#request that is years old that I finally did

[fushiguho]

Curiosity & the Poor, Unfortunate Cat ⭑.ᐟ

ᯓ★ Synopsis Toji Fushiguho — an absent father, a college dropout, and a panhandling loiterer who just so happens to be your father’s best friend. Obviously you have to fuck him... out of pity, of course.

Wordcount 4k

Warnings fem!reader, age gap, toji is kind of disrespectful but so are you, so much teasing it’s insane, toji has a filthy mouth (duh), rough sex, unprotected, spanking, abrupt ending, brat taming??

Author's Notes this was inspired by an anon request for toji as your father’s best friend which was so freaking fun to write (everyone say thank yew anonnnn) and this was supposed to be a drabble but i know no limits... i was also channeling a lot of my own desires here #needthat p.s. this blog is under construction, i’m in the midst of transferring my work from my previous account which was marked as explicit boooo :/

Your sheets ruffle as you discontentedly toss in bed, the silken fabric bunching haphazardly while you writhe, empty stomach caving in a ravenous hunger. Internally, you curse yourself, wishing you had eaten the dinner your father prepared earlier, but now, it’s definitely too late. You’re sure Toji has already scarfed whatever was left of it down into that perpetually endless gut of his. You’ve never stood a chance. Alas, you must eat, so with a groan of annoyance, you roll out of bed, padding to the kitchen on the hunt for satiation.

It’s the dead of night. The sacred time of day when nothing is expected of you. When everyone you have ever known is fast asleep and you’re all that remains. Darkness consumes the lifeless house as you shuffle across the carpeted floor. A night light that’s tucked at the end of the long hall flickers like a dwindling torch in the depths of a dark, endless forest. As you creep down the steep staircase, you sigh, taking notice of overhead microwave light already casting a soft, amber glow — there is someone else that too remains.

Toji.

“You can’t keep eating all of our food.” You huff, abruptly announcing your presence as you near the final step, observing the burly, sable haired man that raids your barren fridge. “I don’t even know why my father puts up with you.”

He smells your sweet, gourmand perfume before he even registers your voice. It’s utterly embarrassing how painfully his cock aches from a mere whiff of you, the sound of you. Unabashed, Toji shrugs, stuffing three, large strawberries into his greedy mouth, eyes narrowing on your pretty frame. “Your father loves me, sweetheart… couldn’t have raised your bratty ass without me.” His ravenous gaze lingers far too long, sharp eyes shamelessly flitting across your soft, exposed skin, sizing you up. “And hello to you too. What’s wrong with you young people? Does no one respect their elders anymore?”

“Oh, brother, here we go.” You grumble, bracing yourself for yet another fruitless lecture, arms crossing over your chest as you sit into your right hip. His keen eyes follow your subtle shift in stance. “And your son? Where is he?”

He scoffs. “With his mother, thank you.” Toji rolls his eyes, reaching for another strawberry. “You sure you don’t have homework to do or something? Always pesterin’ me. I’m old, damnit!”

“I graduated three years ago, thank you… though you can’t say the same,” you snide, rudely pushing past him to peer into the refrigerator, “and you're like forty-five… you should've gotten your shit together yesterday.” You add, growing progressively annoyed with his lingering presence. “Did you drink all of the milk again?”

“Heh, oh yeah. Whoops,” he goads, popping the p, “and I’m not that old, you brat.” He mumbles, esteem crumbling at your assumption.

He’s grown accustomed to your biting criticism, though in the beginning, he would almost always quarrel back, which inevitably led to the two of you in a needlessly heated and borderline flirtatious feud. Now, he’s learned to actively ignore your insults but god, he would only be lying if he said your petty, condescending remarks didn’t rewire the chemistry of his brain.

Alas, all he offers is another irritatingly indifferent shrug, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his scarred lips — his own twisted version of remittance. Toji doesn’t give a fuck, not one. He knows your father will replace it by the end of the week like he always does, so why should he?

It has been nearly a decade since your father has all too graciously granted Toji loitering rights to your childhood home. Never has he paid for groceries, for bills, for anything. He is penniless, indolent, and baselessly forthright, but god, is he the finest man you have ever known.

After both your father and Toji’s untimely and coincidentally synchronized divorces, the two have been inseparable ever since, wallowing in their shared pity together. During his unnecessarily messy divorce, Toji lost the house and your father was gracious enough to offer him a place to stay until he secures a stable job.

That was nine years ago.

Weirdly enough, Toji has known you the entirety of your existence, but not you his. From as early as you can remember, he was always just… there, but as time passed and you grew older, things changed; the way you thought about him changed. Before, you thought of him as just one of your father’s degenerate friends from undergrad who fell through the cracks. Today, that notion still holds, but now you want to fuck him, bad.

For years, you’ve imagined what Toji is like behind closed doors, what he would feel like, what he would fuck like. If he’s the type of man that plays with his food before eating it, if he even likes to eat his prey anyway. Maybe he’s the type of predator that prefers stringing his meals along, toying with and teasing them like some cruel, one-sided game and he’s got the unfair advantage. Either way, you don’t think you’d mind.

Countless nights you’ve found yourself sprawled apart with his name on the tip of your tongue. Bare, perspiring body bowing as you brainlessly fuck yourself against one of his sweatshirts that you snagged from the laundry he doesn’t do. There is no doubt that Toji has heard the desperate cries of his name that pour from beneath your paper thin door, your pretty whimpers so incredibly loud and slutty and all for him.

If he wanted, you’d let him have in the worst possible way. You would let him pry you apart and gut you out completely, leaving you nothing but a shell of your former self — drooling, stuffed, and defiled. The utter heinous things you’d commit for a mere taste of his skin is a direct contradiction of who you are and everything your father believes he’s raised you to be. You’re no angel.

Defeated, you close the refrigerator, a deep, irritated sigh dragging from your lips. This man is useless, you think. If not for his maddeningly beautiful face, you’d sock him in it, sending him tumbling to the floor so that you can finally mount him and —

“Do you wanna fuck? Is that it?”

A long, deafening beat passes. You swallow thickly. “… what?”

“You heard me. I asked if you want to fuck.” He reiterates, voice eerily calm as if he couldn’t care less about the proposition at hand. “You’re always so pissed with me, thinkin’ that’s maybe what you need... a good fuck, heh.”

His blatantly unprovoked inquiry is jostling you back into reality, because what? What the hell is wrong with him? Why did the question roll off of his tongue so quickly? So smoothly? As if it’s no big deal, as if this is just another one of his usual, overly prying questions. Is he serious?

“Toji, wha—”

“You don’t think I’m stupid, do you?” His head is falling to the right, a sleazy grin marring his slick lips. “You don’t think I see the way you look at me, sweetheart? Not a very discreet girl, I’ll tell you that…” a dark, gut wrenching chuckle rumbles from the depths of his chest, “maybe a noisy one though, hm?” He hums, quirking an omniscient brow.

Guiltily, your gaze is falling to the tiled floor, thighs pressing together as you mumble. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Sure.

He laughs again. “You’re not a good liar either,” he’s creeping closer, the warmth of his breath like kindle to a rampant flame, “but you’re a pretty little thing… you know that already though, huh?” A curious hand is creeping around your waist, slyly reeling you in, the redolence of his cheap, inebriating cologne permeating the sinisterly thick air.

You expel an audible breath, taking a cautious step backward, yet he follows, taking a larger step forward, a step closer. Your skin burns, cheeks warming with crimson. He’s too fucking close and he knows it. What if someone sees? You don’t think you can bear the consequences that’d unfold if your father were to ever find the two of you like this. He would kill Toji, then you, and finally himself for good measure.

But god, do you want to find out. When it comes to human nature, curiosity always seems to prevail and fuck, are you one curious cat. There is something innately deep and pressing within your soul that craves satiation. It yearns to be known, to be explored. A deep, perpetually endless hole that aches — it longs to be filled, to be stuffed. None of your peers can do that for you, you’re convinced.

Your dark, repressed desires are only concerning your stance on feminism, but you don’t care, that’s the very thing. You want to find out. You need that, undoubtedly. Is what they say about older men true? The thought lingers as you contemplate the looming proposition. Yes, he’s your father’s closest friend. Yes, he’s far older than you with a child of his own. And yes, your perpetual obsession is only growing increasingly worrisome by the ticking clock, but truly, who can blame you? Look at him.

“C’monnn, you won’t even look at me, doll?” He frowns, a big hand cupping your chin, pulling your gaze upward. “Thought your father and I taught you better than that, no?”

Another loud, incredulous breath escapes your parted lips. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, cunt drooling.

Just the sweet, innocent quaver of your voice alone makes his cock twitch. His plaid pajama bottoms growing near uncomfortable as the fat, mushroom head leaks against the dampening fabric. What’s left of his dwindling resolve is slipping from his fingertips when you’re finally peering up at him, the coy bat of your lashes so perfectly slutty. Pretty, pleading eyes all wide and glossed over with your evident lust. God, he knows you need it.

Toji groans, conflicted for half a beat before growling a strangled and defeated, ‘fuck it’ then, his lips are slotting against yours in a delirious, haphazard kiss. Large hands blindly creep around your waist, dragging you impossibly closer. “This… this is your fucking fault.” He grouses, warm tongue delving so shamelessly inside of your honeyed mouth, greedily licking his way to the source.

“Fuck me then,” you’re pulling away just barely and he can’t help but to follow, subconsciously chasing your fleeting lips, “make me sorry.” It’s quiet, breathless, your pretty lips ghosting his.

And maybe you shouldn’t have said that, but it’s still not too late to end this — to push him away and say no, this isn’t right. It’s not too late to head to bed and forget any of this ever happened, but the way he’s twirling you around to push you over the marble countertop might be a step too far and damn sure too late.

“Sweetheart, you’ll be so fucking sorry,” a singular hand is peeling your lounge shorts down, down, down your plush thighs until there’s nothing but a pool of silky fabric surrounding your ankles, baring your syrupy folds, “spread those fuckin’ legs for me like a good, obedient girl. Let me see how wet that sloppy pussy is.”

With your face snug against the marble, all you can manage is a weak, fruitless gasp of his name, the warmth of your frantic breaths condensing the frigid countertop. You’re craning your head to the side, rising to the palms of your hands to observe the burly man that looms behind you. Fuck, he’s going to kill you.

He simpers, trailing several, curious fingers from your swollen clit allll the way down to your visibly tightening hole which drools endlessly. Pearlescent gossamers of arousal cling to the pads of his fat digits, kissing his skin in a beautiful sheen of your bountiful essence. The warm, abrupt stretch of his careless fingers as they sink deeeeep inside of your slobbering hole is peerless, prying your jaw open in a pretty, guttural moan — so raw and primal and all for him.

“Thaaat’s it, let me hear you, girl… sound even prettier up close,” he’s leaning down to better observe your desperate wails of rapture, pressing his clothed cock against the rear of your bare ass in the process, “got me fucking my hand like an idiot to the sound of you. How rude is that?” His breath hot and laden with lust against the crook of your neck.

Another wanton moan is belting from your gaped mouth at his confession. You can hardly help the pathetic buck of your hips, weakly fucking yourself against the stocky hand that cups your pretty pussy. The gnawing stretch of his fingers set your skin ablaze and yet, it’s not enough. You need more.

“Just f-fuck me… please? Before he gets home.��� God, you are so fucking cute, bottom lip quivering in… fear? Anticipation?

Toji frowns feigndly. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re scared now, sweet girl?” A warm, calloused palm is splaying across the thick of your hip, pulling you closer to the edge of the marble. “Sure doesn’t feel like it…” he taunts, dragging his fingers out of you to smear your prolific arousal between your swollen lips and the slit of your ass, soon bringing them up to your stupidly gaped mouth, “doesn’t it taste like it either, huh?” He prompts you to taste yourself, his long, drooling digits hanging before your subconsciously parting lips.

And god, you could fucking cum right there, cunt throbbing embarrassingly around nothing but the fleeting memory of his fingers. You hardly have the time to loll out your tongue before he’s rudely stuffing his fingers into your warm, obedient mouth. A synchronous, drawn out moan echoing from both of your slacked jaws, yours muffled by his fat digits and his so careless and plainly conquered by his ineffable lust.

