#like hes so good at being quietly there for u hes so grounded so he was perfect for this

[maiamore]

MILLER ASSOCIATES Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader - No Outbreak Rating: 18+ | W/C: 5k-ish Summary: A one-night-stand with your boss at the firm you work in turns out not to be such a good idea. Tags: lawyer a/u, alcohol, colleagues to lovers type, breeding themes, able bodied reader, joel being a southern sweetheart, creampie, p-in-v, unprotected sex, mentions of anal, mutual pining, dual pov A/N: very much suits inspired, had to get this out of my head

A rhythmic, low bass filled your senses, thrumming against your ears. All the chatters & laughter from the crowd blending into each other, forming one singular noise. 

The stickiness from the floor dragged across the ball of your strappy heels. Causing you to wince in displeasure. Thankfully, you��d had enough to drink so it’d dulled the pain of wearing heels all night—you supposed going to town on those cocktail shots wasn’t all that bad now. 

The growing chants of the countdown filled the air, the giddy excitement was almost contagious. 

Pushing past the wave of swaying bodies, you’d locked on to the figure ahead of you, the only sure thing in the nauseating strobe of lights that grounded you. Briefly, that figure disappeared within the crowds. A slight panic surged through you. 

You’d taken a couple steps forward, scanning the crowd. Just when you were on the verge of giving up, a warm hand guides you out with a swift tug by the back of your waist, pulling you against a leather clad wall—or well, chest. 

You blinked a few times. Joel, who was quietly ahead of you, gave you a look. Letting you step back a little. “Keep up.” He said. Or, you thought he said by the ways his lips moved. His hands assuredly tightened around your waist this time. He wasn’t going to lose you through the crowd again.

“Okay.” Your voice competes with the chaos around you—countdown timer flashing on all the screens situated in every corner of the room. The reality was bleary at best, you’d definitely drunk enough to scramble the rational side of your brain. 

He wasn’t looking at you anymore. You’d followed his gaze to the bar's back door. 

As soon as you’d stepped out of the bar, the chilly air outside hit you like a force. Sobering you up, barely. 

This was happening. 

Joel’s hands flattened against the back of your waist. Thumb soothing you from the decision you both made in the heat of the moment earlier. You could feel just how needy he was just by how touchy he was. 

This was happening. 

“Wait.” Your panicked voice interrupted his movements when he dipped his head to your level. “...Let’s..let’s just establish the situation before we actually do this.” You managed. Earning a confused look from him.

“I came on to you. And..I kissed you first.”

Deep brown eyes settled to look into yours. A slight scoff leaving his stupid pretty pouty lips. 

“This ain’t Law & Order, darlin’.”

Even with nothing but the residual glow blue neon signage illuminating above you both beneath the moonless skies, you could see it in his eyes that he’d been waiting. Way past his limits. His usually assured voice came out barely restrained. 

Joel could tell by your less than amused expression that you weren’t fuckin’ around. You needed an acknowledgement from him.

“Yeah.” Backtracking, humour lost in his words now. A much more complicated sentiment taking its’ place. 

 “Alright. Sounds good t’me.”

You’d exchanged a look of mutual understanding. As sure as you could’ve been with your current combined blood alcohol levels. The same hand on your waist gently turning your body around. 

That was how you found yourself getting fucked against into the walls by your boss. 

6 Months Later

After that anomaly in your offices’ New Year get together nearly half a year ago, you both swore you’d never bring it up again. It was just too complicated to unpack you said—at least that’s what you told yourself.  

He’d been more than happy to oblige. Which stung somehow. 

Maybe you were just too afraid to deal with the implications of what allowed you both to indulge in something that was hugely just the tip of the iceberg. Or maybe he just didn’t want to create a workplace imbalance. Maybe. The thought had always gnawed at you, the idea that he might’ve regretted whatever happened even though he showed no indication of it.

Tension ran high in the law offices of Miller Associates. There’d been some sort of situation. You figured. You weren’t all that concerned, yet.

“You didn’t hear?” An obnoxious noise crept up from behind you. Interrupting your concentration. “What?” A sharp gasp filled your lips when your chair had swiveled, your colleague, Serena, leaning down towards you. “The case you’re working on! With Mr Miller.” Her voice a mere whisper. “Someone fucked up. Big time. The settlement was voided.”

A chill ran down your spine. “What? When?” You said a little too quickly. Grabbing your phone in a haste. A single notification glowing on your phone.

Fuck.

“Dunno. I just heard Mr Miller was at Wheeler’s trying to work out a deal. Someone leaked information—”

You were on your feet even before she could finish her sentence. This was officially your problem now. You’d been on the case with Joel for weeks.

What was supposed to be a straightforward division of assets—a separation of a couple's joint built company—quickly unraveled. Someone had leaked sensitive information to the opposing counsel's client, costing the firm its leverage in negotiating the settlement.

“Get Leighton out. Make shit up. Do whatever the hell & buy us some fuckin’ time.”

Joel’s voice carried through the halls. A silent look shot towards you to drop whatever pointless errand the other associates tasked you with. Warily, you trailed after him. It was a rare sight to witness Joel frayed. 

His normally slicked back curly hair was visibly in disarray. 

So he looked perfect even when he was about to lose his shit. Great. 

You’d noticed the lack of his tailored jacket or vest. Navy sleeves rolled up snug around his forearms. 

This wasn’t like him at all. 

He dragged his hand down his scruffed jaw as he remained on the phone. Not even back to see if you were following. He just knew. 

“Need you on this.” He’d gestured at the stack of documents that lay on the edge of his wide wooden oak desks. Bringing the phone up to rest against the edge of his shoulder. 

You took a few steps ahead to pick up the stack of papers. The initial settlement documents for the Leighton versus Anders proceedings.

“So you want me to look through it again, find the discrepancies. Get references—“

When he’d finally put the phone down to look at you, you were already focused. Your gaze hadn’t lifted while you flipped through the papers. 

“No need for the subtitles, darlin’. Do what you have t’do. Get me somethin’ by 11.”

That frustratingly smooth southern drawl in his tone made it sting even more when he’d rendered you an idiot that easily just for asking.

Nodding, you glanced over to your watch with a tilt of your wrist. 4pm. So two hours till the end of work and another four hours tomorrow. Seemed pretty doable. 

“Okay. I’ll get back to you by the morning.” 

“No. 11pm, tonight.”

“What?” A breath of disbelief that blended into your exclamation left your lips. He hadn’t responded. Merely raising a brow at your confusion. 

“I can’t. I have plans—“

“So cancel.” 

He’d said it so matter of factly like it was the most natural next step, you’d brought your hand down. The papers crumpling slightly in your grip. It didn’t help that some part of you admired how easily he got people to do as he wished. Well. You’d have known that first hand. Evidently. 

You couldn’t trust yourself to speak then. It would probably start with something like listen here you fucking inconsiderate shit.  

Mumbling a begrudging got it, you got started as soon as you head back to your cubicle. 

JOEL

Joel Miller was a man who’d thrived on setting specified routines for himself, following rules set in place in his life. He had to. It was what kept him sane despite everything that came his way. 

Wake up, 0700. Shower, 0715. Breakfast with his daughter, 0800. Office by 0900. 

He was off rhythm today. It was only the start of his bad mood. He couldn’t kiss his little girl goodbye before she headed off to school, skipped breakfast and had to drive over to the other end of Manhattan to deal with a literal growing trash fire. 

The deal was called off by 0800. He’d lost one hundred and twenty five thousand dollars by 0830. 

He couldn’t lose his shit just yet. It was his last name, his fathers legacy, staring back at him in bolded letters of the building. 

He was aware that his intense presence had everyone on high alert, some part of him was grateful he supposed that when it came down to it, his employees were on the ball. 

And then…there was you. 

Fluttering around helping everyone. Back and forth, through offices of his associates, to the secretaries. Arms always full with stacks of papers you delivered even when you didn’t have to. 

Six months ago, you’d officially wrecked the part of his life he’d carefully built walls around. If he was being honest, you already had two years ago when you’d joined the firm as a paralegal. 

“So you want me to look through it again, find the discrepancies. Get references—“

Good girl. 

He thought. He’d known the sort of person you were. Always compartmentalising. He wasn’t sure if you’d thought about him the way he’d thought about you still. Fixated on the little furrow on your brows as you concentrated on the documents. Lips slightly pursed. It wasn’t that long ago he’d had the privilege of feeling the heady, sweetness and the softness of your lips. 

“I can’t. I have plans—“

Yeah. I know you had, sweetheart. 

He’d heard it all when the other ladies, in the break room, had been squealing at the fact that Marcus from Mergers & Acquisitions had asked you out at the cafeteria. 

Fuck. Did you need a probable cause to fire jerkoff, always wearing suspenders, Marcus? He probably could. Shouldn’t though. 

Admittedly, he had some sort of satisfaction that he actually had a reason to keep you around his orbit. 

PRESENT

It wasn’t like you wanted to go on that date with Marcus. He was a little too egotistical for your tastes, always flaunting his Dior clothes and that obviously second-hand Patek Philippe watch like it was his entire personality. But you were at your wit's end. You needed to stop moping and pining over the one amazing sexual encounter you had all year.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and stretching your arms above your head. The lights flickered overhead, casting harsh shadows across your face. The glow lulled you—finally allowing yourself some reprieve with a brief shut-eye.

“So..so pretty.” His voice came out in roughed whispers against the back of your earlobes. It sent chills down your spine. 

He’d hoisted you back up against him with a grunt. You could feel his thick cock filling you up even deeper. A rough hand coming up to cradle around your forehead so it wouldn’t have to touch the walls. Even when you had been so out of it, his attentiveness heightened every nerve ending of your body. 

His other hand slid downwards to give your clit much needed attention with a swipe of his thumb. “Been so good f’me—…ah..fuck. Shit.” A sharp hiss leaving his lips when you’d clenched around his cock subconsciously in overstimulation. 

You couldn’t trust yourself to speak. Feeling his fingers tip you over the edge. Whining against the arm that held you firm. “Can’t—…t’much..”

“I know baby, you can give me another one, can’t you?” You could feel the pur in his words. Gently pressing over the bulge on your stomach where he could feel how deep he was fucking into your soft pussy. Praises littered into your skin that felt like kisses. You nodded with renewed desire to give this man anything he'd asked for. 

You’d lifted your head up from where it’d rested against your palm. Snapping out of your daydreams at the familiar voice calling your name. 

You blinked a few times, registering the offices’ law library’s attendant. “Are you okay, honey? I have to leave now.”

You offered a polite smile. “I’m good, see you tomorrow Mrs Balmaceda.” 

You’d looked back down at the piles of books across the desk. The coldness of the library—evident by the building's foggy condensation outside the windows. Your exhaustion was finally catching up to you in the worst ways possible. Briefly glancing around at the amber overhead lights, illuminating the books tucked in large floor to ceiling bookshelves. 

You’d inwardly sighed at the lack of references you had yet to find—grabbing the paper, scribbled with names of references that Joel had neatly written on it. You pushed past the attached ladders.

This was going to be a long night. 

—

“This book..isn’t even supposed to be here.” Grumbling at the lack of care of the people who’d haphazardly shoved books into the shelves in places it didn’t belong. A stack grew in your arms, piling it up the wrongly filed books. Taking it upon yourself to reshelve it. 

“Are you supposed to be the librarian now?”

You’d nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden voice from behind you. Books nearly slipping out of your hands, you’d acted quickly enough to stop them. Twisting your body to see the intruder. 

JOEL

“Make sure she eats dinner and packs her books fore’ bed. Thanks Tommy…’ppreciate it.”

He’d ended the call, leaning back in his chair with a fist over his eyes. Not a single thing gone the way he needed it to. His hands shoved past the stacks of paperwork on the desk, the blue ink that curved with the initials of your name stared back at him. Confirmation that you were quite literally the only one other than him to have read the document.

Another hand covers the paper with a stack of files. As though he didn’t quite want to face the truth behind it.

—

“Anything to show me yet?”

Barely being able to register the object coming towards you, you awkwardly managed to catch the can of black coffee hurled towards you. Even with his odd way of showing it, you felt it. The care. 

You’d trailed behind him. Eyeing the slump in his shoulders now. “Yeah. Couple of things in the settlement we can take advantage of because of the disparity.” I explained. 

The sound of the can flicking open caught your attention. Watching as Joel took a swig. You swallowed. Holding the unopened can tightly in your palms. 

Instinctively, your tongue darted out to wet your lower lip as your eyes lingered on the subtle movement of his Adam's apple, rising and falling with each swallow. Your gaze trailed downward, drawn to his collarbone, partially revealed by the undone top buttons of his shirt.

You would’ve told him that you didn’t like black coffee. But you’d pretty much lost the window to say anything by now. That didn’t matter. You needed something for how dry your throat felt. 

You’d open your can of coffee in succession. Taking sips of the bitter liquid to quench the metaphorical desire building in you. 

“Looks good enough. Two or three more references would do.”  

He’d noticed the brief look of disgust on your face as you took another sip. Raising his brow slightly at your conformity. “Not much of a coffee person, are you?”

“Not really, no.” You admit. Sitting down across him by the chairs. He’d been flipping through the stacks of papers with you. Hastening the process a little more. 

A quiet silence filled the air between you both. You’d have been okay not to acknowledge it. But Joel didn’t want to let it. 

“What did you do?” He offered after a couple minutes of silence. You furrowed your brows at his words. “...Over the weekends, I mean.”

Since when did he care for small talk? 

“Nothing much. I’ve been studying for the LSAT’s again.” He’d hummed in acknowledgment to your words. Observing you and your little quirks. 

He’d noticed. You had a preference for the blue sticky tabs in any paperwork you did for him. When you’d been really concentrated, you opted not to speak. 

“Again?” He questions. 

“Again.” You repeated. The word leaves a bitter note on your tongue. “I’m not…I don’t test well.”

That earned a frown from him. He’d figured you got a little twitchy at times, but you had heart. 

“What about you.” You’d tried to fill in the awkward silence after that. Trying to change the subject now. “What’d you do?”

It was as though your question caught him off guard. As though you’d interrupted his line of questioning that seemed to build up to something. “A play—…my daughter had a play, in her highschool.”

You’d actually lifted your head up at his words. You were paying attention now. Something about your silence prompted him to continue. A daughter. You didn’t know he had a daughter.

“I was thinkin’ these kids were going to do some..Shakespeare thing. And then—...Sarah walked on stage as some blonde girl. From that movie.”

“That movie?” You repeated. Brows knit together. 

He lets out a sigh. “The movie.” He repeats. His expression mirroring yours, hand gesturing vaguely as though to mortalise the words in his head. “Girl gets hit by a bus at the end…” He manages, in deeper thought. His thumb swipes the bottom of his lips in concentration.

You weren’t sure if you were paying attention after ‘girl gets his by bus.’ He may as well have had a sign on his forehead to say, kiss me please with the way he’d been bringing attention to it. “I wanna say…it was somethin’ bout’ some girl named Caddy. Kayde?”

You were confused at first. Eyes widening. 

“Mean Girls?”

A sigh of relief left his lips. As though it would’ve bugged him all night for not being able to remember. “That’s the one.” He says finally. 

An amused scoff left your lips, the combined laughter of yours and his  filled the silence in the room. Ignoring the fact that high schools nowadays didn’t quite care about literary classics, you were more focused on the fact that Joel seemed chillingly human. It was breaking through the carefully built mental barriers you had in place. Your ability to shove any lingering feelings—with the excuse he was just your boss didn’t quite matter anymore.

You didn’t realize how much you’d been staring at his every movement—how he just looked softer. 

—

A considerable amount of time had passed, the both of you working together in sync to get the last of what you needed. You’d been eyeing Joel, his weariness evident in the constant furrow of his brows—or in the way a few curls had fallen effortlessly against his forehead.

You shouldn’t be thinking about him like this anymore. What was it about a man looking so damn attractive when their life seemed to be falling apart?

“How did things go with Leighton?” He inquires. Rudely interrupting your thoughts.

You’d stopped for a moment. Why was he asking this now?

You swallowed thickly. Feeling your nerves fray. Your current demeanor wasn’t lost on Joel. He’d been looking at you carefully. Despite your best efforts, Joel studied you enough to understand your behavior in his entire time knowing you. 

He'd spent all day untangling the mess, he was asking this out of courtesy at this point.

“Good…there weren't any issues.”

“I’m askin’ you, since you were the last person to see her.” 

“..I—“

When he’d repeated your name firmly. You tensed. It was far too late to keep up with hiding the fact now. He just wanted to hear it from you directly.

That you were the reason why the initial settlement was thrown out the window after you told Leighton about Ander’s infidelity yesterday. It was purposefully withheld from her during the proceedings.

But then…you’d seen Anna and how tired she looked. One look at her and you knew that she deserved all the facts. 

“Tell me you didn’t, sweetheart.�� The way he said it churned your guts. Of course he’d already been aware–Some part of him wanted to believe otherwise.

You’d pressed your lips into a thin line. Not daring to look up. You could feel the way he’d been looking at you. How disappointed he would’ve been. 

When you had looked up, however, disappointment wasn’t what you found. In the times you’d known Joel, you’d observed him and his little quirks. 

You’d noticed. When he’d tried to practice patience in withholding his anger. His jaw ticked. 

“I thought I was doing the right thing.”

The sigh he let out, had you looking at the ground. It was a feeling not unlike the sinking weight of having utterly disappointed your parents. “You went behind my back.” His tone devoid of any kindness. 

“I did the right thing.” You repeated. Firmer now.

“You’re fuckin’ deluded if you think you did the right thing, darlin’.”

That stung. Far more than you’d expected. Joel’s anger had been simmering over the edge. Minutes from saying something he shouldn’t have. It wasn’t just betrayal he’d felt, it was his naïveté in trusting you completely. 

You knew you’d made a mistake. You knew. You should’ve apologized and moved on because he was right. But the words spilling out from you was anything but. The venom laced in his tone was not something you liked in the slightest. It’d rubbed you raw, a blooming pain that bled through the wake of your recklessness.

You’d gotten up abruptly. Grabbing the list of documents you’d needed from the archive room. The hastened clacks of your heels against the carpeted floors was soon joined by the low thud of Joel’s oxfords.

“You know.” He began, his voice trailing closer behind you.

“Through all this bullshit I still expected some level of humility from you at the very least.”

His footsteps grew closer. It was clear that he had no plans to let you get away with everything. Not without an acknowledgement to what you’d done. 

Your pace quickened, stepping into the room tucked in the corner of the library. Situating yourself between the metal racks. Stacked with dusty boxes of old case files. Barely lit by fluorescent lighting that hadn’t been changed in years.

You’d attempted to shut the door behind you, but Joel’s hands came up to wedge through the archive rooms doors to let himself in. He’d repeated your name. A little louder now. 

“The hell do you want me to say?” You snapped back finally. 

“Something that isn’t an excuse.”

