves to mark his territory on you to make others understand even more that you are his and no one can have you.

s= stamina (how many rounds can they last? how long do they last?):

he could continue all day... he is like a sex machine.

u = unfair (how much he likes to tease):

he is a tease, he would definitely tease you by blushing around him or being extremely wet and needy for him.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

he really loves to be vocal: he will definitely moan and grunt while murmuring dirty things to you and praising how you take his cock

x = x-ray (let's see what happens under those clothes):

his cock is very big and long. And trust me that cock will take away your ability to walk and make you feel very good.

d=desire (how high is their sexual desire?):

he is literally never satisfied. He always wants more from you. He’d be offended if you gave him a blow job while he was studying or when you were on the boat.

He like fuck you with a sensual music

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earthtoharlow · 2 days ago

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Don’t Like The Lights

Sequel to Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights first to understand

Series Masterlist

19. L’amour De Ma Vie

Noah and London were now six months old, and doctors gave Jack and Maryse the go ahead to start introducing them to baby food, and today was the first taste. Jack had Noah and London strapped into their high chairs, armed with tiny spoons and jars of baby food, while Maryse chatted with her manager Coco on the phone in the next room.

“Alright, Noah, London,” Jack grinned, holding up a jar of banana baby food. “Let’s see if you’re ready for the good stuff.”

He scooped a tiny spoonful of the banana mush and held it up to Noah, who eyed it curiously before opening his mouth. Noah’s face lit up the moment he tasted it, and he reached out for more, babbling excitedly, kicking his feet.

“Looks like someone’s a fan,” Jack chuckled, spooning another bit into Noah’s mouth as his son happily gobbled it up.

Turning to London, he offered her a taste with equal enthusiasm. But the moment it touched her lips, London made a face of pure disgust, wrinkling her nose and letting the banana mush dribble out of her mouth. She gave Jack a look as if to say, “How could you do this to me?”

“Oh, not a fan, huh?” he laughed, grabbing a napkin to clean her little chin. “I thought everyone liked bananas!”

In the other room, Maryse overheard the commotion and chuckled to herself as Coco paused mid-sentence. “Sounds like things are going… well?” Coco asked with a smirk in her voice.

Maryse laughed, glancing over to see Jack trying to win London over. “You could say that,” she said, “Noah’s loving it, but London… not so much.”

She leaned against the wall, watching as Jack continued his adorable efforts, gently encouraging London with another tiny spoonful. “Come on, girl, just one more bite. It’s not that bad, promise.”

But London pursed her lips defiantly, giving him a look that left no room for negotiation. Maryse smiled, knowing she was witnessing the twins’ little personalities shine through already.

As she balanced her phone between her shoulder and ear, Maryse listened to Coco running through her upcoming schedule. “Since you’re back in the studio again things are definitely about to pick up. They want you to perform the national anthem at the closing ceremony for the Paris Olympics….”

As Maryse listened to Coco on the other end of the line, her eyes widened. “Wait, Coco, are you serious?” she asked, barely able to contain her surprise.

Coco laughed. “Yes, I’m serious! The committee wants you to sing the national anthem at the closing ceremony of the Paris Olympics. It’s a huge honor, and they’re thrilled at the idea.”

Maryse’s mind started racing. The Olympics… in Paris. A massive global stage, and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. “Wow… I don’t even know what to say,” she breathed, glancing over at Jack, who was still amusing himself trying to coax London into another spoonful of baby food.

Jack noticed her expression and raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?” he mouthed.

Maryse held up a finger, smiling in disbelief as Coco continued. “Look, it’s big, but they want an answer soon. Think about it, but know they’d be honored to have you.”

“Okay, I’ll talk it over, but… yeah, wow, Coco. Thanks for telling me. I’ll get back to you soon.” She hung up and paused in the doorway, her heart melting at the scene in front of her. The twins were facing each other in their high chairs, babbling in what sounded like a secret language only they understood. Little giggles and expressive hand gestures filled the room as they looked at each other with wide, curious eyes.