You hum contentedly around his thick fingers, cleaning your own arousal from them like the good whore he always knew you’d be. Drool spills from the corners of your lips and down his burly knuckles, coating his hand in an obscene mess of your sweet saliva. His fingers are deliberately creeping farther down your slutty little throat, forcing a proper gag from the pit of your core, more of your saliva consequently cascading down his palm.

Like the nasty slut he is, he’s pulling them out of your mouth, only to plop them inside of his own, sucking and drooling down those very digits, his cruel gaze holding yours. A guttural groan belts from the depths of his chest, sable eyes fluttering shut as he hums in satisfaction. Your mouth falls wide, jaw slacked as pretty little pants of incredulity pour from it, poor cunt aching in your ever growing arousal. What. The. Fuck.

“What? Nothing else to fuckin’ say, huh?” Those same fingers are running along your cunt once more, messily smearing the sinful amalgamation of married saliva. They’re sweeping across your swollen clit before slowly sinking back inside of you, preparing you. “Always talkin’ so much shit to me. Gonna shut you up real soon, sweetheart… swear to god.”

A stupid gasp parts your lips, stomach caving in arousal at the sound of him hastily slipping out of his plaid bottoms. A greedy hand is latching to the back of your right knee, pulling your leg up to pin it against the cool marble. The sight of your pretty pussy in all of her sloppy glory makes his cock twitch, the head dripping in sinful rivulets of pearlescent arousal.

You can barely stand the way he takes his cock into his fist, idly pumping his pretty erection, a slutty grin spreading across his scarred lips. From his girthy base allll the way to the fat, leaking head, he strokes himself, but not before swiping the pad of his thumb across the drooling opening, spreading his arousal down the expanse of his monstrous length. You fucked up. Royally.

“God,” you mumble, turning back around to stuff your face into the crook of your arm in utter horror, “god, I am s…so sorry.”

And he fucking laughs. Laughs at your apology; it’s loud and obnoxious and so clearly intended to piss you off because you’re not sorry, you’re scared and he knows it. He can see the way your body trembles atop the counter, drooling cunt shamelessly exposed with your leg hiked up so rudely. The way your big, pleading eyes widen in fear as he creeps closer. Even your futile attempt to scoot away when he begins to drag the head of his cock between both of your slutty holes, almost as if he can’t decide which to ruin first.

“Nuh uh… c’mere,” he nearly growls, impertinently pulling you back before him by the flimsy fabric of your night shirt, a disapproving grunt ensuing, “tryna run away from me, huh?” Two, large hands are groping the fat of your ass, brazenly spreading you apart. “Oughta’ teach you some fuckin’ manners… such a mean little thing. Hell’s wrong with you?”

The head of his cock rests so heavily against your sloppy hole, hot precum oozing against the mess of slick that adorns your pretty pussy. Toji slaps the dense head against your lips once. A droning, helpless mewl pours from your gaped mouth, only for him to do it again, and again, and again. A lewd and deafening plap! plap! plap! reverberates throughout the dimly lit kitchen, sticky gossamers of married arousal tethering you as one.

“Knew you’d have a pretty cunt,” he admits, briefly dipping the head of his cock inside of you, dragging a wanton whimper from your lips, “such a shame y’er so mean to me… would’ve had you like this years ago if not for that nasty little mouth of yours.” He’s sinking inside of you yet again, but only to pull out when he’s gone too deep.

If your father were to walk into this kitchen at this very moment, he’d be utterly appalled. Horrified. You’re writhing beneath him, hips bucking so sluttily against his teasing cock. God, you have never craved something so horribly in your life; you could just die from the sheer deprivation and it’s hilarious to him. He’s taunting you like it’s some cruel fucking game and he’s got the upper hand.

Again, he laughs. “Oh, you want it bad, huh?”

“Yes, fuck.” You growl, evidently frustrated.

“Awwww you mad, sweetheart?” He irritatingly coos, leaning down to press a wet, openmouthed kiss to the nape of your neck. “Is that poor pussy frustrated huh?” Another sloppy kiss between the valley of your shoulder blades, the head of his cock gliding between your glossy lips, spreading you apart. “Heh, she’s cryin’ for it, such a messy girl… drooling all over my cock like that.”

“Please,” it’s a broken, shameless plea as you crane your head, beautiful tears of desperation pricking your eyes, your pride somewhere so far gone, “pleasepleaseplease.”

A dark, breathy chuckle parts his lips, aching cock jerking against your awaiting hole. For years, he’s imagined you just like this — begging and crying for his cock like some insatiable whore. If anything, he’s denying himself; though, what’s left of his restraint quickly perishes at the sight of your sobbing hole tightening around nothing, kissing his shaft in a gleaming, warm mess.

He almost can’t help but to sink inside of you again, instead this time, he’s giving you everything, all of his twitching cock. The abrupt intrusion forces an incredulous gasp past your lips, a low, throaty groan dragging from his slack jaw in tandem. And just as he thought, your greedy pussy is swallowing his fat cock to the base effortlessly, almost as if it was hand tailored for you.

You’re fighting the gnawing urge to run — to clamber across the countertop and cower in fear, but you can’t fucking move. He’s got you pinned to the marble, a heavy hand at the rear of your neck, the other splayed across the thick of your hip, pulling you back onto his cock. It aches. The delirious stretch of his cock and how it steals your breath away, your mouth sagged, yet nothing is uttered. For once in your life, you’re speechless.

“Is this really all it takes, huh?” His hips are reeling back, the shiny essence of your arousal sheathing the entirety of his cock. “God, is this all it fucking takes to shut you up? A cock in this slutty little pussy, huhhh?” The bruising snap of his hips as he pummels forward nearly has you gushing down the length of him all too soon. “Answer me… and use your big girl words, c’mon sweetheart.” 

A loud, desperate gasp of air is all you can manage, bottom lip trembling as you attempt to say something, anything. The hand that holds your neck is threading throughout your mussed hair, forcing your gaze onto his and he can’t help but to laugh at your stupid expression — drool spilling from the corners of your mouth, thick brows knitted so tightly as your pretty eyes threaten to cross. Of course you can’t fucking speak, you’re drunk.

“My goodness, I wish you could see yourself… you’re so stupid on it,” he admires almost endearingly, a warm, mindless thumb grazing your bottom lip, “that perfect fucking face, god. You are so pretty taking it, such a goooood pretty slut for that cock, fuck.” The near possessive growl that belts from the depths of his lungs is like nothing you have ever heard — so filthy and shameless and ridden with his unbearable lust.

Toji is completely losing himself in the wet, endless abyss of pleasure that is you. Babbling nothing but loud, reckless praises, your pretty name spilling so willfully from his slutty tongue. He can hardly help the way he’s subconsciously jerking you back onto his cock. His big, greedy hands tighten so possessively around your pretty waist, meeting himself halfway. The obscene plap! of his achingly full balls beating up your quivering clit with each ensuing thrust.

“Thaaat’s it, you’re so good, that pussy is so fucking good… takin’ it soo deep for me.” He mindlessly blabbers, a large hand creeping beneath the thin fabric of your shirt, the calloused pads of his fingers sweeping across your soft, perspiring skin.

Every coherent thought you have ever had is long forgotten, poor mind completely barren. He’s the only thing you can hear, think, feel — the greedy hands that wordlessly command you, the warm stretch of his drooling cock as it wholly splits you apart. Even the fat, curious thumb that’s sinking inside of that other poor, neglected hole of yours is prying your lips open in a helpless mewl of pleasure.

“It’s sooo good… sooofuckingooood, oh my god.” You snarl, teeth bared and his jaw nearly unhinges — you sound so fucking pretty. “I love it, I love it, I loveee your c-cock.”

“Yeaaah, sweetheart?” He coos, heavy head deliriously falling back to dangle between his broad shoulders. “God, you needed this, didn’t you? Look at your hips buck like such a nasty slut.” A loud, ear splitting smack! lands against the fat of your ass. “Do you dream about it after you fuck yourself and cum all over my clothes, huh?” Another smack! to the other cheek, your poor cunt consequently squeezing down the base of his cock. “No fucking shame either.”

You possess half the brain to respond, not sure whether to shake your head or nod, too far gone to even make sense of anything anymore. Moan after unrestrained moan spill from both of your raptured tongues, the two of you sharing a few synchronous gasps of air or delirious cries of overwhelming pleasure. It’s the most debauched, yet utterly erotic thing you have ever experienced, but then, there’s a loud, roaring voice that’s stilling Toji’s hips.

“What the fuck is going on here?!”

Fuck.

© fushiguho.

[covenofagatha]

Hii can you please write athlete-student fem reader x Professor Agatha, where she is her favorite student and they have a close connection despite Agatha's cold demeanor. So one day y/n comes limping to Agatha's class bcuz she got injured during the practice and her coach kept pushing her, without letting to rest, so the injury got worse and now y/n can barely step on her leg. Agatha takes notice of that and asks y/n to stay after the lecture, where Agatha discovers the truth about abusive coach. So Agatha helps Y/N to her car and takes her home, where Agatha takes care of her and they finally kiss or maybe even smut if you are good with it please. Kinda like hurt/comfort with possesive Agatha

Thank you for all your amazing writing💜

As a former swimmer with a coach that was fired for emotional/verbal abuse I fucking loved this request so thank you and I hope you like!

Swimming into her arms

You hurt your leg during practice and your coach makes it worse, so Professor Agatha has to take care of you

Word count: 3400

Warnings: hurt/comfort, slight possessiveness, oral sex, soft

“Coach, can I talk with you for a second before we get in?” You ask, stepping gingerly over to him. He barely even glances at you, just waves his hand to tell you to get on with it. “I just hurt my knee during weights and the trainer said that I shouldn’t kick that much until I can go see a doctor.” 

Now he looks at you, displeasure written all over his face. Your swim coach is not known for being nice and you inwardly wince to brace yourself. “What did you do?” 

“We were doing band jumps from the pullup bars and I landed weirdly and there was a pop from my knee. It hurts to walk and I’m really not sure I should swim.” 

He scoffs and straightens up against the fence where he was leaning. You cross your arms over your chest, wishing you were standing in more than just your swimsuit. You should’ve worn clothes to come talk to him, but deep down you knew how this was going to go. 

“We have a meet this weekend and you’re our best backstroker somehow, despite your awful underwater kicks. You’re swimming.” 

The dig about your underwaters doesn’t even phase you now, having heard it enough times already. But the thought of bending your knee like that makes you brave enough to protest. “Can I just pull for today? I’ll try to get to the doctor this afternoon.” 

You feel your stomach sink as he rolls his eyes. “I don’t need damaged goods on this team so if you’re not going to get in the pool and you’re going to be weak, then just get off the deck and come back next week. Don’t expect to be put in any more meets though.” 

You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to keep your jaw from dropping. You nod and turn around to hide the tears stinging in your eyes and put your cap on. You’re on a scholarship at the university for swimming, so if you quit or he lets you go, you’ll most likely have to drop out.

“That’s what I thought,” you hear your coach huff quietly behind you. “Let’s go. You’re five minutes late getting in.”

The moment you jump into the pool and push off the wall for warm up, you know you’ve made a mistake. Your leg is screaming. Every kick is pure agony and you try your absolute best to not move it more than you have to. But each flip turn makes you want to cry. You barely make it through the warm up and your heart drops when you see the main set that your coach wrote on the board. 

You wouldn’t be surprised if he changed it up and made it harder just to mess with you.

Your lanemate asks if you want to go first and all you can do is shake your head. If you speak, you’re afraid you’re going to fall apart. You refuse to take your goggles off because your eyes are red and teary. 

One round in, your coach stops you on the wall. “Are you even trying?” He demands. 

“My knee,” is all you can get out before your voice wavers. 

He squats down so he’s closer to you. “I’m 55 years old. My knees hurt every day and you don’t see me whining about it. Now either do the set right, or you’re off the relay.” 

This time, when you push off the wall, you kick with both legs. By the end of the 25, you’re already sobbing into the water, choking on gasps when you turn your head to breathe. You’ve never felt pain like this before in your life and you are convinced that something is really wrong. 

At one point, you think you almost black out. 

You fall behind in the set because you physically can’t kick fast enough to make the interval so your coach makes you stay behind late to finish it, despite you telling him that you have to get to class. 

When he finally lets you out of the pool, there’s twenty minutes until your class starts and you still have to shower, get dressed, and somehow walk across campus. 