You felt your own anger take the place of the supposed humility you were supposed to feel. You hated this side of him, pushing, cornering, intimidating people into submitting. You rifled through the dusty boxes. Feeling his quiet presence overwhelm you, demanding an answer from you. Words bubbling up like word vomit, you couldn’t stop them from spilling.

“It’s not an excuse.”

“Are you that much of a sociopath that you’re sacrificing ethics and morals over getting a fucking payout for the firm?” You breathed out. Whipping your head around to look at him. “Is that what you wanna hear?”

“This isn’t about ethics or morals!” He’d raised his voice. Louder than he’d intended. No, he was more hurt that you didn’t trust him enough to handle it. Didn’t trust him enough to let him know before going behind his back. He would’ve done anything you’d asked. But you hadn’t.

“I should’ve known better than to trust a damn paralegal with helping me.” He’d felt regret even as he spoke, but he couldn’t help it. “I was fucking naive to think you were more. That you had something—“

“I was a goddamn fool to think that some kid who couldn’t even pass the LSATs could be trusted.”

Your heart twisted at his words.

“Did that make you feel better, Joel?” Your tone was laced with an equal amount of bitterness. “Come on. Tell me what else you fucking feel.” Challenging him. He had a feeling this wasn’t all you’d held back on. 

The air went still. He’d known he’d gone too far when he’d said it. But you weren’t upset at the fact that you’d both been exchanging words that were intended to hurt each other, but because all you’d managed to say were shit neither of you meant.

All you could think about was how you’d felt. About him. About all the feelings you’d forced yourself to swallow down. 

“I don't need to hear it. I don’t need to hear how much you’ve regretted it.”

“You know damn well that isn’t what I’m talkin’ bout’.”

Did you regret it? Did you regret sleeping with me the same way you regret trusting me with the case?

The unsaid words that couldn’t leave your lips hadn’t gone past him. Despite it all—the residual anger was still there—Being clouded by his wants that bubbled up whenever he was around you. The want that was being amplified now that all he could hear was your breathing and his.  

Your eyes traced his features carefully. Not being able to swallow down the anger and humiliation that churned in you. Threatening to consume you whole. You knew he blamed himself for how you seemed to be falling apart. It was all in the subtle furrow of his brows, the faint twitch beneath his eyes, and the way his deep brown eyes locked with yours. 

He’d stepped forward the same time you had. 

Hands coming down to maneuver you against the shelves. His hand gripping around your waist, dipping his head lower to finally kiss you. It wasn’t slow, or careful. He kissed like he’d been wanting to for months. Not giving you a chance to catch your breath. You sighed into his lips slowly & he’d drunk it all in—your lips slotting perfectly against his. He’d stepped backwards, panting, like you were. Looking for a sign that you didn’t want this. Your hands came up to clumsily yank his tie off, answering that question for him.

It was quiet at first. All but the rustling of him throwing his jacket off and you attempting to unbutton your blouse in unison—You didn’t like the silence. The last time you’d fucked he was vocal, with praises singing into your skin. 

So when he’d finally grabbed you, legs slotting between your thighs, your gasp broke the practiced silence. 

He was a man on a mission. He needed to make you come, needed to drink in the sweet saccharine noises you made. The very thing he missed in those six months that haunted him whenever he’d heard you speak. 

He tugged you tighter, rocking you against his thigh with,hands against the back of your waist. Encouraging you to rut against his thigh. You’d whined in his grasp. Your hips tilting to grind against the fabric of his slacks. Tipping your head back, the ache grew. The friction wasn’t enough. This wasn’t enough. You wanted to feel him. 

His bigger hands casing your jaw—tutting at your struggle. “…Sh—…shh shh. I know. I know.”

Your hand gripped around his forearms. Tip toeing, you tried you angled yourself just right so your pussy could feel the friction of his thigh properly. Your hips stuttered, feeling him notch your needy pussy right against him with his guidance. His hand tilted your jaw up so you'd maintain eye contact with him. Your lips parted wider, feeling the steady pleasure build in you, your clit stimulated in all the right ways.

“Needy little thing, workin’ so damn hard—“ He’d leaned in, tracing his nose down your jawline. “C’mon sweetheart, need you to come f’me, need you to feel good.” Muttering against your neck. It’d sent shivers down your spine, drinking in the praises that had followed after what he’d said.

“Look at you, pretty…pretty..pretty, pretty.” His wanton sighs against your neck. 

His other hand sliding upwards, kneading your tits over your clothes. You’d whined a little when he’d lifted up your blouse. Tugging your lacy bra downwards to free your tits. Head lowering so he could suckle on one. Massaging the softness while his other hand thumbed over your nipples gently. 

How was it possible that this man knew you more than you’d known yourself?

You’d felt the build up hitting you faster than you’d realized. Your thighs had given in—quivering in the wake of your release. “Atta girl.” He’d leaned in and gave you an appreciative kiss, smiling against your lips. Larger hands circled around your hips to turn you over before you’d known what had hit you. 

Your head rested against the cool metal of the shelves, catching your breath from the intensity. His thumb traced over the dampness of your panty hose. Groaning at the sensation of how turned on you were just by grinding pathetically against him.

“This wet already, desperate lil’ thing.” He mumbled. Placing a few kisses against your pulse point.

A hand slid down to knead the globe of your ass. The sight of you earned a hum of admiration from behind you. If only you’d known just how many nights he’d spent, thinking about the sight of your pretty ass fucked to the hilt that night.

He hooked a finger over your panty hose, clicking his tongue at just how inaccessible it’d been. You felt a cold gust of air followed by a ripping sound. You didn’t have time to reprimand him when the sensation of two fingers tentatively slid up your clit, down to your slick folds—effectively shutting you up. Wiggling your hips backwards, you attempted to urge him deeper. 

He tutted once more. Pressing his hand down on your lower back to hold you in place. Reminding you on patience. Not that you even cared at this point. Your eyes widened at the sensation of his thick fingers finally slid into your aching cunt, scissoring through the tight valleys of your velvety warm pussy. You’d let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

You found yourself whining. Growing frustrated. He’d let you move back against him, your pussy sucking his fingers back in everytime he pulled it out just a little. Your senses hyper focused on chasing the release you felt yourself closing in to once more. A loud clunk caused you to snap your head up, catching the sigh of him unbuckling his belt over your shoulders with a half-lidded look. 

“Back t’reality sweetheart? Ain’t done with you, far from it.” A hand shifted to toss his security keycard over his shoulder. Hands secure and snug on both sides of your waist. He could come just from the sight alone.

You felt the heat of his cock slide against your folds, gathering the slick that had him slipping back out every time he’d attempted to slip his tip into your pussy—Earning a gasp from both Joel and yourself when he did manage to notch his cockhead in.

“Fuck me, sweetheart, it’s a slip’n’slide out here.” 

You looked over your shoulder. Frowning through your fucked out gaze. He chuckled, a sound that only made you throb all the more. He’d raised a hands up in defense at your glare.

He guided the base of his cock with a firm grip—feeding you his cock. Inch by inch. 

You gripped tightly against the shelf. Eyes rolled back at just the sensation of him filling you up after he’d been such a goddamn tease. You’d managed to catch him off guard by grinding backwards, he hissed at the tightness of your pussy, choking him like vice, forcing him to bottom out in you.

“Overachieving minx.”

A low groan leaves his lips at the sight. Head lolled to the side at how perfect you fit against him. His hips began to rock steadily around you, not even having to move much with how you were eagerly bouncing against him. 

He smirks at the sight, leaning back to observe. Allowing you to set the pace. His hands rubs down both sides of your hips as a soothing gesture. 

Joel couldn't handle it any longer. He needed to fuck you like you deserved. 

“Still owe you an apology, sweetheart.”

You’d let out a sharp gasp when he’d tugged you harshly up against him. His other hand coming up across your chest. Hand gripped around your shoulder, securely and snug before he starts to jackhammer into your pussy.

“F-Fuck, Joel!”

He grips underneath your jaw, tilting your head back–kissing you sloppily, drowning your reverent moans into his mouth. He’d set the pace, fucking you hard until the shelves rattled underneath your combined weight. His sweat mixes into yours in the almost intolerable heat your bodies emitted.

You’d probably come again, you didn’t know, didn’t care. Feeling Joel’s grunts and gasps was enough to send you over the edge. 

“Tight pussys’ gonna be the death of me, baby.” He gasped against your neck. Nose rubbing against your cheeks. 

“M’gonna come.” He manages, barely. “Please baby, tell me I can come inside you.”

You mewled at his words. The breathy way he’d practically begged you for permission. Grinding against him in finality–you nodded desperately when two fingers rubbed against your clit. 

“Yes, f-fuck, yes.”

With renewed fervour, he’d buried his head into the crook of your neck—rutting into until you felt his hips stutter. Feeling his heavy breathing as he held you snug against him, your smaller hands gripped around his hand that was flattened against your chest. He could feel you pulsing in your own release around him and that was enough to tip him over the edge.

He grunted into your shoulder, pumping you with ropes of his hot come. Filling you deep. 

He’d pulled out of your pussy after a few seconds with a slick pop, his thumb swiping against your entrance, two fingers stuffing the come dribbling out back into you. You’d briefly glanced back to see a lazy smile curled up one side of his lips.

He leans in to kiss your shoulder. Firm hands pulling your skirt back into place.

“C’mon. I’ll drive you home.”

[paradiseprincesss]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 𝑻𝒐 𝑩𝒆 𝑬𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝑨𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 | Jonathan Crane

NOTES -> Hello hello! im gonna be in uni full time again starting first week of september so uploads will be much slowerrrr im sorry. I’ll try to write as much as i can for u my little loves!

REQUEST -> Based off the prompt 15 from this list here

SUMMARY -> Your boss, Jonathan Crane, plans on isolating you away from your old life, consuming you whole until you become nothing but devoted to him...and you're too naive to see the mind games that the expert psychiatrist is playing.

WORD COUNT -> 3.3k

WARNINGS -> Smut, p in v, soft!dark Jonathan, doctor/nurse relationship, boss/employee relationship, creampie

MASTERLIST

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jonathan felt his chest tighten as he narrowed his blue eyes behind his glasses. His focus was locked on you and only you, along with the orderly speaking to you for the last few minutes.

You were a nurse at Arkham, young and bright-eyed, so full of energy — and that caught Jonathan’s attention. Your unusually cheerful demeanour and sweet aura drew him in, whether he liked it or not. Maybe it was how you’d always give him a cute little wave every time he’d pass by you, or maybe it was how you’d smile at him when everyone else seemed to cower away from the stoic doctor. 

Or maybe it was because once he saw you leaving work in your everyday clothes instead of your usual scrubs, and when you seemingly bent over to pick up your keys which you dropped on the ground, he could see the lace of your pink panties poking out of your low-rise sweatpants — but I guess we’ll never know. 

See, that was the problem. You were so sweet, but you were like that with everyone you worked with; which made Jonathan feel inferior in many ways, but he promised himself that he’d have you eventually.

He didn’t want to hurt you by any means — oh god, no. He’d rather torture himself than watch you suffer through any anguish. However, he did want everyone around you to fall victim to a rather sinister fate if it meant they stayed away from you. 

Jonathan didn’t really consider himself a sadist, but watching those around you seemingly go missing and suddenly quit their jobs at Arkham (unwillingly, of course), derived an innate sense of pleasure within him. 

That was one of the perks of being the chief psychiatrist — he had all the power in the world to do whatever he pleased within the walls of Arkham, no matter who he hurt in the process. Jonathan would quietly fire many employees who he felt were “too friendly” with you, but he’d always tell you that they’d mysteriously quit or that they had changed jobs. 

“Perhaps they just didn’t have it in them to help the…unique patients we house here,” he’d say to you. “Not everyone is as dedicated and as kind as you are, you know?” 

Foolishly, you let his flattery get into your head; you let yourself fall for him without even realizing it.

You believed that the universe divinely guided you to him. You were sure of it — he was just so kind and understanding. You couldn’t believe the other staff of Arkham didn’t see him the way you did! How could they dislike him? Fear him? 

To Jonathan, you were like an angel that fell from above, capturing his cold, dead heart within your warm, beating, and very alive one. You were so kind to the patients, so gentle with them — and your patients only ever had good things to say about you. 

As you spoke to the orderly in front of you about what you did over the weekend, you noticed your boss looking rather tense from the corner of your eye. His jaw was clenched slightly, and his expression unforgiving. He exhaled sharply before ushering you over toward him, causing you to excuse yourself from your current conversation. 

“Doctor Crane,” you greeted sweetly, “how are you?”

“I’m rather stressed today,” he answered softly, taking on that same gentle tone that he always seemed to take with you. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Everything is fine, but I'm worried about you.”

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently, cocking your head to the side slightly as if to emphasize your confusion. 

“I think perhaps we should speak in my office about this,” he offered. “Come with me, please.” 

Your smile suddenly faltered slightly as anxiety and paranoia ran rampant through your veins.

Your paranoid thoughts had to be put on the back burner as you took a seat across from him in his office, watching him as he sat down at his desk. His suit was pristine as always — and today, he opted for a brown sweater vest underneath it.

You’d count every thread and stitch on his suit for him if he asked you to. 

“Doctor Crane—”

“Just Jonathan is fine,” he interrupted before clearing his throat. “I wanted to speak to you in private about a certain concern of mine.” 

“What is it?”

He sighed before he took off his glasses and meticulously placed them on his desk. He leaned forward slightly, and you stayed quiet as he hesitated for a moment before his smooth voice finally cut through the silence in his office between the two of you. 

“I’m worried that you may be overworking yourself,” he explained, looking at you with his tantalizing eyes. “I notice you pick up shifts and work overtime frequently, and I worry that you may be taking on more than you can handle. As your boss, I just want to make sure that you’re not burning yourself out as that can’t be good for you, and I believe in a healthy work-life balance.”

You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth, unsure as to what you could say to him — that wasn’t what you were expecting him to say to you. Perhaps you had been overworking yourself, but that was just a part of you. Having a strong work ethic was something you strongly believed in, but maybe he was right. You couldn’t care for your patients if you were too exhausted to, right? 

Now that he mentioned it, you were quite tired today. You started to think about it — as of recently, you’d been slamming coffees left right and center to stay awake at work, hadn’t you? You just wanted to help out since you were fairly new around here, but maybe it was doing you more damage than good.

Jonathan saw your usually cheerful demeanour deflate in his office, and he looked at you sympathetically, “I know this is not something you’d want to hear, especially from your boss of all people — but I just want to ensure that all my staff are doing well, you know?”

You bit your lip for a mere second, hesitating to speak before you let the words fall from your lips, “You know, Jonathan, sometimes I feel like you’re the only person here who actually…cares about me.” 

He internally applauded himself — in a moment of vulnerability, you sought out comfort in him. Just like he had planned. Just like he wanted.

“I think you’re an exceptional nurse,” he mused, “and truthfully, I do enjoy working alongside you. So yes, of course, I care about you. I remember when I first started working after finishing my residency, I would exhaust myself constantly. I’ve learned through many years that it’s just not good for you.” 

Jonathan’s plan was being executed perfectly — he wanted to isolate you. He wanted you to come running into his arms, far away from everyone else around you. He was on his worst behaviour today, but he believed you brought out the best in him. 

You weren’t overworking yourself, but with Jonathan’s quick wit, years of training in psychology, and exceptional gaslighting skills, you thought perhaps he was right. Maybe you should take some time off of work, you thought.

“Tell you what,” he said softly, “how about you and I have drinks tonight instead? Forget about work and such. I think you need it.”

His words caused your cheeks to heat up. He was your boss, and this was way out of line for a boss to ask an employee. However, it didn’t help that you were very attracted to him.

“Drinks?”

“My place at eight. I have a bottle of cabernet I think you’d enjoy — If I remember correctly, you said it was your favourite?” 

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “It is.” 

“So I'll see you tonight at eight, then,” he smiled softly, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “I’ll text you my address.” 

You nodded, slightly starstruck. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Once you’d parked your car on the side of the neighbourhood street, you stepped out into the chilly night, your high heels clicking against the pavement of the ground loudly as you made your way onto his porch.

You gave three soft raps to his front door before you heard shuffling coming from inside the house. After a few moments, the front door swung open gently, and Jonathan stood there with a small smile on his face.

“Come inside,” he ushered you, “make yourself at home, darling.”

And so you did. 

You two talked over a few glasses of cabernet, bringing up the topic of work a few times here and there, but he mostly attempted to get to know the real you. What you did in your spare time, what your hobbies were, if you were seeing anyone…

“Out of curiosity, are you seeing anyone?” Jonathan asked you casually, but his voice dropped an octave as he looked directly at you, resting his hand on your thigh rather boldly. “I’m asking because I've seen the way you look at me…” 

“I-I’m sorry?” you stammered, your cheeks feeling warmer and warmer by the second with the way his hand was now resting on your leg. You couldn’t deny it now. “I didn’t mean…um, I just — you’re always so kind to me…and I–”

He shushed you softly, creeping his hand up a little further. “I’m quite flattered, darling. Not to worry,” he purred. “I figured it wouldn’t be very appropriate of me to tell you how hard it is for me to not look at you when you’re at work, but after today, I just don’t think I can help myself anymore…” 

Suddenly, his lips brushed up against yours, and as if it was instinct, your hands came to wrap around his shoulders. He let you pull him in even closer, his hands now coming to rest on your hips as you two kissed feverishly on his couch.

You and him were like a chemical reaction — explosive, unpredictable, and potentially fatal.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered against your lips in between kisses. 

A shiver ran down your spine as his hold on your hips tightened slightly, his words causing your brain to short-circuit for a moment before you could think clearly again. 

“Jonathan, I–”

“Don’t speak, just give into it, my darling.”

You let yourself get lost in the constellation that was Jonathan Crane, letting him run his hands all over your body and kiss you with an insatiable hunger. Soft moans left your mouth as he peppered kisses down your jawline and neck, nipping at the delicate skin gently. 

You would’ve been worried about him leaving marks because you wouldn’t want your boss to see the next day at work — but you had to remind yourself that he was your boss. 

But none of that mattered when it felt so right; when his lips felt so good against your skin.

“Can I take this off?” he rasped, toying with the strap of your dress. 

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Please, Jonathan…”

Slowly, he took the dress off of your body, gently tossing the garment to the side as he looked at you in absolute awe. It was like looking at a priceless piece of art in a museum exhibit to him — nothing could compare. Even a picture wouldn’t do the sight in front of him justice. 

“Should we go upstairs?” you suddenly asked. 

Maybe it was the handful of wine you’d shared that evening, or maybe it was just sheer arousal; you weren’t sure which one, but all you knew was that you needed him to have his way with you. 

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed, taking your hand in his. “Just up the stairs to the left — I think I'll let you lead the way, darling…”

The two of you got up from the couch, hand in hand, and Jonathan’s eyes roamed your body from behind as you made your way up the stairs together. 

Of course, you came prepared — you know, just in case things were to happen. Before you left, you threw on your sexiest, laciest, lingerie underneath your dress, and it was a good thing you did because that investment certainly paid off.