Jack turned to Maryse with a grin, whispering, “I think they’re plotting against us. Look at them.”

Maryse laughed, leaning into him. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” she replied, watching as Noah’s babbling grew louder, and London responded with an enthusiastic clap.

Jack grinned, “We’re doomed.”

Maryse laughed again, leaning into him. “If they team up to take us down, we don’t stand a chance.”

They both let out huge laughs, after coming down Jack squeezed her hips, “So what’s the big news?”

“So… they want me to sing the national anthem at the closing ceremony of the Olympics,” she said, letting the weight of it sink in.

Jack’s face lit up, a huge grin spreading across his face. “Paris? Babe, that’s huge! You have to do it!”

Maryse laughed, her excitement mixing with a touch of anxiety. “I know, it’s… I can’t even wrap my head around it. But performing live, on a stage that big… it’s kind of terrifying, too.”

He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her. “You’re gonna kill it. If anyone can own that moment, it’s you. Besides,” he added “You performed at the Super Bowl while pregnant.”

“I did do that, huh.” She said with a smirk as she looked up at him.

As Maryse soaked in the excitement, her expression shifted. “Wait…” She looked up at Jack, a flicker of worry crossing her face. “Isn’t that the same weekend you’re booked to perform in Saudi Arabia?”

Jack’s smile faded as he did a quick mental check. “Oh man… yeah, it is.” He ran a hand over his head, realizing the dilemma. “I completely forgot they overlap.”

They looked at each other, both trying to piece together a way to make it work. “We’re gonna be on two different continents,” she murmured, disappointment settling in. “This is huge for both of us, though…”

She glanced at Noah and London who were busy with their baby food. “And… who’s going to watch the babies?” She looked back at Jack, concerned in her eyes. “We’ve never left the country without them before. A couple hours away sure but…”

He nodded, the same worry flickering across his face. “I know. We’d need someone we trust completely.” He thought for a moment before adding, “Maybe my parents could stay at our place? They’ve handled them for weekends, and the twins love them.”

Maryse sighed, still looking uncertain. “Yeah, they’d be in good hands, but it’s so different knowing we’ll be so far away.”

He put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “I get it. I feel the same. But if this is something we both need to do, we can make sure they’re safe and loved. And we can be on FaceTime constantly.”

She nodded, finally letting herself smile a little. “Alright, if we can set up everything for them, maybe we can make this work. And you better believe I’ll be FaceTiming every chance I get.”

Jack pulled her close, reassuring her with a warm smile. “Look, as soon as I’m done in Saudi Arabia, I’m heading straight home. I’ll pick up the twins, and we’ll all meet you in Paris.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really? That’s a lot of traveling…”

He nodded, squeezing her hand. “Yeah. I don’t want you missing them that long, and I want us all together. Plus, the kids’ first trip to Paris? Gotta make it a family thing.”

She laughed, her face softening. “You really think of everything, don’t you?”

“Only when it comes to you and them.” He grinned. “It’s all planned out—we’ll be cheering you on in the crowd while you blow everyone away with the anthem.”

LIFEOFMONET

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LifeOfMonet: STUDIO SCHMUDIO

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user: we readyyyyy

user: BOUT TIME!!

user: side note you and Jack’s home studio is so nice

user: show us the twins !!!

dojacat: Hell yeahhhhh

jackharlow: I took these

user: that hair tho 😍

As they loaded her bags into the car, Maryse held Noah and London close, her eyes welling up with tears as she kissed each of their heads. “I hate leaving them. They’re just so little…”

Jack gently grabbed the twins from her and handed them off to his parents, then put his arm around her, pulling her into his chest. “Babe, it’s only a couple of days. And they’ll be right there with you soon enough—probably before you even start to miss them.”

She sighed, leaning into him. “I already miss them. I just feel like…like I should be here.”