Some of your professors would be chill if you walked in late. Hell, most of them were happy if 75% of the class actually showed up. 

But not Professor Agatha Harkness. She was feared by everyone on campus, even those who weren’t in her class, for her stony cold demeanor. There were rumors that she made students cry just by looking at them. 

Although, she wasn’t like that with you. While she was still tough, there was a softness in her eyes when she looked at you, a certain fondness in her smile. You weren’t sure what it was about you that made her like that, but you and Agatha had grown quite close over the past semester. You would go bother her during her office hours and she would patiently answer all your questions and help you with her assignments. You knew you could talk to her about anything, and you often did. Friend drama, other classes, swimming, you name it. The way she made you feel heard and seen, plus with how hot she was, had you falling for her. 

The only thing you hadn’t really opened up on was how mean your coach could be. 

But just because of your relationship with her didn’t mean she would allow you to be late to her class. 

For now though, your task was to get out of the pool without screaming. Your coach would throw a fit if you didn’t “get out like an athlete” by putting your knee in the gutter instead of your foot, but you weren’t sure you could do either. You maneuver yourself up using the handles on the starting blocks so you’re sitting and then push yourself up. You try to put weight on your hurt leg and you gasp loudly. 

That’s not going to happen. 

Your coach walks over to you and you think that he might offer some sort of help or an apology or anything, but all he says is, “See you tomorrow.” 

Your head falls back in frustration and you experiment with some different movements to see which is the best for your knee. You can slide it a little on the wet ground for now to get to the locker room, but when you go outside with shoes on, you’re going to have to figure out something new. 

You shower in record time while still getting all your tears out and throw on sweatpants and a t-shirt, putting moisturizer on your face while your hair is twisted up in your towel. The warm water did a little to help your leg so you’re able to put the tiniest bit of weight on it now. However, it doesn’t hide the evidence that you were clearly crying. 

Still, your class starts in five minutes. The building her lecture is in is four minutes away with a good leg. 

Hobbling while whimpering every step takes eight. 

You try to open the door as quietly as possible, and you succeed, but your bag swings and clangs onto the metal trash can that is right in the doorway. Because of course it is. 

Silence falls through the room as the sound echoes, and Agatha looks up from her place at the front of the room. You offer a shaky smile and limp down the aisle to your spot in the second row. Going down the slanted floor is a new type of pain that has you grabbing onto chairs. 

“Stay after class so I can hear your excuse about why you’re late,” Agatha says coldly once you’ve sat in your usual seat, sighing when the burn in your knee dies down to a dull ache. Your heart squeezes but you do see some concern in her eyes. You realize that her tough exterior just now was an act. You nod, not able to look at her for fear that she’ll see right through you, and you dig in your backpack for paper and a pen for notes. 

The hour lecture goes so slowly, your knee now starting to throb from sitting. You’re not really sure what you’re supposed to do to get it to stop hurting. 

Finally, Agatha releases everyone but you stay seated. While you’re in pain sitting, you know it’s much worse if you stand up. She doesn’t seem to mind, just comes to stand on the other side of her podium and lean against it. 

“What’s wrong?” She asks, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it before and you just start hysterically crying. She looks more taken-aback than you’ve ever seen her and walks over to crouch next to you and rub a hand comfortingly up and down your arm. “Sweetheart?” 

Your breath catches at the pet name and you hiccup. You swipe furiously at your eyes, embarrassed to show this much emotion in front of the older woman. When you open your mouth to start talking though, you can’t stop. “I hurt my leg in weights and I tried to tell my coach that the trainer said I shouldn’t swim and that it hurts but he made me get in anyways because we have a meet coming up and told me I wasn’t doing good enough and I had to stay late to finish the set and my knee hurts so fucking much I can barely walk.” You don’t even have it in you to apologize for the swearing and Agatha doesn’t care either. 

She cups your tear-stained cheek, thumbing at it, and you meet her eyes with your watery ones. You’re a little surprised to see pure anger in them.

“That is not okay,” she says seriously. “He should be fired for doing that. He deliberately put you in a situation where you’re only going to be more injured and now look at you. This is unbelievable. I’m going to talk to the athletic director, someone needs to know about this.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, Professor, you really don’t have to, it’s not–” 

“It is a big deal,” she cuts you off firmly. “There need to be consequences. He fucking hurt you and he’s going to pay!” Your heart skips a beat at how protective she’s being and she seems to realize what she said because she immediately changes gears. “Do you need help?” 

It’s the first time anyone has asked you that all day. Even the trainer or your weight’s coach didn’t offer. It almost makes you start crying again. 

“Yes, please,” you say and she holds out your hands, pulling you up out of the chair. You put your hurt leg on the floor and buckle into Agatha’s arms. “M’ so sorry, oh my god,” you stammer as she’s practically holding you now. 

She uses her strength to get you standing straight again, and without saying anything, slings your backpack over her shoulder and puts her other arm under yours so she can act as a crutch for you. 

“I’m sorry about your coach,” she finally says as she’s working on steering you out of the building. 

You wince going down the steps and shrug. “He’s not a bad coach. Like his sets are good and stuff and I’ve gotten faster for him. Just not a great…person. Where are we going?” You’ve finally realized that she’s not helping you back to the dorms. 

“My car,” she says matter-of-factly. Your heart skips a beat and you crane your head to look up at her. She has a variety of emotions struggling on her face and you’ve never felt so taken care of. 

“Why did you park so far away?” You groan and she chuckles. It feels like you’ve been limping for a mile. Luckily, there’s not too many other people outside right now to see Agatha helping you like this, but you do find it oddly touching that she would risk her heartless reputation for you. 

At last, you get to the lot where the professors park and she basically drops you into the passenger seat, sliding into the driver’s side once she puts your bag in the back. 

“Thank you for helping me,” you say quietly once she’s reversing out of her spot. She pauses for a second to look at you, a new expression on her face that you’ve never seen before. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” 

Once again, she goes in an unfamiliar direction. Maybe she’s taking you to a doctor? 

Nope. 

You’re still confused, even when Agatha turns into a quaint suburban neighborhood, but you think you figure it out when she stops in front of a house. 

You turn to gape at your professor. “Is this yours?” She gives you a look that says obviously and then gets out of the car quickly so she can come get you out. She doesn’t grab your bag from the back but you don’t need it. She helps you hobble inside and brings you over to the couch so you can lay down on it. You swing the bad leg up and then the good one and she hands you a pillow to put under the hurting knee. 

The elevation helps a little and while Agatha walks out of the living room, your eyes close, head resting on the back of the couch. It feels like you have been drained of all your energy from weights, practice, and then your knee. 

You think you might doze off just a bit because you startle when you hear Agatha entering. She’s carrying a bag of ice in one hand and a plate with a sandwich and raspberries in the other. You scooch into an upright position and graciously accept the food, instantly taking a huge bite. You moan at the taste and then notice that Agatha is standing next to you, bag of ice in hand, looking at your sweatpant-clad legs. 

Her eyes dart to yours and then back down. “Do you think you can take these off?” She asks, tapping your leg and your cheeks turn almost as red as hers. 

“Um, oh, sure,” you answer, mouth full of food. You set the plate down on the coffee table and raise your hips so you can get your pants off. You refuse to look at her as you basically undress in front of her. 

And then you begin to struggle. You can bend one leg just fine, but you don’t even want to risk moving your right knee in the slightest. The problem is, you’re nowhere near flexible enough to take your pants off while keeping one leg straight. 

Thankfully, Agatha completely understands without you having to ask, saving you from that embarrassment. She reaches across your body and gently slides the sweatpants off your bad leg. And then your entire bottom half is naked except for your underwear. 

You know why you’re blushing, but why is Agatha? 

She clears her throat and arranges the bag of ice on your knee, but it won’t stay because your leg is slanted up on the pillow. 

“Um, can you…” she trails off like she’s trying to figure out how to word it. You also understand what she needs, so you move your left leg so it hangs off the couch and she can sit in-between your legs and hold the ice to your knee. 

“Are you okay?” You ask after the two of you have been sitting in silence for a little bit. It’s comfortable, but you can still see the outline of grimace on Agatha’s face. 

She sighs heavily and runs a hand through her hair. “It’s just hard,” she admits. “Seeing you in pain like this.” 

“Why?” You dare to ask, the question barely louder than a whisper. She looks at you and then back to the ice. 

“I care about you a lot,” she says, like it pains her. It feels like all the air has left your lungs. 

“I care about you, too,” you reply, hoping more than anything that she means it the same way as you. 

She shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts. “Is there anything else I can do to help?” 

“A kiss?” It’s meant to be a joke, like when your mom would kiss a paper cut or a scrap just to make it feel better. And then you inwardly kick yourself because you know you did not just ask stone-cold Agatha Harkness to kiss your knee. 

But she smirks and then you realize that you never specified which part of your body you wanted her to kiss. 

She leans in, hand grabbing onto the arm of the sofa next to you to hold herself up and she brushes her lips against yours. It’s barely anything, easily written off, but when she pulls back, her eyes are dilated. 

“Did that make your knee feel better?” She asks playfully. 

You pretend to think about it for a second and then you tilt your head. “You know what? It did. Better do it again so it helps even more.” 

This time, her tongue parts your lips and licks into your mouth. Her other hand slides under your shirt to feel your stomach and heat starts to course through you. You moan into her mouth and wrap your arms around her so pull her even closer. She shifts and accidentally bumps your knee and you hiss in pain. 

“Fuck, sorry!” She exclaims, jerking back like she was burned. 

“No, you’re okay,” you groan. “I just don’t know if this is the best way to do this.” You pout because you want to keep kissing her, you need to feel her. 

A sly smile spreads onto her face. “I know something else that might help.” You raise your eyebrows in question and inhale sharply as she carefully moves down your body so her head is right by your underwear. She toys with the waistband, checking to make sure it’s okay. You nod more eagerly than you ever have in your life. “If it hurts your knee, let me know.” 

“Okay,” you breathe and you shiver when she pulls your wet underwear to the side and the cold air hits your pussy. 

And then she lazily licks through your folds, swirling her tongue on your clit and your back arches off the couch. 

“Fuck,” you moan, one hand tangling in her hair and the other grabbing the side of the couch. She continues softly lapping at you, fingers digging into your hips to keep them still so you don’t accidentally hurt yourself by moving. Agatha takes her time tasting you, making a noise every and then that makes your head fall back. 

Your pleasure slowly builds from her hot, careful mouth on you, but Agatha doesn’t seem to mind. She alternates dipping her tongue into your pussy and then sucking your clit and back again. She gets more enthusiastic about it once she feels confident that she’s not hurting you and begins to be a little rougher. 

“I’m getting close, Agatha,” you whimper and it’s the first time you’ve ever called her by her first name. She must realize it too because she groans into your pussy and sucks hard on your clit, sending you over the edge. Sounds fall out of your mouth as you cum, hips trying but failing to buck against her tight grip to ride it out. 

“Is your knee okay?” is the first thing she asks when she stops licking at you. You laugh at the timing of the question. 

“Yes, it feels totally fine.” 

Agatha leans down to peck your lips. “Okay, good. Still, I’m going to make an appointment at my doctor this afternoon. I’ll take you.” 

Even though she just ate you out, this is the sexiest you’ve ever seen her. So caring, so protective. Your heart yearns for more of this woman. 

“You don’t have to do all that,” you protest though, not wanting to ask for more than she’s already given you. She waves her hand to shush you. 

“Nonsense. I’m going to take care of you because apparently no one else can. And I want to.”

You smile fondly at her and tug at hair to bring her in for a deeper kiss this time. “I want you to as well.” 

And she does.

[fookinhellcurly]

So last night, one of my fave music reactors on yt dropped a reaction of Right Now live in San Siro, and it was requested by his sister whom he hadn’t really been close with especially the past few years (they were when they were younger). It was out of nowhere when she messaged him, asking if he could do 1D reactions - so of course, he did because he felt it was time.

The whole time he was speaking about Liam in his intro, his was already in the verge of tears and I could feel the pain in his eyes and voice. He’s British and he’s been following the news about Liam since it broke out. I tried to not break down AND MIND YOU, he hasn’t even started the video yet. That Right Now live is arguably one if not the most emotional live performances of 1D for me. It was the perfect song to share with this reactor because he’s not afraid of showing his emotions.