He watched your hips sway in your lingerie, along with the heels you were still wearing (because we simply can’t forget about those), and he could feel his cock straining against his pants. “Pretty girl,” he mumbled from behind you. “Your body is heavenly.” 

“Shush,” you giggled, grabbing him by his tie and pulling him close once you reached the bedroom. 

He looked down at you in the dim lighting of his bedroom, noticing the way your skin was glowing under it. Your hair was slightly messy from making out on the couch earlier, and you had a small smile tugging at your lips — you were perfection if he’d ever seen it. 

Jonathan kissed you rougher this time, his hands finding their way into your hair, tugging ever so gently against your scalp. He backed you up onto the bed, pushing you down onto it as he undid his tie, looming over your delicate body which was sprawled out on his king-sized bed. 

After taking his tie off, he threw off his suit jacket and started to unbutton his shirt. You hummed softly, running your heel against his leg as he rushed to get himself out of his clothes. The tent in his pants made it all the more obvious how desperate he truly was for you, but you stayed patient. 

Once he was on the bed with you, he helped you out of your bra and panties, causing your cheeks to heat up from how exposed you felt. “You’re cute when you blush,” he commented when he noticed your blush, making you all the more flustered while he undid his belt. 

After freeing himself, his thick, veiny cock caught your attention, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. He was big — you weren’t sure how that was supposed to fit, but right now you were so wet, you were almost certain your walls would stretch out around him with ease. 

He lined himself up with your dripping entrance, giving himself a few strokes before looking at you with his lip caught between his teeth. “Are you sure?” he whispered, and you nodded feverishly. 

“Please,” you whimpered.

Your back was arched and you let out a filthy moan as he slid himself into your warm, sticky cunt with little resistance. The sheer size of him alone had you feeling so full, and he stilled as he bottomed out in you so that you could adjust to him. “Tell me when,” he said softly, his hand coming to brush up against your hips softly. 

“You can move now,” you breathlessly said, giving him the green light. Your breath got caught in your throat as he started to set a gentle but deep pace, the tip of his cock brushing against that spongy spot inside of you with every thrust. 

“O-oh–” you moaned.

His hands found purchase on your hips, and his eyes trailed over your face as he fucked you sensually, but slowly, eventually going harder and faster as you got accumulated to him. “So fucking tight, Jesus—” he choked out. You’d never heard him curse before, and his smooth voice had you clenching around him, to which he let out another moan. “Fuck, darling — you feel so good.” 

“Mm-hmm!” you squeaked, taking his cock deeper and deeper into your soaked cunt with every stroke. “Jonathan, fuck—!”

“Right there, darling?” he cooed softly, slamming his cock into your hole much rougher now, causing you to see stars as he stretched you open on his thickness. “Feels good, baby?” 

“Yes, yes, yes — oh my god!” you chanted, grabbing onto his biceps as you felt his fat cock drilling you. You were letting out feverish moans, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you became increasingly more cock-drunk by the minute. 

Your moans were like music to Jonathan. Like the sound he would hear being played once he died and went to heaven — because to him, this was heaven. You’d come running into the arms of the man who was slowly isolating you, breaking you; cornering you into his heart. 

But there’s always something so right about something so inherently wrong, isn’t there? 

“I can feel you squeezing me,” he groaned, watching you with furrowed brows as he concentrated on your pleasure. “Are you close, darling? Fuck, you are, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you whimpered breathlessly, moans being forced out of you with every delicious thrust he gave your cunt. “Gonna– oh, I’m gonna cum!” 

Jonathan watched in a mixture of pure bliss, awe, and satisfaction as you fell apart in his very hands. Yes — this is where he wanted you. He just wanted to love you, to show you how perfect he was for you, to take care of you and make you see that everyone else around you was just a waste of time. 

No more talking to orderlies who’d flirt with you, no more going out for after-work drinks with the other nurses. No, none of that. He was going to make sure that you’d work under him only, figuratively and literally.

“Gon’ cum,” he groaned, feeling his cock spurting ropes of cum into your warm, tight hole as he gave you a few more lazy thrusts, not bothering to pull out. Your mind went blank as he filled you up wholly, stuffing you with his sticky, warm seed as you lay there fucked out from what just happened moments prior. “Why don’t you stay over tonight?”

You looked up at him groggily, mind still foggy from your orgasm. “What? I work tomorrow–”

“Take a paid day off,” he shrugged, pulling his softening cock out from your worn-out hole. “Use as many as you’d like darling, I won’t tell.” 

His teasing words caused you to throw your head back into the pillows blissfully with a sigh, genuinely believing that he only had your best interest at heart — he just didn’t want you to overwork yourself. It’s not like he was planning on totally locking you away from every living being in Gotham besides him or anything…

“I feel bad though,” you murmured sleepily. “I feel like I’m – I dunno – abusing my privileges.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty girl,” Jonathan assured you softly, turning off the lights so that only the moonlight was dimly shining into his bedroom. He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head as he pulled the covers over you both, cradling you in his arms like you were made of fine china. “You know I only want what’s best for you.”

“You’re so lovely, Jon. You truly have such a kind soul.” 

“Surely nothing compared to yours, my darling,” he whispered against your hair as you closed your eyes. “Now, get some rest. We can talk about moving your things in here in the morning…”

Unfortunately, you had already dozed off in his embrace; too busy being washed away by sleep to hear his words. Jonathan smiled to himself — he’d never let you go now. You’d lost all control the moment you stepped into his house, unknowingly making yourself a hostage of some sort.  

In the end, as you clung to him, believing he was the saviour from your exhaustion, you failed to see that it was his “love” that had slowly consumed you whole, leaving you nothing but a hollow shell, devoured by the very hands that promised refuge.

Sometimes, the most dangerous traps are the ones we walk into willingly, thinking they’re the key to our freedom, as they say. But the cruel irony of it all is that we think we’re being saved from the jaws of this terrible world, only to be eaten alive by those who we call our saviours. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Taglist -> @girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @esotericdoe

@kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebellebarnes @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@abprill @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii 

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh @momoewn

@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues @o0laura @fiona-my-love @cranecat

[junkissed]

pls accept my most sincerest offering (pouty lovey hao)

late night talking

member — minghao x f reader genre — angst, idk if there's enough fluff for this to count as hurt/comfort but the ending is sort of happy ? word count — 2.1k synopsis — the best and worst conversations always happen at 1am. warnings — reader is very drunk and very very insecure, lots of crying, lots of internal back & forth, unreliable narrator moment, refers to reader as girlfriend/my girl/etc., idk if i'm missing anything else but lmk if i am notes — this is an old fic that i never really intended to be released but @onlymingyus and @wooahaeproductions convinced me otherwise. sorry this is not at all what i normally post lmao i swear don't write like this often i just found this in my drive that i wrote when i was in a very shitty mood. we will return to your regularly scheduled smut programming soon i promise lmao! leave a comment in the reblogs or send an ask if you enjoyed this? idk i am nervous to post this pls don't perceive me too much

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you're ugly when you're drunk.

“hao?”

your voice rings throughout the house, the sound shaky and quieter than usual.

he wouldn't even have known you were home if he hadn't heard your friend's car pull up minutes ago, bright headlights flashing through the bedroom window. he wouldn't have known, if he wasn't already worried sick at you being gone so long and consuming an unknown amount of alcohol. he should've been there with you, but too much was riding on the deadline for his students’ grades that had to be finished before midnight. any other day he would've been by your side the whole night, a steady hand on your arm for balance and a sharp eye on your glass just in case. he loves playing the role of protective boyfriend, letting his girl do whatever she wants because he'll always be there to watch over her. but he couldn't do that tonight, and it tears him up inside.

he hears your trudging footsteps down the hall, soft footfalls signalling your approach as you drag yourself towards the room. he pretends not to hear; he doesn't want to make a big deal out of this and embarrass you.

“you're home early,” he comments with a chuckle, but his sarcasm is lost on you in this state. it's well after 1 in the morning, and you tilt your head in confusion at his words, brows deeply furrowed.

“what— are you working on?” you ask after a moment, focusing all your energy on not stumbling over your words. 

you know how drunk you are, he knows how drunk you are, but even now you're still putting on an act. you hate feeling stupid in front of him, and right now you couldn't feel any stupider. the worst part is that you feel as stupid when you're sober as you do right now, but you couldn't tell him that.

he pauses, choosing his next words carefully as he surveys your current state. he can't risk hurting your feelings, especially in such a vulnerable headspace.

“grading finals,” he decides on. not too detailed to confuse you, not too simplified to make you feel stupid, just enough to make you feel involved.

distantly you feel your eyes welling up with tears. you don't know why, but at the same time you know exactly why. you're never good enough compared to him, not when you come home drunk in the dead of night, and he never does. not when he's so good at everything he touches, so talented and beautiful and perfect, and you're… not. 

he deserves someone at his level, an artistic genius like him who can help him with his work. someone with an eye for his paintings, someone smarter, someone prettier, someone who can keep him on his toes. someone who won't drag him down and burden him with your obvious lack of skill and your quality of being so embarrassingly lightweight that you need to be supervised at all times. 

“i’m sorry,” you finally muster. you can't find the words to explain what you mean, but you hope he's able to sense your sincerity.

“what for?” he asks. his voice is softer now. 

you hate it when he uses that voice. he's talking down to you, talking like you're a child and he has to explain everything to you in the gentlest way possible because you aren't capable of handling the truth.

you love when he uses that voice. sometimes he can be so blunt it almost feels isolating, but when he talks to you like you're a child in that sweet, gentle, kind tone you feel like everything will be okay. he can soften himself for you, drop his straightforward persona around you and be the tender man you know he's capable of being. 

you lift your eyes to his computer screen and the feelings you've been struggling with float back into view. “i'm sorry,” you repeat, voice cracking despite the effort you put in to stop it from breaking. it's all you can say.

you don't notice when the tears overflow, bursting from your eyes without a sound. you're embarrassing, you're an idiot, standing in front of him with red eyes and hunched shoulders as tears stream down your cheeks. you don't even feel them fall.

if he knows what you're trying to convey with your tearful apologies, he doesn't mention it. 

of course he knows, how could he not when he's so astute with everything? you suck at keeping things to yourself. 

of course he doesn't know, why would he take the time out of his busy schedule to care about how you're feeling? you're not worth his energy.

the moment seems to stretch on for eternity, standing in front of him. you don't know why you started dating in the first place; he doesn't have the time, you're too annoying, too clingy, too affectionate. standing in front of him, you don't feel anything. you just feel cold.

you turn to drag yourself out of the room, deciding that you've embarrassed yourself enough by now. you don't know where you'll go or what you're doing, probably to pour yourself a glass of water and try to sleep on the couch. obviously he won't want you to sleep in his bed when you’re like this, why should he? you aren’t deserving of that privilege.

but then you feel a warm hand on your wrist, gently tugging you back towards him. you lose your balance, stumble over your feet, fall onto his lap. you're mortified, barely able to get another “sorry” out before trying to stand again on wobbly legs. you shouldn't be here. you're so aware, so painfully conscious of your weight on him, every ounce of energy you have left fighting to keep yourself from annoying him even further but it feels like it's too late. everything that comes from you is too little, too late.

“no,” he says. his tone is still that soft, sweet sound, but his voice is firm and you don't try to get up again. “we can talk tomorrow,” he says as he begins to run his hand along your back, and you hate yourself for the way you instantly melt at his touch. “just… relax. calm down.”

your body slouches against his chest, feeling like a puddle on his lap, head tucked into the crook of his neck whether you meant to or not. your legs dangle limply off his lap, arms wrapped loosely around the back of his chair as he holds you.

“it's okay,” he says simply, still stroking his hand along your back in small, soothing motions. “it's okay.” he repeats the words, maybe to convince himself but mostly to convince you from having a breakdown. even now when he's treating you so delicately, your brain won't let you rest: he's probably scared of you, he doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean any of it and he's using whatever means necessary to stop you from turning hysterical or even violent. of course it doesn't mean anything to him. 

“how much did you drink tonight, baby?” he asks, and you know you should take that as judgmental but you don't have the energy left anymore. you don't note the twinge of concern in his voice, you can't see the look in his eyes as he gazes down at you.

“a little— a lot,” you answer, somewhat truthfully. the real truth is that you lost count. you weren't trying to get drunk, but one turned into two turned into ten and before you even knew what you were doing a car was dropping you off in front of your house.

he shifts his legs for you to sit more comfortably on his lap, and as much as you want to fight it you don't have the strength to. “do you want to go to bed?” he asks gently. “or do you want to stay up with me?”

“don't… want you to go to bed ‘cuz of me,” you mumble against his neck. god, his skin is so soft and warm. you couldn't move your body right now even if you tried. “not your fault.”

“what kind of guy would i be if i didn't take care of my girlfriend when she needs me?” he asks. “i can put you to bed if you want. it's alright. it's late anyway.”

“it's not– your job,” you manage to reply, and his hand on your back stops for a second.

“it is my job,” he says softly. he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “i'm sorry if you feel like i haven't done that.”

“please, don't— no sorry,” you choke out as fresh tears prick at your eyes. “it's my fault. i'm sorry. it's my fault.”

he holds you tighter, both arms wrapped around you on his lap now. “it's not your fault,” he says in that same firm but gentle voice. “you haven't done anything wrong at all. it's alright, baby, i promise. you don't have anything to worry about. why are you sorry?”

“i don't know,” you mumble. your hand clutches at his chest unconsciously, balling his t-shirt in your fist. “i dunno. i love you. i dunno.”

“i love you, too,” he says after a beat. the tears, the drunken outburst, he just lets it all happen. without a word of complaint. despite the voices in your head fighting to convince you otherwise, he never says a single negative thing to you.

you know he's not normally like this. with everyone else he's polite, unemotional, reserved. he's never vulnerable. which is why you're so confused right now.

“why?” you slur, still grasping onto hope.

he hums in questioning, nudging you to elaborate.

“why are you like this to me?”

but now he's the one who's confused. “like what?”

you pause, and the room goes quiet for a moment, the only sound your shallow breaths against his chest. “nice.”

for all his knowledge, this time he's actually lost. “why would i not be nice to you?”

“i don't deserve it.”

he shifts again, pulling you closer to his chest as he starts to run his fingers through his hair. “of course you do, baby.”

“you don't deserve me.”

he stops again, this time in shock. “hey. that's not true.”

“is too true,” you say. your eyes are closed and you can't help the frown overtaking your face. “you should have somebody you deserve. it's not me.”

he just sighs, and you feel his chest expand beneath your cheek at the deep breath he takes. “i love you, baby. not anyone else. you'll feel better in the morning, and we can talk then. but i'm not mad at you, okay? there's nothing wrong. everything's okay.”

you try to mimic his sigh, but the angle you're laying at on his chest and the alcohol in your system makes it hard to breathe deeply. 

“do you want to keep sitting with me?” he asks. he knows how much you like the sounds his keyboard makes, the quiet tapping as he enters grades and types comments to his students about things you could never fathom to understand.

your eyes stay closed and your head doesn't move. “yeah,” you murmur softly.

he settles back into his chair, you curled up on his lap. he's not doing much, he's finished the worst of it and now just entering numbers. he glances down at your figure, almost asleep on him, and he feels an ache in his chest. 

every emotion feels amplified to you right now, but if it took getting blackout drunk for you to finally say it then it must've been weighing on you for a long time coming. he wonders how long you've felt like this, felt inadequate compared to him, and it makes him pause. it was never his intention. when you're awake and sober and hopefully not massively hungover, then you can talk, and he can make this right.

he loves the person snuggled against his chest, loves the feeling of you comforted and protected by him, and he'll do anything to make sure you know that. he'll do anything to let you see yourself the way he sees you. above all the worries he has about you, he knows one thing for sure.

you're cute when you're drunk.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁

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[that-sarcastic-writer]

Hi can u please write about domestic life with Bills Eric Draven? Can there be fluffy and smutty moments? Tyyyy

Boy can I??? I’d be DELIGHTED. His domesticity is all I think about. He’s the sweetest, kindest and most loving bf and you can’t change my mind. I got a little carried away! Hopefully this is what you were wanting! Enjoy doll!

Bf!Eric x gf!reader. Explicit sexual content under the cut, minors dni, oral (f receiving), p in v. brief mentions of drug use, mostly fluffy relationship stuff

It wasn’t entirely easy. You and Eric. The circumstances under which you met and the nature of the both of you was quite dysfunctional. You were chaos, and he was a mess. But it worked. The two of you. You worked perfectly. You weren’t sure what it was, you had never been able to maintain a healthy relationship with anyone. But it was almost like you were meant to be together. If you didn’t believe in the whole soulmates thing, you started to believe it when you met Eric.

He was so unreal, so out of this world. He was always by your side, fingers laced with yours, arm thrown over your shoulder. He always had to be touching you, whether it was something as little as holding your hand, or going as far as putting you in a matting press when he fucked you, because he hated the idea of not being as close to you as possible. He never meant to, he didn’t even know what it was. He just did it one day. Your knees damn near next to your head, your body nearly folded in half as he draped his body over yours. You didn’t even know your body could bend this way. But god this you like it. How deep he could be this way. And you had him so close you could hear his little sounds, his hard breathing and his soft grunts.

He always felt a little bad, manhandling you around like you were nothing. If he wasn’t bending your body in ways you didn’t think were human, he was putting you in a headlock as he took you from behind, one arm draped around your neck from shoulder to shoulder. He just wanted you close, afraid you’d run away. But he sometimes forgot to take it easy on you. You always assured him you were more than happy with him, that he wouldn’t hurt you. Deep down it made you all kinds of earn to know you could arise such passions from him. For someone so morbidly quiet and nonchalant, Eric was very intense and passionate lover.

“It’s okay, baby. I got you. You’re doing so good.” He would tell you, his voice soft and quiet in your ear, grounding you as his cock fucked you into nothing. “I just want to make you feel good, hm? Just want to make you feel good. That’s what you deserve.”

“I don’t deserve this. You’re too good for me.” He would say, his lips on your cheek as quiet moans spilled from your lips. “You’re just so… I can’t believe you’re all mine.” His name falling from your lips would be the end of him. So soft and desperate for him. He didn’t have much experience before you, but now he just can’t get enough of you. He wanted to be all over you at all times it actually upset him when you had to leave or when he did.9

But he was also oh so kind, so gentle and patient with you. He always followed you around like an oversized puppy, quietly listening to whatever tangent you would go on about. You could be cursing up a storm (albeit not directed at him) and he would take it with a straight face and big eyes. And it was often that nothing more but his presence would calm you down, center you.

“How do you do it?” You asked him one day, hot tears staining your face after a day of one stressor after another. Eric had managed to get you on the couch where he silently sat you down on his lap. You almost immediately curled up into his lap, legs tucked under you and your head on his chest. You felt an almost instant sense of relief and peace fill you, and you were sighing deeply, feeling your heart slow its fast beating.

“Do what?” He asked you softly, his fingers massaging your head calmly. You rested your hand on his chest, eyes closed.