He stroked her back, keeping his voice soft. “You’re doing amazing. They’re happy, they’re healthy, and they’ve got everything they need—especially with you as their mom.” He wiped a tear from her cheek, smiling. “And, you’re allowed to do something for you, too. We’ll be right behind you before you know it.”

She sniffled, nodding, and glanced back at the babies, who were both smiling and babbling away in his parents arms. “Promise?”

He chuckled. “Promise. I’ll see you in Paris with these little ones soon, and you’ll rock that performance. We got you.”

With one last kiss to each of them and a deep breath, she climbed into the car, waving as she pulled away, her heart tugging—but feeling a little lighter.

As Maryse’s car disappeared down the road, Jack let out a sigh and turned to find his mom giving him a knowing, sympathetic look.

“She’s been having a tough time,” he said, shifting Noah to his other arm as London reached for her brother’s hand. “She’s feeling all that mom guilt…like she shouldn’t be leaving, even for just a couple days.”

His mom smiled gently, resting a hand on his shoulder before reaching for Noah. “She’s a wonderful mom, and it’s completely normal. But you’re right here, and she knows you’ve got it handled.” She leaned down, softly brushing a hand over Noah’s head. “Give her some time. It’ll get easier.”

Jack nodded, feeling that bittersweet pride. “Yeah…I just want her to know it’s okay for her to have her own time, too. She deserves it.”

Back inside the house, they went into the living room, London sitting on his lap, his mom studied him for a moment before speaking gently.

“Have you thought about suggesting she talk to someone?” she asked, tilting her head. “It’s not easy to admit, but I think she might be dealing with some postpartum depression.”

Jack’s jaw tightened slightly as he glanced down at London, who was playing with his necklace. “Yeah…I’ve thought about it. She’s been up and down, and I know she’s struggling more than she lets on.”

His mom nodded thoughtfully. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. A lot of women go through it. I think it could help her, even if it’s just having someone to talk to outside of you.”

Jack sighed, running a hand through his curls. “I know you’re right. I just don’t want to make her feel worse by bringing it up.”

“You won’t,” his mom assured him. “Just remind her how much you love her and that it’s about making sure she feels her best, not just for the babies but for herself too.”

He nodded, a look of determination crossing his face. “I’ll bring it up when she gets back. She deserves to feel okay…better than okay.”

“And you deserve some credit too,” his mom added with a warm smile. “You’re doing a great job, Jack. She’s lucky to have you.”

Jack smiled faintly, bouncing London slightly. “We’re all lucky to have her, too.”

***

In his dressing room, Jack paced back and forth, his phone pressed to his ear. It had become a mini ritual of his to call Maryse before every show, even more so now that they were apart. He glanced at the clock. Luckily, Paris was only a couple of hours behind Saudi, so it wasn’t too late to call.

After a few rings, her familiar voice came through. “Hey, babe.”

“Hey,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. Just hearing her voice eased some of the tension in his chest. “What’re you doing?”

“Trying to figure out how to navigate the room service menu in French,” she joked. “I think I accidentally ordered snails earlier.”

He laughed, adjusting the chain around his neck. “Snails, huh? Fancy now.”

“Don’t start,” she teased, but he could hear the smile in her voice. “How’s it going over there?”

“Getting ready for my second show,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the couch. “You know I can’t go on stage without hearing your voice first. It’s my good luck charm.”

“Cheesy,” she said softly. “But you don’t need luck. You’re going to kill it, like always.”

He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. “Yeah, but it’s different when you’re not here. I miss you. I miss the kids.”

“I miss you too,” she said. “But just think, after this, we’re all going to be in Paris together. You’ve got one more show, then you’re home to grab the twins and come meet me.”

Can’t wait,” he said sincerely. Then, after a pause, he added, “You good, though? For real?”

There was a slight hesitation before she answered. “I’m okay. I still hate being away from them, but I’m managing.”

