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alluringnectar · 4 months

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my baby

pairings; loser!ellie williams x cheerleader! reader

cw; interalized homophobia, angst, tribbing, fingering (r! recieving), fluff, bullying (kinda), making out, slur, petnames like “baby & princess” , not proof read yet!

wc; 17k

life has never been better, you were handed the world at the age of 6. you never had to worry about having no friends, or not having the latest designer bag, and certainly not having everybody wrapped around your finger. you were a cheerleader & from that only, everyone respected you. you dedicated yourself into looks: always on diets, hitting the gyms, getting your nails done, having the most expensive makeup and so much more. you were the most outgoing girl known to mankind, never missing a rager or party. your friend groups were mainly other cheerleaders, and the jocks on the football team. they were assholes, but you didn’t care because so were you.

you never once paid attention in class, especially english. clicking your pen and having your eyes everywhere but the board. you snap out of your daze when your teacher announces that there will be a partner project, and she would assign the groups. you hear your name, and you pray that you get one of your friends but instead you hear the name ellie williams.

“you cannot be fucking serious” you mutter under your breath, looking at ellie whose a row infront of you.

“what was that?” the teacher asked you. “nothing.” you mock her tone, earning a laugh from your classmates.

“alright then everybody get to your partners we don’t have all day!” she claps her hands, urging everyone to switch their seats.

you stay in your seat, motioning ellie to

come where you are. why would you have to move? ellie rolled her eyes, not having the best impression of you either. “look,” ellie says “i wouldn’t have picked you either.” you scoff, “great to know we’re on the same page!” you look at her green eyes, and the way she flutters her eyelash. you were about to say something until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

it was a jock, and you end up talking to him for the rest of the period, not caring to look back at ellie, who was doing all the work. “another prissy bitch.” ellie thinks to herself.

as soon as the bell rings, ellie packs her stuff and leaves as soon as she could. she sees her friends, dina and jesse, and she sighs in relief. “you would not believe who i got paired up with.” dina and jesse both furrow their brows in unison. “a CHEERLEADER! i swear this world is against me, i already know im gonna have to do this project with myself.” dina replies, “yikes , you have it unlucky. i would NOT wanna be you.” jesse laughs and that makes ellie roll her eyes & reply “thanks dina that makes me feel a million times better.” “well jesse and I have to get going, good luck with her!” dina yells while grabbing jesse by the hand and dragging him through the hallways. ellie sighs and puts her back against the locker.

you put your bag down, and flop down on your bed chewing on some protein bars after practice. you grab your laptop and check your grade book. and thats when you see it. you’re gonna fail english class. “shit shit shit!” you tell yourself, pacing around your room in circles. you couldn’t give to shits if you were failing english, but what you did care about is being on academic probation. if you’re put on academic probation, you won’t be able to cheer. you can’t let that happen. so you grabbed your phone, and started texting everyone for ellie’s number. when you finally receive a message with her number, you smile and immediately text her.

“heyyy”

“who is this?”

“your partner in english.”

“why are you texting me?”

“do you wanna come over tomorrow to work on it?”

“is this a joke?”

“ why would i be? i have practice, so is 7:30 good?”

“yeah, ill be there just give me the address.”

it’s the next day and you come from practice drenched in sweat. you go into the shower, making sure its cold so you can relax. as you get out, you put on a robe and some uggs slipper and you hear the bell ring.

you walk over to answer, the fact ellie was supposed to come over completely slipped your mind. you open the door, and you see ellie.

“shit! is it 7:30 already?”

ellie takes full notice you’re in nothing but a robe and she blushes.

“yeah.”

“fuck im so sorry- practice had me exhausted-“

ellie reassures you, telling you it was okay because she found it kinda cute that your hair was wet and your lips were plump.

“here ellie, you can come inside, just stay in my room, i’ll get changed and i’ll be there in a sec.

ellie nods, and sinks down into your bed. she takes a moment to take in everything in your room. she took note of the way your walls were stripped pink and white to the little ballerina jewelry box that looked antique.

you walk into your room handing her some snacks. “do you want some?” “sure.”

ellie says. & now shes starting to think you’re not a total bitch.

this time, you ended up getting no work done but for a different reason. you spent your time gossiping to ellie, about who slept with who, or who did what. you never realized how pretty ellie truly was. her freckles decorated her face like how constellations decorate the sky. you look down into her lips, and ellie stops talking about whatever she was. ellie and you spend a brief moment just gazing into each other’s eyes.

you both get flustered and she breaks the silence by saying “um- do you have a hair tie?” “yeah of course here” and you hand her one.

you look at the time and gasp, it’s almost 11:30. were you guys really talking for that long? “ellie, do you wanna sleep over? or i can walk yo-“ “no, ill sleep over it’s fine.” you nod. grabbing blankets for her, “you can sleep on my bed i’ll sleep on my couch.” ellie scoffs “no fucking way, i’m not taking your bed, i can have the couch.”

and due to both of your guys’ stubbornness, you are laying next to eachother, in the same bed staring at the ceiling. you look over and you see ellie has fallen asleep. she looked so beautiful and her front hair pieces fell on her face, capturing her beautiful. you move your hand to tuck it but then you get this wave of disgust. not to her, but to yourself.

what the fuck am i doing? I can’t like girls. am i stupid? i’m not gonna be seen as some dyke on the cheerleader team. my reputation would be ruined.

you ended up falling asleep teary eyed, scared to accept if these feelings are really true and maybe they’ll go away.

it’s almost summer, and the feelings are still lingering and infact they are stronger than before. after acing the project, you still

continued to hang out with ellie. you and her hung out every friday, and it became a ritual. you were starting to fall in love with her, and you knew there was no way out. everytime your asshole friends said anything about her that was negative, you jumped to defend her name like a knight. “you know the project deadline was months ago, while do you still hangout with her.” slightly irritated you snap, “she isn’t even bad once you get to know her, she’s funny and sweet.”

it wasn’t any different for ellie either, expect she was 100% convinced you were straight. you never once spoke of your sexuality to her, and for any matter guys in general but why would you like her? she grew up playing with worms, while you grew up going on constant vacations. but even though she thought it would never happen, she asked the universe for this one thing. she prayed to a lord she didn’t even believe in, hoping he will for once listen to her.

God works in mysterious ways because you’re sitting in ellie’s room drinking vodka blasting music. it’s odd how vodka can make somebody so honest. ellie was rambling about a story with an ex she had named cat, and drama between the two. she developed a habit of gossiping, probably from you. to make sure you’re still listening, she asks you. “how about you, any boy trouble?” its silent, and you look at her and start sobbing. ellie’s heart drops down to her stomach and instantly grabs you, pulling you close to her. “hey was it something i said? im sorry-“ “no!” you manage to yell out between your broken sobs. “i don’t think i like guys.” “what?” ellie says, shocked from what she heard.

“when i look at you, it’s not the same for any guy. sure i’ve made out with guys, but not even that gives me the same feeling of when im talking to you. i want it to be you so bad, ellie.” you hiccup, tears staining your eyes. “but this is all new for me, and i hate myself for being this way, i had everything anyone could ask for and it feels like im throwing it all away.”

ellie’s mind is going in all directions, the fact you like her. the fact shes finally getting her prayers answered. she pushes it to the side, because what you need is comfort. ellie holds you tight. so tight, you cannot wiggle out of her grasp. “hey baby, it all works out at the end, your existence isn’t a sin, people who truly love you, will accept you for who you are. and you don’t have to figure things out right now, take your time.” ellie replies, hovering her hand over your face to wipe your tears.

you’re looking up at her, inching your face closer to hers. she leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss. you’re eager for more, so you grab her hair from behind and sloppily slid your mouth inside. ellie pulls away from the kiss, to get air, saliva connecting you guys to each other.

“hey els?” you say softly, having your knees tucked in.

“yeah?”

“since school is ending, there’s gonna be a rager. do you wanna come?”

ellie smiles at you, accepting your offer.

“i’ll be there.”

it’s the day of the rager, and ellie’s at her house with dina and jesse on her bed. “are you sure you really wannq go?” dina asks. ellie’s throwing her clothes everywhere, looking for an outfit to wear. “yeah,” jesse adds on “she doesn’t look like somebody who would hang out with you, what if this is all a prank?” ellie stops to look at them. “guys, i know you’re concerned but trust me on this, okay?” they nod their heads. “whatever happens, you can always tell us okay? whatever you choose to do , we’re with you.” ellie smiles and pulls them into a group hug. she’s wearing a wife pleaser, red flannel, and some jeans. shes tying her converse, she walks out the door, saying “wish me luck!”

she arrives at the house, and the music is so loud she can hear it from where she’s at. nervously she turns to twist the door knob and instantly she goes looking for you. she’s happy today after what happen yesterday, and she’s thinking to herself nothing can change her mood. until she saw you. you had a red solo cup in your hand. you were with a jock, who made it pretty clear he wanted you. was ellie a joke? was everything you said to her nothing after all? her friends were right. clenched fists, she turns to head out of the party, rushing to her car trying not to cry.

the jock wouldn’t take no for an answer, you’ve made it clear you’re not interested in him. “don’t be like that, i see the way you look at me.” you scrunch up your nose in disgust. “well you must be fucking blind.” and thats when you see in the corner of your eye, ellie. “fuck!” you murmur to yourself. ellie is already going towards the exist. as she’s walking down the steps of the porch. you scream, “wait! it’s not what it looks like, i swear-“

“do you think im a fucking joke? you made me feel like a fool.”

“ellie i swear nothing happened i was-“

“were you telling him your pranked worked? were you laughing about me? it’s done. i hope you had your fun.”

ellie is about to turn your back on you.

“ellie im in love with you!” you yell. loud enough

that people from the outside were looking at what was happening.

ellie looks around, “you’re drunk.”

“yes im drunk but that doesn’t change the fact im in love with you. the man that was talking to me. i was telling him to leave me alone. i only have eyes for you ellie! anybody who knows me has to get to know you first!” you breath starts to hitch, knowing you’re about to cry and how people are listening but you no longer care.

“i use to cry, praying that God took these feelings away. now im praying to God for letting me meet you. God knew I needed you Ellie.”

ellie stands there in disbelief, she doesn’t know what to say but her heart is about to explode. she runs to you, takes your hand and takes sits you in the passenger seat. closing the door, she starts the car and starts driving. she looks over at you, and you’re already staring at her. she places a hand on your thigh, and caresses it. “you’re perfect in every way, ways im not. i couldn’t believe somebody as amazing as you would want me, and im sorry.”

you smile, and place your hand on top of hers, “it’s okay, we were both pretty caught up” you giggle.

she would fight the world to hear that giggle again.

she pulls up to your driveway, and shes about to drive off but you ask her to stay the night. and how could she say no to that pretty face of yours?

it’s all dark, but you hold her hand and she follows you into your room. you play some music on your record player.

“do you like mazzy star els?”