“This. You calm me down. I was crying two minutes ago and now I feel… okay.” You felt him shrug under you and when you looked up he had a smile on his face. That smile could make you forget any grief or sadness you might have, because none of it really mattered.

But it wasn’t just him who could bring you peace, you were his, too. His lows weren’t as intense or visible as yours, but when he was at his low, he was at an all time low. He wouldn’t speak, he wouldn’t eat, he would just go about his day like a corpse, eyes dead and empty and his mind elsewhere. You understood he had his issues too, so you tried to be there for him without pushing him. You were more subtle. You’d make him dinner, you’d invite him to watch a movie with you. And you’d tangle up with him on the couch as you all but forced him to eat, and you’d talk to him about your day. But something so small always meant so much to him. He couldn’t help the way he felt, he couldn’t help his negative thoughts that drove him to do drugs in the first place, but having you around to remind him someone in this world loved and cared for him, it made it all a little bit easier.

Eric started to bring you flowers one day. Every week once a week, he could come home with your favorite flowers. He alternated colors. With a sheepish smile he’d stand in the doorway with his hands behind his back. And the way he would look at you when gushed about how pretty they were was like he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world, the only one that mattered. And to him you were. Seeing that smile on your face was the only thing he ever wanted to do.

“You like them?” He would ask as if it wasn’t obvious, but he’d do it just to hear you giggle and watch you all but skip to put them in water. “Yeah? I saw them and thought about you.”

He always thought about you. There wasn’t a single waking second where he didn’t. You were good for him. And he knew that. He didn’t need anything else to fill the emptiness in his chest because he had you. You had filled that hole and he made sure you knew that everyday.

Eric had many ways to show his love and devotion for you. He wrote you poems, he drew for you, you had so many sketches you have started to run out of places to hang them, but this one was by far his favorite. He could spend literal hours between your legs. He absolutely loved it. He was absolutely obsessed with it.

“E-Eric.. Please.” You were shaking, sweating, incoherent as his tongue circled on your clit, his long fingers fucking you through your, fourth, fifth? You stopped keeping count. He had been down there for an eternity. He just kept asking for one more, just one more and he’d leave you alone. But it wasn’t enough. He was quite obsessive with the things he wanted.

But he figured he’d have to give you a break eventually. He was also painfully hard.

“I’m sorry baby.” He muttered softly as he crawled up your body, using the back of his hand to wipe the mess you had made, but his plush lips were still bright red and glistening. “You know I get carried away sometimes… You’re just so..”

He would kiss your face, brush your hair, soothe you back into a functioning human being. It wasn’t often that Eric vocalized his thoughts, but in moments like this when he felt safe and comfortable enough to be vulnerable, he would tell you all about how pretty you were, how talented you were, how much he loved you.

Eric was always full of surprises. He was quiet and nonchalant, but he was impulsive. You learned that very quickly.

“Baby?” You heard Eric call out to you as he came into the loft. You sat on the computer as you listened to one of his recordings. He had asked you to help him out since he really wanted to start pursuing his music and art now that he actually had someone that supported him.

With a smile, you took your headphones off and went to greet him, but you immediately frowned when you saw him hold something wrapped up in his hoodie.

“Hey, whatcha got there?” You stood up, approaching him with narrowed eyes as he broke out a smile.

“I’m sorry. I just found it, I just.. I felt bad.” He pulled down his hoodie to reveal a precious little kitten. A black ball of fur coating its little face. Your heart immediately sank and you wanted to cry.

“Oh my god, Eric.” You took the kitten into your hands and your eyes started watering as you hugged it. Eric wasn’t sure what to make of your reaction. Did you hate it? Were you upset?

“No, baby, I’m sorry. I found it outside, it’s kinda cold and it was drinking from a puddle. I didn’t want a car to hit it. We don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to, we can take it to a shelter or something.” He started to mumble, a hand coming to rub the back of his head and his lips fell open when he saw a tear fall down your cheek. He approached you, reaching to grab your face. “Please don’t cry.”

“No… No Eric I’m not..” You sniffled, laughing softly through your tears as you leaned into Eric’s chest while still hugging the now purring black ball of fur. “I’m not upset at all. It’s just… I’ve never had my own pet before. And it’s so cute, can we keep it, please? It’d be our little child.”

The way you looked at him with big pleading eyes made him feel so warm, he never thought he’d feel something like this. He smiled, nodding as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Of course we can keep it. He’s kinda cute, right?” Eric chuckled as he scratched the little one’s head.

“Or she.”

Your little ball of fur wasn’t the only thing you and Eric shared. You got so many matching tattoos it was concerning. Your friends and family had even told you it was odd to get tattoos with a guy you had been dating for only a few months. But it didn’t matter to you. You didn’t know why, but deep down you knew your connection with Eric was out of this world. So what were a couple tattoos? You loved that you had a physical reminder of your connection with him. The feelings deep within your souls were forever marked on your skin, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Truth was, Eric loved tracing each and every one of your tattoos. He traced his fingers over the fine lines, traced the words, he traced his lips over them too. He particularly loved the ones on your back and on your stomach, the ones no one but him could see. They were his little secret.

You matched each other perfectly, in every way.

[hoshifighting]

seventeen members using the safe word/asking to stop

— WARNINGS: smut, overwhelming, safeword.

seungcheol’s the type to push his limits just to prove something—to himself, to you. he loves the power, the dominance. but tonight, something’s different. it’s the way your nails dig into his back, your teeth grazing his neck, the way you’ve taken control this time. he's breathing hard, sweat dripping down his temples, and for once, he’s not sure he can keep up. you’re pushing him further, teasing, taunting, and he’s at the edge. then you hear it, breathless and shaky: it’s a phrase you both agreed on. it’s his way of saying he’s reached his limit, that he needs you to stop. it’s rare—seungcheol rarely backs down—but when he does, you know he’s serious. he’s not angry, just… overwhelmed. after he just wants to feel close to you, to remind himself that he’s safe, that you’re there for him. it’s a side of him not everyone gets to see, but you do—and that’s what makes it special.

jeonghan breathes out the word, falling from his lips like a prayer. it’s not loud, almost like he’s embarrassed to admit it, but you catch it. you know the moment he says it, he’s serious. jeonghan likes to push limits, but when he asks for mercy, it means he’s at his breaking point. you pull back, easing the pressure, and you can see the relief in his eyes. after that, he’d want you to cuddle up to him, stroke his hair, tell him how good he was. he thrives on your praise, your affection. that’s what he craves after using the safe word.

joshua when you’re feeling a bit more daring, pushing him a little further than usual. he’s tries to keep up, tries to match your pace, but you can tell it’s getting to be too much. his hands grip your hips, his breath coming in short gasps. he’s holding on, but just barely. you push him a little more, just to see how far he can go. and then, he says it. a signal that he needs you to slow down. joshua’s not one to use the safe word often—he’s got a high tolerance for pleasure, for pain, but when he does, it’s because he’s genuinely reached his limit. you stop immediately, your movements softening. his eyes flutter open, and there’s a small, grateful smile on his lips. he’s still a bit dazed, but you can tell he’s thankful you listened. after using the safe word, he’d want you to whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

junhui’s got this quiet strength about him, always calm. but there’s a point where even he can’t keep going, it’s in the middle of everything when he suddenly stiffens, his breath catching as he says the safe word. it’s not a word he uses lightly, and you can tell he’s been holding on as long as he could. he feels a wave of guilt, like he’s somehow weak for not being able to push through, but all he really wants is to feel safe, to know that you won’t judge him for needing a break. whants u to tell him that it’s okay, that you’re proud of him for knowing his limits.

hoshi sometimes, in the middle of everything—when you’ve got him on his back, thighs trembling, and his breath’s caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan—he’ll feel that edge creeping up on him. the pleasure starts to blur with something else, something overwhelming. that’s when he squeezes your wrist, voice strained and breathy as he says the safeword with a broken “please” it takes a lot for him to get there, to use it—he’s stubborn like that, always wanting to push through. but when he does, he needs you to ground him. he’d want you to slow down, whisper something soothing, until he’s back to himself.

wonwoo doesn't think that the safeword is = stop. he’ll murmur it, almost too quietly, wanting you only to slow down, not to stop. but sometimes you to pull back immediately, so he tells you to keep going, and you know you need to go calmly this time. he likes it when you switch gears, turning those intense moments into something slow, gentle. you can keep doing your think, but this time maybe holding his wide shoulders, running your fingers through his hair, it makes the tension drains out of him.

woozi’s got this focus that’s almost laser-like when you’re together. he feels all of the details, and sensations very easily. but sometimes, that sensations builds and builds, until it’s too much—like he’s being suffocated by his own drive. it’s subtle at first—the way his moans fades, how his responses get shorter. then, he whispers the safe word, almost like he’s embarrassed to admit he’s reached his limit, “red.” he hates feeling like he can’t handle it, like he’s somehow let you down, and the guilt gnaws at him. would like your fingers intertwined as he breathes through it. he’s not biiiiig on words, but that type of closeness helps him feel like he’s in control again.

minghao’s deeply in tune with himself, knowing exactly when that edge is coming up too fast. when it does, when he feels like he’s about to tip over, he’ll say, “no no no, i need a break baby,” his voice steady, but with an underlying tension. minghao’s not afraid to admit when it’s too much. once he uses it, he needs you to bring things back to earth, grounding him in the present. he likes it when you talk him down, your voice low and soothing, as you both come down from the high. maybe you’d sit together in silence, his head on your shoulder, as the storm inside him calms.

mingyu likes the control, thrives on it, but tonight something's off. maybe it's the stress he’s been under or the fact that his mind's been elsewhere. you can feel it in the way his grip tightens a bit too hard, his movements a bit too rough. when he finally chokes out the safe word, it's more like a plea than a command, “stop.” he’s breathing heavy, almost panicked, and it hits you that he’s been holding back for your sake. his tolerance is high, too high maybe, and he feels guilty—guilty that he let it go this far, guilty that he’s the one who had to stop it. he won’t say it, but what he needs now is to just hold you, to feel your warmth against him without the pressure of being the strongest one. like you because you don’t push him for answers; instead, you let him pull you close, wrapping yourself around him until his breathing steadies.

seokmin its like a window for you, you can see through him, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes, or when his mind its perturbed, the way his movements become slower, less sure. he’s trying to keep up, but there’s a moment when he finally says the safe word, and it’s almost like a weight lifted off his shoulders, but the shame quickly follows, like he should have been able to go further. but what he really wants is just to be with you, wants you to look at him with your concerned eyes, and kiss all of the pressure from him.

seungkwan always tries to give you what he thinks you want. so he holds back, not wanting to disappoint you. when he finally uses the safe word, it’s soft, almost like he’s afraid of it, “yellow.” he feels like he’s failed somehow, that he should have been able to keep going, and the regret is immediate. but more than anything, he needs your comfort, for you to show him that you still love him just as much, even when “he can’t be everything you need”. you take his hand, squeezing it gently, and spend the rest of the night reminding him of just how much he means to you, but what really grounds him, is to know that you love him endlessly.

vernon is another one who has a high tolerance, enjoying the slow build-up, the way you push him just enough to keep things interesting. but every once in a while, it catches up to him—his mind starts to spin, and everything feels like it’s moving too fast. that’s when he’ll quietly murmur for you to stop, almost like he’s in a trance. it’s not often he gets to that point, but when he does, he needs you to slow things down, to help him find his center again. vernon would want you to be gentle, maybe with some soft touches but not tight hugs/holds, something light, is what brings him back.

chan’s the type to keep his feelings close to his chest, rarely letting anyone see when he’s struggling. but now, he’s not as sure of himself as usual, and he hates when he’s not feeling confident during sex. when he finally says the safe word, it’s almost a relief, “blue.” his voice small. and it’s a rare admission from him, and you know he feels guilty, like he should’ve been able to handle more. he needs you to be patient with him, maybe help him stretch his arms would help him, a wet sloppy kiss, and he’s back to himself, ready to take on the world again.

[supermarketbae]

sub whiny reader waking billy up in the middle of the night begging billy to fuck her. she’s sooooo horny for him she can’t wait, billy is mean cus she interrupted her sleep 🫣🫣🫣 I’ll let u take the reigns. UGHHHH I need this

Late Night Whispers

and other ways to keep him up

a/n: uhm helllloooooo now I need this too! 😭

warnings: smut, sub!reader, dom!Billy, praise, manhandling, or female anatomy of reader, slight(ish) breeding kink… uhm I think that’s about it

a/n: Idk what’s upppp I just couldn’t make him that mean in this one 🤷🏾‍♀️ but anyhooo if you don’t like it submit another request and scream at me or sum

A warm, slick, and to be frank, quite unwelcome heat was swirling in your belly. Of course, you had attempted to ignore this pounding feeling that caressed up your curving thighs and up to the source of your plush arousal in your cunt. Rubbing  your thighs together you ultimately make the problem worse as the slight friction kisses against your twitching clit in just the right way. Letting out a shaky sigh you roll over scooting to Billy—your boyfriend’s— sleeping figure. Needily, you nuzzle your head into his broad chest. 

Your lips quirk into a smirk that usually mirrors his, at the scent that is so distinctly him that you just have to smile. But, at the ever present tightness deep in your tummy, you nudge Billy’s arm once again, wanting nothing more than to be pounded into the mattress until all you remembered was his name and the dull ache in your cunt turned into the trembling of your thighs. 

“Billy…baby…” Your soft exhale ghosts quietly in the darkened room but nevertheless reaches his ears. You smile a light blush filling your cheeks as Billy’s strong arms tighten around you protectively “what’s wrong darlin’” the husky mumble has you keening and you subconsciously buck your hips back into his. At this, Billy chuckles darkly a sharp smile gracing his features as his large hands slip up your stomach to your tits, squeezing teasingly and slow.  “Such a needy fuckin’ thing angel.” His deep whisper goes straight to your cunt and once more, you clench around nothing. 

To your pleasure, Billy pulls down your shorts slowly, not even bothering to rid you of your panties before he thrusts into you evenly.

You let out a sluggish moan at this, boneless at the sensation of Billy’s thick girth. “Please—ah— just use me.” You moan tiredly, letting Billy’s strong hands guide your hips in the way he likes—slow, hard, deep strokes that have you clenching needily around him. “So fucking tight sweetheart—fuckkkk— so good-such a good girl.” 

Billy’s moans to you are deep, slurred drawls his tired state indicated on how clingy he was being. “Always take my cock so good baby~” he coos to your writhing form as he continues to piston into you. You mewl at his words nodding, at this point already cock drunk. The only thing you could do was bring yourself to claw at Billy’s large back as his hips continued to rut quickly into yours as your back arches up into his once more Billy sighs out a soft whine “I love you s—fuck— so fucking much.” The hazy admission has your mouth wobbling, forming a wide, pleasured smile and the warm giggle that slips out from your shivering body has Billy grabbing your face with reverent hands to kiss at any skin he can reach. 

As your breath comes out choppy and uneven, you ground yourself for just a second longer to keen out your reply, “I love you too.” Your breathy voice has Billy groaning. “Sweetheart— fuck— don’t- I’ll fucking cum.” Biting your lip sweetly you shake your head impishly at Billy’s warning. He loved hearing you say how you loved him. “You d-don’t want—ah- to hear that I love you Billy?” Each word punched out by a harsh thrust that hit your g-spot each time. Billy shudders as you say it again, a small whimper leaving his plump lips. “You don’t want to hear—mmm—th-that I love your cock?” Billy nearly growls at your words hand coming to play at your clit, your lips tremble, but you continue to talk.

“Doesn’t this cock love this pussy baby?” Before you can even get another word out Billy cuts you off “F-fuck yes— fuck yes I do sweetheart-you know I do.” His breathing comes out raggedly. Instinctively, feeling the tightened coil of your oncoming orgasm begin to unravel you wrap your legs around Billy’s waist. You want him closer. You need him closer. You cry out as Billy bites into your shoulder “I love you Billy.” You say breathily as he grips your hips tighter impaling you on his cock as he spills his cum inside of you. His hand continues to rock circular motions on your clit and not a moment later, your cumming hard moaning his name hoarsely. As you pant, you’re vaguely aware of his hands tracing your cheeks as you come down from your high. Smiling down at your stupefied expression Billy smirks. “Love you more sweet thing.”

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

I won’t let you leave

Tags: Xavier x fem!Reader, possessive!Xavier, LADS, fluff

Synopsis: This is based on the 5-star memory Precious Bonfire. The Unicorns decide to go camping in the woods and have a bonfire. You’re appointed captain of the trip, and everyone keeps taking you away from Xavier.

An: Guyyss, I’m normally such a Zayne/Sylus girlie but… possessive!Xavier holds a special place in my heart 🤭

All day long it was always something with someone. Someone was always pulling your attention.

“Captain, I need help setting up my tent.” “Captain, I need help with the can opener.” “Captain, where are the extra polls?” “Captain, I cut my hand.”

Xavier had spent long enough staying quiet at your side, but inwardly, he was pretty disgruntled by how weak a group of deepspace hunters were while out in the elements.

He was also tired of having to share your attention. He only attended this bonfire party because you were going, but you were being pulled every different direction. You were clearly exhausted and wanted a moment without being asked a million questions. So, he started to answer questions for you.

“Captain, where’s-“

“Did you even check the camp resources before coming to ask?” Xavier speaks up, completely interrupting the hunter of his question. His normally soft blue eyes were sharp and narrow as he glares at the hunter.

“I… will go check there first…” The hunter mutters quietly as he spins to head the other direction quickly. Xavier certainly has.. a reputation amongst hunters.

“Wise decision.” Xavier mutters, and he subtly pulls your tired body closer to his. You two are sitting on a blanket on the ground, enjoying each other’s presence underneath the sunset. It’s the first time Xavier’s gotten your attention all day. “You’re done helping out for the day, okay?”

“Hm? But what if they need me..” Your voice sounds so sleepy, and Xavier tucks you under his arm.

“They don’t need you. They’re just using you instead of using their brains.” His finger gently boops you on the nose “I won’t let them keep using you like that.”

“The bonfire party should be starting soon.” You murmur, and you nuzzle your head closer to Xavier’s shoulder. A small smile spreads across his face. Nothing could beat this moment right here.

“Do you wish to go? It seems like you’re too sleepy to me.” He muses softly as he takes note of your droopy eyes and dreamy expression.

“I don’t want to miss out, and.. what if people notice we’re gone?” You ask softly.

“You can tell them that I won’t let you leave my side. Besides, I can make our own small bonfire celebration.” Xavier answers, and he holds out the palm of his hand, using his light evol to make sparks and light dance around his hand.

Seeing Xavier use his evol is always a treat. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside while you snuggle closer to him. You mutter a small, “Thank you.” He seems to know your limitations better than you do.

“You have nothing to thank me for. You take care of everyone else. It’s time someone takes care of you.” He presses a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Hey Captain..? Are you..-“

“Leave her be.” His voice immediately hardens as he shoots the hunter a glare. Xavier’s personality is able to switch so quickly, especially while he’s irritated like this.