When Liam sang his first solo lines, he straight up looked into the camera while holding back his tears and said “this is my first time hearing Liam sing” and it broke my heart. Throughout the entire video, my mind kept on thinking how beautiful the crowd was in that moment, how they were on top of the world, and how we got to show them how much we loved them so deeply - that we were by their side as they fought through the hardships in reaching their dreams.

And it killed me. Because I remember when the boys were talking about the end of it all; what if their peak was THAT exact time - them in that moment, being in the band, touring with their best mates and being in the height of their careers. Liam referenced Benjamin Button and said maybe they’re meant to do it backwards. That after the glory and the fame, they’re supposed to enjoy life and have families and kids. I’m so glad Li got to become a loving father, but it wasn’t supposed to be cut short and abruptly like this.

Bear was supposed to grow up hearing more stories about his dad when he was a younger and trying to make it as a singer. How he dreamt of becoming a fireman before realizing he has a shot of becoming a star. How he got to be a part of the greatest team this world has seen, sharing the stage with 4 other simple boys who were just like him, just trying to make it, and they did more than that - they are ETCHED IN HISTORY.

And Liam, our sweet Liam, he deserved more time in this world than what he got. He was supposed to release more music he’d been working so hard for to share with us. He was supposed to have his own moment and tour just like the rest of the boys do - those same tours he supported them with. He was supposed to reunite with his best friends and share the stage with them again when the time is right. He was supposed to grow old with us, find help and peace in time so he could heal, and recover from the cruelty of the world he’d faced. He was meant to be bigger than this.

And I wasn’t supposed to be writing down these heartbreaking thoughts so early in the day because it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Liam, love, I hope you know how much we love you. I hope you have finally found your peace.

It just… it wasn’t supposed to go this way. He was supposed to get the help he deserved and recover. They were supposed to eventually get back together and rob us all (happily, of course) blind of our life savings for their reunion tour tickets. I was supposed to be able to see him in person, bounding around stage, singing his harmonies and verses, doing mic flips, saying “sing it” and reading silly fan signs. He had so much more life left! He had so much more to do!

This isn’t fair! It isn’t right! This shouldn’t have happened! It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

[moonchild9350]

Back to you

Summary: in a world where everyone has a soulmate, you find yours in the least expected way.

Pairing: Felix x fab!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, sci fi au, slice of life au

Word Count: 8.8k

Warnings: time jumps, kissing lol, unprotected sex (don't), creampie, making love, dirty talk?, kinda an open ending

Notes: stuck in my sci fi era lol i had this idea for a while and decided to finish it recently. let me know what you think!

If you enjoyed, please consider a like, reblog, or comment as it keep me motivated.

Divider by @sweetmelodygraphics

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©️moonchild9350 (2024)

“We’re done!”

Two words, two little words. Who would have thought those two words would break Felix’s heart. He thought Xania was the one, after all she was supposed to be his soulmate.

Felix turned to walk down Xania’s stairs, taking each step slowly, one foot in front of the other. He scratched his blonde hair, messing up the little hairs that were pulled back into a ponytail. He had a frown on his face, as he contemplated where he went wrong.

Now, without Xania, he was back to square one. He needed to remedy this and fast before others found out. The world frowns upon a twenty five year old bachelor, especially in a world where people have a soulmate assigned to them since birth.

It’s the year 3050, and humanity has improved for the better, natural selection weeding out the weak. Aging is slower due to scientific advancement, where now every year the earth rotates around the sun, humans do not age as they did a century ago. Instead every five years, a human ages one year. In this case, Felix has been twenty-five for five years now. Next year on his birthday, he will finally be twenty six…and still without finding his soulmate.

Felix continues to walk down the street, muttering under his breath, conflicted on what to do next. He would have to go back to the company Soulmate and Co. and file a complaint against the lady who told him Xania was his soulmate. Deciding that this is what he’s going to do, he turns around and hails a hover car, giving the address of the building he needs.

The ride doesn’t take long as the car glides through the sky, bypassing other hover cars and buildings. Once there, he slips a coin into the pouch next to his seat and exits the car. He takes a moment to view the building in front of him, tilting his head back so he can take in the whole thing.

It seems to reach all the way to the sky, the glass reflecting the bright sun that is shining today.

He marches up the steps and through the double doors, walking past the seating area, which is filled with various other clients, some smiling while others are distraught, their heads in their hands. He continues to walk through the foyer, making his way to the front desk.

“The matchmakers please,” Felix tells the person behind the desk.

She nods at his request and signals for a guide to take him to his destination. He follows the lady, to an elevator with glass doors at the end of the hall. She beckons him to enter the glass container and presses a button labeled ‘level 50’ before stepping back with a smile.

The elevator ascends gracefully, gliding on the gears without a sound, the many floors passing by with a blur. A minute passes and then two until he finally reaches the floor he needs. The elevator doors open with a hiss and Felix exits, stepping outside of the box.

He looks left and right, before noticing a directory plastered on the wall straight ahead. He doesn’t give this a second glance, having been here before, but instead makes his way down the hall until he reaches a door with a placard on it identifying “Mavis, Matchmaker”

Felix pushes open the door and marches in, determination in his step. Mavis’s secretary looks up and smiles, waiting for him to approach the desk.

“How can I help you?” She asks pleasantly, ignoring the annoyed face Felix makes at her.

“I need to speak with Mavis,” Felix pauses for a moment before he decides to add, “now.”

The secretary eyes him, most likely deciding if he would be a threat. She must have ultimately decided he was ok because she smiled once more before pressing a button and announcing that he was here.

Felix only had to wait a brief moment when the door to the left opened, revealing a beautiful girl in the doorway. She had the signature insignia, signaling that she was a matchmaker plastered on her chest for all to see.

“Mr. Lee,” she said shocked, her eyes widened at the sight of him.

“Mavis, I need to speak with you.”

Mavis stepped out of the way, beckoning him into her office. Felix quickly walked over, sitting in one of the many chairs scattered throughout the small office.

“What can I do for you? If I remember correctly, you had found your soulmate? Why are you here?”

Felix looked at mavis incredulously. “Why am I here? Because xania broke up with me! She’s not my soulmate, which means you messed up!”

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He was furious, and how can he not be? Because of the matchmakers mistake, he’d be the laughing stock of his family, having to explain that he was told the wrong person was his soulmate.

Mavis looked at him, her eyes widened at the accusation. “Surely there was a mistake. Xania is your soulmate…the roster confirmed it,” she hurriedly said as she pulled up a database with her fingers.

She scanned the various documents, her hand moving this way and that as she looked up his profile. finding the page she needed, she stared at it for a moment, her eyes moving across the screen.

As she came to a certain area, her eyes widened and her mouth opened as she took a deep breath. Recovering quickly, she straightened up and looked at Felix.

“It seems there indeed was a mistake. I am so sorry Mr. Lee. Xania was not your soulmate.”

Felix stared at Mavis, fighting the urge to say something he would regret. Instead he said, “thank you, yes there has been a mistake. And now I need you to tell me who is my soulmate.”

Mavis hesitated, not sure what to say. “Well…I can but it’s complicated. It seems like your true soulmate is already bound to someone else…”

Bound to someone else? Shit. What is he to do now? His soulmate is galavanting with another person.

“So what do I do now?” Felix asked dejectedly, his head hanging down.

Mavis thought for a moment, considering the options. Typically there’s no way to go back and change the pathway of things, but she had pity on Felix. After all it was her mistake.

“There is a way…but mind you it’s very dangerous.”

Felix perked up, his ears intent on listening to what Mavis had to say. He’d do anything and he means anything to be with his proper soulmate.

“You can go back in time and find your soulmate, meet them, talk to them, convince them they’re your soulmate. Rewrite the story. You’ll have to time travel, but we can get you there. Five spins around the sun should do it.”

Time travel? Felix didn’t even know such a thing existed, but then again, he shouldn’t be shocked.

“Ok, I’ll do it,” Felix said with determination.

Mavis nodded, pleased with Felix’s answer. She pressed a button on her desk, before speaking softly, “please send a device member to my office.”

She released the button and smiled as she placed her hands on her desk. Felix shifted awkwardly in his seat, unsure of where to look or what to say as Mavis was silent. He decided to look at the files on her shelf, his eyes roaming over script he couldn’t understand.

He looked with interest until the door opened suddenly, causing him to jump slightly in his seat.

“Ah, come in please. Have a seat. “ Mavis said as a shy looking girl in blue scrubs walked in.

She looked curiously at Felix, taking him in. She carefully sat in the chair next to him and looked at Mavis, waiting for instruction.

“Melody, this here is Mr. Lee. Due to some unfortunate circumstances, he needs to go back to the past, specifically five years ago. Can you escort him to the vault and assist him please?”

Melody nodded, a soft smile spreading on her face. “Most certainly.”

Mavis smiled, “great! Well off you both go! Good luck Mr. Lee!”

She swiveled away, her back to Felix and melody. Felix got up as his escort got up and followed her out of the office. They walked through narrow hallways, went down flights of stairs, the walk seeming to go on forever until stopping at a large metal door.

Felix watched as she placed her palm on a scanner, the laser reading her dna ensuring her identity matched who she said she was. A soft beep rang in the otherwise empty corridor, the door springing open slightly.

Melody stepped in between the crack, Felix following right behind her. The door shut with a finite click, locking them within the room.

As Felix faced forward, the lights within the room turned on, illuminating the area with soft light. He scanned the room nothing seeming of interest until his eyes landed on the machine in the center of the room.

It had glass walls, just like everything in the building, a small panel just to the left of the door. Melody walked over to a switch on the wall and lifted it, a soft humming sound present within the room as things powered up.

She went to the panel and started pressing button after button, most likely setting the time frame for which he has to go back. After a while, she turned to face him.

“Mr. Lee, please step within the box.”

Felix cautiosouly walked to the glass box and stepped inside. Despite the walls being made of glass, he couldn’t help but feel a little claustrophobic, the walls closing in on him.

He jumped at the sound of static, melody’s voice echoing in the small chamber.

“I will transport you back to five years ago. You will still be twenty five. Complete your mission but know you only have one year to complete your task, whether you are successful or not. Once you are done, you’ll know what to do in order to get back.”

Felix was nervous, his heart rapidly beating so hard within his chest, he felt as if it would jump out any moment. He wiped the thin sheen of sweat that had formed on his forehead as he stared at Melody through the glass wall.

She gave a thumbs up and smiled before pressing a green button. The humming noise slowly intensified, until there was a buzzing sound echoing in his ear.

The air in front of him started to ripple, the atoms slowly manipulating themselves to transport him to a different time and place.

As his surroundings started to fade and become unrecognizable, he felt a tingle on his skin, almost as if he was being touched with a million needles. The feeling intensified until his belly started to churn, nausea taking over as the air became harder to breathe.

There was a flash of white light and just when he thought he would pass out from the sensation within the room, there was quiet and stillness…but only for a moment.

The air expanded, his breath caught off until…. -- -- It was a clear night, the sky black, the stars twinkling and the moon bright. There was barely any wind blowing, but the trees swayed nonetheless, providing a refreshing breeze on this summer night.

You were laying on a blanket in your backyard, star gazing, enjoying your night off. The night was silent, that is until you heard a low buzz, traveling from one ear to the other.

You dismissed the sound until the buzz got louder, almost deafening. Sitting upright, you looked around, searching for the source of the annoying sound.

You were about to give up after not seeing anything when the space in front of you shifted, a small hole opening up in the night air.

You stared horrified, unable to move as the hole got bigger, and a bright light appeared within the space.

You let out a scream as a man fell from the hole, his arms outstretched as he tumbled through, landing directly on top of you, causing you to fall backwards.

You let out a huff as your head lightly bounced on the soft grass, your eyes wide as you stared at the man who came from nowhere.

He laid there dazed, his eyes trying to focus as he attempted to breathe. You took him in, eyeing his features of dazzling brown eyes that seemed to shine even at night, millions of freckles littering his face like the stars of the night sky, and small, plush heart shaped lips.

This man was beautiful, that you couldn’t deny. An angel for sure sent from heaven. However, that thought dashed from your head as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry!” The man said as he scrambled to get off of you, grunting as he fell over in the process.

“Ahh!” You exclaimed, scooting over to him to help him up. “Are you alright?”

He looked at you, his eyes taking you in before he blushed and looked down.