“i dont listen to her much, but her voice is pretty.”

you walk up to her, and hold her by the waist. ellie looks down at you and pressed her lips onto yours. you close your eyes, melting into the kiss. you start getting hungrier for more, and you open your mouth to let her tongue slip into yours. the kisses start getting needier, and she walks you until your laying back on your bed. you straddle her waist, and she puts a hand up your dress causing you to whine.

“you’re okay with this right?”

“of course els, please hurry.”

“please what?”

you look away from her gaze, shyly, you fiddle with the seams of ellies wife pleaser and whisper to her , “please touch me, it can only be you.” and with that, ellie is slipping your dress off. kissing your collarbone all the way down to the welts of your breast. she takes off your matching set of panties and bra. and her cold hands on pinching your nipples make your back arch into her touch. she sucks on your nipples, flicking her tongue on it back and forth earning whimpers from you each and every time.

“n-need you els..” you stutter. “im not going anywhere baby.” she chuckles, her breath on your beast making you close your eyes in pleasure. “im gonna touch you now okay? tell me when to stop.” she slides her fingers between your folds.

“already so wet for me princess” and as she hovers to your face to kiss you, her front pieces of her hair are touching your own face. you’re sloppily making out with her, moaning into her mouth.

then she puts two of her fingers in, feeling you instantly clench around them. you start moaning louder and louder “ellie! ellie faster!” and she listens to you, curling her fingers even faster before hitting you in the g spot. your thighs start shaking. and your grabbing onto ellie’s fore arm, clawing it for any way to feel relief.

your moans reach an all time high and you know you’re almost there. im- im about to cum els!” and she starts sucking on your neck, “let it out for me baby, you deserve it come on.” and you reach your climax, sweating and panting. she takes her fingers out of you and sucks them. “you taste so good, everything about you is so sweet.”

still fucked out, you murmured incoherent sentences. “i wanna feel you against me els, please, please.” and ellie looks at you, grabbing your waist to pull you up. you looked at her in this love dovey expression and her heart skips a beat. “can i take this off?” you ask and she gulps and nods. you take off her flannel. then wife pleaser. then her jeans. leaving her in underwear and her sports bra, which now you’re taking off her underwear.

as for the most part both of you are naked, you place your cunt onto hers. you grind against her lightly. both of you whimpering sweet nothings. “i love you els i love you i love you” as you both of you are sweating, holding onto eachother, kissing as you slide on her and feel both of your holes clenching around nothing. “you’re doing so good f’ me” ellie blabbers. both of you are starting to reach your orgasms as you both moan in a higher octave, clawing at each others back, and feeling yourself twitch.

“i think im gonna cum i think-“ “come with me, be a good girl for me please.” she tells you needly, but you can’t even tease her because you want this just as much, if not more. both of you reach your climax, beads of sweat running down each of your fore heads. you disconnect yourself from her cunt. both of your arousals sticking to each other in a way your bodies seem like they’re made to mold into each other’s.

you collapse onto the back of your bed. ellie crawls to lay on your chest. kissing you over and over again, as a way to praise you. you giggle and run your hands through her hair, massaging her scalp.

“shouldn’t we clean up ellie?” you inquire, and you feel her breath on you again as she says “i wanna stay like this.” you nod and you bring blankets over you guys.

“im in love with you too.” ellie tells you.

“i think you showed me already.” you laughed.

“so are we girlfriends?” ellie asks you, looking up at you.

you kiss ellie, and tell her “if you go to every one of my practices.”

safe to say there was never a practice ellie didn’t go to.

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zerokaram · 4 months

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thinking about abby calming you down during an argument. not in a condescending way, or a way that would make you feel stupid, but in a gentle and loving way. she just understands that you weren’t aware of calm ways to resolve arguments because of your past :((

like she’d just be holding you, each hand on each of your shoulders, gripping gently but firmly. She speaks in a stern but lenient tone, “hey, hey—look at me.” she pauses, “ ‘know you’re upset baby. I know. but thats no reason to be yelling,” she says, rubbing your arms, slowly moving down to holding your hands. “let’s talk about this calmly.” she TELLS you, she doesn’t ask.

like shes just so dominant and shit it would probably make you fold before the argument even starts

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abyssruler · 8 months

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aether, like countless other knights and princes across the realm seeking glory, sets off on a journey to free the princess from the locked tower and slay the fearsome dragon guarding her.

meanwhile, neuvillette is tired of all these humans trespassing into his home and attempting to steal his wife.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin neuvillette x reader #fem reader #yknow this was meant to be the summary to a one shot i’d been planning since last year #but as always only 5% of the things i write on my notes actually get written #if anyone wants to make a fic out of this be my guest darlings

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 5 months

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i always end up writing way more than i intend to so im just gonna keep it short. hockey player! bakugou who’s absolutely enamored with lil ole quiet you. squealing. (ps @bkgpackets this is all your fault)

hockey player! bakugou who’s the star player of his team, who could have anyone he wants yet his eyes always search around in the stands for you so he can flash you that smirk.

hockey player! bakugou who absolutely demands a kiss on the cheek before every game, claims it brings him good luck even tho he really doesn’t need it. “m’not goin’ out there till you give me my kiss, sweetheart”

hockey player! bakugou who despite seeming all cool and casual, gets so incredibly nervous when he has to show any sign of being interested in you. his hands clammy when he brings you your favorite snack from that bakery you liked to go to when you were paired up for the project that sealed his fate. his friends never miss an opportunity to make fun of him for it, but he’d much rather take this than any chances of some random loser asking you out before he does

hockey player! bakugou who despite being the definition of a total hunk, is actually inexperienced as hell. he’s clunky and a little awkward when he asks you out, almost shoving the bouquet of your favorite flowers you’d once mentioned in passing in your face unceremoniously, but that cute little blush on his cheeks is to die for.

hockey player! bakugou who despite being inexperienced is also the most insufferable piece of shit ever. he teases you mercilessly, he tickles and pokes you and sneaks up behind you just to hear you squeal. he traps you between his broad chest and your locker just to see how flustered you get from how public he’s being. (not like he cares anyway) he’ll bite and kiss you randomly and he’ll steal bites of your food to see you pout and to have an excuse to share his lunch with you. “now we’re even so quit whinin’.” he snickers.

hockey player! bakugou who loves when you get all fired up for him. who feels his heart somersault in his chest when you give him your sweet pep talks during intermissions. who loves when you place your hands against his cheeks and can’t count the amount of times his mouth goes dry when you tell him he’s got this. who kisses you square on the mouth before he has to go and strategize with his team, newly reinvigorated resolve because his girl is watching and cheering him on.

hockey player! bakugou who after his team wins and they’re done celebrating, immediately bounds over to you with that dashing smile and picks you up over his shoulder. whooping and laughing meanly at your squeals and giggles while he carried you around like you’re the trophy. who kisses you long and hard before pulling away and grinning so so bright it almost blinds you but you can’t look away “you really are my good luck charm, aren’t ya ?”

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killakalx · 6 months

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↳ ageless/blank blogs dnf

17+ content, triple threat, pussy eating, minor mention of spit (dg), fingering (dg & jt), 69 position (rh), every dc man is a munch because i said so, argue with the wall

❦ Dick Grayson, who folds you over yourself and holds your legs wide open when he eats you out. he starts slow, almost calculated as he talks about how nasty you are, spelling his name out before each flick of his tongue over your clit. hot and labored breaths are huffed against your lips as he picks up the pace, tongue dipping deep into your cunt and a guttural groan makes you gasp. he feels you clench on his tongue and it’s taken as a signal, dangerously long fingers suddenly curling up into your pussy and making you whimper above him. you’re pleading for more, he assumes, harsh tugs on his hair making him moan deep into your core and driving you over the edge.

still, his fingers speed up while your cum leaks around them and against his palm. he pulls his mouth away, covered in slick and drool with a nasty grin on his face, all for you to see- or just so he can see the desperate look on your face as you twitch for and beg for a break. he fixes his angle and you cry out, whining at the faux sympathy in his voice. it’s alright, sweetheart- i know. jus’ feels too good, yeah? a thick glob of spit lands on your clit and you’re so fucking wet, it’s as if he only did it for the sentiment- just to start circling and sucking at the sensitive bud until you’re damn near crying.

❦ Jason Todd, who locks your thighs around his head and muffled himself as his fingers dig into your hips. he’s practically consumed by your supple and savory skin, biting and sucking dark hickeys into your inner thigh before returning to your weeping cunt. the way he uses his mouth is obscene, making sure you hear the loud squelch and lewd slurps every time he dips his head deeper into your pussy. his fat tongue laps from your hole all the way to your clit before he sucks, letting out a deep and muffled laugh between your legs when you mewl. jason moves his hand to prod thick fingers at your entrance, forcing you to buck into his face and getting him deeper inside.

the way you chant his name- jay… jay- jason, oh fuck- it fuels his ego, and you can feel the wicked grin against your skin. he can tell you’re close now, and he only encourages you until your moans turn long and drawn out, burying his face in your pussy with a few weak thrusts. his gravely voice hums against you, fuck, gorgeous- all f’me, huh? yeahhh, all for me. you’ve got him humping the mattress like a fucking teenager with the way you keen for him, but he’s set on making you cum over and over on his tongue. he pays no mind to your hand pushing him away, pulling his fingers away from you pussy and locking you right back up with his bare hands.

❦ Roy Harper, who moans into your cunt before you’re even properly positioned to suck him off, situating you right on top of his face so he can grope your ass. the enthusiasm makes you buckle over and giggle, pulling out a whine from his throat. you finally give him some needed attention, sucking at his tip and rubbing pre-cum down his shaft. it pushes him further into you as he groans, hugging your whole body closer to his face and chest. it’s an endless cycle: your mouth wrapped beautifully around his cock, leaving stray saliva and lipgloss around the base, only leading to desperate moans vibrating all the way up your spine as he bucks into the back of your throat; in turn, you whimper and gag, hands holding onto his thighs to ground yourself. the room is filled with all types of debauched noises and it only turns him on more- god, he needs to hear more.

he doesn’t let up, even when you resort to stroking his dick to give yourself breath, lurching over and keening about how close you are. the arch in your back, the way you grind into his face- it’s got him determined. give it to me, doll- cmon, lemme get a taste of this pretty pussy. you can’t even deny him, ruining his face with a loud moan along the base. your pleasure feeds directly into his, and he’s cursing between your pussy lips as ropes of cum cover his pelvis and your hand. you’re dripping down his face when he lifts you up a tad, but he only takes a few moments to catch his breath before he’s pulling you back down on his face. he just needs you wailing and creaming all over his face one more time.

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henrioo · 8 months

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WHY IS SO FUCKING HARD PUT A "FEM" IN FRONT OF THE "READER"???????