“I just wanted to see if she wanted to come to the bonfire party.” The hunter persists, not giving up despite Xavier’s clear order.

Instead of fighting against the hunter, Xavier leaned his head down to face you. A clear prompt for you to speak up.

“I’m fine here with Xavier.” You finally respond, looking up at the hunter. “I’m not leaving his side.”

The hunter slightly frowns as he gazes at both you and Xavier together before turning around to walk away. Xavier eyes him the entire time he walks back towards the bonfire.

“You did good, little star.” Xavier whispers before pressing another kiss to your cheek.

“You make me sound so mean.” You softly laugh while shaking your head. Your hand reaches up and gently pinches his cheek.

“No, I make you sound assertive. Unless, you wanted to go hang out at the bonfire and leave me behind.” He responds with a small laugh. He grabs your hand that’s pinching his cheek, and he uses it as leverage to pin you to the blanket. His body moves on top of yours. “Did you want to leave me?”

“No, never.” His face leans in close to yours, lips just barely brushing against each others.

“Good. Then don’t.” He murmurs before pressing a firm possessive kiss to your lips, laying his claim on your attention and presence. The hunters would just have to make do without their captain.

[un-lawliet]

I recently found your blog and <3

I’ve been having some health issues lately and have been struggling so I decided to leave a request! Obviously don’t feel pressured to write! If the prompt doesn’t stick feel free to ignore!

High school Satoru X female reader who had a crush on him in for ages but she’s so shy and Gojos so popular so they don’t really interact. BUT she decides to bake him sweets and leave them on his desk and somehow he finds out it was her and asks her on a date.

CHEESY I KNOW >~< I feel like we don’t have enough fics of reader being head over heels in love with Gojo and it’s a must!

ANYWAY- again this is a ramble feel free to ignore MWAH

hi anon !!! id absolutely LOVE to write this ITS NO PRESSURE AT ALL :) thank you so so so much for the request- i hope you’re ok ! and i’m always here incase u need to talk <3

“Pretty.”

— in which Gojo has a secret admirer.

“Did you hear? Satoru Gojo has a secret admirer.”

“Oh Yea? Who?”

“Dunno, ‘pparently he’s going mad tryna find ‘em though.”

…

Your face was definitely burning, hands sweating and jaw clenched as you listen to the chatter of your classmates. Their voices morphing into the background of your busy mind, blending seamlessly into the slight disarray of (as you would describe it) your dire situation.

Blinking, you raise your hand to scratch the base of your neck, trying to pull yourself together less you reveal your crimes of admiration out-loud to classroom full of people who barely knew of your name.

You could see him, from where you sat, hunched over in your seat at the back of the classroom, your eyes squinted ever so slightly as the unforgiving sun spread her light through the window, gracefully imposing on your face falling directly into your peering eyes.

Leaning against the smudged glass of the vending machine, he had his head tilted back, laughing boisterously at a joke from his friend (the one who was always trying to hide the smoke from her lit cigarette)

In one hand you could see a can of soda you knew was far too sweet for anyone but himself, and in the other, you saw the small tin, decorated with the white and yellow details of pretty flowers and bee’s. Lid concealing the sweets in which you had baked just a day prior, sweets that you had hoped would act as a silent confession of your- oh you’re blushing again.

Your feelings for Satoru Gojo were undeniable, however unspoken. And you doubt you would ever get to a point where you would voice them out-loud to anyone let alone Gojo himself.

But you are unfortunately, still human, and humans have a tendency to want to be acknowledged, and after years of harbouring unheard feelings for someone, the bitter grasp of your own human desire overpowered your confident resolve of silence.

And so, you left a tiny box of chocolates with a tiny pretty note tucked in the back, with a silently cheeky “Enjoy” written in pink pen.

Glancing over to the vending machine once more, you watched as Satoru Gojo waved a hand in-front of his face, pouting as he tried pathetically to dodge the smoke blown at him by his friend, who grinned cheekily in response, flicking the now finished bunt towards the ground and stepping on it, moving her foot side to side to kill the remains of the flame.

You smile.

You had met Gojo two years ago, but had known of him far longer.

In the words of yourself (and probably everyone else who knew him) he was the epitome of perfection. Good in class, the best in any sport he took up and God he was beautiful.

Everyone knew him, the exact opposite to you.

You who quietly stumbles around her own feet, and apologises for even the slightest thing, despite it mostly never being your fault.

You were incomprehensibly shy, and so incredibly frustrated with your own reticence.

And yet two years ago, Satoru Gojo had asked you for a pen, you for a pen.

He had leaned back in his chair, during your math class, turned his head and nudged you instead of everyone else around him.

A pretty grin on his face as he sheepishly explained that he forgot to bring his own, and you had stammered and nodded handing him a pen as you gently said “You can keep it for the rest of the day, I don’t mind.”

“Huh? You serious?” He had replied, his head cocking slightly eyes crinkling under his sun glasses.

“Yea? I mean uh- yes!” Looking away from his gaze shyly. “It’s just a pen you know? I have plenty.”

He laughed, and you couldn’t help but look right back at him, your heart basically stopping as he winked, right at you.

“Thanks pretty.”

And your sure you had died, right then and there. Watching the back of his head as he turned back around, uncapping your pen as he moved.

Since then, Gojo had always smiled at you when he saw you walking past, and always without fail, you would sheepishly smile back, the familiar feeling of butterflies tickling the confines of your stomach every damn time.

The shrill sound of the bell rang throughout the classroom, and you stand up, taking your books with you with a sigh.

The clatters of chairs and bags zipping filtered through your thoughts and pulled you out of your self induced daydreaming stupor, calling you to join the rest of your classmates in exiting the confines of your classroom.

You glance back out the window once more before you move towards the door, and instantly your eyebrows lifted and you almost loose grasp of your balance as Gojo Satoru stares right back at you.

Simultaneously he smiles, lifting a hand as if greeting you and you scramble away from the window, head down, entirely embarrassed.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Could you be anymore useless in your “acting cool” facade.

Ever since you had placed your sweets on Satoru Gojo’s desk you had been a nervous wreck, terrified that at any second your feelings would be exposed and the entire school would point and laugh at your sweaty, flushed face.

Sniffing, you rub your eyes with the heel of your hands, trailing behind your peers through the halls, on their way home.

The lockers were always so crowded at the end of the day and you hated it.

You had no group to hide you from the conversations involving Gojo and his “secret admirer” have to hear every single in and pretend not to care.

“It’s creepy don’t you think? I mean why not just tell him you like him?”

“Maybe they’re nervous?”

“Of course they are? It’s Satoru Gojo for Christ’s sake, man’s beautiful.”

You close your locker, clutching the books and papers you need for your later homework, your bag left abandoned on the floor beside you.

Turning to reach for your bag, you feel another student collide into you. Your books crash to the ground, and you stare mortified as pages fly out, scattering everywhere.

The student doesn’t stop, just calls out that he’s sorry and that he’s late for a bus, you sigh.

You have to drop out, you think, there’s no recovering from this.

You bend down, apologising quietly to those around you who just glanced at you and continued on their way, and start to gather all your papers and books, heat burning your face.

“You ok?” You heard him just before you saw him, his teasing voice making your hands shake.

Satoru Gojo stood, a smile on his face as he leaned down to get closer to you, your eyes widen and you lean back on your knees.

“Um, yea-Yes everything’s good here..just dropped my stuff..” You trail off and end your broken speech with a fake, ugly laugh, internally you die as he nods and bends down to help.

“No, no you really don’t have to do that, I can manage!” You exclaim, hands moving rapidly in-front of you and he just laughs.

“I don’t mind helping ya, ‘kay?” He’s picking up random papers, no longer looking at you, his eyes glossing over your hand writing- a cheeky grin that you do not see flickers across his face.

You’re in a trance, watching as Gojo helps you, jumping when he glances at you and catches you staring, you busy yourself with stacking your books back into your bag, “Ok well, If you’re sure.”

“M’sure.” He’s handing you a stack of papers, ‘I’m very sure.”

The locker area door closes, signalling the absence of everyone else, you gulp.

“Suprised nobody helped you.” Gojo muses, standing up and raising a hand for you to hold.

You blush as you grasp it, it’s warm, you hope your palms aren’t sweating.

“It’s home time, people wanna get home.” You smile, rising to your feet using his hand has leverage.

Gojo let’s his hold linger before he lets go, you don’t notice, too focused on readjusting your top, fiddling with the fabric.

His sunglasses fall down his nose a little revealing the crystallised blue of his eyes, you swear the light causes them to glow as it catches his pupil.

You smile, eyes corrugating with what you hope looks like appreciation.

“Thanks Gojo.” And he smiles right back at you.

“Hey you know..” Gojo says, turning to ruffle in his bag, your eyes follow his movements, you watch as he pulls out a familiar box.

“Someone left these in my desk this morning, they’re really good..You wanna try?”

Your heart stops in your chest.

Your sure you’re bloods turning blue in your arteries.

Act casual, casual Y/N.

“O-oh that’s nice of them.” You mumble, your voice breaking slightly.

He offers you the box again, shaking it slightly to entice you with your own chocolates.

“Um are you sure? I don’t wanna take something that was made for you..” You look away from his sweet face to stare at the floor, then the ceiling and then back to the floor, there’s a crack right below your shoe.

Someone should really fix that.

“Oh come on! They taste great.” He grins, taking a chocolate and popping it into his mouth, letting out a dramatic “Mmm” as he chews.

“I’m sure they are..” You scratch your arm and then move your hand to the box, reaching in.

Your chocolates do taste nice, but you knew that already. Your taste testers from yesterday remaining as memory to your taste buds.

“Well?” His voice is teasing again, and you smile at him.

“They’re delicious.”

“Mhm.. and you know what else?”

He’s leaning closer to you, you try to stop yourself from leaning away, pushing aside your inane awkwardness, willing yourself to stay where you stand.

“They left a note too, wrote it in a pretty pink pen.”

“Oh?..How, how very uh- nice? of them.” You’re scrambling for sentence structure, staring at his stupidly handsome face.

He takes a page from your arms, and turns it towards himself, then lifts your note from out of his pocket.

Your eyes widen in realisation, and you step back, head turning to the door.

“Oh well, I have to go haha..” You trail off, shoving your stuff in your bag and beginning to walk to the door.

“You made me chocolates?” He asks, and you freeze, your eyes falling back onto him, and the soft face he regards you with.

He had turned the note and your paper around, your handwriting obviously present on both, you chastise yourself for such a huge oversight.

How can you deny it now? Oh God He has you cornered.

Embarrassment bubbles in the back of your throat and you desperately try to explain.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt, hands reaching out in-front of you as if begging him to hear you out.

“Huh-”

You don’t let him finish.

“I didnt mean to come off creepy, it’s just I- Well I- I think you’re really sweet, and you- You smile at me..sometimes, I just wanted you to let you know? And I’m sorry for how-”

“Hey, hey, hey.” He says, his face falling, “You don’t need to apologise for nothing, I’m not mad.”

He walks towards you, “I’m just glad they came from you, that’s all.”

Hope? Is that what you’re feeling right now?

You dare to look at him, only to see him already looking at you.

“I-”

“I ‘smile at you sometimes’?” He nudges, “You made me chocolates cause I smile?”

“..It’s a very nice smile.” You reply, head dropping.

He’s laughing, it’s a sound that makes your heart flicker, and warms your chest, scarce of mocking you feel yourself breathe normally again.

Gojo tilts his head to look at you, his face glowing with joy, as he asks, “I was planning on going to the cafe just down the street..Wanna come?”

You pause.

“What.”

Standing up straight, he hands you the note and your papers, you hold them and stare.

“A date, I’m asking you on a date Y/N.”

Is this real?

Is this happening?

“Are you serious?” Your voice comes out shocked and slightly higher than normal, you don’t understand.

“They’re very nice sweets.” He repeats with a grin “And they come from a very nice girl no? Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“I- I just-”

Gojo, pulls the strap of your bag off your shoulder and slings it over his own, walking towards the door.

“C’mon let’s go pretty.” And he’s looking back at you, waiting “Else you won’t have a bag for tomorrow.”

You jump and follow, eyes still wide and mouth slightly parted.

And Gojo pulls you towards him the second you get close enough to touch, grasping your hand and tugging you with him, a soft smile on his face as he does so.

All is well.

masterlist <3

feel free the leave a request <3

a/n : all is not well, i’m sick as all balls right now- thank you my dear for the request..i know it’s taken me about 58 years to write this but i hope you enjoy it <33 i loved writing it and sorry for the wait. i love you !!!

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

Hi! I was wondering if i could request some angst for hazbin, I was thinking like alastor, angel, husk, etc yelled at you, but as soon as they realized they did it they became all lovey dovey? I hope you can understand that.😭 Also take your time if you do it, thank u!!

I love angst. i don't love reading it, but i love writing it. so i can definitely do this! thank you so so much for your request too.

alastor

"you can't do that alastor." you say, following his walking by running after him.

"i can do anything i want to do." he replied back easily, walking to his radio room.

"no, alastor, you can't. not while you're here." you tell him and as he stops, you catch your breath and say something you knew would get him to stop. "you know what the details of your contract are."

time stops as the very air around you seems prickly and the static that was normally comforting grows to be suffocating.

"what did you say?" alastor says quietly, not looking at you.

"you know what i said, and you know i'm right." you say, standing your ground. he turns to you, his demonic form becoming more prominent. you look at him and watch him apprehensively.

"how dare you?" he yells, the ground shaking. "i should send you where the rest of the disrespectful, distasteful wretches who have questioned me before are." you close your eyes, trying to stop the shaking in your hands, anxiety and fear coursing through your body as your mind screamed at you to run. you knew that if he did this though, he would be done for.

you reach up to him, your hand caressing his cheek as he snarled at you. "i know you don't like being reminded. i'm sorry. but you weren't listening. you know what you're about to do ends with you not being with me, it ends with you dead." he snarls again and you watch as his form returns to normal. you close your eyes in relief, they shoot open though when you feel his hand grasp yours.

"i know that you are right. i just-" alastor stops, not able to continue or voice what he was feeling.

"i know. i know. you don't have to say anything." you say walking closer and wrapping your arm around his waist. knowing that he was feeling trapped and weak. he didn't have to say anything for you to know that. he sighed and opened the door to his room instead of the radio room.

"shall we retire tonight my darling?" he asks. you nod with a smile as you enter the room and he shuts the door.

_________________________

angel

walking into the hotel, you knew it had been a tough day for angel. the way his shoulders sat, the way even his hair fell, they were all indicators that angel was not doing good. he walked past you, not acknowledging your presence and started to make his way up to his room. you looked at his back as he ascended the stairs shocked. normally he would say hello, or at least wave.

now, you were concerned. you set the blanket covering you aside as you got up and followed the same path angel took. leading to his room you listened closely to see if you could hear anything, like crying, before getting to his room. hoping that something would help you understand why your friend was acting the way he was.

the silence in the hall was truly deafening as you knocked on his door. silence continued and you knocked again. then suddenly, the door flung open and there stood a distraught angel. his form much taller, as you could actually see all of his eyes, that seemingly glowed in the dim light of his room.

"what?" he growled at you.

"i just wanted to check on you." your voice quiet, in hopes to calm him down.

"well, ya checked. good fer ya." he says, trying to shut his door, when you put your foot between the doorway and the door itself, stopping it.

"what's goin' on angel?" you ask.

"let me shut my own fuckin' door bitch!" he yells, his eyes narrowing at you.

"not until you calm down and talk to me angel." you reply as he goes and tries to shut the door harder, your foot taking the brunt of the assault on the door. you wince as he does it three more times, screaming and leaving the door. you walk in, thankful you had some sort of regenerative properties as your foot started to heal as you walked in his room. you sat on his bed and waited in silence. knowing that patience was the best thing for angel when this happened. you weren't sure how much time passed when you felt his arms wrap around your waist and his head buried into your side. you quickly placed your hand in his hair, gently brushing it back.

"there was just some shit val said, that hit a little too close to home." angel murmured, tightening his grip on you as if remembering the words from the overlord.

"do you want to talk about it?" you ask, still brushing angel's hair back. you feel him shake his head against you. "okay, you don't have to. can you tell me what you need right now?" you ask.

"just... can you hold me?" his voice small.

"of course i can sweetie." you say, laying yourself down and angel curling into you. "you know today, charlie made husk participate in the trust falls again. you know what homeboy confessed as his truth? that he secretly watches my little pony." you smile and wait, feeling angel starting to laugh as he gently shook you. his laughs grow and you start laughing along with him.

"holy shit, did he really?" angel asks, tears in his eyes from how much he was laughing.

"no, but i knew that would getcha." you smiled and rubbed his back. he sighed and laid back down, a smile on his face.

_________________________

husk

everyone could tell that husk was in a horrible mood. he was literally grumbling under his breath, growling at requests made and even insulting the drinks that were asked to be made. you watched off to the side, still not asking for a refill on your drink because you weren't sure you were ready to deal with the husk you were faced with currently.

angel seemed to be either oblivious or just ready to rile him up even more as he sauntered up to the bar and asked for a double shot vodka twist with lemon and lime topped with a cherry and to only use decaf vodka. you looked at angel incredulously and saw a shit-eating grin on his face as husk looked stunned at the bullshit order he just had heard.

"you want what?" husk asked, almost like giving angel a second chance to correct himself.

"i want a double shot vodka twist with lemon and lime topped with a cherry and i'd like for you to only use decaf vodka... husky." angel said, his voice dropping as he said husk's name. husk growled, quickly made something and slammed it on the bar.

"there's your fuckin' drink, you prick. take it and you'll like it. don't fuckin' come over here askin' for stupid shit like that again either. idiot." husk said turning around. everyone's eyebrows shot up and angel smiled even wider.

"this is my regular though. i wanted a-" angel started.

"don't finish that sentence, angel." husk warned, the glass he was gripping looking like it was close to cracking.

"angel, stop fucking with husk." you intervened.

"oh, you think i need you to swoop in like some savior huh?" he turned to you, the glass being crushed in his hand as blood quickly started coming from the wound. your eyes widened as you got up, trying to get to husk to help him. "stop." he screams, walking from behind the bar. "i don't need yer fuckin' help. i'm not helpless nor hapless." he yelled, walking up the stairs grumbling under his breath, clutching his hand. you look at angel, who at least had the decency to look apologetic as you took off after husk.

his door was open and you gently opened it and heard the curses from his bathroom, along with the clinks of the glass falling into the sink.

"husk, can i come help?" he turns to you livid. "i'm not saying you're not capable. i care about you, and would like to be there for you. the way that i am showing that is by helping you take glass out of your hand. will you allow me to do that." you say and watch as his shoulders relax. he looks at his hand and then you, sitting on the tub and nodding. you sigh and start taking out the glass, then quickly wrap up his hand. once finished you clean out the sink and then kneel in front of him.

"what caused this?" you ask, he was silent though not saying anything. you sigh. "darling, i'm not a mind reader." a beat of silence followed and then husk grumbled.

"alastor." he said looking off to the side. you sighed and nodded.