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “You’re doing amazing, you know that? Don’t be too hard on yourself. The kids are fine, and you deserve to have moments for you too.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. “You always know what to say.”

“Of course I do,” he teased.

Jack leaned back on the couch, phone to his ear, grinning. “So, how’s Paris? Are they treating you like the star you are?”

Maryse chuckled. “It’s been good. Oh! When I got to my hotel room, they had an Eiffel Tower made out of macarons waiting for me. It was so cute!”

“Macarons, huh? They know how to spoil you,” he teased, shaking his head. “What else? Did they roll out a red carpet to your room too?”

“Not quite,” she said with a laugh. “But rehearsals were good. And…Tom Cruise sent me flowers.” Jack could hear the smile in her tone.

He sat up straighter, his eyebrows raising. “Wait, wait, hold up. Tom Cruise sent you flowers?” He exaggerated her tone, mimicking her emphasis. “Like, ‘Oh, Tom Cruise, action star, Mission Impossible, Mr. Hollywood’?”

Maryse burst out laughing. “Stop it! That’s not how I said it!”

“No, no, you said it like, ‘Oh, Tom Cruise,’ like he’s the one that got away or something,” he teased, shaking his head dramatically.

“Whatever,” she said, trying to suppress her giggles. “He was just being nice.”

“Nice?” Jack smirked. “Looks like I got some competition’”

“Oh my gosh, you’re ridiculous,” she said, still laughing.

“And you’re over there fangirling,” he shot back playfully. “Bet you saved the card, didn’t you?”

She gasped in mock offense. “I did not!”

“Mm-hmm,” he teased.

“Jack, you don’t even need to worry, you’re the only white guy I'll ever love.”

Jack froze mid-laugh, his face breaking into a wide grin. “Wait, what did you just say?”

Maryse, barely holding back her laughter, repeated with a playful tone, “I said you don’t need to worry because you’re the only white guy I’ll ever love.”

He leaned back, pretending to look offended. “Oh, so I’m just the token white guy now, huh? Is that what this is?”

She burst out laughing. “I’m just saying, Tom Cruise has nothing on you.”

“Damn right he doesn’t,” Jack shot back, smirking. “I mean, he could never rock a curly mullet?

“Exactly,” she teased. “You’re safe.”

“Safe?” he repeated, pretending to be wounded. “That’s not the kind of reassurance I want! I want to hear I’m your one and only forever.”

“Oh no I think my phone is breaking up!” Maryse started making noises into the phone.

“M!” Jack said laughing

“Love you, I’ll be watching clips later!” Maryse said giggling before hanging up.”

Jack smiles when he immediately looked down at his phone when a text came through from Maryse.

“You’re my forever.”

***

Jack stepped off the plane, his face showing every bit of the exhaustion he felt. Noah was squirming in his arms, while London fussed in Urban’s. As they headed to the gate, Urban chuckled, “Man, I don’t know how you’re still standing.”

“I’m not,” Jack replied, stifling a yawn. “The only thing keeping me upright is the thought of getting to Maryse.”

They finally reached the luggage area, and Jack carefully placed Noah into the double stroller before Urban secured London next to him. The kids, already cranky from the long flight, began to whine.

“Alright, alright,” Jack murmured, crouching down to adjust Noah’s blanket and handing London her pacifier. “I know it wasn’t the best flight, but we made it. Let’s not start a scene, huh?”

Urban shook his head, laughing softly. “Bro, you really thought traveling with two six-month-olds was gonna be smooth?”

Jack groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. “I was hoping.” He glanced at the kids and sighed. “Man, I just can’t wait to get to Maryse. She’s gonna fix all this.”

“You mean you’re gonna hand them both to her and take a nap,” Urban teased.

“Honestly?” Jack said with a tired grin. “You’re probably right”

They made their way to the car waiting to take them to Maryse hotel. As the driver loaded their luggage, Jack slumped into the backseat next to them, stealing a quick glance at his sleeping twins. “

“Finally,” he muttered under his breath, leaning his head back.