NOT EVERYONE IN THIS FUCKING SITE IS A FEM OR USES FEM PRONOUNS YOU DUMB BITCH

NOT EVERYONE WANTS TO READ HALF OF A HISTORY ONLY TO GET A FEM NICKNAME OR A FEM PRONOUN THAT YOU TAKE OFF YOUR ASS

JUST PUT THE FUCKING FEM READER YOU ASSHOLE YOU NOT GOING TO DIE IF YOU PUT THREE FUCKING LETTERS IN FRONT THE READER

IS SO FUCKING HARD DEFENDING SOME AUTHORS BECAUSE THEY CONTINUE BEING DUMB

SOME MASC PEOPLE HAVE A FUCKING DYSPHORIA OR THEY DAY RUINED BY THAT

YOU WON'T LIKE IF WAS A MALE READER WITHOUT SAYING IS MALE, THEN PUT THE FEM READER BECAUSE WE DON'T LIKE EITHER

#one piece x reader #henri talk #one piece x male reader #imagines #anime imagines #one piece imagine #x male y/n #x male smut #x male reader #x masc reader #x transmasc reader #x trans male reader #PUT THE FEM JESUS #WHY IS THAT SO FUCKING HARD???#mlm #friendly boys imagine blog #boys blog only #male reader

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cherryberry-sugarandspice · 9 days

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"Be a good girl for mommy and say ah," Wanda coos, her hand wrapped around the thick red strap on, tapping it against your bottom lip. She's kind yet dominant, leaving no room for complaints.

Which there were none, anyway, as she has her pretty little slut perfectly trained.

You immediately open your mouth and moan as she slides her cock into your mouth. You struggle to take all of her, cheeks puffed and tears brimming in your eyes. But like the good whore you are, you sit there and take it.

Wet suction noises emit from your mouth with every thrust of her hips. Drool trickles down your chin, sliding down the base of your throat and coating your chest. You sit on your knees, arms tied behind your back, happily accepting her thrusts.

"Such a pretty girl," Wanda praises, rolling her cock around in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the silicone base, staring up at her from beneath your wet lashes.

She smiles down at you, her perfectly manicured hand reaching down to caress the underside of your chin. "Baby, you look good sucking mommy's cock. Don't you love sucking mommy's cock?"

You choke in response, body trembling, but continue to suck on her massive cock, eager to satisfy mommy. Mommy loves it when you act like a good whore. There should be no other thoughts than pleasing mommy.

You pull off her cock with a wet pop, but pepper kisses up and down her shaft, rubbing your cheek against it.

"Mmm, I-I can't get enough of mommy's cock," you rasp out, the desperation in your tone audible. You lick up her shaft, shuddering out a breath. "So big, so good for me," you moan right before taking her back in your mouth.

Wanda nods in approval, wiping away tears that fall. Her voice is dripping in lust as she says:

"Keep this up and you'll be bouncing on mommy's cock, pretty girl."

#wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda maximoff #comic wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximommy #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximilf #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #the scarlet witch #the scarlet witch smut #scarlet witch smut #scarlet witch #this is for the ladiesss #LADIES ONLY🗣🗣🗣🗣

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luvjunie · 10 months

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miles “i got it” morales earth 42 miles 591 words

Between the both of you, Miles is always the first to stand up when the bell rings at the end of class. With all the textbooks you bring to school, he knows your backpack is just one mechanical pencil away from hitting a ton and for that reason he never lets you carry it yourself. In fact, he makes it his mission to pick it up before you do. With his own backpack on one shoulder, he’ll watch for the exact moment you’re done tucking your supplies away just to interrupt you as you’re mid-reach so he can scoop it up into his free hand by the top handle.

“I got it.”

Miles always pays for you guys’ dates. You knew this wasn’t abnormal when it came to relationships, seeing as he’s the guy, you’re the girl, and that’s just the ‘societal norm’ or whatever. It’s how your dad told you a male should treat the girl he’s with, and based off how Miles acts, you assumed his own father had given him the same speech as well before he passed. But even when you two take a stroll to the corner store to pick up some cheap snacks for a study session—the total coming out to as little as $4.37 for some sunchips and sour gummy worms—he still won’t let you pay.

He’s already getting his wallet out before the cashier can read the total off. And when you try and protest, he’s all—

“I got it.”

When your laces have come undone and you hadn’t noticed.

“Ma, your shoe’s untied.”

You’ll stop in your tracks and look down at your loosened laces, prepared to hand your phone off to him so you can bend down to tie them, and like always—

“I got it.”

When the pizza you ordered an hour ago finally shows up at the door and you get the ‘arrived’ notification on your phone—which he’s already seen because he’s always looking over your shoulder as you scroll your time away on tiktok, watching them with you as an excuse to be all up on you—you can bet your life on what his response will be.

“I got it.”

You knew he only wanted to be a gentleman, but at this point, you were convinced ‘I got it’ was his middle name instead of Gonzalo.

For a while now, Miles has felt like he has to take responsibility and do everything even when something isn’t asked of him, and you wanted him to know that same sentiment didn’t have to apply to the two of you. So you started trying to beat him at his own game.

Brushing past him and rushing down the concrete steps of his apartment building to make it to the passenger side door and open it for yourself before he can.

Keeping your backpack on the opposite side of your desk so you can have the chance to pick it up before him, even if it earns you a subtle glare each time. And while some days it really is too heavy for you to carry—heavy enough to make you question exactly what point you’re trying to prove here—you remain determined.

Having cash ready and smacking it down on the peeling countertop of the bodega before your snacks have even been rung up, and regardless of how insane you look and how the clerk squeezes his face at you to confirm that, the triumphant grin you give Miles (who’s struggling to contain a smile of his own) doesn’t falter.

“I got it.”

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡#ayyy two posts in one day #i literally don’t even have a theme anymore i jus be doin shit #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse headcanons #miles morales x you #miles morales x fem!reader #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miles morales x reader #prowler miles fluff #earth 42 miles headcanons #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales fanfiction #only put reader’s words in pink to differentiate

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katsu28 · 4 months

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home is wherever you are

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: secretly falling in love with your best friend is tough. secretly falling in love with your best friend who also happens to be your roommate is even less than ideal. the solution? move out! (hint: it isn’t a very good one.) (5k)

warnings: angst with a happy ending, a smidge of google translated french lol

a/n: CHARLES LECLERC!!! CHARLES LECLERC!!!!LECLERC!!! LECLERAUGHCOUGHCOUGH

“I still cannot believe you’re abandoning me.”

Charles shoved another box of your things into the boot of your car rather huffily, as if to reiterate just how unhappy he was.

“I’m not abandoning you, I’m moving out of your apartment.” You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully at him. You passed him the last box off the ground, wiping your hands off on your shorts before propping them on your hips.

“That is quite literally the same thing.” He mirrored your stance in total seriousness, frown unwavering. “And it’s not my apartment, it’s yours now too. Your home.”

You’d been living with Charles for a while now, having been suddenly evicted from your own place three, almost four years ago. With nowhere else to go, you’d turned to your best friend, and Charles had welcomed you with open arms, giving you a home when you’d needed it most.

There were many good things about living with Charles—he liked to cook (which boded well with you, seeing as you were no master chef yourself. Except for when he’d gone through a questionable phase of combining cuisines that did not go well together.), he was respectful of set boundaries and agreed upon rules. You had the same taste in shows and movies, which made for little fighting when it came to deciding on what to watch.

But most notably, he loved to play the piano. It was a hobby he’d picked up during long days spent staying at home, and he was good at it too. An electronic keyboard when he’d first started out, just to see if it was something he was serious about, but as he zoomed through the basics with ease, he’d splurged on a gorgeous white piano that stood proudly in the living room.

Soon enough, it wasn’t unusual for the apartment to be full of music, beautiful songs of Charles’ own composing.

He played whenever he had the feeling. Whenever he had something on his mind, whenever he was bored, anything, he’d spend hours at the piano, playing, playing, playing. Some might’ve called it annoying, but not you. You found it rather soothing.

It had very quickly become a habit of yours to fall asleep listening to Charles play. Something about it seemed to always relax you just enough to the point where you could pretty much fall asleep anywhere if he was at the bench.

Your favorite spot was on the sofa with a big blanket, watching him get lost in the notes until you drifted off. More often than not, you could rarely get a good night’s sleep without Charles’ accompaniment—your very own version of white noise.

But truth be told, this past year of living together with Charles had been trickier than the first couple. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things began to change, but something had definitely shifted between you.

You’d been trying to write it off just the two of you being very close, but you’d been dancing on the line of close friends and more than friends for a long time. Falling asleep together cuddled on the sofa, lingering touches whilst you were in the same room and in passing, hugs that lasted a little too long to be considered normal.

The more your feelings for Charles grew, the more worried you became. Worried about what, you weren’t exactly sure. All you knew was you didn’t want to lose the longest and best friendship you’d ever had because you went and fell in love.

“I know. But I think it’s well past time I get out of your hair and try being on my own for once.” You said softly, stepping in to fold yourself into Charles’ arms.

Most of that was true. You did feel like you needed to live by yourself for a chance, to see what it was like to be fully independent in your adult life. You’d moved in with Charles when you were twenty two, and you were twenty five now. It was time for you to venture out on your own.

But the uncertainty of falling in love with your best friend was definitely also a contributing factor.

He made a displeased sound at your words, but tucked you under his chin nonetheless. “I don’t want you to get out of my hair. My hair likes it with you here.”

“I live fifteen minutes away, Cha. I’m not moving across the country. You and your hair can come over anytime.” You scoffed, giving him a gentle poke in the ribs. “And I’ll come over here all the time too, you know that.”

“Fine, fine. I don’t know what I am supposed to do with your empty room now, but I’ll figure it out. Maybe I will take up scrapbooking. Knitting. Needlepoint, maybe. Turn it into a craft room.”

“Maybe you can turn it into a music room. Move the keyboard in there, your piano.”

“Ah, bien entendu, my piano. How will you ever fall asleep without my sweet, sweet melodies?”

“I think I will manage just fine.” You chuckled.

Charles held you at arms’ length, dark brows furrowing as he scowled. “What I’m hearing is you don’t love me anymore.”

Oh, if only he knew.

You smiled instead, patting his cheek good-naturedly. “Come on, you drama queen. I want to move in before the sun goes down.”

Charles went full protection mode the second all your belongings had made it safely inside the apartment, intently checking every lock, window, door hinge, cabinet—not an inch of the apartment went uninspected by him. When he seemed fairly satisfied with his safety checks, he returned to where you were unpacking kitchen items over by the oven.

“Everything up to your standards?” You asked, pulling out a stack of plates wrapped in brown paper. Charles shuffled over, easing them out of your hands and unwrapping them to help put them up in the cabinet. “No one is going to break in through my window tonight?”

“Don’t even joke about that.” He grumbled, chucking the balled up paper at you gently. “Everything I checked is fine. You will be safe here.”

Food was simple when it came time for dinner—takeout on the floor of your living room, because you hadn’t had the time to go shopping for a coffee table yet. Or a dining room table. Or even chairs, really. All you had were some pillows and an overturned cardboard box to put the food on.

Charles had insisted on helping you furnish the whole place before you moved in but you’d declined, saying that you wanted to get a feel for the place before filling it with everything. The last time it would be this empty would be the day you moved out.

He seemed a little quiet the rest of the night, but you didn’t press it until after dinner, whilst he was helping you with the washing up. Well, helping was a strong word.