“I’m ok,” he replied softly. “I’m sorry, I um…I think…actually, I have no clue what happened…or if I’m even in the correct place.”

You chuckled as the man stuttered through his explanation, as he clearly had no clue what was going on.

“How about we start with your name?” You suggested, sitting next to him.

“Name. Right. Yeah. Ummm…I’m Felix,” he said as continued to stare at the ground.

“Well, Felix, I’m y/n.”

'Y/n,’ Felix thought, ‘such a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.’ When you said your name, he felt his heart flutter and a warm sensation spread through him, which was contrary to how he felt not even five minutes ago.

He was in the right place. He’s not sure how he knew, he just felt that it felt right deep within.

Felix returned his gaze to you, taking in your calm demeanor, despite just seeing him come out of a black hole essentially. His eyes roamed your face, your eyes trained on him in concern, your lips slightly parted.

He felt his heart race as he continued to stare at you remembering how you felt underneath him, so soft and perfect.

Felix shook his head, coming back to the time at hand. He looked around the yard, taking in the little oasis you had created. There were fairy lights illuminating the space, the lights twinkling in the night air in such a way it almost seemed magical.

In the corner was a hot tub, the steam rising in the air beckoning whoever was near to relax within its waters. He looked down at the ground in which both of you were sitting, taking in the blanket and pillows you had set up.

“Looks like I interrupted you…I’m sorry,” Felix said softly.

“It’s ok,” you said with a smile. You let a moment pass before opening your mouth once more, curiosity getting the best of you.

“So um…time travel?” You said gesturing to the air in which Felix fell from.

You wondered where he came from and most importantly why, especially why he landed within your yard.

“Uh yeah, I’m from the future on a mission,” Felix replied, as his hand ran through his blond locks.

“Ahh the future. What’s your mission?”

Felix hesitated unsure if he should tell you the reason why’s he here. He decided against it, wanting to get a feel first before diving in. He has a year after all, why rush it.

“I can’t tell you that unfortunately,” Felix said apologetically.

You hummed and brushed his statement away, leaving it at that. You knew he would tell you when he’s ready, if at all.

“Well, it’s late and you probably have no where to stay, so you can crash here while you work on your mission if you’d like,” you said as you got up and dusted the dirt from your shorts.

Felix stared at you in shock, surprised you would offer your home to someone you didn’t know so readily.

“Oh..ok, yeah…sure thanks!”

Felix got up as well, reaching down to help you fold the blanket you were sitting on. He followed you to your door, curiosity plastered on his face as you opened the door and stepped into your home.

He was taken aback, the space feeling so…homey. It was decked out in lights, their glow illuminating the space with soft light, making it more intimate. The space radiated a floral scent, one that was intense but surprisingly was not overwhelming in the small space.

Your home was just so…you.

The thought made Felix chuckle in delight.

“Well it’s not much, but this is my home,” you said, gesturing to the small space.

“I like it, it’s very comfortable,” Felix said in earnest.

You smiled and nodded, happy that he liked your little space. You bustled around, making your way to the kitchen.

“Tea?” You asked as your hands started dancing through the air, shifting through the options you had in your inventory.

“Sure,” Felix said watching as you selected an option, the kettle appearing from thin air onto the stove.

You turned the heat on, the flames licking the bottom of the kettle immediately. Felix watched silently as you bustled around the kitchen, humming a little song as you prepared snacks.

The kettle whistled, the shrill sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. You grabbed two mugs and poured the tea before carefully carrying them to the couch. You gave Felix his, and then brought the snacks over.

Sitting down, you looked at the man next to you. He seemed nervous, his fingers drumming on the cup. Your eyes roamed his body, taking in his little frame, his baby face. He really was cute you’d have to say.

Felix looked up at you suddenly, his eyes meeting yours. You smiled reassuringly, hoping he’d understand he can be himself.

It didnt take long for Felix to open up, his bubbly personality shining through. You listened to him talk about his life in the future, his job where he helps others figure out what they want to do with their lives.

He talks about his friends, how close they are and how they’ve saved him more times than he can count. He even mentioned how he thought he found his soulmate, but apparently it was a mistake, one that is rarely made.

You eyed him, noticing that something was off when he mentioned his soulmate. You couldn’t place a finger to it but decided to leave it, knowing he’ll tell you the details when he’s ready.

The night passed in conversation, you feeling at home with Felix which was odd since you’ve just met him. You looked at the clock and noticed how late it was.

“Shit,” you muttered, “I need to get to bed. I work tomorrow.”

Felix nodded and helped you clean up. He knew the night would have to end eventually but he’s sad it did so soon.

“You can have the couch,” you said as you started making a makeshift bed.

Felix stood in the corner watching as you finished his bed and then went to your closet grabbing a shirt. He took it from your hands gratefully.

“Sorry, it’s the biggest I have,” you said sheepishly.

“It’s ok, thanks.”

You nodded, happy he didn’t mind the clothes. “Well I’m going to grab a shower, make yourself at home.”

Felix watched as you grabbed some clothes and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door softly. He heard the shower start, the sound of water hitting the wall.

He sat down on the couch, his eyes roaming around the room. He can’t wait to shower you with love, take care of you, after all you’re his soulmate whether you’ve realized it or not.

-- --

The next morning, you awakened to the smell of bacon, the scent permeating your home. Your belly growled, signaling you to feed it which made you chuckle.

You stretched and stood up before padding to the kitchen. The sight of Felix at the stove cooking made your heart swell, a smile gracing your face. You stood in the corner and watched him, watching as he tried to finish the meal.

He was struggling a little bit but trying nonetheless, little curses falling from his mouth. Turning around he noticed you, causing him to drop the spoon he was holding.

You chuckled at his clumsiness, bending down to pick up the utensil.

Felix was startled at the sight of you, his cheeks instantly reddening. There you stood in your little sleep shirt and shorts, leaving nothing to the imagination. He could see your tits, your nipples hardened and poking through the silk. His eyes wandered down to your ass, so round and plush within the little shorts.

He looked away in embarrassment as you stood up, spoon in hand. He took it from your hand and went back to finishing up breakfast.

You sat down and waited, your chin in your hand. This was nice, a man cooking for you. A cute one at that. Felix walked over with your plate in hand, setting it down in front of you.

“Bon appetite!” He said, bowing slightly.

You giggled and picked up your fork to dig in. The first bite was…interesting so to say, the taste strong mixed with…

“Umm, Felix? Did you use salt in this?”

Felix looked up at you, his eyes wide. “Yeah, I did. Is it too much?”

You shook your head yes, shyly looking down.

Felix put down his fork and bowed his head. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’ll get better I promise. I just wanted to fix something for you after you took me in.”

Now you felt bad, your heart falling at the sight of the little pout that formed on his face. He did work hard to prepare this for you, waking up way before you to do so.

“It’s ok, it’s still good. Let’s dig in ok?”

Felix smiled at your attempt to reconcile, picking up his fork once more. You both ate, enjoying each others company.

It’s been awhile since you’ve had anyone else in the house with you, since you opted to live alone. So it was weird to share such an intimate meal with someone else and a stranger at that.

After eating, you sat back, content that your belly was full.

“Thanks for breakfast Felix. I have to get ready for work now. You can make yourself at home though.”

Felix smiled, happy you enjoyed his meal. He watched as you got up and padded away to your closet, your hips swaying with each step.

He got up and started clearing away the dishes, falling into the routine of cleaning. He had everything planned out, and would start his mission once you left for work.

Felix startled as you came up behind him, now fully dressed with your work uniform, your hair nicely done and your makeup complete to perfection

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I’m leaving now. If you need anything while I’m gone just call. Here I’ll send you my phone number.”

Felix watched as you scrolled through your book, punching in your number and swiping your finger away sending it to his contact list. He pulled it up, staring at the digital screen in front of him. He saved your number, smiling at the name you gave yourself.

He walked to the door with you, standing aways back as you slipped into your shoes. He wished you a good day at work, watching as you softly shut the door behind you.

Felix stood there for a moment more before turning to go back into your home, ready to set his plan in action.

Day after day, week after week, month after month, Felix doted on you. He made your meals, helped around the house, he did anything you wanted him to do.

You had game nights, movie nights, crafting nights. Any type of activity he could do while spending time with you, he did it.

Felix loved spending time with you too. He learned your habits, how you immediately went to the snack cabinet after work. How you liked your baths, the bubbles not too high, the water hot, and with a glass of wine.

He learned that you didn’t like scary movies, remembering how you locked yourself in the bathroom after a scene, refusing to come out until he coaxed you out with the promise of cuddles.

That was on the agenda tonight, a movie and cuddles. You snuggled in within Felix’s arms, your head on his chest as his arms wrapped around your body protectively.

You were growing to love these quiet moments, just the two of you in a room illuminated with fairy lights. There was a storm brewing outside, the sound of the wind rattling the windowpane. Fall has rolled in into your little town, therefore, it has rained almost everyday, blanketing the world with the little drops falling from the sky.

However, you didn’t mind, being safe and warm within his arms. You nuzzled in, your head rubbing on his chest, causing Felix to look down at you.

“That tickles,” Felix chuckled, squeezing your arm.

“Mm sorry,” you sighed as you repeated your action.

Felix chuckled and returned his attention to the screen. You listened to his heart beating loudly beneath your ear, the rhythm increasing with each passing second.

You smiled at the fact, your eyes traveling back to the movie Felix had picked out to watch. You both went back to watching the movie, the end nearing.

Once the closing scene played, Felix started to shift, causing your head to move. You let out a whine, disgruntled at the fact your pillow was moving.

You slowly got up, your hair disheveled. Felix began laughing, his voice filling your small space as he clutched his stomach. You pouted and swatted at him, crossing your arms in defiance.

Felix wiped the tears from his eyes and pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around your body tightly. He squeezed and rocked you back and forth, ignoring your giggles and protests to let you go.

You felt your heart flutter, the cute but intimate moment making your cheeks flush with a hint of red.

Felix continued to rock you, his breath hot in your ear as he laughed. You know how to make him stop. With renewed vigor, you grabbed his shoulder and bit down lightly, your teeth sinking into his soft skin.

Felix yelped and scooted back, his eyes wide as he looked between you and his shoulder.

“You bit me!” He accused, as he chuckled.

You shrugged and giggled, getting up from the couch. You were tired and ready to go to bed. Felix watched as you went through your bedtime routine, his eyes following you with every step you took, forgetting about the slight sting on his shoulder.

Occasionally, you’d stop and strike a funny pose, giggling as Felix laughed at your antics. Eventually Felix got up and started getting his bed ready, as you finished up in the bathroom.

You settled into bed and watched as Felix finished his routine. You chuckled as Felix rushed to his bed, complaining that he was cold. He settled in quickly before sitting up and looking your way.

“Night y/n!”

“Night Felix,” you said blowing him a kiss.

You let out a giggle as Felix quickly laid down and covered himself with his blanket as he let out a little squeak. You turned out the light and settled in, closing your eyes to sleep.

The rain was pelting the windows, the sound calming in the dark. You snuggled in, preparing to sleep when a loud crack of thunder rang out, causing the house to vibrate.

Did you hear a scream? Your eyes snapped open as you strained your ears, listening for the sound again.

Time passed and the rain continued to fall. You were about to close your eyes once more when you heard a soft whisper within the room.

“Y/n?” Felix whispered, listening for your response.

When you didn’t say anything, he repeated his question, calling out to you softly yet a little more loud.

“Yes?” You responded, sitting up within your blankets.

“Can I sleep with you? I’m um…I don’t really like thunderstorms…”

You could hear the panic in his voice, his voice cracking as he said the last word.

“Of course, come here Lix,” you softly said, pulling back your covers for him to join you.

You felt the bed dip and Felix shuffle beneath the covers, scooting as close as he could to you. You wrapped your arms around him, cradling his head to you as if to comfort him.

Felix was shaking in your arms, his face tucked into your chest. He was embarrassed. How could he be your soulmate, the person who’s supposed to love and protect you, if he’s scared of a measly thunderstorm?

He closed his eyes and breathed you in, your scent calming him despite the storm outside. Eventually he lifted his head up and looked you in the eyes.

You stared back at him, holding his gaze as you held him close.

“Thank you,” Felix whispered, his lip turning upwards as if to smile.

“Of course,” you whispered back, as you slowly stroked his back.