But as the car sped through the Paris streets, his exhaustion slowly shifted into excitement. He couldn’t wait to see Maryse’s face when he walked through that door—with her babies in tow.

Halfway to the hotel, Jack’s phone buzzed with a text from CoCo, Maryse’s manager. His eyebrows furrowed as he read it:

CoCo: Hey, just a heads-up—Maryse is at rehearsals, but she’s not really herself today. I think she’s missing you and the babies. You might want to swing by and surprise her. I think it’d do her some good.

Jack sighed, glancing at Urban, who was busy trying to entertain Noah with silly faces.

“What’s up?” Urban asked, noticing the change in his expression.

“CoCo says Maryse’s not acting like herself. Thinks she’s missing us,” Jack replied, looking back at the twins. “She said we should stop by rehearsals to surprise her.”

Urban smirked. “Man, you know she’s missing y’all. She’s been glued to those kids since they came out. Let’s do it.”

Jack leaned forward to the driver. “Change of plans. Can you take us to the venue instead of the hotel?”

“Of course,” the driver replied.

Noah started fussing again, and Jack handed him a bottle to keep him calm. “Alright, little man, we’re about to see Mama. No more tantrums, alright?”

London cooed from her seat, and Urban chuckled. “London’s the easy one. Noah? That’s your troublemaker right there.”

Jack shook his head with a tired smile. “They both have their days. Double trouble.”

As they pulled up to the rehearsal venue, Jack took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the long trip fade at the thought of surprising Maryse. He unbuckled Noah, while Urban handled London, both of them now wide-eyed and curious about their new surroundings.

“Alright, kids,” he said as they approached the doors. “Let’s go make Mama’s day.”

Maryse stood on stage, gripping the microphone tightly as she tried, once again, to hit the opening notes of the national anthem. A song she could normally perform in her sleep now felt like a mountain she couldn’t climb. She kept messing up—wrong key, missed breath, or tripping over a word. Each mistake sent a wave of frustration crashing over her.

“Alright, that’s enough for now,” she finally said, waving at the sound engineers. “I need five.”

She flopped down on the stage, her back hitting the floor with a dramatic thud. Throwing her arm over her face, she groaned quietly.

Why can’t I get this right? The thought played on repeat in her mind. Between missing the twins, worrying about the performance, and dealing with the guilt of leaving her babies, everything felt heavier than usual.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the soft sound of footsteps approaching until she felt a sudden, tiny pressure on her stomach. Her eyes flew open, and there, on top of her, was a smaller version of Jack—Noah.

“Noah!” she gasped, sitting up in shock as Noah leaned forward, his tiny face scrunched in determination as he planted the wettest, sloppiest kisses on her cheek.

She laughed, not even caring about the drool or the mess. Her arms wrapped around him instantly, holding him close as tears threatened to spill over.

“Oh my god, Noah!” she whispered, covering his little face in kisses of her own.

When she sat up fully, still clutching Noah, her eyes lifted to see the rest of her heart standing just a few feet away. Jack stood there, holding London, whose chubby cheeks lit up with a grin as she reached out for her. Behind them was Urban, a diaper bag slung over his shoulder, grinning like a proud uncle.

“What—how—” she stammered, standing up with Noah in her arms. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you all till later tomorrow.”

“Surprise,” Jack said, his tired eyes softening as he handed London over.

Maryse took her daughter eagerly, pulling both babies close as she blinked back tears. “You must be so exhausted!”

“You were missing us, weren’t you?” Jack asked, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “CoCo might’ve snitched.”

Maryse let out a watery laugh, holding her babies tightly. “You have no idea how much I needed this.”

“We do,” Jack said softly, stepping closer to wrap an arm around her waist. “And we’re here now. All of us.”

In that moment, everything else faded—the pressure, the stress, the guilt. She was with her family again, and that was all that mattered.