“You’ve been drying that plate for ages now.” You observed, tilting your head at him thoughtfully. Charles inhaled sharply, shaking his head like he’d been snapped out of a stupor. He glanced down at the completely dry plate, then back up at you blankly. “What’re you thinking about?”

“You’re really going to be gone.”

“You say that like I told you I’ve only got days to live. I won’t be gone, Cha. I’ll be around.” You chuckled, flicking dish soap bubbles in his direction. Charles responded by flinging his towel at you, cracking a smile. You liked it when he smiled, hated it when he frowned. He was still unfairly attractive, but it wasn’t Charles’ scowl that made you fall in love with him.

“We can spend the day together anytime, you can come over whenever you want, and if it makes you feel any better, I will give you your very own key.”

That seemed to put him a little more in higher spirits.

“What will you ever do without me?” He wondered out loud, feigning a thoughtful expression.

“Probably clean up a lot less. Be able to take a shower without running out of hot water halfway through. Oh! Have a bottle of shampoo last more than a month because someone—not naming names, of course, won’t use it because they’ve run out of theirs. Not have to fight for—”

“Alright, alright, I get it!” Charles huffed, grabbing you by the shoulders and promptly shoving your face into his chest to stop you from talking.

You grinned against the softness of his hoodie. “Shall I go on?”

“No, no you shouldn’t.” His hold on you loosened, but you stayed right where you were, wrapping your arms around his torso. “Just admit it. You’ll miss me.”

“I will miss you.” You said softly, pressing your cheek into the crook of his neck. If there was something Charles was unbelievably good at (besides literally anything he’d ever tried), it was giving the best hugs. Something about them made you feel safe, like nothing and nobody could ever hurt you as long as you were in his arms.

“You already know how much I’m going to miss having you around.”

“Yeah, I am pretty great.”

A laugh rumbled through his chest. “You are.”

“You’ve been the best roommate I could’ve asked for. Thank you for everything.” Your words were muffled between the two of you, and you were glad for it, because he didn’t seem to notice the waver in your tone. But he did squeeze you a little tighter, so maybe he did hear you. “I love you, Cha.”

Charles’ voice seemed to waver just a bit too. “I love you too.”

“Okay, okay, you really need to leave. Go before I change my mind and make you stay.” You blurted, pushing him away playfully. It was better than letting him see you get emotional.

“Is that a promise?”

“No, it’s a threat. Go home. I will see you soon.” You gave his hand one last squeeze, nodding reassuringly to rid him of the crease between his brows. “Don’t worry about me. Go, get some rest.”

It was only then that he seemed satisfied enough to leave, but even then, he cast another backwards glance towards you on his way down the hall, as if he was waiting for you to beckon him back. You just smiled as best you could.

You’d get over it. You had to. There was still a lot you needed to get done before you called it a night.

It wasn’t until you were getting ready to go to bed that you started to feel lonely. You and Charles had your respective bedtime routines, but they always intertwined.

You never liked being the one to turn off all the lights in the apartment because the switch was at the end of the hallway opposite from your bedrooms, so he knew to do it because you hated running back through the darkness after flipping the switch.

He always filled a glass with water for late night sipping, but never remembered to actually bring it to his room until he was already in bed, so you always grabbed it for him so he wouldn’t have to make the trek back out the kitchen.

The bathroom counter was where you’d find each other the most, terrible jokes and funny stories told muffled through toothpaste bubbles, even though you could’ve just waited until you were finished to tell each other. You’d flick water at him as you washed your face because he took up too much space at the sink, he’d turn off the tap in retaliation, things like that.

Sometimes Charles would stay up later playing video games with his friends, or take some extra time to practice piano, so you wouldn’t get to do your well oiled machine routine, but he’d always take the extra second to pop into your room to say goodnight when he heard you bustling around, even if he was in the middle of something.

The times you fell asleep on the sofa to Charles’ playing the piano, he’d camp out at the other end of the sofa for the night, or at the very least made sure you were covered with a blanket if he went to sleep in his own room.

It was something you’d grown accustomed to over the years, oftentimes the well-needed end to a not so great day. Charles never failed to put a smile on your face, even with something as small and mundane as a bedtime routine.

But there was none of that as you ran through your routine this time.

You didn’t hear him shuffling around over in the other room, the muffled sounds of his shouts as he played his games, and most of all, you didn’t hear him and his piano.

Because there was no Charles. Of course there wasn’t. You were in this new place that you hadn’t had quite nearly enough of a chance to get used to yet, alone, and it was finally settling in.

Suddenly moving out and away from him seemed like the worst decision in the world.

You knew it was only the first night. You had to give yourself a chance to reacclimate, and that would take time. So you inhaled a deep breath, trying to get as comfy as you could for a long, probably sleepless night ahead.

It was nearing four in the morning when you finally decided to give up and call Charles. Part of you thought he might not even pick up the phone, because he was probably asleep. Any sane person would be sleeping right now.

Much to your surprise, he answered on the second ring.

“Why are you awake?” You asked, maybe a bit harshly.

“Um, you are the one who called me? Why are you awake?” He replied, groggy voice still teasing. His accent always grew thicker when he was sleepy. You thought it was adorable. “You cannot sleep, can you?”

“...No.” Your voice grew smaller. You felt embarrassed at the fact that you couldn’t even make it one full night without Charles around. “I just…I wanted to hear your voice, I guess. I miss you already, Cha.”

Charles fell silent for a few moments, the only sound on his side of the line being his gentle exhales. “I miss you too. Do you want me to come over? I can stay the night, if you want.”

“No. No, you don’t need to do that.” You said softly. “Can you just talk to me?”

This was also something that had become somewhat of a ritual when either of you couldn’t sleep.

You’d tiptoe into each other’s rooms quiet as a mouse, slipping into bed beside the other. Charles always stirred when he felt the bed dip under your weight, half asleep but still reaching out to pull you against his chest like it was second nature. On the occasions when he came into your room, you’d feel him tuck himself close to you, nosing against any part of you he could find with a content sigh.

There was no rhyme or reason to the things you’d talk about in those moments, but eventually, somehow, you’d both end up asleep, usually fairly quickly. Maybe it was the extra added comfort of each other that helped, you could never tell.

It wasn’t unusual to wake up a jumble of limbs tangled together, and neither of you ever addressed it either. Just went on with your business as usual, never talking about it because it was just something you did. To help each other sleep, of course.

Another thing that really blurred the line between friends and more.

Charles hummed a noncommittal sound, soft and fond like he always was around you. “I’ll do you one better. How about I play some music for you?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.” You sighed, relieved. He knew what you needed without you even having to ask.

You heard him get up, footsteps padding along until there was a thud and some shuffling coming from Charles’ side. A few warm up scales in and you were already feeling a little less anxious, letting yourself get comfortable.

“Any requests from the audience?”

“Been working on anything new?” You yawned, nuzzling a little deeper back into your pillow.

“I have, actually. It’s still—fuck, how do you say it…a work in progress?”

“Anything you play is perfect.”

“You flatter me.” He snorted. “Alright, here goes nothing.”

He began to play. You knew jack shit about music, so there wasn’t much you could think of to describe how it sounded, but you could describe how it felt. You could almost feel the emotion pouring from his playing, even through the scratchy quality of the speaker.

It felt like something you’d hear in the background of a movie montage, lilting and delicate and warm notes swirling together to create a bright melody, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

Memories of good times with Charles flashed through your head—all the long days and even longer nights you’d spent together because you thrived in each other’s company, cooking together, binging Netflix shows until you both passed out on the sofa.

Hushed laughing during dinners at fancy restaurants that Charles could get into by flashing his name, soft conversations accompanied with expensive food and even more expensive wine.

Day trips up the coast with the top down on the car, pushing the speed limit just to feel an ounce of the freedom that it could give you. Walking through Monte Carlo on late night gelato runs, switching flavors because you both enjoyed each other’s choice more than your own.

Most of all, you thought of the love you felt for Charles, ever since you’d first met him. You’d never been one to believe in the concept of soulmates, but fuck, it was so easy to think of him as yours. Never had you felt as much for someone as you did for him.

God, why were you even thinking of those things?

It would never happen. Any love that Charles had for you would be strictly platonic, limited to however much one could love their best friend.

Surely he’d drawn inspiration from something else when he’d composed the beautiful piece. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

Soon enough, you’d drifted off like you always did when Charles played, coincidentally right before he came to a lingering stop.

Had you been awake, you would’ve heard him say that the beautiful piece had been inspired by you. Instead you were fast asleep, still none the wiser to anything. Maybe it was a good thing. You might not have believed it if you’d heard him.

-------

Charles was on your doorstep first thing in the morning, coffee and pastries in hand when you opened the door for him.

“Hello, good morning, your savior is here. And with breakfast!” He chirped, coming to just enough of a halt for you to slide an arm around his shoulders in a hug and grab one of the drinks out of the tray before he swept past you.

Bright morning sunlight poured into the open area, washing the whole place aglow. A warm breeze floated in through the ajar window, rattling the shutters only slightly, and you could hear the all too familiar sounds of the city in the morning coming from the streets below. It was a gorgeous picture of peace; one of the apartment’s many fun quirks that convinced you to go for it in the first place.

The only thing that might’ve rivaled the beauty of the moment was Charles standing at the window, leaning against the sill drinking his coffee while the breeze ruffled his hair. His back was to you as he checked out the view, but even the mere image of him here was nice.

You sipped your own coffee, smiling to yourself when you realized Charles remembered exactly how you took it. You didn’t even need to look inside the bag to know they were your favorite pastries from the bakery down the street from your former apartment that both you and Charles loved. He was always thoughtful like that. Things like remembering your favorite foods and drinks, and going out of his way to get them as a little pick-me-up.

It seemed wrong to ruin the moment, but you felt like you had to say something.

“I’m sorry for waking you up last night.” You sighed, taking a cross-legged seat on a pillow.

Charles turned away from the window, shaking his head quickly. He took a seat on the floor next to you, long legs stretching out towards your crossed ones to nudge a sneaker against your socked foot. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, I’m glad you called me.”

“Right, but it’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it? First time on my own and I didn’t even last a whole night.”

“Not pathetic.” He insisted, entirely firm in his words. He set his cup down as if it could strengthen his point. “It is a change, definitely. You can’t expect yourself to get used to such a big change immediately. It takes time, you know.”

You messed with the lid of your cup, picking at the plastic with a scowl. “I know. But I can’t always come running to you whenever I need help. It’s not fair to you to have to keep rescuing me every time I need saving.”

“Okay…” He trailed off, stretching out the last syllable in confusion. “I feel this is about something more than just last night. We can talk about it, if you would like?”

“I don’t know what it is.” You huffed. “I thought I was ready to be on my own, but maybe I’m not. Maybe I don’t know I’m doing and I’ll never figure it out, and—”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. Where is this all coming from?”

“I don’t know,” You repeated, bordering on a whine. “But what I do know is that I can’t always keep relying on you for everything. It’s not good for me, or for you.”