"i know he says some horrible shit to you husk, but if it's any consolation, i do think he views you as the closest thing to a peer as he might." you tell him. husk scoffs.

"not a consolation by any means." husk looks at you. "a peer? more like his fuckin' pet."

"he has to say that. can't have you thinking any different, but i know you talked to him about mimzy. and he listened, he got her out. you know that." you say and husk rolls his eyes. "i know, you know, i'm right." you smile.

"you're very smart husk. and very capable. i know it. the whole hotel does. you're not just the bartender." you hold his unhurt hand. he looks at you and smiles.

"thank you."

"any time."

_________________________

lucifer

you hadn't seen lucifer in days. you were sometimes a bit dramatic, so sometimes saying days meant hours, but this was literally days. maybe even a week. and you were beginning to get worried. you knew that he had a tendency to shut people out when in his deep depressive episodes. he had never shut you out for that long. he always called you or at least texted. you stood outside his workshop door, the dark and silence feeling more and more opressive as you stood there, but something almost froze you as you stood there.

what if he was hurt, or dead? what were you going to find when you opened the door? you knew it could be bad, but he needed you, at least you thought he did. so you took a deep breath and opened the door. the dim lighting in the room feeling almost blinding as you walked in and saw lucifer working away at his desk. he froze hearing the door open.

"get out." was all that was said, he didn't resume his work.

"luce, i just wanted to check on you." you say slowly, walking closer.

"do not come closer." he says, his voice cold and almost disgusted. something you had never heard from him pointed at you. "i told you to leave, so do so, before i take you out where you stand."

"luce it's me." you say, his reaction making you think he thought someone broke in.

"i know who it is. as i said, leave now." he says and you see the horns of his demonic form growing.

"lucifer, what is going on? i'm not leaving. i want to make sure you're okay." you say, brazenly taking another step toward him. he whips around and you are frozen, seeing his bright red eyes, pouring with tears as he yells at you.

"and i told you to get the fuck out! leave. i don't want to see you!" he screams pointing toward the door.

"fine you asshole!" you yell. "see if next time you don't talk to me for almost a week, i come here to make sure you aren't fucking hurt or worse, dead!" you say, storming off. you run past the kitchen grabbing your bag, but leaving the dinner you had brought for the both of you. you were about to reach the door when a portal opened right as you were about to step through the door, causing you to tumble back into the workshop. you look around and whirl on lucifer, who returned back to his normal form.

"what? you didn't get enough before of yelling at me?" you ask, crossing your arms in front of you.

"i-no. i'm sorry." lucifer says, approaching you.

"you're what?" your voice in disbelief.

"i'm sorry. i shouldn't have taken everything out on you. i just, you were the first person to check on me and i was just really upset. i shouldn't have-i'm sorry. the way i acted was inexcusable. if you would like to leave i understand." lucifer said and the door to his workshop opened for you with a gesture of his hand. you look at him and roll your eyes, walking up to him and drawing him into a hug.

"i don't want to leave. i didn't want to leave before either." you say as he wraps his arms around you, his figure relaxing against you.

"i'm so sorry." he whispers again.

"no need to apologize. it's okay. just, talk to me, okay?" you say, drawing his face to look at you. "i brought dinner. lets go eat and you can tell me what's been going on. then you get a bath." you say, smiling slightly and wiping a tear escaping from his eye. he nods as you both walk out, his arm not letting go of you as you walk to the kitchen to eat dinner.

[muniimyg]

I can’t wait for bbyzia to be a daddy’s girl and jungkook being like know you know what it feels like 🥹

𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jungkook (goodnight kisses)⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist

note: ohhhh u mean smt like this ?

//

the penthouse is quiet.

the soft hum of the baby monitor barely noticeable as you quietly slip out of zion’s room. you just tucked him in and his little snores start to fill the space as you make your way to the living room. when you step inside, the sight of jungkook stops you.

he’s sitting on the couch, zia resting on his chest. her tiny body rising and falling in time with his breathing. she’s fast asleep, her small hand curled tightly into his shirt. his hand is supporting her head, the other rubbing slow, soothing circles on her back. he’s humming, the same gentle tune you’ve heard him sing to zion countless times.

it’s a rare moment—this kind of quiet. with zia’s schedule finally falling into place, both of you have been able to get some sleep, something you didn’t think possible in those first few months. the exhaustion that once weighed heavy has given way to this warm, peaceful stillness.

your home is so peaceful. it's something you and jungkook have worked so hard to ensure for your family. it's quite beautiful to live in this space.

you lean against the doorframe, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you watch him. the gentle rise and fall of zia’s little chest matching his.

what a man.

jungkook doesn’t notice you at first—too lost in the moment. his head tilted slightly as he watches her.

“hey,” you whisper, not wanting to disturb the softness of it all.

he looks up, eyes warm and sleepy, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. he glances down at zia, who’s still deep in sleep, her fingers clutching onto him like she never wants to let go.

“you got her to sleep so fast,” you say, your voice just above a whisper. "she's always so fussy with me."

he chuckles quietly, careful not to wake her. “yeah,” he breathes out, his hand brushing lightly over her back. "i think she likes me."

"she loves you."

"good," jungkook breathes in relief. "thank god."

you hold your laugh in and roll your eyes at him. "you're good at getting zion to sleep too."

"maybe cos he gets to close his eyes and not see me."

"stop," you let yourself laugh. "you know he loves you too."

jungkook snickers. "i know... i'm just not his favourite. this one though... my zia... is it weird that i can feel it?"

you shake your head. "no. i know what you mean. i feel it too."

you take no offense to it.

even when you were pregnant, she was always so active when she heard jungkook's voice. jungkook and zia connected the second she came out. even though she's only 3 months old, she shows so much affection and gravitates towards jungkook in a way you know is so special.

after a few moments, jungkook’s voice breaks the quiet, low and full of wonder.

“can she stay like this forever?”

it’s the softness in his voice that makes your chest ache. the way he says it like he’s holding onto something too precious to lose. you move closer, sitting beside him on the couch, your head resting gently on his shoulder as you watch zia sleep against him.

“if only,” you murmur, knowing these moments are fleeting, but holding onto them all the same.

jungkook leans his head against yours, the warmth of his body grounding you in the quiet of the night. then, he shifts and asks you to take her.

"i'm gonna go kiss zion goodnight. i'll be back for her though," jungkook says. "i have to kiss her goodnight too."

"and then me?" you tease.

"always you."

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so be warned if he's not someone you like to read about. Contains swearing, descriptions of violence and killing. Soulmate! AU, Enemies to Lovers

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 3,399

A/N: Part of the Good For Your Soul Series. The next chapter is here and as you voted for, their first kiss is here. Honestly I'm not overly happy with this chapter but I'm excited for the next parts I have planned going forward. Hope you all enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight(here) | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven(coming soon)

——————

“I understand Joker is a very busy man and he has a meal organised soon but will he actually be joining us tonight?” The servant tensed when he was cornered by the Captain of the crew now staying in the palace. Under the intense stare and fear that these unknown pirates could become violent without warning, he shifted uncomfortably out of the added fear that he could say the wrong thing and bring the true terrifying anger of the King down on him. “Well?”

“U-um Joker has um…” The servant stammer out before clearing his throat and controlling his fear. His ruler was more terrifying than any of these men combined and he had to remember that and accomplish his tasks to the same standard as he would any other day. “Seats have been specifically assigned for Joker and the elite officers so he should be attending tonight.” His answer seemed to settle the Captain and with nothing else needed he left, breathing a sigh of relief when he was out of his sight. The Captain however felt new nerves begin to rise. 

He would finally learn who Joker was. Given how lavish the palace was he was more and more sure he was just some criminal that got lucky in creating a weapons empire. The only real threat was the power in his name and ‘elite officers’ in his employ. Where it just the two of them alone in a room together he was quietly confident that he could overpower and take Joker out if need be. Still though he and his men were on their best behaviour. Already they had countless ambitious plans in mind for later.

When the weapons were safely loaded into their ships and their hosts were too drunk to intervene they’d take what they could and what wouldn’t be immediately noticed until they were long gone and safely on the seas. Of course they’d dispose of Joker’s men that would be joining them and wait an appropriate amount of time before having word sent of their defeat. Their crew would change their alias and ship name and sell the weapons on. It was the perfect plan and given how relaxed the security was here in Dressrosa, he really had nothing to worry about. Allowing himself to relax the Captain stepped out into the Palace’s grounds and sought out the closest servant to grab him a drink. In what felt like no time at all he was being summoned to the banquet room. 

As he walked through the corridor, the rest of his crew slowly began to join him from other corridors until they were all led inside the enormous room already filled with the most delicious smells from the finest looking food awaiting to be served and feasted on. Multiple tables were set up and carefully arranged to make room for all of the guests while servants lined the wall, awaiting to be of assistance. The lower ranking members of the Captain’s crew and the lower ranked subordinates of Joker’s crew took the longer tables to the back of the room to mingle amongst themselves. One table at the top of the room stood out and it was clear no one was to go near it expect the Captain and his right and left hands. One servant led the three men to the ornate table and instructed them to sit. The three were spaced out, most likely to seem as though they were to mingle too but nervously the Captain also felt like this was the perfect way to keep everyone separated and helpless. Trying to keep those paranoid thoughts at bay, he reached for the already poured drink in front of him only to freeze. What if the glass was poisoned?

Thankfully no one was nearby to notice his hesitation and even if they had they had no time to mention it because from outside the banquet hall the sound of footsteps drew closer. Joker’s crew immediately silenced their conversations and rose from their seats. While other pirates fell quiet they remained sitting, watching curiously and waiting. The Captain watched as the banquet room doors opened and one by one people entered, each looking more and more intimidating. They all stopped by their designated seats until only two opposite the Captain remained vacant. Nervously the man licked his lips, wondering why two seats were empty. Vaguely he recalled some of his men mentioning coming across one of Joker’s playthings while they were bathing. Dread filled him then. He remembered the call where Joker mentioned his new lover. Had that been who they meant? His head whipped around in time to see you enter the room. 

You walked completely relaxed, gaze lazily sliding over the men sitting at their tables. While you spotted where your three targets were sat you gave no visible indication or reaction to where they would be sitting. As much as Doflamingo had promised the pleasure in killing them would be yours, you didn’t fully trust him to do something and pretend it was just coincidence that they were the ones targeted. When you met Diamante’s stare you smirked slightly, seeing that he was watching you carefully. Doflamingo had most likely asked him to watch for any giveaways that indicated who broke into your room earlier and from the slight annoyance in his eyes you knew he didn’t see anything. Smiling sweetly you stepped to your designated seat and lazily folded your arms on the back of it, settling your gaze firmly on the guest of honour capturing his attention. 

The Captain knew he probably shouldn’t ogle you so openly but how could he not? Everything about your appearance demanded attention. Your choice in clothing highlighted your form perfectly and showed just enough skin to catch the eye of others while still leave them wanting to see more. Whoever Joker was, he was a lucky man to have you on his arm and in his bed. Despite how attractive you were, what captured the Captain even more so was your relaxed attitude. Everyone else in Joker’s ranks stood tall and almost tense, waiting for his arrival, but you? You were completely at ease even when Joker’s purposeful steps began to approach. Everything told the Captain to at least turn his head and finally have his curiosity answered about the identity of the man he was scamming now but he didn’t want to look away from the force of your stare. Slowly he swallowed hard when your lips curved slightly into a playful smile and he heard his own crew begin to mutter and whisper as they tried to make out Joker’s face.

Then the ripple of shock and fear washed through the banquet hall when Doflamingo came into view, the feeling so visceral that the Captain shuddered without even seeing who it was that was drawing near. Then in what felt like a blink he made out the shape of someone standing next to you and finally you turned your head and seemed to break him from his spell. The Captain looked and froze completely to see the grinning face of Doflamingo Donquixote. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he had made Doflamingo one of the targets of his scams. Had he known, he never would have done it. Fear gripped him as he now realised he and his men were trapped in the Warlord’s base, his entire island. They were screwed. There was no way they were getting out of this. Unless…had they done enough to keep the man fooled? If they saw the scam through to the end could they make it back to their ship safely. “Do-doflamingo, sir! I-it’s an honour! O-or would you still prefer I call you Joker?”

“Either’s fine.” Doflamingo grinned, the frightened expression he was witness to was perfect and there was still so much more fun to come. “We’re all allies here.”

“Aww poor man’s terrified.” Your cheerful voice broke the tension as you, Doflamingo and the rest of the family slid into your seats. The Captain glanced at you, finding it easier to breath when he wasn’t looking at the man in charge. “Just relax. You’ll feel better once you’ve had a drink.” The Captain glanced at the untouched drink still in his hand and his previous paranoia came back. What if this banquet was truly a final meal? Was it all poison? As if reading his thoughts your laugh drifted up. The Captain all but flinched when you rose slightly in your seat and leant across the table to settle your hand on his to softly coax the glass out of his trembling grip. His eyes widened while you took a sip. You set the glass back into his hand and sat back in your seat while licking the stray droplet of alcohol from your lip. “See? Harmless.”

The Captain watched as Doflamingo’s hand settled firmly on your leg when you were back in your seat in a clear show of possession and quickly he looked away from you and threw back his drink. It might have been harmless but you were very dangerous. The last thing he needed was to succeed in his scam but get killed because Doflamingo didn’t like how he was looking at you. The Captain felt relief when the servants appeared with the many plates of food, managing to break the tension and everyone seemed to completely relax. Conversation began to surge up and all previous worries eased back,  the Captain being pulled into idle conversation with a member of Doflamingo’s family obsessed with art. While he wasn’t truly interested it was better to engage with the older woman than risk dying early.

Doflamingo leant in to speak in your ear, his voice low enough so only you would hear him. “And people call me the scary one.”

“What do you mean?” You asked softly, mouth hidden behind your own glass as you turned your head slightly towards him.

“You’re like a completely different person. Being sweet and nice?” He chuckled while you smirked. “Truly terrifying how easily you can pretend to be comfortable in a room filled with pirates.”

“I’’m always sweet and nice. Besides, who says I’m pretending?” You asked innocently. “I’ve never been uncomfortable here and none of the new additions here are going to change that.”

“Not even the ones who got a little too familiar with you?” Doflamingo asked, the tone in his voice hardening slightly. He watched you carefully to see if you’d subconsciously look in the direction of the men you had refused to identify. Unfortunately for him, you kept your sights firmly on his face, your calm smile unmoving. 

“Not even them.” You insisted before taking a sip of your drink. You dropped your free hand onto his that remained on your leg and gave it a reassuring pat. Turning your head fully you leant in to murmur “This isn’t my first time having to play at being a pirate’s lover so stop worrying. As long as I get the ones I want, I won’t ruin your plan. Deal?” Your only answer was Doflamingo’s chuckle in your ear and his glass clinking against yours.

———-

For the remainder of the banquet, the sound of laughter and conversation didn’t stop. Through it all you noticed a few of the pirate crew becoming more at ease, no longer shooting nervous glances towards Doflamingo. Either they had enough alcohol in their systems now to have a lack of fear or they believed that the Warlord truly had no idea he was being deceived. You almost felt bad for them. Almost. When the evening was winding down you’d found your chair pulled closer so you were lounging against Doflamingo’s side while he spoke with the Captain who was beginning to slur his words slightly as he thanked Doflamingo for his generosity and promised him he and his crew would be valuable additions to his numbers. 

You felt Doflamingo’s body tense and knew his patience was beginning to fray and he was building up to finally enacting his revenge against the crew. Some of the other members at the table realised too and began to move from their seats, the guests failing to notice their movements. Slowly you pulled out from Doflamingo’s hold and allowed him to stand.

“Everyone before we end this wonderful feast we have one more treat for the evening.” He announced with a broad grin while his guests cheered out. “It’s a game I like to call survival.” Immediately the cheering stopped and the drunken faces still conscious immediately sobered, terror flooding their bodies. “While I applaud you all for thinking you could steal from me and lie, I can’t let it go unpunished. So I’m going to give you all a five minute head start. If you can make it to your ship, you can leave with your lives. If you make it to the streets of Dressrosa but get caught, you’ll be sent to our Coliseum and fight for the rest of your lives. If you’re still in the palace when you get caught? You die. Your time starts now.” 

The reaction was immediate, the subordinates of the pirate crew scrambled from their seats and rushed for the doors, staggering and hurrying from the banquet hall. Any of their friends that were sleeping off their meal and overindulgence of drink were abandoned. Still sitting in their seats were the Captain and his left and right hands but it wasn’t by their decision. They were held firmly in place in their seats, something controlling their bodies against their will. Doflamingo’s laughter filled the room as he and the rest of the family sat patiently for the five minutes to pass. “Sadly for you, Captain. You don’t get to play.”

Doflamingo had thought that you would have left immediately too to make sure no one else killed your mystery targets but instead for the five minutes you remained in your seat, completely relaxed. When the wait was over and those under his command started the hunt you finally rose with a soft sigh and left the room. Ignoring the hurried footsteps and panicked yells of the pirates who ran aimlessly through the palace, still unfamiliar with the confusing layout as they desperately tried to find their way to safety you made your way to the chosen room. 

During the feast, the maid that had been so apologetic for not being able to stop your targets secretly slipped a message to the men while they ate and drank under your instruction. She informed them subtly that when it was quiet and Doflamingo wasn't looking they were to make their way out of the hall and follow her where you would meet them later to finish what had been started. Fuelled on their own ego, fantasies, and emboldened by the alcohol in their systems they all saw no possible negative to this proposition. They didn't see you as a threat. With a small hum you opened the doors and stepped in to see the three men waiting, their expressions impatient and frustrated. “Took you long enough.”

“I told you I preferred to take my time with these things.” You said with a smile, lazily folding your arms behind your back. “Besides, Doffy’s not an easy man to sneak away from. Needed to wait until he was preoccupied with your Captain.” At the mention of the Warlord and their Captain, the three men seemed to calm their anger slightly. “So who’s first?”

“Just because you're fucking a Warlord doesn't mean you're in charge.” One snarled, pushing away from the wall he had been leaning against and headed towards you. “Like we told you, this is what we want.” He reached for you only to stagger when you dodged him with ease. Sharply you hooked your foot around his and threw your arm around his neck, twisting sharply to snap his leg and send him hurtling to the floor, smashing his face against the pristine marble floor. His howls of pain filled the room and you wasted no time in getting up and closing the distance while the other two were surprised. 

The next pirate closest to you tried to pull his dagger on you only to be disarmed with your precise training. You used his strength and your momentum against him to twist his hand and force him to stab himself. While the wound was deep and immediately debilitating it wouldn’t kill him right away, you were going to let him die slowly. Twisting the blade, you ripped it from his chest and whirled to shoot the third pirate in the back with your own pistol as he tried to flee into one of the side rooms. He crumpled to the floor, unable to move. 