The hotel room was finally quiet, the chaos of the day melting away. Maryse lay on the bed with Noah and London sprawled on her chest, both in deep sleep for the first time all day. She gently rubbed their backs, her fingers tracing soothing circles as she stared off into space, lost in thought.

The bathroom door opened, and Jack walked out, his hair damp, a towel slung low around his waist. Maryse’s eyes flicked to him, and she couldn’t help but bite her lip. Despite her exhaustion, a part of her couldn’t deny how much she missed him, in every way.

Jack caught her staring and smirked as he sat on the edge of the bed. “You good over there?”

“Sure,” she replied, her voice low. “But you’re gonna need to put on some clothes because I’m already distracted.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he stood to grab a pair of pants. “Fine, fine. Can’t have you losing focus.”

Once dressed, he sat back down and leaned toward her, his expression soft but serious. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Maryse’s brow furrowed. “Okay… What’s up?”

He hesitated for a moment, his thumb brushing over the bedspread before he spoke. “Have you thought about maybe…talking to someone? Like a therapist?”

Her body stiffened instantly, and her guard went up. “A therapist? For what?”

“For you,” he said carefully. “I just… I’ve noticed how hard things have been for you lately. You’ve been overwhelmed, and with the twins, the performances, and everything else, I think it could help to talk to someone.”

Maryse gently placed the twins on the bed so that she could sit up. “I don’t need a therapist. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Jack sighed, his voice calm and patient. “I didn’t say there was anything wrong with you. But you’ve been through a lot, babe. Pregnancy, postpartum, leaving the kids for the first time—it’s a lot. You’ve been carrying it all, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do that alone.”

Her eyes softened, but she still shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“You’re not fine,” he said gently, reaching over to place his hand on hers. “And that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’re not strong, and it doesn’t mean you’re a bad mom. It just means you’re human. I just want you to be okay—for yourself, for me, and for them.” He glanced down at the sleeping twins, his voice laced with emotion.

When she stayed quiet, he continued. “You never really talked to anyone after the stalker broke into our apartment either. You just kept going like it didn’t shake you, but I know it did. You’re carrying all of this stuff, and I just don’t want it to get heavier.”

Maryse’s defenses crumbled slightly, her fingers brushing over Noah’s hair. “You really think I need to talk to someone?”

“I think it could help,” he said honestly. “You don’t have to decide now, but just think about it, alright? For me?”

She nodded reluctantly, her voice softer now. “Okay… I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” Jack said, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

Backstage at the closing ceremony, the air buzzed with energy as Maryse prepared to step into the spotlight. Jack sat in the corner, gently rocking the stroller back and forth, his eyes locked on her. Urban snapped candid shots of her as she adjusted her all-white suit, brushing a hand nervously through her hair. Jack could tell from her small, fidgety movements that she was feeling the weight of the moment, but he also couldn’t stop marveling at how breathtaking she looked.

The crisp white suit fit her perfectly, exuding elegance and power. It reminded him of a future he’d been quietly dreaming about: her walking toward him in a different white outfit, down an aisle, with the same mixture of nerves and confidence.

She turned toward him, crossing the room to check on the babies. Her lips found Noah’s forehead, then London’s, as she murmured a few soft words to each of them. When her eyes finally met Jack’s, she noticed the way he was watching her—intense, unblinking, and full of admiration.

“What?” she asked softly, a nervous laugh slipping out as she straightened her suit jacket.

“You’re just… so beautiful,” he said simply, his voice low and steady.

Her cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head, fiddling with the buttons on her cuff. “Stop staring at me like that.”

He smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Why? I like making you nervous.”

She gave him a look, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re perfect,” he countered smoothly.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that followed. “I’ll be back in a bit,” she said, brushing a hand over Noah’s tiny fist before walking toward the stage entrance.

As she disappeared from view, Jack chest swelled with pride and love. She might’ve been nervous, but to him, she looked every bit like the star she was born to be.

***

AN: 🥹 hope you all love this

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