“You know, you could always just move back home if you’re truly not ready to do things on your own.” Charles offered, taking a casual sip of his own drink.

Home. He said it so casually, like home was with him instead of this new place you’d chosen to make yours. In a way, Charles was your home. Safety, comfort, love—all the things that made something home, you felt with him.

That was the problem. You didn’t feel right relying on him for all those things, not without him being aware of how you actually felt about him. It seemed like too much of a burden to put on a friend, even one as perfect as Charles.

His eyes met yours over the rim and he shrugged. “I still don’t know why you were so insistent on moving out in the first place.”

You sighed, again. There weren’t many ways you could make yourself any clearer. Other than telling Charles one of the real reasons why you had to leave, which again, was more of a last resort (hopefully not at all) type of thing. “It was time—”

“It was time for you to venture out on your own, yes, I know. But it doesn’t seem to be working out so well right now, does it not?” The last sentence seemed to slip out of Charles’ mouth before he knew what he was saying, because his mouth snapped shut right afterward. “I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I don’t want to argue.”

But what had been done was done, what had been said was out there for you to know. Your coffee suddenly left a bitter taste in your mouth, and the traffic from outside became glaringly loud. The once peaceful atmosphere had been shattered now that you knew Charles’ true thoughts on it all.

You stood up, letting your feet take you across the room from him. “No. Tell me more, Charles. Tell me how you really feel.”

His nose wrinkled at the use of his full name. You never called him Charles unless you were upset with him, which wasn’t that often. Even hearing it come out of your own mouth seemed foreign.

That seemed to change his reaction, because he stood too instead, doubling down on his words. “Okay. Yes, that is how I feel about you leaving. You barely even talked to me about it, and the next thing I knew, you were packing all your things into boxes! I didn’t understand where this—this sudden desire to leave came from. I still don’t.”

“You don’t have to understand it. It’s already done.”

“Did I—did I do something wrong?”

You almost faltered. Almost.

“Did you ever think maybe me wanting to leave had nothing to do with you?”

“Honestly? No. It feels like it has everything to do with me. It feels like you moved out because you didn’t want to be around me anymore!” Charles exclaimed. “And I have kept my mouth shut, I’ve been trying to be supportive of your decision, but I think I have a right to know. Am I why you wanted to leave so badly?”

“That’s…part of it.” You admitted. Charles froze, brows flying up towards his hairline. “But not because of anything you did. Not because of the reason you’re thinking of.”

“I don’t really see any other explanation. And I am sorry, but that is a shit excuse. I would’ve thought that you of all people would tell me the truth.” He didn’t sound angry, just disappointed and a little hurt. Somehow that felt worse. You’d rather him be mad at you than hurt by you.

“I didn’t want to move out.” You said firmly.

“Then why did you?”

“I had to! I—I couldn’t live there anymore.”

“But why?” He sounded desperate, begging for you to clue him in to any reason, anything at all that would help him understand. And god, as scared as you were of changing things by telling Charles how you really felt about him, you were infinitely more scared of losing him for good if you didn’t.

“Because I’m fucking in love with you, Charles!” You blurted, finally. “I couldn’t live with you any longer, keeping this huge secret all the time, because it truly made me feel like I was about to explode. I just couldn’t do it anymore—pretend like everything was alright when every time I looked at you, all I could think about was how I felt about you! How much I felt for you.” Your voice rose with every word, emotion lacing your tone.

You could feel the tears burning your eyes, threatening to fall no matter how much you willed them not to. “I just thought, maybe if we lived apart, if we didn’t see each other all the time, maybe those feelings would go away.”

Charles blinked at you slowly. He scrubbed a hand over his cheek, across his mouth, letting it disappear into the neckline of his hoodie as he continued the motion near his jaw. Still, he said nothing. You weren’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad one, but still you continued.

“So no, it wasn’t because of anything you did. Or maybe it was, for making it so fucking easy to fall in love with you. I don’t know. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t say anything to me, but I’m not sorry for making the decision on my own. It was for the best.”

There it was, out there in the open at last. It felt like a proverbial weight lifted off your shoulders, but at the same time like a thousand rocks sinking to the bottom of your stomach, because he wasn’t saying anything. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was how you’d fuck up the best friendship you’d ever had.

Charles was silent for the longest time before he replied, and when he did, his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it before. It felt unnerving. “You could’ve just told me.”

“Told you?” You had to fight the urge to let out a bitter, watery laugh. “Telling your best friend you’ve fallen in love with him isn’t just something you mention at the bathroom sink one night.”

“It is, if he feels the same way about you.”

A coldness crept down your neck, shooting through your veins like you’d just had a bucket of ice cold water dumped over your head.

“No you’re not—you don't...you can't.” You whispered, disbelieving.

Charles’ brows furrowed in confusion. “What, do you want me to prove it?”

You couldn’t give him an answer even if you wanted to. You weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to say a damn word, just in case this was all a dream and you'd wake up any second, still alone, still without him there.

He must’ve taken your silence as a yes to his question, because he crossed the room in three strides, took your face in firm hands, and he kissed you.

Despite your utter shock, you managed to kiss him back clumsily, fingers curling into his hoodie tightly. Charles kissed you like he was afraid to let you go, like you’d slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful enough.

A guiding hand curled around the back of your neck, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss, but only for a few seconds before he broke away, panting. His forehead stayed pressed against yours, soulful green eyes boring into your own in total seriousness.

“Do you believe me now?”

“Maybe.” You breathed, letting your nose bump against his gently. This was not a dream. Charles was real and here and one hell of a kisser (just as you suspected).

“I am in love with you.” He murmured, stroking his thumb over your cheek fondly. “I have been for a long time. And I never thought you would feel the same way.”

“I love you, Cha.” You were suddenly brought back to last night, when you’d uttered the same words to him. Only this time, they had a whole different meaning to them.

This time, you knew Charles loved you in the same way you loved him.

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#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #cl16 x reader #charles leclerc x fem!reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x you #cl16 #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc one shot #truly this was only supposed to be like 2k words #this man invokes many emotions in me what can i say #if u made it this far into my tags hi hello i hope u enjoyed and thank u for reading! i appreciate u <3

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blondehya · 7 days

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having death thoughts ☹️

abby’s pussy slaps would destroy fr

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lovedrruunk · 3 months

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'Girl next door જ⁀➴♡ Prologue

In which Joel plays cupid in order to help a hopeless Ellie win over the cute girl next door.

Series Masterlist!

"Ain't lesbians s'pposed to date girls?"

not proof read :P

[silly awkward Ellie Williams x fem reader!]

"How 'bout the Johnson's daughter? I heard she was um... sapphic... Is that the right term...?"

"God you're so bad at this!"

Ellie rolled her eyes as she continued to play with her food at the dinner table. For the past couple of weeks, Joel had been slowly encouraging Ellie to 'put herself out there,' whatever that meant. And so with the recent news of her two best friends becoming a thing, he'd only gotten more relentless. It's not like she didn't want a girlfriend; it was just complicated and definitely a lot harder than Joel thought it was. Jackson was a small town, and finding someone who clicked with her, who understood her, felt almost impossible.

"I'm just saying Ellie" he continued "She's smart, she's nice, and from what I heard she likes girls. Seems like a good match to me."

Ellie sighed stabbing a piece of broccoli with her fork. "It's not that simple Joel. You can't just put two lesbians in a room together and expect fireworks."

There was a short silence before Ellie looked up to see Joel furrowing his eyebrows looking at the wall behind her seemingly lost.

"Oh my god, Joel!"

"I mean c'mon are ya sure?" He said defensively. "That is how it usually seems to go."

"Ok- well- not all the time! Anyway that's not the point... Besides, she's barely gay. She only kisses girls as a party trick." Ellie murmurs looking back down at her food.

"Off the list." He mutters to himself just as quietly as he continues to eat.

"Not that I am endorsing this but just who else is on this 'list'?"

"Tracy, Mai, Cat, Y/N, Monet-"

"Y/N?"

"Y/N."

"There's no way she's into girls." She says unimpressed.

"You seen her?"

Ellie was silent for a while as she imagined the girl in her head. Yeah no way. 'She's too perfect to be gay.' 'That sounds bad Ellie you can't say that.' You were just so... you. When Joel and Ellie had first arrived in Jackson you had been the first one to introduce her to the others your age. You showed her kindness and helped her get situated into her new life. She would remember how you would often invite her over for dinner with your family, making her feel welcome in a town where she initially felt like an outsider. You'd help her with chores, tell her about the best spots in Jackson as well as who to look out for and who to trust. But after the first couple of months, you two had slowly fallen out. Ellie had Dina and Jesse, and you had your own friends. But, of course, with you being next door neighbors the two of you would still interact from time to time. Ellie’s positive view of you never changed, you were still the sweet girl who had helped her years ago. She remembered the times you’d both sit on her porch, talking about dreams and plans for a future that always seemed so uncertain to her yet you were always so sure of it. All your hopes for the future, the places you wanted to visit, the things you wanted to study, Ellie had wondered if you still had all the same goals. And all this to say; you are not gay. If this was just a way to convince herself that she'd never have a chance or if it was a way to get Joel to back off, she didn't know or care.

"Gone quiet. You fond of her?" He said with an accusing smile.

"Nope." She stands abruptly, handling her plate before walking over to the kitchen to place it in the sink. "Thanks for dinner. I'm going to bed, goodnight."

"Goodnight." He replied watching her as she scurried up the stairs with a knowing smile.

Ellie laid in bed that night, staring at the ceiling. As much as she hated to admit it, Joel was right. She couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to talk to you more, to get to know you all over again. Maybe there was a chance, however small, that you would feel the same fondness towards her as she felt for you. But that was a problem for tomorrow.

. . .

Thanks 4 reading u all! Notes r appreciated! :3

Next chapter! (chapter 1)

Authors note!!! chat is this shocking? wdym u thought this was an Overwatch blog whaaat wdym idk what that is... FIRST SERIES U GUYS lets hope it doesn't end up discontinued ermmm if it does whoopsy. I am physically unable to post something more than 600 words so each chapter will kinda be one shot style! I was tired of all the serious modern AU smutty ellie fics (as good as they are!) i needed something silly so i had to take matters into my own hands im afraid

#WOO HOO!!#wish this was longer but its only the prologue so!#ellie williams #ellie tlou #joel miller #tlou #tlou2 #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie fluff #series #x reader #free me

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bluesidez · 6 months

Text

The Love Lab presents:

Wash Day 🫧🚿

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel offers to wash your hair because wash days can be a lot, mischief ensues.

content warning: 18+ MDNI, lots of fluff and banter, talks of marriage/proposal, lovey dovey!miguel, head scratching + massaging, p in v sex (wrap it up 🫵🏾, healthcare is expensive and so are babies), just the tip at one point, cussing, subby + service-like miguel (he does start to enter a daze that is similar to a sub drop, but it's not really that and the reader checks up on him immediately), needy!miguel, creative use of miguel's talons, kissing, hickys, a little hair pulling, manhandling, cunnilingus, fellatio, squirting, slight edging, praise kink, breeding kink towards the end, mentions of cum, overstimulation, a little aftercare, reader is a bit of a tease, miguel is a bit of a brat, more references to cats than I thought, no use of y/n

credit for the art/dividers: Me! (+ illustrator and canva)

a/n: This is my first fic that I am posting on here! 🤠 This one has been in the works for a while, but I am happy with the result. This story is written with a black reader in mind, but it's very inclusive minus the hair situation, so anyone can enjoy the story. There is one unrealistic part that NONE of my natural brethren would ever allow, I beg you to just go with it. 😭 I also used a little Spanish in here, to my Spanish-speakers, if anything is wrong, just let me know and I 'll change it right away!