The coward wouldn't even try to stay and fight you? Pathetic. For all that talk they were all very disappointing. Slowly you stepped up to the pirate you’d shot and kicked him onto his back. The least he could do was look you in the eye when you killed him. Coldly pulled the trigger once more and put him out of his misery. The only sound that still filled the room was the pained, muffled breaths of the first pirate, the one who’d touched you while you had bathed. You returned to him and stood on his broken leg, smirking when he cried out in pain through a mouth filled with blood and broken teeth. Holding his friend’s dagger firmly you crouched down until you were poised over him and stabbed him, relishing how much of a release it was for your anger and disgust for him and his crew. Unable to hold back you stabbed him again and again as all the frustrations you’d been holding onto finally slipped away. 

With a low sigh you rose and took steadying breaths. Suddenly you felt a presence behind you and your spun, blade striking down on the person only to hear the confusing sound of steel clattering to the ground. Blinking you saw the hilt of the weapon still in your hand but the blade was gone, now by your feet as fate intervened once more to prevent you hurting Doflamingo who stood in front of you. Slowly you looked up at him to see him grinning at you. Even with his sunglasses on you could feel the heavy force of the stare aimed at you. There was a beat of silence before the tension snapped and inexplicably you both closed the distance. 

Doflamingo’s mouth claimed yours at the same time yours melded perfectly against his. You dropped the useless dagger and your bloodied hand fisted tightly into his shirt as his settled on your lower back, pulling the other closer at the same time. You’d never had a kiss this powerful before, one that made your mind hazy and craving more so instantly. It felt right but at the same time it was wrong. You couldn’t allow yourself to give in, to let it progress further. The same was also the case for Doflamingo. 

He'd seen you kill them so perfectly and viciously that he’d felt pride in his chest at seeing you exact your revenge against them that he couldn’t help but kiss you. But now that he was in that moment, he couldn’t let it deepen. He had trysts and lovers, someone to fill the space in his bed for as long as he still got some enjoyment and pleasure out of it. He refused to let this get deeper, to feel anything more than he did. He was still set on defying fate and knowing you couldn’t be manipulated and used the way he could with others, he refused to give you more power. He refused to set you any closer to being on equal footing with him. In unison you both parted and hands dropped. Together you both left the room, leaving from separate doors. You headed straight for your room to wash off the blood and Doflamingo was immediately called for by one of the subordinates to inform him all the pirates had been dealt with. For the rest of the night you and Doflamingo both hated how much you’d wished the kiss you could both still feel on your lips had continued.

———————————————-

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[aakariiiii]

Hello!! Can you do reader taking care of sick kenma? And kenma is extremely clingy when he is sick? Please?

Thank you in advance 🩷

hihihi, again, sorry for the very late reply, I’m feeling a bit rusty as it’s been a while since I wrote anything but here! Hope u enjoy it <333

_____________________________________________

“Small break” Kuroo’s loud voiced boomed in you ears, startling you, causing you to drop your phone onto the hard ground.

“That—“ as you begin to curse, a raspy, tired voice interrupts you.

“Hey” Kenma’s voice startles you once more, causing you to drop your phone once again.

“Holy shit, what is wrong with me today?” You ask yourself as you pick up the phone once more, only to be met by a clearly fatigued man sitting beside you on the bench.

“Actually let me rephrase my question, what is wrong with you today?” You ask as your head turns to him, slight worry mixing with your words.

That boy looked like he came out of a war zone to say the least. Disheveled hair, a sweaty, flushed face and irregular breathes.

His head leans towards your left shoulder, unable to stay atop his head without extra support.

“Shit kenma you’re actually burning” you mutter, your hand slowly make its way to kenma’s burning forehead, just to make sure again.

“Am I?” He croaks, barely above a whisper.

“You look like you came out of hell itself,” you reply.

“Let’s go home”

“But the match with Karazuma is—“

“Fuc the match, best believe you’re not playing when your body feels like it’s made of literal flames, we’re going home”

“But—“

“Hey Kuroo!” You call, cutting off kenma.

“We’re leaving, kenma isn’t feeling well”

_____________________________________________

“Can you please not leave?” He mumbles a wet towel on his forehead as he lays on his bed, covered in layers of blankets

“I told you! It won’t be for long, I’ll just go and get you medicine to lower the fever down, and something to eat”

“don’t need that, I want you”

“kenma—“ as you begin to protest he cut you off.

“Please?” He mumbled and you cursed at yourself for not being able to resist him.

“I can’t defeat you can I?” You sighed as you dragged your body to kenma’s bed, attempting to get into it so that you can cuddle.

“Okay okay—“ his raspy voice began.

“I did tell you to stay with me, what I didn’t tell you is to cuddle me, do you wanna get sick?”

“Hey! You don’t get to have a say in this, either I cuddle or leave” you pout.

“But—“

“We’ve been together for ages, I’m sure you managed to notice how good of an immune system I have” you a smug smirk made its way to your lips as you slipped under the covers beside him.

“you’re lying to y’self, you have the worst immune system ever” he croaked, turning his head away from you to try and prevent you from catching whatever he had

“Let me prove you wrong then” you challenged, pressing a light kiss to his fever-warmed cheek as you nuzzled into him.

“Get away from me y/n” his raspy voice muttered, trying to distance his body away from yours.

“Fine, let me go and—“

“No, stay”

“Exactly what I thought”

Kenma let out a small, defeated sigh, but the weary smile on his face spoke otherwise. “Fine… But don’t blame me if you end up like this too.”

“I’ll take my chances,” you replied, your voice soft as you began to run your fingers through his hair.

Kenma hummed quietly, his breathing slowly evening out as he drifted into sleep, his body melting into yours.

_____________________________________________

One Week Later

“Ahhh-choo!” Your sneeze echoed through kenma’s house, causing his to move his eyes away from his gaming console to your tired body.

His fever broke a few days ago and he was already feeling miles better. But you couldn’t say the same to yourself.

“For some reason, I feel like I’m getting Deja vu” he smirked, approaching your figure.

“Oh, shut up,” you grumbled, wrapping yourself tighter in the blanket you’d cocooned yourself in on the couch.

“If my memory wasn’t betraying me, you said something along the lines of having a ‘strong immune system’? Was it that?” He plopped himself next to you.

“Kenma—give me about 5 minutes and you’re gonna find yourself in space” you groaned, sniffling.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered, grabbing the water bottle from the table and handing it to you. “Here. I’ll stop teasing.”

You took the bottle gratefully, sipping it before sinking back into the cushions. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Wait, I remembered something else—you did say—“

“Kenma!”

[withonly-sweetheart]

Your Hero

Friendly neighborhood Spiderman, huh? You wouldn’t have expected your new dorky nerd best friend to be passing in the shadows of the charming hero behind the mask, hanging upside down and staring at you with odd interest. Why does he seem oddly familiar?

a/n: @candlekiss THIS HAS BEEN FORMULATING FOR QUITE A WHILE... ITS JUST BEEN MARINATING... TRUST ME THE BEST FOOD GETS MARINATED FOR LIKE THREE YEARS 😭😭😭

UR ART INSPIRES ME SM !! NEVER GIVE UP ON UR DREAMS BECAUSE THIS IS A REALLY GOOD SCENARIO WITHOUT YOUR ART I WOULDNT HAVE "to keep an angel" OR THIS FIC!! ILYSM MARI <3

college leon art omg mari u are such a queen (bt dubs college leon is literally this hes a dorky nerd 🤓💗) nerd!leon art here

tw: fluff from college leon and spiderman leon because they've both been swirling in my mind fr !!

wc: 3.3k

To be fair, you didn’t pay much attention to Leon at the beginning of the semester. You kept to your separate corners of the world; his being the potted plant near the doorway, where he stood with a bag slung over his shoulder every day, eyes narrowing at the watch on his left wrist, and…

Maybe you have paid attention to him.

It was a dance you had forgotten you’d learned, talking with him. He’s not the same guy you remember from high school, the one who always stuttered through answers and pushed his glasses up when the class mocked him.

The only person being mocked seems to be you now, three weeks into the semester, and the dip of your already fluctuating grades is enough to spur you to find a tutor. Your professor doesn’t seem to be much help, offers you a weak smile and a shrug and tells you to find resources elsewhere.

And you find it in the once, now self-assured straighten of his back as you snake around the crowd to tap his shoulder, grinning broadly.

“Heard you’re pretty good at this stuff,” you offer vaguely. Leon cocks a brow and you don’t expect the amused smile on his face to cause you to feel flustered.

“Guess I am,” he replies, and it seems that not only has his personality and appearance changed, but his voice is at least an octave deeper. It resonates through your entire body in a way that's difficult to describe. “Why? Need help?”

An awkward silence stretches between you as the implications of his altered tone sink in. Clearing your throat, you shuffle your feet and continue, "So, uh, when are you free?"

Leon taps his chin thoughtfully. "Is lunch okay for you?"

You consider it for a moment. “Wow, are you asking me out?”

He winks and you just about buckle to the ground. “Didn’t you come up to me first?”

<><><><>

The chair makes an absurdly loud sound when Leon scoots closer, hands clenched around the base of his seat, a bashful smile on his face as he waves his apologies to all the wandering, hesitant eyes that meet you.

It’s been about a month, and there seems to be no progress with your grades. You would consider dropping him altogether if it weren’t for the strange fact that you enjoy his company, cherish that he takes time from his evidently busy schedule to tutor you.

“Go on,” he prompts when you snap back to attention, startling from his fingers waving in front of you, brushing your nose. “What else did you notice?”

“There was definitely a lot of conflict in the last few scenes,” you mutter, trying to recall last night’s frantic reading that he had assigned three weeks ago.

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t really say death is conflicting, would you?” he replies dryly, dropping his head to glance up at you from under his glasses, and therefore, his long, wispy eyelashes. They reflect the dim lights of the library, seeming to sparkle and illuminate his eyes.

“... yes?”

“No one dies,” he says, stirring from his position once again to stretch his arms against the table, lying his cheek onto the muscle of his bicep, staring up at you with a puffier face. “You didn’t read it, did you?”

“... no?”

“I can’t be here forever,” he whispers, quietly, only for your ears. “You know how many things I have to be doing. Put the effort in. For me, please?”

And something about his tone is so sincere, so genuine that it makes you want to try harder, push yourself, do the homework on time and actually do something about your grades.

<><><><>

You’ve grown to consider him a friend. Your grades have lifted, as has the burden from your shoulders, head high when you stroll out of the lecture hall, and spot Leon fumbling with the vending machine nearby.

It’s a habit to startle him whenever you see him outside of classes, yet you don’t understand the strange looks you get. In any case, he is infinitely a better person than you had expected, better than everyone you had tried to get with initially.

He flinches at your touch, fingers creeping between his arm and torso, wiggling to spark a surprisingly tired laugh.

“What kept you up all night?” you tease. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Nothing of the sort,” he responds gruffly, eyes softening in exhaustion. “That would be better than what’s going on right now.”

Leon is a reserved man. He trusts you to some extent, where, on the other hand, you’re ready to give your life for him. You get attached quickly, what can you say?

<><><><>

You’ve grown used to barging into your shared rooms, not announcing your arrival, often catching Leon off guard, staring down at something on his phone before he shoves it away, that same embarrassed expression slipping off his face when you ask what’s wrong.

​​You arrive back at your dorm after a long day of classes, exhausted and looking forward to relaxing. But what’s past that door is everything that you would think not to expect.

"Oh- hey, you're back!" Leon says with a grin. But that's not all that catches your attention - your roommate has a bizarre outfit on; a brown, crinkled leather jacket, cargo pants, something that looks horrifyingly bland on him. And is that a splash of blue you see peeking out from underneath everything?

"Uh, Leon..." you reply, taken aback. "Didn't realize you were into cosplay. Something you need to tell me?"

"It’s, uhm, complicated," Leon replies vaguely, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let’s just say I have some important work to take care of."

"Right, because you're secretly the city’s hero," you deadpan, still not sure whether to believe this outrageous claim. “Well, come back soon, alright? I need help decoding chapters 18 and 24.”

“Of course,” he says with a wink. “I’ll just be a minute.”

But a minute goes by, which you expect, but then that minute morphs into a hour, and then two, then four, and eventually you’re worriedly pacing your dorm floor, awaiting a phone call, text message, anything to just know-

The phone vibrates a moment later as you rush to fish it out of your baggy pockets, jamming your finger against the notification.

Of course its not him. An unknown number, something fairly recognizable but you can’t quite put your finger on it. The hometown seems to be somewhere far away, starting digits something you don’t have the time to search up when the next text pops up.

Come outside? :)

who is this?

I just have your notes. Hurry up.

oh, thanks! gimme a sec

You remember requesting notes to study from Leon, but he gave your number to his friend, without your consent, might you add, so this must be him. He deemed this friend was far more outgoing, far more entertaining, a better person to hang out with.

You don’t expect Spiderman to be this friend of his.

<><><><>

“I’m starting to think you like me,” he jests, months later, on one of his patrols of the city. He always swings by your window, conveniently always timing his visits when Leon’s out with duties at the police station. You want to deny the accusation, but can't bring yourself to lie to the webslinger perched outside your window.

Not when those masked eyes peer at you with such care and familiarity. Like they see straight into your conflicted soul.

Not when you don’t want them to hang out. Of course not. The problem is your heart is pulling you in two different ways, down two paths that never intersect, and navigating these tangled feelings seems impossible without hurting one of them. They're so alike, yet fate keeps your two dimensions apart. You don't know how much longer your heart can take the strain.

But you bottle it all up, every little bit of you that screams to be adored, cherished in the way they both look at you, one through a mask and the other through glasses, both doing little to nothing to hide their emotions, the expressive raises of their eyebrows.

They’re definitely like each other, a little too much, you suspect.

A sigh escapes your lips. "It's not that simple. You both..." You shake your head, not wanting to put either in an awkward position. Some walls are better left unbreached. "Just focus on helping people, okay? That's what's really important."

He crouches silently beside you for a while, sensing your troubled thoughts without needing to be told. When he speaks again, his voice is gentle. 

"You seem really down. What do you say I take you around the city for a bit? Might do you some good to get some air." He nods toward the skyline glowing in the dusk. "No better view than from up high, if you're up for it."

You eye him hesitantly, unsure if facing your feelings while swinging between skyscrapers is the best idea. But it has been so long since his invitation stirred your spirit rather than your heart. And you could really use a distraction. 

Gripping his offered hand, you nod. "Sure. Why not? I definitely might not die from this." 

Spiderman chuckles, pulling you firmly against his side. "You better hang on tight then." 

A spray of webbing shoots forth and you're jolted into the air, wind whipping around you both. Your uncertain thoughts fade against the euphoria of flight.

For now, it's just you and the freefall through flooded lights.

And the handsome, mysterious, masked hero you’re wrapped around.

<><><><>

“I can’t see you anymore,” your hero mutters one night as you push the window open, eagerly awaiting his tranquil presence, the idea that he takes the burden, the pressure of school off your shoulders, sharing the weight of the sky with you.

“What?” You stare up at him and he stretches, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Can we talk?” He gestures down at the alley between your dorm building and the conveniently close laundromat, however loud the broken washing machines get.

“Yeah.” Your lips form a purse, behind them, your thoughts are clumsy and tie themselves in a bow around your tongue, presented to Spiderman as broken sentences as you approach his state.

He’s hanging upside down, face tilted curiously, in a crouching position, held by only the thinning strand of web, and you wonder how that small thing is able to carry such a physique. 

“I’m putting you in danger,” he protests a few minutes later, standing in front of you, back turned away as you lean against the brick wall, crossing your arms with a stubborn huff.

“Have I died?” You shake our head like a little kid. “No!”

"What's your endgame, huh?" he asks in desperation, wildly turning to confront you. "Why do you insist on being friends with me?"

"Are you saying you've got an issue with that?" you retort flippantly, the tiniest hint of something like pain flickering in your eyes. "Am I bothering you or something?"

“They’re all after me," he frantically explains, words spilling out of your mouth like water from a broken dam. "I’m literally the most wanted man right now!" 

"But you seem to be handling it well," you counter.

"Can't you see?!" he shrieks, voice bordering on the hysterical, and you can see the prayer in his expression, that the fear in his eyes will send you packing. "Stay with me, and you're signing your death warrant!"

“How can you be so sure?” you ask, disbelief coating your words, unable to determine whether or not he’s weaving tales to get you off his back.

“Because,” he hisses, a tight whisper, “I’ve lost too many people. Too many people I love.”

“Love?” You scoff. “You wouldn’t be this ecstatic to get me away from you if you really loved me?”

Spiderman looks at you, confusion etched on his face. “You… think I don’t love you?”

“Obviously not.”

“How can I prove it?” he asks, stepping closer, face softening, closing the agonizing distance between you with a few steps. “I can’t promise your safety. I love you too much to let you die.”

“Of course you do,” you say, waving off his words.

“How do I prove it?” he repeats, more pressing, urgent, like he needs a response before he does anything. His hands are right there, so close to your waist, and you find yourself itching to throw yourself into his arms.

“Kiss me,” you blurt out. “And I’ll know.”

You see him grin. You think he’ll take the whole mask off, but that was proving too much to hope for, but your heart still flutters when you see the bottom half of his face, faintly recognizable, but the hazy feeling in your mind that sparks from his lips only serves to cloud your thoughts even more.

His mouth presses harder against yours, hand curling around your hip, slotting in perfectly like it’s meant to be there, for what feels like another second before he pulls away roughly.

All too briefly, he tears his lips away to yank down his mask, chest heaving. "Shit, I shouldn't have..."

But the words die when you reach up to caress his cheek, seeing the flush that spreads underneath the mask. "It's okay. I wanted this too."

Leon's eyes - no, Spiderman's eyes - drop shut like he's in physical pain. "You don't know what you're asking. I can't… we can't..."

You try to reassure him but he backs away each time, out of reach, like he’s further away than you can see, deserts and oceans, miles and miles between you, even though just a moment ago he was closer than you’d ever imagined.

And you yearn to know who he is.

You suspect you’ve known all along.

How silly is it?

"When you're ready to stop running," you call softly, "you know where to find me."

And you’ll know where to find him.

<><><><>

The first piece of evidence to support your claim comes the afternoon following that night, with your squinted eyes trailing Leon everywhere, drawing a chuckle from that beautiful mouth, the mouth that, you suspect, had been pressed furiously against yours last night.

Not only that, something seems off with his shoulder. It’s held stiff at his side, and everytime you decide to be lazy and ask him to fetch something from the kitchen, he winces, grumbles something under his breath, rolls his shoulder and stalks away.

After a few days of waiting for your ‘beloved dormmate’ to open up to you, you take matters into your own hands. He hasn’t even fumbled to grab his keys from his pocket before you spring up from the couch, swing the door open and steer him over to where you were just sitting.

You peel away his shirt before he can protest, leaving him bare chested and stammering, skin burning into crimson. 

“What are you doing?” he murmurs as you press the area.

“I may not know how to read,” you reply, prodding his shoulder blade, “but I know how to treat injuries just fine.”

“Why not become a doctor?”

You shrug. “Too much work.”

He smiles, and the curve of his lip, so similar to the smart mouth and remarks you looked forward to every night is the second piece you need.