You both laid there, listening to the rain and gazing into each others eyes. You were glad it was dark, that way Felix couldn’t see the crimson that littered your cheeks.

The air was charged with want, the need to be close to each other palpable. Felix shuffled closer until his lips were inches away from yours.

You could feel his nose on yours, his ragged breath on your lips as he held onto you. Your heart was beating rapidly, as nerves took over, your palms sweaty as you gripped Felix’s shirt.

“Y/n,” Felix whispered before closing the gap between you, his soft lips pressing gently to yours.

He held them there for a moment more before breaking away, a shaky breath leaving his lips.

“Felix,” you whispered as you connected your lips again, wanting to feel his lips on yours again.

the rain pelted the windows, the thunder rang out, and the lighting illuminates the two of you, tucked away within your blankets, bodies pressed against each other as you lazily pressed your lips together.

The moment was soft, gentle, intimate, as if this moment was meant to be.

And in Felix’s mind, it was, without a doubt fate.

After the eventful night embraced in each others arms, kissing the night away, your relationship turned for the better.

Felix was ecstatic as he felt closer to his goal than ever. He was holding your hand, swinging it back and forth as you both walked home from a day of shopping.

He took the opportunity to spoil you, buying you whatever you wanted. He found himself smiling whenever you would thank him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I spy something blue!” You exclaimed, squeezing his hand in yours.

Felix’s eyes roamed the street, looking for whatever had caught your eye. Spotting a blue car, his grinned sure he got it this time.

“That blue car there,” he said as he pointed at the vessel.

“Ugh how are you so good at this?” You whined, pouting at the fact that he got another guess right.

Felix shrugged and chuckled. He pulled you along in the direction of your home, wanting to get back as soon as possible.

A few minutes later, you arrived at your home. Felix pressed his finger against the scanner on the door, the box emitting a tune signaling it accepted his fingerprint. You both tumbled into your home, laughing at the joke you had just made.

Felix dropped the bags he was holding and pulled you in for a kiss, swallowing your shriek of surprise. You relaxed instantly in his embrace, matching his pace as he moved his lips with yours.

He pulled away for a moment before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips again and again until you were giggling, your face warm, and heart fluttering at his affection.

“Such a sweet sound,” Felix cooed as he pressed another kiss to your lips.

“Come on, let’s get the snacks ready! I’m ready to have a nice soak!”

You both decided to have a relaxing night in your hot tub, the weather not too cold or hot. You began cutting up various fruits and veggies, as Felix gathered some sweets.

“Make sure to get my favorite cookies!” You reminded him as he piled the plate high with a bunch of his homemade brownies.

“Right,” Felix said as he snapped his fingers, hurriedly searching through the inventory for your favorite chocolate cookies.

You chuckled and began plating the food you just cut up. Satisfied with your work, you walked to your closet, reaching in to pull out your swim suit.

You let out a shriek as Felix wrapped his arms around you and peppered wet kisses on your neck, mumbling at how beautiful you were.

You giggled as you attempted to get away, but to no avail as his hold on you was iron tight.

Felix spun you around before crashing his lips to yours, kissing you passionately as he moaned. You let out a whimper as he nipped at your lip, your core dripping with arousal as you clutched onto his shirt.

But, what were you doing? You both really shouldn’t be doing…whatever this is.

You pulled away suddenly, ignoring the look of shock on Felix’s face. You grabbed your swimsuit and made your way to the bathroom, letting Felix know you’d meet him outside.

Felix stood rooted in place confused, wondering what he did wrong. He always kisses you like this, shows you this type of affection ever since that night of the storm.

Typically you didn’t mind, fully embracing his kisses, cuddles, and teasing. What made you pull back like that?

Felix slowly turned around and began to change, slipping on his swim trunks and tossing his shirt to the side. He went outside and made his way to the hot tub, his mind preoccupied with what just happened.

He lowered himself in the warm water, sighing as he felt his muscles loosen. Shortly after he got in, you came out, slowly making your way to the hot tub.

Felix tried not to ogle at you, at your curves that were accentuated in the swim suit that barely covered anything. He felt his self blush and his cock twitch.

He needed to calm down and not ruin this night. He took a few deep breaths as he closed his eyes, opening them a few moments later feeling renewed.

You placed the snacks down before getting in and sitting next to Felix.

You both sat there in silence, looking anywhere but at each other. Felix traced the bubbles that popped up in the water, his fingers drifting closer to you.

The tension was thick, palpable in the night air. You tried to focus on the bubbles, the way the warm water enveloped your body, but all you could think of was Felix.

Felix with his bubbly self. Felix and how he takes care of you, cooking, cleaning, treating you as if you are the only woman in the world. Felix with his blonde hair that you love to run your fingers through. Felix with the smile that makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, your stomach doing flips as he looks at you.

Felix. Felix. Felix. That’s all your life has become since you’ve met him. Normally you wouldn’t care but you realized you were developing feelings for him, which was playing with fire.

You had a soulmate out there and so did Felix and here you both were playing house. You felt the tears form, threatening to spill over any moment as you continued to think of him.

You couldn’t do this. Excusing yourself, you got out of the water and walked back to the house. Felix stared after you, his lower lip trembling.

He’s messed up, big time. You can’t even look at him. He stayed a little longer, his mind racing over the last few months and how things were.

He remembers your sweet smile as he cooks yet another amazing meal for you. He remembers your giggles as he spun you around the room, dancing to the slow song on the radio. He remembers your sweet face as he rained kisses down your face and neck, the sweet sounds you’d make as he nipped at your skin.

Things were perfect and he blew it. Wiping the stray tears that had fallen, he gets up and gathers the untouched plates and carries them to the house.

You left the lights on for him, but you yourself were asleep, buried underneath your layers of blankets. He tidied up as quietly as he could and then changed.

He figured you would want your space tonight, so he made his bed on the couch, somewhere he hasn’t slept in ages. As he lays down and looks at the ceiling, his heart breaks once more, this time because of his own stupidity.

He has to fix this, make things right. And he needs to do it soon.

Things between you two did not improve. It was the middle of spring with the flowers blooming and most days the rain fell from the sky blanketing the world with a chill that went to the bone.

Felix still resided with you, still made your meals, made sure you had everything you needed. He gave you your space, too scared to approach you and here you tell him to leave for good.

You worked long hours, opting to stay at the office then be with Felix in your small house. You figured if he was out of sight, he couldn’t plague you with his puppy dog eyes and sweet pouts as he doted on you.

However, that came to an end when Felix pleaded for you to come back at a decent hour and let him cook for you. You wanted to say no, but then he looked at you with wide eyes, his pink lips in a pout.

As you stared at him, you caved agreeing to his dinner. You tried not to break the facade as he grinned, his eyes sparkling at your acceptance.

You left for work as usual, your mind preoccupied with the little night he had planned for you two. You were nervous, not having spent a night alone with him since…well since that one fated fall night.

You willed the day to go slowly, but of course that was not the case, the end of your shift approaching rather quickly.

To make matters worse, your boss let you off early, thinking they were doing you a service to get your weekend started early.

Grabbing your bags, you made your way home, opting to walk instead of riding in a hover car. Approaching your door, you placed your finger on the scanner, the pad turning green.

You stepped in your apartment, taking in the scent of something delicious being cooked in the kitchen. You kicked off your shoes and padded into the kitchen, watching as Felix scampered around the space, adding finishing touches to the meal.

It took him a while to notice you but once he did he yelped, startled at your presence.

“Y/n!” Felix said as he rushed to your side.

“Welcome home!” He said as he grasped your hand, ushering you to the kitchen. “Sit, sit.”

You sat down and waited as he dished up dinner. You had to admit everything smelled and looked amazing. Felix dished his plate and the sat down.

“Well let’s dig in!” Felix exclaimed as he picked up his fork.

You forked some of the pasta into your mouth, your eyes rolling back at the flavors as they burst on your tongue. You recovered quickly as you continued to shovel food into your mouth. How could you be mad at this man when he cooks like this?

Felix watched from the corner of his eyes, pleased that you enjoyed his meal. He needed tonight to go well. He would reveal it all to you, his purpose, his reason.

Halfway through the meal, he decided to begin, thinking it was as good a time as ever.

“Y/n, can we talk?”

You put your fork down and looked at Felix. Here we go, you thought.

“I want to explain to you why I’m here.” Felix took a deep breath before continuing on. “I’m from the future and if you remembered, my soulmate was actually not mines but someone else’s. The matchmakers proposed I go back in time to find my true soulmate, to start over almost. To find…you.”

Silence rang out through the space, neither of you saying a word.

Felix was your soulmate? Felix is your…

Maybe that’s why it just always felt good, felt right with him. Why you always trusted him.

Felix is your soulmate.

You felt your heart beat, your cheeks flush, as you fumbled with your fingers. You didn’t dare look at Felix, ashamed at how you’ve treated him over the last few months.

Shit. What a mess this is.

“Y/n?” Felix inquired cautiously.

“Sorry. I was just processing everything.”

You truly were, your brain trying to wrap around the fact that you found your soulmate.

“I’m sorry. I just felt like you should know. The timing felt right.”

You nodded agreeing. You got up and started clearing the dishes, your mind reeling with his words. Felix helped you, working silently along you.

After you set the dishes down, you turned and almost bumped into him. You muttered an apology and cautiously looked him in the eye.

Felix stared back at you, his lips parted. You watched as a strand of his hair fell in his face. His beautiful, perfect face. You stood still as he came closer, until he wrapped his arms around your waist.

You both stood there in your kitchen, gazing into each other’s eyes, taking in every detail, of the need and lust hidden behind the orbs.

You held your breath as Felix leaned forward to connect his lips to yours, the feeling so familiar, as if he was welcoming you home.

Your lips moved together softly, gently, neither one of you in a rush. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers teasing the hairs there as he deepened the kiss.

Felix moaned as his tongue met yours, the two appendages tangling together in a passionate dance. He needed more of you. He trailed his hands down your waist, your thighs, tapping the flesh to signal you to jump.

You caught on and jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist. Felix walked you to your bed, his lips on yours whenever he got the chance.

Right as he got to your bedroom, he tripped over his feet, dropping you in the process. You landed on your back, shocked as Felix tumbled onto the floor.

“Oh my god! Are you ok?” You asked, scrambling to peer over the edge of the bed.

“I’m fine,” Felix responded, his face red in embarrassment.

You chuckled, not believing that just happened. Felix looked at you in shock, his embarrassment increasing so much so his ears turned red.

“Oh come here,” you giggled pulling him on top of you.

You crashed your lips on his, smiling as he immediately reciprocated. You lost yourself in his kisses as his hands wandered your body, trailing his fingertips along your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake.

Felix moaned as he cupped your breasts, massaging the flesh gently. He could feel his cock swell, straining against the fabric of his boxers. He ground his hips into yours, his bulge nudging your clothed core.

You whimpered at the feel of him, canting your hips up into his, silently begging for more. Felix leaned back and shucked his shirt and sweats off and made his way to you, helping you rid yourself of your clothes.

You laid bare before him, your chest heaving as you panted, your slick leaking out of your pussy.

Felix gazed down at your body, feeling like he was in heaven.

“So beautiful and all mine,” he whispered as he parted your legs to slot himself between them.

He connected his lips to yours once more as he grasped his cock, running it through your folds. You were so wet, your slick coated his length as he teased you over and over.

“Please Lix,” you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You let out a groan as he slowly pushed in, his cock sending shocks of pain through your core as he stretched you open. You whimpered as he continued to push in, slowly, gently until he was completely inside you, his cock sheathed snuggly in your warm walls.

“Are you ok?” Felix asked, concern laced in his eyes.

You nodded and swiveled your hips, silently begging him to move. Felix grinned before pulling out just to push back in right. Over and over and thrusted into you, the pain transitioning to pleasure as he fucked you.

He watched you with every thrust, not wanting to miss your moans, your little pants, the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he hit your sweet spot over and over.

“Taking me so well love. God I love you y/n.” Felix groaned as he snapped his hips into yours.

He wasn’t going to last long, not with how you clenched around him, how you whispered his name. He reached down to thumb at your clit, grinning as you let out a squeal at the added pleasure.

“That’s it love, feels good doesn’t it?” Felix teased as he circled the bud, adding more pressure as he dragged his cock within your walls.