I also imagined the shower to be one of those fancy walk-ins like this or this but big enough for two, because in my mind, Miguel is stacked in the money department as well.

word count: 6.9k (I got carried away)

To all my sub Mig lovers and fiends! Love ya! 🩵🪮

It was finally time for the day you’ve been putting off for about a week now, the taxing Wash Day.

Normally, you would drag this day out because you knew that once you started, you had to keep going until your hair was done and either ready for the bonnet or the hood dryer. Although today, you were lucky because you had a braid appointment the following morning, so that meant just a simple wash and a blow-dry. You were even luckier because your boyfriend, Miguel, was more than happy to wash your hair for you.

“I know how tired you get afterwards and I just want to help make the process easier,” is what you remember him telling you last night in your sleepy, whiny state.

Now, here you are the next day watching his eyebrows furrow in confusion, lips pouted in a crooked M as you guide him to the old faithful: the kitchen sink.

“Why are you giving me that face? You said you were gonna help,” you chuckle at his expression, watching as his eyes turn to your hair supplies littered across the counter.

“No, no! I still want to help. It’s just that,” he picks up your wide-tooth comb, running his fingers over the teeth, “I thought we were going to be in the shower.”

You look at him, a little dumbfounded at the statement. You didn’t mind washing your hair in the shower, you did it all the time, but what was the point of getting you both wet?

“I just thought it would be easier for you this way,” you reply, pulling the faucet from the sink and waving it around in an attempt to hype up the situation. “I’ll bend my head in the sink, and you’ll wash it that way. Or! You can hike me up on the counter and I can lay down with my head over the sink. That one’s a little less comfortable for me, but it gives you more than enough room to maneuver.”

“Hm,” he grunts, eyes going from you to the counter, then right back to you. “That’s fine and all, but what if my back starts to hurt from bending for too long.”

You just stare at him, unamused. If anyone would be in pain, it would be you.

“In the shower, we can stand together and I can see exactly what’s going on. Plus, you can wash my hair too,” he continues, pulling you flush against his chest, comb forgotten. He starts to rub your hips in a slow motion. “Let’s make it a date.”

“Ok, first of all, you’re not that old to where your back can just give out like that,” you quip, leaning back from his embrace to look him in the eyes. “Secondly, you expect me to believe that the Spiderman is unable to wash someone’s hair in this sink.”

“At 6’9? Absolutely.”

“Touché.”

Truthfully, Miguel was a bit turned on after spending the last 20 minutes watching you completely melt under his hands from scratching your scalp.

It was such a simple task but all of your sighs and whispers of “right there” and “harder” had him internally groaning.

When it was finished, you were up off the floor easily and blissfully unaware, while he was left with a few of your shedded curls covering his clothes and pre-cum threatening to seep into his underwear.

So yes, while technically the shower was the best option for him, he really wanted to ignite that same reaction from you again. It was addicting.

You reach up on your tippy toes and squish his face to give a quick peck to his lips. “Fine, fine! Quit your puppy dog eyes, we can go to the shower. Just let me pee first.”

Step 1 of Miguel’s master plan was already successfully underway.

He started to pick up your supplies, reading the ingredients out of curiosity. Today you were trying a new line of products that was making huge waves online. He remembers seeing how excited you were when the package came in. You had barrelled into the bedroom in a squealing frenzy, and had it not been for his spider senses listening out for you, he would have jumped from the way you threw the door open.

Even though it was another line of products that would fill up the bathroom cabinets, your giddiness rubbed off on him, so he was ready to see results.

“Baby, come on! I’m ready!”

Miguel quickly huddled up everything from the counter and made his way to the bathroom.

He walked in to see you standing next to the sink, birthday suit on and your hands reaching up to push your hair from your forehead.

Heaven-sent were the first words that came to mind. Here you were, standing in the steam of the bathroom just for his eyes. He couldn’t help but linger in the doorway, heart skipping a beat at the sight of you.

You turned to look back at him, mirth in your eyes, “Mig, come on, the water’s running.”

He didn’t even comprehend the sound of the water hitting the tiles, he was so zoned in on you.

“I’m coming, I was just…admiring you,” he replies, moving to prepare for the shower.

“There’s no way you’re eyeing me up right now. I look a little crazy,” you say, turning back towards the mirror.

“Querida, you could be rocking a spiked mohawk right now, and I would still have the same reaction. You’re beautiful no matter how your hair looks.”

You bit your lip, heart fluttering at his words. If you didn’t have to get ready for your hair appointment tomorrow, you’d stop everything then and there to love on your boyfriend.

For now, you settled on helping him out of his clothes, a smile growing on your face. You pulled his shirt up as far as you could reach, then let your hands roam over his chest, watching the goosebumps that followed behind. You kept your fingers walking down to the waistband of his pants, lightly scratching at his happy trail.

His stomach twitched in response to your touch, hands itching to pull you closer.

You placed your hands at his sides, gripping the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear, slowly tugging at the bands. You stepped forward to get a better leverage, breasts pressing against his torso.

His breaths were coming out in short beats, not wanting to disrupt the spell that you put him under. He looked down at the closing space between you all’s bodies because if he looked up at your eyes, he’d stop everything and take you right there against the counter.

But the shower. He was supposed to make it to the shower. Which was in an area by itself. In the next room. With your hands roaming everywhere, he wasn’t even sure if he could even make it past the toilet.

His eyes fluttered closed as you slid your hands back up his thighs, a deep breath building in his lungs. Like this, he was really able to tune in on both the heat of your body against his and the lingering touch of your hands. Hyper-focused on you and you alone.

Then he heard a loud slap.

His eyes bucked back open, body rigid as the sting came back in waves on the side of his ass.

“Come on, we’ve got heads to scrub!” you said, voice as clear as ever.

He watched you twirl towards the shower, his mind muddled from your switch to playfulness. Had he read that all wrong?

He looked down and sighed at the sight of his dick, half-hard at what could have been.

All he could do was stagger out of the clothes that pooled at his ankles, grab the hair products, and waddle to the shower.

You were already halfway under the spray of the shower head, head leaning back, waiting for the water to completely soak through the layers of your hair.

Miguel came up next to you and detached the shower head, bringing it closer to your scalp, careful not to get water in your ears.

“So first, we have to use the scalp scrub shampoo,” you say, grabbing one of the taller bottles and unscrewing it. “Just take this in your hands first, lather it, and work it into my scalp.”

You pull his left hand forward and squeeze some of the liquid in his palm.

“Is this enough?” he asked, noticing the little amount you put in his hand.

“Yep! A little can go a long way, baby,” you say, turning around to him, trying to determine how you would reach the top of his head.

Oh, how Miguel was so well acquainted with that phrase. Especially after this cat-and-mouse game you’ve been playing with him all day.

You faced him as he placed his fingers on your scalp, beginning to move in circles, spreading the shampoo in several sections.

“You can add a little pressure. I can take it,” you mumble out, almost low enough for Miguel to miss it.

So he does. He starts to scratch at your scalp, remembering that this is an important step. For your hair of course, not his plan.

“Ugh, that feels so nice,” you sigh, trying not to sway under him. “I should have had you do this sooner.”

Miguel thought so too. Here you are, head leaned back, eyes closed, and completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. He kept scratching at your scalp, your head nodding along with the motions.

“Can you scratch over here, please?” you ask, pointing at the right side of your head, eyes squeezed tight to not let any soap fall in them. Even after all of your teasing, you were still so cute in this moment. When Miguel complied, you showed your gratitude by groaning out a quick thank you. With a long sigh, you placed your hands in front of his chest, fingers balled up in loose fists.

“Does it feel good?” Miguel knew the answer, but he had to play along. “You want me to move anywhere else?”

“Yeah, could you just-” you leaned your head over, mindlessly guiding Miguel’s hands. “Right there, baby.”

You brought your hands up to grip at his wrists, needing something to hold onto. Miguel felt insane.

To curb the feeling, he quickly leaned down and kissed your forehead. His head was overloaded with the sound of your voice and he had to keep himself composed.

You looked up at him, eyes big and wide at his affection. He kept making you feel warm doing such mundane things. You purse your lips, silently begging for more.

Miguel brought his soapy hands to the water to quickly rinse them off, then placed them on your cheeks and leaned down again to kiss your lips.

One. Two. Three pecks and you were giggling.

Four. Five. Six pecks and you were on your tiptoes, arms crossed behind his neck.

Seven. Eight. Nine pecks and you were turning your head, opening your mouth for more.

Ten. Eleven. Twelve kisses and you were in his arms, feet off the ground, biting at his bottom lip.

By the thirteenth kiss, you were pulling your head back, staring into his eyes, grabbing at his nape.

“We still have to wash the shampoo out,” you say, watching as his eyes linger on your lips.

“We can do that,” he mumbles, still holding you close.

“Are you gonna put me down?” you ask, tone a little cheeky.

He snaps his eyes up at yours, eyebrow raised. “Are you gonna finish what you started?” He started to move one of his palms down your back, taking a thigh to pull around his waist, and placing his mouth on your jaw.

“Nuh uh, O’Hara,” you chide, pushing against his chest and wiggling to get him to remove his embrace. The water smacks against the tiles as you jump down, one calf still in Miguel’s hand.

“O’Hara?” Miguel scoffed, playfully pulling at you again and tickling your side. “I’m not sure who that is, but maybe you forgot how to say baby, mi vida.”

You laughed at him, finally calling out his bluff, “No, because my baby said he would help me wash my hair, and right now he’s being bad and trying to distract me. So, until you finish, it’s O’Hara.” You folded your arms and tilted your head to the side, daring Miguel to counter your words.

He dropped your leg and muttered out a gruff “fine” with his lips downturned. Two could play at this game and if he wanted to distract you, he just had to turn up the heat.

He grabbed for the shower head and started to rinse the thick shampoo from your hair, carefully weaving through the locks.

“When do we detangle it?”

You started to smile again, happy at his verb usage. He really does listen to you when you talk about your hair.

“When we put on the conditioner, but you can start a little now while the water’s running on it. Need the brush?”

“No, I’ll just use my fingers for a little bit.”

You turned your face back to him, shocked that he remembered another technique.

“You’re gonna finger detangle, ba- I mean, O’Hara?”

“Yes I am, corazón. Why are you looking at me like that? I’m a great boyfriend that knows what his girl needs.”

You squint your eyes, wary at his words. “Uh huh, I bet you do. If you know so much, what’s next?”