<><><><>

The third, and final, you hope, piece comes when you sigh, scrubbing a hand down your face as you enter your dorm room. Safe to say that without Leon’s tutoring due to his more and more frequent absences, occasionally showing up only to be slumped at his table, snoring softly.

Without him listening, you knew you were doomed. So you’re about to scream your ass off, chastising him, telling him to get to class quicker, that whatever he does in his free time can wait.

But Leon stands by the window in a way that gives you pause. His back is turned, shoulders hunched as if lost in thought. What really catches your eye, though, is the bit of red fabric dangling from his fingers.

"Everything okay?" you ask slowly, shutting the door behind you. Leon whips around at the sound, hastily stuffing the fabric - no, his mask - into his pocket. But not before you notice the familiar webbed pattern. 

"Fine!" he replies, a little too cheerfully to be real. "Just, uh, thinking. Hey, did you see that video of the guy backflipping off a building? Crazy stunts people pull these days."

You raise a brow. "Sure, but it looks like you've got something else on your mind. Or should I say under your clothes?" Leon pales. Without a word, you stride over and pluck the mask from his pocket, giving it a wave.

"Want to explain this?" Your tone is light, but inside your heart hammers. Finally, after weeks of prancing around the bush, he’ll give it to you straight, setting things right.

Leon stares at the mask like a deer in headlights, at a total loss for words. You've never seen him so unsettled.

"Look, I can explain," he says anxiously. "Just, hear me out before you freak, alright?" 

You arch an eyebrow, pretending to be intrigued. "I'm listening."

Leon launches into a tale - the spider bite, the powers, how he's used them these past months to protect the city from the shadows. By the end, you’re hanging onto each word - you didn’t know your friend was quite the storyteller.

"So you're really him, huh?" you say, still processing that your suspicions had indeed been correct. "My secretive roommate is the one and only Spiderman."  

Leon runs a hand through his hair. "I know it's a lot to take in.”

“Not really,” you say with a shrug.

He stares at you blankly. “What?”

“You think I couldn’t tell from that night in the alley?” you muse. “I’m not as dense as you think, Spidey.”

A slow smile spreads across his face, relief washing over your face at the fact he isn’t mad about that. "Spidey? How cute.”

You match his grin. "Now you're talking." You hand the mask back to him, crossing your arms with a stern look. “Now, I don't need your protection, Leon," you insist, softening as he flinches at your use of his real name. "We're in this together, like it or not. No more secrets, deal?"

Leon sighs, gripping the mask tighter. Slowly, he nods, relaxing his expression. "No more secrets. And you can call me Spidey, if you want."

You pretend to mull it over. "Hmm… well, now I’m not so sure it has the same ring to it as Spider-man." But saying it makes Leon's entire face light up like a kid on Christmas. You can't help but return his infectious grin.

“Alright then,” you say, unable to stop cheesing. “Now get back out there! There’s a city calling your name!”

Leon quirks a brow, and you tilt your head to question the gesture.

“Can I count on the next person calling my name being you?” he says sweetly, batting his eyelashes at you. 

“You can count on your nose being broken if you don’t get out of here in the next five seconds,” you joke and Leon seems to visibly lose the blood in his cheeks.

You find it adorable that he takes you seriously.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he says, clambering through the window, as if he’s suddenly in a rush.

“Yeah?” you reply, humming to yourself as you stroll over to him, pondering what your life will be like from now on, having a superhero as your best friend- no, you realize, looking into his iridescent eyes. Boyfriend.

“Remember to read chapter 37,” he says dotingly. Then he leans down to capture your lips and words in a quick kiss. Then he’s grinning and gone.

Vanished into the night, a shadow slung across the bright city lights.

Your hero.

[jweekgoji]

can u write some Yandere TFO Darkwing x Cybertronian femme reader, who is a miner but Darkwing ends up getting her pregnant and forces her to be his conjux

Yandere!Darkwing/Femme!Reader [TFO]

tw: dubcon, yandere/dark themes, unplanned pregnancy, toxic relationship, supervisor/subordinate, power imbalance, size difference, mentions of past abuse, sickness, description of trauma, hurt no comfort, no happy ending. word count: ~1780 a/n: I wanted to keep it short, but somehow it leads to this. I guess this is for 5 Darkwing fans? imo, he has good himbo potential. also writing for Elita was fun...now i wanna write some Optimus and Elita/Reader fics once i'm done with requests.

How could you let this happen?

The same question runs in your head over and over again. It seems that no matter how hard you try to forget about it, you always see that familiar face right next to yours. Dwarfing you, making you feel so small and fragile. It probably wouldn't be too far from the truth. With your smaller, weaker body, nobody would even notice if you were gone.

You should be used to it by now. Countless cycles of mining, the same routine seems somehow calming despite having no signs of progress in any near future.

Energon, sleep, energon, sleep. What kind of life is that? Was that really all you're good for? Your endless purpose until you break one day?

Primus, why did he make you suffer?

“Hey!” you hear a rough, commanding tone from your captain right behind you. “No slacking off until we finish our job! Come on, keep up!”

You blink once, then another few times, optics quickly concentrating on the wall in front of you. How long were you staring at this wall…? Doesn't matter.

Elita-One gives you a glare; she is too preoccupied with leading her group safe; of course, the mines are too dangerous, and every single wrong move could lead to a series of disasters. You usually have no problems with following her orders, but everything now is just too much. Too much stress, too many orders. You're so exhausted.

Reluctantly, you continue working on collecting energon once again. The heavy equipment makes your frame tremble from the weight; you never once struggled with it, despite the drilling machine being almost the same weight as yours. Now, every single minute feels like a challenge. Focus, focus, focus— you can't just pass out during your work! If it didn't kill you first, then Elita-One certainly would after you screwed her chances of promotion.

You shook your head, as if somehow all the thoughts about the pain—the non-stop aching shooting down your back. It makes you want to bend down and wrap your arms around yourself; maybe, just maybe, it will all go away, and you'll be back to normal.

The soft whirr of your cooling systems gets louder. The poor mechanism overworking itself to cool down your frame. You barely notice how the buzzing sound of the drills seems quieter now, changing into the ringing in your head.

The loud clank of the metal against the ground quickly catches Elita's attention. A frown etched on her faceplate, the immediate ‘...by the name of Solus Prime, what's next?’ she quietly grumbled under her breath, turning her attention to the source of that sound.

Your boss was ready to scold you again, another lecture about the importance of teamwork and how it affects the whole squad—but all the annoyance quickly changes into panic the moment she sees you. Close to falling on your own knees and forehead pressed against the wall as you lean against it.

She quickly approaches you, placing her servo on your shoulder to turn you over so you can face her. Your frame is so warm, no, too warm it's almost burning hot. Your spark beats so hard she can practically feel it under her palm. The signs of sickness are obvious, and she cursed her luck yet again that now she has to explain the situation to the supervisors.

Elita helps you to lean your frame against her own instead, holding her arm around your waist, asking countless questions about what the pit you were thinking, and starting your shift without telling her about your well-being. She's the leader of your group! She has to know everything! It doesn't help with her concerns that you barely say anything, too weak to even open your mouth.

She is so annoyed with you, at everything right now. Great, just great, now she has to— a pause. Her optics widened for a mere second. Elita-One looks down at you with a mixture of confusion and a growing shock. The beating of your spark. Twice as fast, too unusual for any cybertronian even if put under the stress. Her servo reaches to your chassis, hovering over the spot where the spark chamber is. You're sparked up.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Quiet, too quiet, perhaps. The first thing you notice before finally opening your optics. The soft light of the room makes you want to go back to recharging again. Another innocent dream will be a good place to escape the harsh reality, until the slow realization creeps into your mind.

“It wasn't my fault, how could I—” the distant sound of Elita's voice is heard outside the room you were in.

“It was your job to lead the group and make sure everything goes according to the protocols. Just like ensuring that every bot in your squad is in the right shape for work,” you don't have to check twice to understand who it would be. Darkwing.

You can hear Elita trying to defend herself again. After all, it wasn't really her fault. You never wanted to tell anyone about it. But what choices did you have? How can you explain being sparked up? By who?

Now you feel guilty. Shame. She got into trouble because of you, and knowing how hard she worked to reach her position...You're so, so sorry.

You slowly move to sit up on the berth in the...what was this place exactly? It reminds of the infirmary, but surprisingly, any medic is absent today. Ratchet? Lifeline? First Aid? Completely gone.

As the door opens, your optics meet Darkwing's own. It was always hard to understand what exactly he was thinking about when he looked at you. The visor, the battle mask, it seems like every single thing in him has a purpose to make you self-conscious. Nervous and scared. Unlike him, you never had the chance of hiding.

Once you two were alone, he's fuming. He breathes heavily, trying to suppress the anger burning inside his chassis. If you were any other miner, another speck of dirt under his pedes, he would have disciplined you without thinking twice.

But you're no ordinary miner now, are you?

“You hid this from me, on purpose,” Darkwing looks down at you, servos clenching into tight fists. “And this is how I find out about it. Do you have any idea what you just got yourself into?”

The mere idea of him being together with  some nameless miner? Ridiculous. He never planned it to develop into something more. Just a one-night stand, nothing more. He would have forgotten about it by the next day if it wasn't for something, making him think about you since then.

The perfect size, fitting in his servos just right. A tiny toy to play with and use however he wants. A cute one too; isn't this a great deal? The curves, the shape of your frame...if you had a cog, what kind of alt mode would you have? A jet like him? Maybe a car? A boat?

Any other of his fellow supervisors would have left you immediately once they found out. If any bot gets to know about it, he's screwed. Darkwing, who claims to despise every single cogless bot? And now he's having second thoughts about whether he should let you be on your own or...participate?

You lowered your head, as if in shame. There's no fight in you left, not after Darkwing personally stripped you of your dignity. Now the only thing left is a sense of responsibility over that sparkling inside you. You're not even sure if your body can take it. The slowly growing little thing takes up a good half of your energy, and with the energon portions you receive, it is hardly enough for the two. You might die from starvation if this keeps up.

Just standing next to Darkwing is a struggle. You wonder, if he even understands what he costantly puts you through, or maybe he finds some sick pleasure in it. Watching you suffer. Is that what he wants? While you live with the responsibility that he put on your shoulders, nothing ever changes for him. This is so unfair.

You will be no surprised if he drags you to the mines to continue working just to please Sentinel Prime right now.

“Can't even look at me. You miners are only good at one thing,” another taunt. His servo reaches to cup your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

The touch is gentler, not the usual roughness you started getting used to. You learned that whenever he is near you, the pain should be expected the next. That's why it's hard not to flinch every time he gets a little too close. This time, it's something different. Your optics closed, as if expecting a punch, a slap, or another bunch of degrading words?

Nothing.

Trembling in his grasp like some sort of wounded animal next to their predator. Obedient, quiet and timid, the cycles he spent to shape you into a perfect doll to play with. But you're carrying his sparkling, the part of him is soon to be born in this world. It is too late to get rid of it, even though some time ago the sound of it seemed tempting. No, even a useless doll like you deserves a second chance to prove yourself. From some faceless miner, you can grow into something more. Better. A carrier.

He can't let you go back to that place; it would be too cruel even for someone like him to let the carrier of his sparkling to continue this. The best thing is, no one would even suspect you were gone. A tragic event, one of the miner bots neglected their health until it was too late.

Sad, sobbing story, but don't worry, being stuck with your ex-supervisor is not too bad. By the all old rules, it's a shame not to claim a carrier of your sparklings as your conjunx.

“You should be grateful that I have better plans to use you, cogless,” Darkwing's hold on you tightened just for a fraction. To make sure you listen and understand his intentions. No other options but to obey. His words echo in the back of your mind.

The act of profference.

Gifting you a freedom, something you wished for and craved so deeply supposed to make you happy. If only it wasn't the same day you lose it.

[diaryofaprettyprincess]

thinking some thoughts about ghost x sunshine!disneyprincess-energy!reader..

OKAY THESE ARE JUST SOME CUTE THIUGHTS BUT LIKE OKAY. what if reader is just so incredibly sweet to everyone and everything n simon is just standing behind her like a guard, all scary and intimidating.. like shes such a disney princess!! BUTBUT what if she teaches him how to be gentle?? like he’s spent so many years of his life killing people for his job and using his hands to hurt others for his work. he’s been told his whole life that he needs to toughen up, so what if reader just completely brings out the incredibly soft side of him that he didn’t even know was there?

i can just imagine reader doing cute things and simon standing idly by whilst she picks flowers from the ground to put in her purse so she can make pressed flowers bookmarks for the both of them?? his heart just melts at the sight when you knelt down to pick some pretty yellow flowers in the summertime when you two went for a nice summer’s evening walk.

or you find this like baby chick by your home (cuz u both live in a cottage area, duh) and its wing is hurt so you squat down; a bright, but kind, grin on your face. you put your hands outward in a bowl-like shape, sweetly whispering to the injured creature as it chirps, “cmere, you poor thing..” when the chick waddles in your hands, simon swears you must be a fairy of some sort. simon watches you intently--one of his favorite activities. the way the chick trusts you immediately..he can’t take it you are so perfect.

the yellow fuzz ball of a chick chirps every so often, and you use gentle hands to pet it before standing up and looking up at simon, eyes wide and full of joy.

he smiles, his cheeks dimpling when you giggle and pet the chick.

“you wanna hold him?” you ask quietly, as to not threaten the bird—or possibly to relax simon’s tense body. before he can respond, you say, “here, open your hand---"

he hesitates. “what if i hurt it?“ he asks, genuine concern sounding in his gruff voice (although it's more quiet than usual as to not frighten the chicklet).

you pout slightly, glossy lips turned down.

“you won’t," you begin with a comforting smile, trying to comfort your burly boyfriend. simon nibbles his bottom lip as he glances his dark eyes from you, then to the bird, then you again. "i promise you won't hurt 'im, simmey. hold him like you hold me when im sad! okay?"

he nods faintly, letting out a small chuckle.

carefully, you bring the baby chick closer to him as you tell him to cup his hands together.

his body is stiff as he holds the chick, small chirps from the animal making him nervous.

“see? you’re doin so good, simmey !!” you encourage, running a comforting hand along his tattooed bicep. the chick is completely dwarfed in ghost’s tattooed, scarred hands.

something so innocent being cared for by someone so..not.

like the relationship between the two of you.

not that simon was a bad man—far from it. he just never knew the power of being gentle.

and he was so grateful that you brought that out of him; a soft, loving gaze and smile set on his hardened features as he watched you stand on your tippy toes and pet the bird gently with your pointer finger.

[brownskinlemon]

Adore (D.F.)

summary: REQUEST (could u possibly do a story of dom calming y/n down after some like degrading disgusting sex bc he can tell it was a lot for her and have him be all soft and sweet. thank u gorl i love u)

warnings: dom! dominic fike x fem! reader, degrading, daddy kink, overstimulation, angst, fluff

word count: 907

authors note: thank you hun, muah! Thank you guys for your patience and kind words, such a great community. Here's one on the shorter side for my lovely requester <3

It had been a rougher week for you and your boyfriend Dominic. It seemed like at a moment’s notice you two were once again bickering over something small and insignificant. 

The dishes not being done: argument. 

A lost sock in the house: argument.  

Dinner being late: argument.

By the end of the week, you had been exhausted and worried that this bickering would truly never end. It reached its peak when he breathed “too loudly” for your comfort while getting ready for bed, causing you the most explosive argument yet.

Now, here you were, pinned between him and the edge of the bed, no urge in you to argue, your brain trying to form thoughts and failing miserably. Dom had milked 3 orgasms out of you driven by pure spite. Time blended together as his hips grinded into the second hour, knees hoisted up near your ears as he drove into you over and over, hitting the deepest spots inside of you. 

His hand gripped around your throat firmly, the other hand circling your bundle of nerves that was far beyond the point of overstimulation. Hickies galore decorated your body, along with some markings around your thighs from how he gripped onto you earlier while devouring you until you were a pitiful, begging mess. You both were covered in a sheen of sweat, bodies grappling onto each other like your lives depended on it.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself? Hm?” His thrusted not faltering as he began to tease you, eyes not leaving your flushed face. “You had so much to say all fucking week.” He hissed at you. 

He suddenly grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes that had rolled back to meet his. “Say it or I pull out right now.” The threat of him leaving you empty was all too real and too terrifying. 

“Dom I-” You stammered, being interrupted by your own whines. “Please I need-please-”

“Please who?” He taunted.

“Please daddy. I’m sorry.” Your voice betrayed you as it shook with every thrust deep within you. “ Please please-” 

“Be a good girl and let it go for me. Give it all to me.” He continued to talk you through the waves of pleasure wracking your whole body for the fourth time that night. He relished in the way you became a babbling mess of his name and pitiful pleads leaving your mouth. Your nails dug into his tanned biceps as he soon became undone with you, unable to hold off as you clenched desperately around him. 

He gently pulled out of you, careful not to throw your body into more sensitivity shock than it already was. Dominic’s eyebrows furrowed as he took in your shaking frame, watching how hard your chest heaved with small whines and your body shook. He leaned over you, gently trying to get your lulling eyes to look at him.

“Hey angel, look at me.” He cooed gently, cupping your face with his palm. You tried to find your grounding, forcing your eyes that wanted to close so badly to peer up at his brown puppy eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Concern laced his voice. You nodded gently, causing him to release a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He stalked off quietly to the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?” 

As he spread your legs to gently clean you off, you whined at the sensitivity. “Sorry baby. I know how sensitive you are right now. But you did such a good job for me, took it so well. ” He cooed, eyes switching between cleaning you up and your fucked out face. After throwing the towel in the hamper, he crawled back into bed with you covering you both in the blanket, silence blanketing the dark room. 

“Dom.” You finally broke your silence gently, causing his head to snap to yours.

“Yes angel.” 

“I thought…” You began to get teary eyed.

“Woah woah, did I hurt you? I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean to, where does it-” He shot up, eyes scanning over your body and eyes blown wide from fear.

“Dom. You didn’t, I’m okay, great actually. I was just…scared this week. Scared that we were doomed or something.” He settled back down, biting down on his bottom lip as he took in your words.

“I was too. We’ve never been the bickering type and I just- I don’t know. You know I’m not good with emotions, but I do wanna say I’m sorry. My attention has been on work and I didn't mean to make you feel abandoned.” He confessed.

You didn’t notice the tear falling down your cheek till his tattooed hand gently reached out to wipe it for you. His eyes were filled with adoration as he brought you in closer to him, kissing your forehead gently.

“I love you Dom.”

‘I love you more angel. Get some rest now okay? We can always talk more in the morning. I think I accidentally turned your body and brain to mush.” He kissed your nose, causing you to giggle. 

“Mush is the perfect word I’d use.” You replied, falling asleep in his arms.

He looked down at your sleeping frame, smiling to himself at how the furrow in your brow from overthinking and stress had finally settled as you were fully relaxed. His eyes trailed across your features, soaking up the way you couldn’t shy away from his gaze in this moment, free for him to adore you as he always had.