You looked up at Felix, how flushed he looked above you as he fucked you, as your walls took him like you were made for him. You felt more arousal gush out of you as you remembered you were made for him.

You were his. He was yours.

And as your mind flooded with that thought, the way his finger thumbed your clit, at how he fucked you just right, your orgasm washed over you causing you to let out a straggled moan.

Your walls clenched around him rhythmically as you came, driving him insane. Felix let out a growl as he stilled his hips against yours, his cum flooding your walls.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, mumbling “you're mine,” again and again.

“I’m yours,” you breathed out as you came down within your lovers arms.

The days passed into summer, each day a treat with Felix by your side. You both have found each other and that was something to celebrate on a daily basis.

Felix showered you with love, waking you up with kisses as he slid between your thighs, making love to you as the sun rose in the sky, bathing you both with its warm light.

He made sure you were well fed, that you wanted for nothing. He peppered you with kisses whenever he could, loving how you would giggle as he kissed your nose, your cheeks, your lips, your neck.

Life was good which is something you haven’t been able to say in a long time. — — You both sat in bed one morning, tangled in each others embrace. As you slid your fingers through his hair, you hummed a little song, happy and content.

Felix lifted his head up and smiled. “What has my love so happy this morning?”

“Hmm maybe you,” you chuckled as you pulled him close.

“Now why is that I wonder,” he teased as he pressed a kiss to your lips and pushed his cock within you.

“Ah Felix!” You groaned as he rocked his hips into yours, slow and gentle as the wind gently blew through your open window.

Felix buried his head in your neck as he brought both of you to your highs, your fingers playing with his hair.

“Y/n, this pussy, your sweet pussy.” Felix moaned as your pussy clenched around him.

“You’re mine!” He growled as he bite into the side of your neck, soothing the area with his tongue afterwards.

“I’m yours!” You whimpered as you came, wrapping your legs around him.

Felix’s hips stuttered as he reached his climax, his seed painting your walls white in the early morning hours.

He collapsed on top of you, steadying his breath as he came down. You both laid there in silence, basking in each other’s afterglow.

“So what happens now?” You asked breaking the silence. “Do I come back with you? To the future?”

Felix thought for a moment. Deep down he knew what he had to do, but he didn’t want to leave you. What if it doesn’t work and he doesn’t see you again in the future?

No, he wasn’t going to take that chance. He would bring you with him.

“Come with me. We can go back together.”

You considered his words for a moment. You didn’t want to part with him, so going with him seemed like the best option.

“Hmmm ok,” you agreed.

“Let’s get dressed and we can go back to the agency and see what we can do.”

You agreed and got up with him. You both showered and got dressed quickly, not wanting to waste any more time.

Felix hailed a hover car and you both got in, directing the driver to go to the agency. Once there, Felix ushered you quickly to the matchmaker’s office, hoping to see Mavis.

He grinned when he saw her, running up to the woman and accidentally startling her.

“Mr. Lee! What are you doing here?”

“I was successful Mavis! I found my soulmate. We’re ready to go back!”

Mavis looked over his shoulder and saw you standing a ways back, swaying back and forth slightly.

“Ah, I can see that,” Mavis said with approval. “Come with me.”

She led both of you to the room Felix was in before, the Time Machine familiar this time around.

“Alright, get in,” Mavis said gesturing towards the glass box.

Felix grabbed your hand and pulled you into the box. Once settled, Felix gave Mavis the thumbs up, signaling you both were ready.

Mavis nodded and pressed a few more buttons, the buzzing sound Felix remembered from last time intensifying.

Felix turned to you and pressed a kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” you gushed as you squeezed his hand.

The air began to ripple, the room began to disintegrate. The air became thin, both of you gasping for breath as a pain hit your stomachs.

Felix closed his eyes briefly as he felt a stabbing pain in his chest. He squeezed your hand in earnest, hoping it would be over soon.

However, time passed and the feeling remained.

Something wasn’t right.

Felix opened his eyes and stared ahead in horror as his eyes took in the vast emptiness. You were still with him, gripping his hand as tight as you could, your face laced with pain.

“Y/n!” He said, wrapping you in his arms.

Felix looked around. You were both in an empty space, nothing was around. No people, no buildings, no trees. Nothing.

He felt like he was going to throw up, the pain in his chest slowly dissipating, but not fast enough.

You both sank to your knees, kneeling on air, clutching each other.

How is this possible? Where are you? Was there a malfunction with the machine?

Felix screamed for help, pleading, begging for anyone to help him. To help you.

But to his horror, no one came to the rescue, both of you trapped in some type of glitch.

Felix held you in his arms, glancing at your beautiful face. At least he had you, his soulmate.

That’s why he went back into he past in the first place right?

To find his soulmate and here you were with him, in his arms.

His soulmate, someone he can love for eternity and you both had eternity now locked in whatever place you were in.

He brushed your hair away from your face, and gazed into your beautiful brown eyes and whispered

“I love you.”

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground

[xetlynn]

Arcane Imagines- Vander

It’s Quiet

⚠️WARNING🔞: SMUTTTT IF THERE WAS EVER SMUT

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: it’s grown so quiet since the kids have grown… (not requested, did this at my own free will. Also happy universe WITH VI because I can do that.)

Containing: thigh riding, multiple orgasms, fem!receiving oral, male!receiving oral, hike position, voyeurism, exhibitionism, praise, slight degradation.

“And that’s the last drunk of the evening.” You wipe your hands together after slamming down your rag on one of the tables you had just finished cleaning, going over to the door to turn the open sign to closed. Vander chuckles, cheering as he washes the last few glasses. You go behind the counter to join him in wiping everything down since it gets pretty sticky especially behind the bar. 

“Gosh it’s been so busy these last few days.” You huff, putting your body into the scrubbing. Feeling all the sweat that drenched your back, neck and face. You felt disgusting to say the least. “Mm yeah but think about that early retirement.” He jokes causing you to laugh in response. “So true!” You perk up, glancing behind you, his eyes already locking with yours. 

He places his glass down and scrummages over to you. His hands snaked around your waist. “You’re so beautiful.” He kisses the back of your head. You would normally lean into his touch but the sweat that enveloped all over you. You swiftly move away from him by turning around and taking his arms off of you. “I feel gross, babe.” You shake your head at his intentions.

“How come? You look ravishing.” His eyes darken along with his voice that laced with lust. “I’m so sweaty.” You whine, walking out from the bar to sit on one of the stools. “I feel like I just got dragged through mud.” You muster out, finally getting to sit down for the first time in 12 hours that day. 

“You’d still be the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on covered in dirt head to toe.” He leans over the bar as you scoff, rolling your eyes at his cheesy choice of words. “It’s the truth.” He puts his hands up in defense. You sigh. “I would like a shower first.” You mumble. 

He observes you as your eyes wander around the building seeing if there was anything else for you to do before the both of you chose to go home. “It’s so quiet in here.” You suddenly mention the lack of noise. “Well it’s just the two of us in here.” He shrugs his shoulders. You give him a dirty look. “I mean the fact that there’s no little Powder running around here with Ekko. No Mylo antagonizing his siblings. Claggor just being along for the ride. Violet attempting to show Mylo how to flirt.” You explain with sadness traced in your tone of voice. 

“Hmph,” He snorted out a laugh remembering the children as young teenagers. “They were something.” He shakes his head. “I miss them living with us.” You pout, he groans at your words knowing what is going to be next. The both of you took the children in young. Felicia has Vi and Powder quite young. Being only 18 with little Violet and 23 with Powder. 

Vander’s the same age as Felicia as you were two years younger than the both of them. You didn’t meet them until after Violet was two years old. Now Vi is 23 and Powder is 18. You are now 39 and Vander is 41. 

“I’m just saying! I don’t have much time!” You exclaim, grasping at his hand, practically begging for a child. “Zaun is good, better than it ever has been. Let’s dooo ittttt.” You bounce your legs for extra effect in pleads. “Love, you’ve never wanted children of your own. Why now?” He raises his brows, now fully enclasping your hand with both of his. 

Your stomach flutters at the size difference between the both of you. You could never get over it, not even with the nearly 20 years of being with one another. “I just,” you frown before continuing. “With the children being older and like I mentioned it being quiet… I want someone to depend on me again. Those sweet little eyes as they ask me to help them.” Your face grows sour, tears stinging at the brim of your eyes. “This could be my last chance to have that. And you’ve never wondered what our baby would look like?” You ask him with puppy-dog eyes. “I miss the old times. Not just with the kids.” You mutter. 

“Of course I have, but if that’s how you feel, love… I’m sorry to tell you but I just can’t give you that. A baby with the way we work. And if you need someone to depend on you, I’ll be that for you. I’ll ask for more help, meaning like little things at home that I know you miss doing.” He massages your hand, kissing at it a few times. You purse out your lips, knowing he was right. 

“Are you okay?” He tilts his head, a few strands of hair falling in his face. You nod your head, not verbally responding though. He lets go of your hand and joins you on the stools. “I’m sorry you’re upset, my love. I never want to see your lips fall downwards.” He pulls you onto his lap and you look into his eyes. 

“I’ll be okay, I guess I’ll just have to be patient until we are blessed with grandchildren.” Your head falls against his chest, wrapping your arms around his large torso. “Hopefully that’s not anytime soon.” Vander smacks your thigh and you snicker. 

“Yeah, yeah.” You smile, you always loved how protective he was over your guys’ family. You feel your arousal thicken in your gut. Feeling needier. 

You have to remind yourself that you need to take a shower first. That’s what you told yourself. Even though your husband definitely does not care about you being sweaty. You care. 

“We could always… pretend like I’m going to give you children.” He whispers in your ear, your body tensing up. It’s like he felt your pussy flutter for him even though you both wore thick clothing and it wasn’t possible. “Mmm, that’s an idea.” You watch his thick, large hand sliding up and down the outside of your thigh. “Gonna let me do it right here, right now? Just like the old days?” He questions, he was breathing heavily down your neck causing the hairs there to stand up at the feeling. 

“Remember how we’d pretend there were people still. Go behind that counter and I’d fuck you from behind as you ‘took someone’s order.’ huh?” He knows all the right buttons to push when it comes to you. He knew what you couldn’t resist. He knew how to get you riled up like no one else. 

Your face was flushed as he reminded you of those moments you had before you even took the children in. That was such a long time ago you were surprised he remembered. “How ‘bout we try that out again?” He nibbles at the tip of your ear causing you to whine. 

“Van- shower first. I told you.” You rub yourself against him, spite of what you were saying. “You were just saying how you miss old times… Let me help you relive a few things.” His fingers now dipping in between your legs. The seam of the jeans you wore were sitting in the right place too. It was too much. 

“Please~” You moan, gripping onto his forearm that held your form. “Please what?” He asks.

“I-I need you.” You moved yourself so you were now sitting on one of his thighs. Looking right into his grey orbs. “What about that shower though?” He teases you, watching you ride against him. Only to pleasure yourself. How selfish. “Fuck the shower.” You grab him by the back of his neck, forcing him into a deep kiss. 

He laughs into the kiss, amused by how turned on you got just by his words. He knew you too well. 

You go to stop your hips so you could get up but he stops you. “Uh-uh, ride my leg until you cum, love.” He holds your hips down. You give him a pout. “Do it or I'll have the night end right here and we can just go to that shower and right to bed.” It was an empty threat. You knew that but listened to him nonetheless. Your pelvis planting down on him. You roll back and forth on him. 

“Fuck, love. You’re so gorgeous.” He coos, getting your hair out of your face. You pant as you focus on reaching your high, hearing his words only drenching your already soaked cunt. Going right through those jeans of yours and onto his black slacks. 

Your hands were grabbing onto the top of his thigh, close to his cock that twitched as it was trapped underneath his now tight pants. Just begging to be free. “I- hah!” You grunted, squeezing your thighs against his. “What is it? What do you have to say?” He inquires with a hint of mocking you. 

“Mmngg, I want to kiss you!” You breathe out, eyes squeezed shut due to how determined you were to release on your husband's enormous muscled thigh. 

“What’s the magic word?” His hand goes to your neck, pressing lightly. “Mean, ‘s mean,” you whimper. “Not the answer.” He tsks, bouncing his knee a little bit to throw you off. You cry out, hands flailing to his shirt. Clutching it tightly in between your fingers. 