“We shampoo again. Rinse. Then it’s conditioner and detangling, just like you said.”

You hummed, internally ecstatic that he actually did know the answer. “Another point for you,” you say, turning back around as Miguel places the shower head back on the hook.

Miguel smirked. He listened to you, he really did, but he also made sure to watch over 20 videos about washing coily hair while you were sleeping. You didn’t have to know that though.

His high was short-lived when you bent over to grab the next shampoo. He grabbed at your hips, watching as the swell of your ass aligned against his front. He pushed his head back and breathed in deep. How unfair.

You leaned back up slowly, turning the bottle around trying to fish for any specific directions.

“This one is a hydrating shampoo. It says you can just put it on my hair and just work it through.”

Miguel repeated the same shampooing process, although this time with less scalp scratching and more scalp massaging. You were once again in bliss at his ministrations, like a cat who couldn’t stop purring.

“O’Hara, you really have a way with your hands. Super relaxing,” you say with snickers underlining your voice.

Miguel just reached for the shower head, ready to rinse for the second time. “This guy sounds like a real catch. Too bad he isn’t here.”

You just laugh at how sulky he sounded, ready to grab the conditioner.

“Well, is there a Mr. O’Hara here? I kind of need him for this last step.”

Miguel stopped in his tracks.

You really didn’t understand how much he wanted to make you his wife. In fact, he started planning the proposal to a T after a year of you all being together. He started to dream about a future with you after the first couple of dates, despite how often he had to tell himself to slow down. It was terrifying yet thrilling how much you left an impression on his life.

Mr. and Mrs. O’Hara.

Mr. O’Hara.

Mrs. O’Hara.

Miguel bent his head in your neck and wrapped his arms around your waist, face burning from his running thoughts.

“Y-you can’t use that against me. You know how I get,” he said petulantly, voice softened in the juncture of your neck, drowned out by the pouring water.

“And how do you get, baby?” you ask, reaching over to run your fingers through his damp hair. You tugged lightly at the root causing Miguel to hug you tighter and groan against your neck.

As hot as the water was, the heat of your body against his left him burning. The angle was weird so he couldn’t exactly rub up against you, but he could kiss along the surface of your shoulders.

He started to slowly press kisses down your neck, moaning as you tilted your head to give him more space. He stopped to linger at the top of your shoulder, taking in a small amount of skin. After he was happy at the mark he left, he opened his mouth a little wider, canines grazing against your skin.

You reach to pull his head back up, resting his jaw on your shoulder.

“Focus, Mr. O’Hara, it’s only one more step.” You say these words lowly right next to his ear, pressing your lips on his tragus then pushing his head up to kiss against his jaw.

When Miguel stood up fully, you could see the dazed look in his eyes. Staring closer, you noticed they were a little dewey.

You had to bring him back down to Earth. You couldn’t have him lost in this steam.

“Hey, baby look at me,” you even your tone and angle his face towards yours. “Are you alright? Do we need to sit down?”

You wait for his eyes to find yours, searching for discomfort.

“No, I'm fine. I’m ok, sorry,” he says, leaning into one of your hands, wrapping his hand around it for extra support.

“Positive? I know the water is really hot so if you need to step out and cool down, then that’s fine. I’ll help you settle down then come back and finish up by myself,” you say, adamant in your words.

“No! No, no. I’m really ok. I’m so cool and calm right now that it’s crazy,” he replies, frantic at the thought of leaving you in the shower. “Hand me the conditioner.”

You look at him again, tickled at the change in condition. All you could do was sigh, twist the cap off of the conditioner, and pull the inner lid off.

He dabbed two fingers on top of the cream, scooping a small amount off of the top. “A little goes a long way, right?”

“A little does go a long way.”

“Can you turn around, please?”

You comply, placing the conditioner in a corner.

“If you need it to lather a bit more, just add a little water,” you remind him.

He began to work the conditioner through, going from the root to the ends. The results were quick and he could see your curls begin to sprout. He started to thoroughly pull his fingers through, working out any leftover tangles. He got to a bigger knot and held the section of hair in one hand, and carefully combed through the knot with the other.

You were feeling peaceful until it dawned on you: you never gave him a comb or a brush to work with.

“Hold on, baby what are you using to take the knots out with? Do you have a comb?”

Miguel placed one of his hands in your face and pushed his talons out, like a cat showing its claws off when you press the center of its paw.

You panic, remembering that they can tear through people and metal, “Um. I don’t think using these bad boys on my hair is the right way to go.”

“Tranquila, mi amor, I got it. I’m using the dull side, see?”

He put a tuft of hair in front of your eyes and showed the process of him detangling while talon-less, then working out the final tough knot with the side of the talon, turning his hand sideways to avoid cutting your curls.

As a result, the section was completely detangled, allowing him to run his fingers straight through the thick strands, and the curls springing back up once he was finished. Plus, from what you could tell, there was no breakage.

Color you impressed because Miguel was pulling out all of the stops today.

“Alright, just. Be careful.”

“Always.”

“If you jack up my hair, Lyla will have to place Jess in charge permanently.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You stand, arms placed under your chest, waiting for Miguel to finish. Subconsciously listening to the pattern of his breaths and the sound of his talon going through your hair.

“Ok, that’s it. Do you want to wash my hair while this sits?”

Such a smart boyfriend.

“Yeah just let me go ahead and finish this shower while you get your hair wet.”

Miguel stepped back to get under the overhead shower head, letting the water fall on him like rain, watching you as you began to lather body wash on your net sponge.

You were scrubbing away at your skin getting into every crevice, peach fragrance filling the air.

He wanted to reach out and touch you, but look where that’s gotten him so far. Almost kicked out of the bathroom.

You were just as stubborn as he was, no, resolute.

He admired it, especially when you gracefully brought him down from clouds that were his own fantasies.

Focusing back on you, he stared openly as you folded your body in half to reach your ankles causing everything to be on display.

A normal person would put their foot on the ledge to reach below. You were definitely fucking with him.

He watched as you pulled the net sponge across your body, leaning up as the languid movements of your hands pulled the net side to side.

He was glad that the water drowned out his harsh breathing.

You finished off your shower, working the detached shower head over the soap, clearing up your skin.

You brought the shower head lower, making sure that there was no bubble left behind.

When you held your ass to help the water pass all the way down the back of your body, Miguel jumped to hold the base of his cock, softly groaning at the picture you were painting.

He lifted his face up and pushed his hair back, in hopes that the stream could help him clear his mind. But, the water was hot, all it did was make him lightheaded at the thought of you.

“Miguel? Come over here so I can wash you too.”

Miguel tottered over, looking down at your body, shining after all your thorough work. You were placing soap on a pair of exfoliating gloves you had bought for him, lathering them together once you were satisfied with the amount of soap.

You got to work on his body, starting at the shoulders and moving in circular motions.

Miguel stared in silence, hoping you would put an end to this charade. But you continue to be meticulous, covering every inch of his upper body. Lifting his arms when you wanted to. Moving him around when you wanted to.

In this moment, he felt like a ragdoll, letting you do whatever you pleased.

You squatted down to do his lower body, eyes laser focused, not missing a spot.

All Miguel could focus on was your face so close to his dick that was twitching in anticipation. You just ignored it and continued to rub the rest of him down. Miguel wanted to cry.

You were touching everywhere, slowing down on his inner thighs and ass causing his knees to shake.

You held him steady by gripping the back of his thighs and finally looked up at him, acknowledging his presence.

Your eyes traced him all the way down to the gift that was in front of you. You parted your lips and let your tongue brush against the tip, watching as spurts of pre-cum escaped. You couldn’t have that. You leaned forward a little more, taking the head in completely, and allowed yourself a few more licks and a suck before you let go with a pop, watching the thin trail of spit grow as you leaned back.

Miguel whined in frustration, a cloud of desire fading so quickly.

“Amor, why did you-”

You quickly jumped up and rested against him, arms wrapped around his waist and hands lightly groping his butt.

“I didn’t even wash your hair yet, silly,” you quip, chin nuzzling against his sternum. “Now, go rinse off and sit on the bench so I can reach your hair.”

Forget wanting to cry, Miguel might actually do it.

He was so, so hard.

After the soap was gone he trudged to the bench, glancing over at you washing the conditioner out of your hair.

“I could have washed it out for you,” he protests, half bothered by his situation and half annoyed that he let it blindside him from the main point of this shower.

“It’s ok, baby. You really helped me out a lot today and I’m thankful. I’m also making sure you don’t drop to the floor right now, so hold on for me,” you reply earnestly, chuckling at the look of frustration slapped across Miguel’s face.

You bring over the hydrating scrub, some conditioner, and the shower head, and stand in between his legs, ready to start.

Miguel looked up at you like you hung the stars in the sky, undeniably in love and unbelievably aroused.

You started to unscrew the scrub, making sure to part his hair down the middle.

“You’re using your products on me?” he asked, confused at your actions.

“Just the shampoo. I don’t think this conditioner will do you any good, but for the most part, the line is pretty inclusive. Ain’t that neat?”

“Mm-hm,” he responded, cheeks squished against your chest, arms wrapped around your thighs.

“Look forward, for me, baby,” you say, starting to spread the shampoo on his scalp.

He just hummed and groaned in the safety of your torso, while you scratched at his scalp and pulled the shampoo to his ends. He started to kiss and nibble at any skin he could get his mouth on. His grip was getting tighter and he felt a stutter in your breaths.

“Lean back so I can rinse this out.”

He placed his chin on your stomach again, eyes full of hearts.

“I’m almost finished, I just need to put your conditioner on.”

Miguel hummed once more as you placed the conditioner at his ends first, then scrunched his hair up, careful not to mess with his scalp. Mindful of his wavy, curly hair texture like he was for yours.

His wine eyes kept staring at you, as if you were the 8th wonder of the world. You felt heat in your face, an accumulation of the almost boiling water and Miguel’s full attention.

He was simply grinning, face wet and tinted from the water.

“You’re so cute,” you say, rinsing out the last of the product.

“Only with you,” he replies, still trying to make you look into his eyes. “Can you come closer?”

You set the shower head down and run your hands through his strands, “I feel like I’m already as close as it gets.”

“Not really,” he said, swiftly sitting you on his lap like you weighed nothing. “You could always be closer to me, cariño. I can think of many ways to make that happen.”

You finally allow yourself to indulge in his shenanigans. Leaning your forehead on his, you open your mouth to say, “Is that why you were so adamant about getting in the shower? To get as close to me as possible?”

He looked from your eyes to your mouth, “No?”

You bring your hands from his hair to his neck, “You know you can’t lie. In fact, you’re like, really bad at it.”

“Fine. It was partially because of that. How did you know?”

“Like I said, you can’t lie and neither can your face. You’ve been pouting ever since I let you scratch my head and especially when I wanted to wash my hair in the sink.”

“Am I that easy to read?”

“Kind of,” you say, a laugh twinkling off your lips. “I can always tell when you want me.”

“Yeah? And what am I telling you right now?” He starts to move your hips, placing his erection right under you, grinding your lips against him.

You close your eyes, a flame beginning to blossom within you, “I guess that you need, fuck, you need me.” Your clit was throbbing against his length as he dragged your body back and forth.

“I do, bebé, I do,” Miguel was moaning loudly, melting at the feeling of your pussy finally warming him up. He moved his lips to yours, desperately trying to have more of you, gripping your hips even harder.

“Baby, s-slow down,” you say in the midst of his kisses, trying to put your feet on the bench next to him to gain some sort of stability. You knew he was pent up, but he was moving so frantically, you were scared he might slip off.

“Te necesito. Please, just-” Miguel cut himself off with a groan in your neck, grinding your slit along himself faster. He started to kiss down your chest, finally getting to your breasts, and gliding his tongue along the wet skin. He took a nipple into his mouth, allowing himself to suck.

The flame from before was starting to grow, “Miggy if you keep going, I’m gonna cum.” He was just starting and you already felt everything coming to an end.

How were you so close, yet he was the one who was riled up?

“Miguel, I’m-” you hold on harder to his neck, eyebrows furrowed.

“Uh huh. C’mon, give it to me,” he encouraged, staring at you, eyes cloudy.

You break above him, a scream crawling from your throat, hips stuttering in his hold, and liquid leaking onto the floor.

“Oh my god,” your mind was hazy, reveling from how quick you came, but mostly at how needy Miguel looked.

“Was it good?” he asked, hugging your body as he switched angles, dragging his body closer to the edge of the bench, letting your feet fall to the floor. His voice was whiny, desperate, wanton. “Was I good for you? Did you feel good?”

You brought your mouth to his temple, movements shaky and heart still thumping, “You were so good for me, baby. So good.”

He sighed, breath leaving his lungs as if what you told him was a matter of life and death.

“Then use me,” he leaned back, hands pressed against the seat. “Use me, however you please.”

You stared at him, a little stunned but fully immersed. When you brought your hand to his chest, you could feel how fast his heart was moving. You brought your mouth to his once more, a thumb on his chin pushing so that lips could part. You kissed him deep, making sure to direct his focus there while you placed your knees on the bench.

Sitting just above him, you guided your sex to his, allowing his tip to barely kiss you. You wanted him, yearned for him inside of you, but not yet.

You slid his tip past your slit, only edging it in partially, then rubbed your pussy up and down the head, allowing yourself to open up.

Miguel moaned into your mouth, hands curling into fists as he felt your walls close around the top of him. He started to move in tiny thrusts matching your rhythm.

“Nuh uh, baby, it’s just me right now, remember?” You break your kiss to reprimand him, bringing your hand from his chin to his stomach, and stopping all movement.

Miguel could only cry out and nod, upset at the loss of your body devouring his own, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, keep going. I’ll be still, cariño, please.”

“Good. There he is, my sweet baby,” you say, voice a prime example at how much Miguel begging for you was affecting you.

You start back, ass moving with a bit more force. You lean to press a long kiss against his neck, losing yourself in the sound of him barely inside of you, his groans a lovely melody filling up the room.

“You feel amazing, Miguel. So big, and you’re only giving me so little,” you pant in his ear, knees starting to hurt from how hard the tiles were.

“It’s all for you. Just for you,” he gasped, twitching when the sounds of your juices got even louder at your constant movement. “Mi amor, please, can I hold you?”

“Always, baby.”

Internally you chuckled, you never told him he couldn’t touch you, you just followed his plea to use him like a toy. He was so pussy drunk, he forgot the parameters he set for himself.

He wrapped his biceps around you, your arms folding behind your back in the process, but that didn’t stop you from riding out the high that was another orgasm.

“That’s right, keep going. Úsame, take what you need,” he requested. He was itching to dive deeper into you, not wanting your pleasure to end.

You threw your head back and whined high with Miguel’s name on your tongue, gushing out your release for a second time.

“Fuck.” Miguel was still holding onto you, legs taut in their position. He swerved your pussy across his length, listening at how wet you were.

You laid your head on the tile above Miguel, relieved with its slight coolness and trying to slow down your rapid heartbeat. Your hips kept bucking as an aftereffect.

You didn’t get that much of a cool down before Miguel was at it again, finally sliding his dick in until he bottomed out.

The two of you let out long moans in unison, a harmony that wasn’t unfamiliar to your apartment.

In this position, your face was back in front if Miguel’s, eyes watery from the sensation of him filling you up.

“You’re perfect, you feel perfect,” Miguel cradled you, trying to get as comfortable as he could, despite the impossible position he put himself in.

Lifting his hips off of the bench, he held himself up by his back pressed against the tiles.

Before you could even ask him if you all should move to the floor, he knocked the wind out of you, holding you up as he slammed into you.

“Miguel!” you shout, clamoring for anything to grab onto after the impact had you knocking forward.

“I got you, I promise. Won’t let you fall,” he heaved out, words spilling out as fast as his hips were snapping.

All you could do was mutter out words incoherently, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass reverberating off of the walls. Your eyes finally let go of the tears they were holding, overwhelmed by your state of being.

“What’s that, mi amor?” Miguel cooed at you, licking off one of your tears and kissing your cheek. “Can you feel me? Is it too much?”

“I, ngh, I,” you could barely get your words out, your brain turning into mush after each thrust. Miguel kept going, humming as he spread kisses around your face.

“You gotta answer me, baby. I need to know,” he whispered.

“I’m trying,” you respond, voice cracking from overuse. You were still peeved at his composure. “I thought you said, oh my god, you said you didn’t want to hurt your back.”

Miguel just pursed his lips, eyes clearing up for just a second, “I didn’t. And I’m not going to, super-healing, remember?”

“That’s-” your sentence was cut off by Miguel hiking you up and smacking you back down in time with one of his thrusts.

“Shit! Do that again,” you sob, thoughts coming to a stop.

“Yeah?” Miguel tried his best to keep his eyes on you, but you were squeezing so tight around him that his eyes kept rolling.

“Yes, Miggy. Right there, that spot. It’s so,” you were drooling at this point. “It’s so much.”

Miguel kept it up, glad to be hearing those words, proud of himself for igniting you.

You held your head down, body wound tight, “I think I’m gonna cum. I’m close.”

“Again?” Miguel asked, heart fluttering at you falling apart on his dick.

“Yes, baby. Don’t stop,” you say, voice wavering.

Right as you felt your body beginning to let go, Miguel halted and sat back on the bench.

“No, no, no. Why did you-” You were cut off by Miguel grabbing you and placing you on your shoulders, pussy in his face.

He opened his mouth and pushed his tongue in where his cock once was swirling in and out, sucking at your folds. He starts to hum as if you've fed him his last meal, causing your orgasm to come in waves.

“Oh!” you shout, thighs quivering around his head, one hand gathering a fist of hair and the other pawing at the wall. Miguel was lapping everything up, holding you so that you couldn’t even think of falling.

“Ok, ok,” you say, mewling as he kept you in place while your hips shook. “S’too much.” He finally let’s go, placing you back in his lap.

“Did I do good?” he asks, chest rising and falling rapidly now that he catered to you. His face was a mess, evidence of you all down his neck.

You kissed his nose, giggling at his need for praise, “Yes, baby. You did amazing. Fantastic. Perfecto.”

He was practically vibrating with joy, kneading at your thighs.

“But Miggy, there’s still a problem,” you say, holding his face with both hands. “You still didn’t cum yet.”

You watched his face flit through several phases: ecstatic, worried, then hungry.

“Can I keep going?” he asks, hands starting to roam again.

You simply nod and try to prepare yourself for him moving you around again.

He sinks back in slowly, careful of your sensitive body. You try your best to move, hips working in circles, hands holding onto his thighs. You couldn't help but to squeeze onto him, despite how tired you were.

“You look so pretty,” Miguel mumbled.

“Bet I would look prettier if you finished. Inside.”

That fired him up even more. He started to help you to bounce up and down his length, teeth gritted. You held your head back, eyes scrunched at the feeling of him inside again.

Then he started to whimper, a telltale sign that he was close.

“Can you say it again, please?” he said, moving to stand with you in his arms.

“Say what?” you ask, exhausted yet in awe that he still had so much energy. “That I want you to cum inside? Fill me up?”

You could feel him twitch inside of you, mind hazy at the thought.

“Shockingly, no. My name. Porfa, mi vida. I need to hear it.” He was still holding you as he pounded away, eyes never leaving yours.

You’ve been saying his name the whole time, so surely that can’t be it. Then, it dawned on you.

“Let go, Mr. O’Hara,” you say, mouth right next to his.

And so he did. He bent over, hands gripping your sides as he snapped his hips frantically, groaning into your mouth as he kissed you hard. You could feel him seeping inside you, hot liquid filling you up.

You clutch at his shoulders, feeling your hold slipping from how wet his skin was from the shower and the heat. You cry out again, body sore from all of fun and sensitive from overstimulation.

Miguel finally let up for what felt like hours, standing up straight and pulling you off his dick. He hissed at the feeling, angling your body parallel to his so that everything could fall to the shower floor.

You lay your head on his shoulder tiredly, grateful that he was still carrying you.

“That’s going to mess up the drain. You should have just let it stay in me until it took,” you mumble into his shoulder, hearing his breath hitch at your words. “Or until I got to the toilet or something.”

He brought you both back to the bench, “You're on the pill so stop teasing me about that.”

“But that doesn’t mean that you can’t live out your breed-”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it, mi amor,” he says, pecking your lips to stop you from continuing. “Now let's clean you up. Again.”

He reaches for the shower head and checks the temperature. Humming, he aims the spray at your lower area.

You jump and yelp, “That’s so fucking cold!”

“Bébe, it’s literally warm. I just checked!”

No wonder he was about to die in the steam, “You know how hot I like my showers, and that’s ice cold right now.”

“Well I’m sorry it’s not burning, but we have to clean you up,” he said, trying to console you. “I’ll warm you up later.”

You look at him and there’s this playful look on his face. “No,” you say, just the thought of doing this again making you sleepy.

You eye his body up and down. “Maybe later.”

He just chuckled and finished up.

An hour later, the two of you are dry, blow dried, and comfortably laid out across the couch with baking competition shows queued up on the TV.

You look up at Miguel from your position on his chest, cheesing from ear to ear.

He feels you staring at him and looks down, eyes warm. “What?” he asks, watching your face light up.

“Nothing. I just love you,” you say, unable to look away.

He kisses you, heart keeping a steady beat, “I love you too.”

I hope you enjoyed reading! 🩵🩵

Any likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated and welcomed.

(And did anyone catch my Beyoncé Cécred refs?? I have no idea how brand names work with fics so I just stuck to nameless descriptions😭)

- Lauro 🧼

#love lab fics 🧫#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #spider man 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel 2099 #miguel o'hara x black reader #miguel x black reader #sub miguel o'hara #sub miguel #x black reader #x black!reader #afab reader #x black fem reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #seriously though can I say brand names in fics?#i love miguel so much i could do a backflip #my friends are only mildly concered

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