“Please let me kiss you, please! I just want to kiss my husband.” You sob, opening your eyes for him to see how much you needed it. He thinks for a moment but decides to give you what you want. 

The hold on your neck only gets tighter as his lips embrace yours. He bites at your lip producing a gasp out of you so he can roughly stick his tongue in your mouth. His tongue battling against yours. You didn’t even try as he had already invaded your muzzle, exploring it like it was his home. 

As you feel yourself get closer you weigh down further onto him, your hips at a lively, unyielding pace. You pull away as your attention needs to go back to your own core. His hand on your throat now gripping, helping you even more. The tension in your chest and head growing. “Fuck.” It was almost inaudible exiting past your lips. 

“Mhm, you can do it. My wife is so persistent. Such a hell-bent little thing.” He purrs in your ear. “Hah! Mmm.” You groan out, holding his wrist that clutched at your pretty open neck. 

And then that explosion of fireworks in your tummy at last comes. Your hole creaming, joining your arousal juices. Only wetting yours and your husbands pants 

His hand breaks free from your airway, allowing you to breathe once more. You pant heavily against him. “Shit.” Your legs shake underneath you. “You have fun there?” He pokes at you, you glare up at him. “Shut up.” You spit, weakly standing up. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Vander raises a brow, grabbing your waist, stopping you from crouching down. “I-I’m going to give you a blow job?” You said in more of a inquisitive tone, confused on how it’s not obvious. “I never said I was done with you.” He stands up from the stool, lifting you up with ease. You yelp from the sudden move. 

He places you on the counter. “I’d like dinner first.” Even being on a tall bar counter he was still wavering over you. “Where people drink?!” You utter out, reminding him what people do on this very countertop. “I’ll clean it up. No one will ever know.” He rolls his eyes. 

Before you could even argue with him his hands are back on you. You subconsciously lift your hips up helping him undress you. “Never get over the sight of this cute girl.” He compliments your pussy. Your thighs squish together, hiding yourself only to be pried back open. 

Your hands were behind you to keep yourself fully propped up. “This position isn’t really comfortable, Vannie.” You mewl, the top of your tailbone was slightly hurting. “I’ll have to make this fast then won’t I?” He asks, not even looking up at your face as he sits back down. Sliding your butt as close to the edge of the counter as possible. 

He adjusted the chair so he was at face level with that pretty little pussy. 

His face diving in but not doing anything so he can take in your scent. Feeling like a feral animal. You would’ve been embarrassed by this if he hadn’t done it almost every day for the past 20 years. You rest your legs over his shoulders, ankles crossed over one another, trapping his head at your core. 

“Stop teasing, Vander.” You sternly tell him, glaring down at him since he decided he was going to take his time. His dilated pupils lift upwards, mouth hovering over your clit. “Is that any way to talk to your dear partner who only wants to take care of you?” He asks, his facial hair tickling you down there. 

You lay your back down on the cold wood. Ignoring him. 

He snickers, now kitten licking at your clit. Toying with it until he hears the squelch after a few more. His tongue swirls around the nub, kissing it every now and then. His strategy was purely for his own enjoyment. Your moans filled the building, echoing and bouncing off the walls. 

“Imagine we didn’t lock the door.” He comments. “Imagine someone walks in thinking we’re open. And you’re getting eaten out right in front of them.” His mouth reattaching to your cunny. 

Ambushing every nerve with pleasure. 

“Fuck! I ho-pe someone doesss!” Your hands go down to his hair, pulling out the bun. “Yeah, you’d like the attention.” He mumbles into you, the vibration shooting through you. 

“Mhm… mhm!” Your chest jolts upwards as his tongue swipes over your sensitive spot. “I n-need your fiiingers!” You wail, playing with his hair so you have something to pull on. Not having anything else around you. 

Your head was upside down off the other side of the counter. “Need ‘em where, love?” He irritatingly asks you. “I-inside! Inside!’ You squeal out, toes scrunching and your calves stretching out at the same time.

His right hand joins his mouth, entering a single digit into that drenching, achy hole. 

His cock screaming to be let free now. His pre-cum drooling onto his boxers. 

You clench around the single but large finger. He enters another before pumping them in and out. Curling every so often to hit that perfect spot inside. Your moans and whines keeping him going. His jaw was certainly going to be locked after this. 

He says random compliments you can’t even understand against your pussy. You didn’t even care enough to hear anyways. Feeling his mouth along with his fingers abusing you. 

“I- how? Fuck!” You scratch as his scalp, bringing one of your hands to your shirt, ripping the buttons off to open it.  You had a few others. 

You own hand kneads at your breasts. “C’mon, make me cum, make me cum!” You pant, chest heaving rapidly. “Almost there?” He watches you grope yourself. He leers gleefully. “Fuck yes!” You nod your head only to let it fall back down off the counter. 

His fingers fucking your skillfully, your cunt splashing liquid on him along with the floor. 

“Close ‘s close!” You grit through your teeth, rolling your hips on his face, bringing him closer to you with the back of your calf. Shoving his head onto you. 

“O-ooohh… mmmm….” It hits you softer than the first time surprisingly, but your cunny still spurts into Vander’s mouth. Your thighs shake against his head, your feet dropping tiredly. “That was so good, love. So proud of you.” He kisses your soft skin, lifting your thighs off of him letting your legs fall on either side of him. 

You breathe heavily, now feeling all the blood that rushed to your head from it being upside down. You sit yourself up, using your husband's shoulders to keep you from slipping forward. He undoes his belt, unbuttoning his pants to take his cock out. Still keeping his clothes up though. 

“C’mere.” He huffs out a laugh, standing up so you can wrap your legs around his waist. His hands are squeezing at the plush skin of your ass. 

He takes you to the inside of the bar, his cockhead poked at your entrance with each step. “Tired girl?” He hums out a question. You shake your head, disagreeing. “No, want more.” You rasp out. Humping your hips downwards against his dick. 

“Need you to help me first, prove how much you want me to fuck you.” He ambushes your neck with his licked lips. “I’ll do anything.” You whisper. 

“Good, here comes the guy who brings our stock.” Vander smirks, your eyes widen and you drop to the ground, hiding under the counter even though he already couldn’t see you by being down there. Vander steps as close as possible to you, his chest against the wood. 

His cock was free game to you. “Heyy Mick!” Vander cheerfully grins, not feeling you touch him just yet. He also knew that your pants and little panties were laid out on the ground, available for Mick to see. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Mick comes into the bar with a dollie of alcohol boxes. “Where’s the wife?” He asks, coming over to the counter. “Oh, she’s a little bit under… the weather tonight.” Vander lies. 

Your heart was raising at the fact that there was now another person in the bar after you had just came twice. Your view trapped in darkness besides the little bit of light that snuck past your husband's legs. His dick still sprung out for you to play with. 

Your pussy clenches around nothing, another realization that your pants were where you two once were moments ago. You silently prayed that Mick didn’t notice it. Your husband’s and your guys’ stocker’s conversation was tuned out. You couldn't focus on anything that was happening. 

Besides the fact that you were going to now get revenge on the person in front of you. Your hands go around his thick member. Dry rubbing him at first. You hear his hiss and you smile mischievously. Your thumb swiping across the slit covered in Vander’s own goo. 

Your hands let him go, as Vander talks his shoulders dropped disappointed only momentarily before your mouth replaces where your hands once were. He bites his lip trying not to show his expressions. 

Your muzzle takes him in all the way, nose almost touching his pelvic zone. You let him go before you gag, sucking on his tip. Your hand massages the base of his cock. 

You hear his voice falter just a tiny bit. “Where do you want them tonight, boss?” Mick asks, talking about the boxes of glass bottles filled with booze. “Just on the counter, Claggor and Mylo are opening in the morning. Gonna have them stock up.” Vander chuckles. Doing his best not to let his voice waver in the slightest. You tried your damnedest too. 

“Arighty.” Mick lifts the boxes up, continuing to talk to the owner of the bar, not knowing he was getting his dick sucked so good his knees were about to give out. 

Your other hand began to fondle his balls, now all three stimulates attacking him at once. Vander lets out a low grunt that luckily wasn’t heard from either of the people in the building. 

“I gotta get going, now. Good seeing ya! Hope to see [Name] next week!” Mick kicks out his dollie, rolling it out as Vander waves him goodbye. 

And as that door shuts, his mouth opens, letting out all the noises he couldn’t before. “Fuck, I almost had to shout at him to leave.” Vander groans, taking a fist full of your hair to fuck himself into your mouth. You moved your hand out of the way, grabbing onto his thigh for support. 

“Shit, such a doll for me.” He drags your mouth down his member before pulling you away by your hair. He steps back. “Stand up.” He motions. You crawl out from your spot, standing up before him. 

“Turn around.” He spins his pointer finger. 

He watches your ass jiggle with each step, his hands roughly bend you over. Your hands hitting the floor. “Need this.” He puffs out, shoving his dick inside your hole without warning. 

“So perfect for me, after all these years. It’s like the first time all over again.” He ruts into you forcefully. Your fingernails claw at the ground as he fucks into you at an unfathomable pace. 

“Take it like the fucking champ you are.” He smacks your ass causing you to scream out a moan. “Fucking you stupid, ain’t I?” He laughs, holding your hips. Each time you try to lift your torso up he rams into you, watching you fall back down each time. It was amusing. He enjoyed it every single time. 

“I asked you a question.” He slaps your ass again. 

“Y-yes! ‘Stupid, ‘s ‘stupid!” You cry out, your head shaking side to side as tears brim your eyelids. “Gonna cum again!” You shrill. 

“Yeah you are.” He pants, finally helping you up by bending down to grab you by your neck. Your back up against his stomach. “Who’s making you cum for the third time?” He asks, your ass bouncing back on his black slacks. There were white splatters all over his pants from tonight. “Y-you a-re!” You seeth, sucking in your own drool. 

“What’s my name?” He tightens his grip on your throat, you gasp out for air. Not able to answer as fast as he wants you to. His cock pistoning in and out of you. 

“What’d I ask?” His other hand holds your lower stomach, the pressure now pressing on his cock through your tummy. “I- u-um! V-vander!” You choke out. “That’s right, doll.” He lets go of your neck but still keeping you close as he continues to fuck you. 

“Gonna fuck my seed into you, maybe there’s a chance you’ll get that baby.” He snorts out a laugh, thrusting into you. Your eyes roll back into your head. “Cummingggnghah!!” You shriek, your hands behind you, gripping onto his shirt. 

“H-huh- same.” He breathes heavily, getting a little slower and sloppier. His tip oozing out inside of you. Your walls spasm around him leading a domino effect, Vander fully plunged inside of you as he lets his semen shoot inside you. Your jaw slacks open at the feeling.

You wiggle yourself against him, trying to get as much of him as possible. He pushes the both of you forward, you lean over the wooden counter. A box hiding your face from the door. 

“Holy shit…” You quietly whined, your legs were shaking and very weak. Barely keeping yourself standing. His slips out of you, letting the mixture of yours and his cum drop to the ground from your cunny. 

“You took me so well. So good every time.” He praises you, rubbing your back. 

Afterwards he takes you to your shower, water already running. You sat on the floor waiting for him in the hot water as he cleaned up your guys’ mess the two of you made.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Summer Camp Slasher

Serial Killer Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: 1980’s AU, Summer Camp AU, swearing, survival horror, suspense, brief sexual content, blood & gore, descriptions of corpses, brief mention of alcohol, smoking, second chances, ambiguous/open ending

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: Requested by @kylies-love-letter for 3.5k Spooky Bingo (80's Summer Camp Slasher)

Hillford Camp, 1985

Hillford Camp is having a reopening. As owner and operator, you’re excited for a restart after a string of grisly murders took place on the old campsite. You’ve hired on Simon Riley as Camp Director. Not because he’s your ex, but because he’ll be great at the job. Everything is going great—until it’s not. Two camp counselors go missing only to reappear in morbid display in the dining hall.

With only yourself, Simon, the local sheriff John Price and his two deputies MacTavish and Garrick, it’s a race to find the killer before they find you.

ao3 // main masterlist // 3.5k spooky bingo masterlist

"I can't believe this. It's finally happening!"

A dream has come to fruition. Not yours exactly, but your mother’s. You’re on your toes, a bouncing ball of energy. Simon Riley, the man you hired on as Camp Director, stands next to you, a beacon of solid muscle and calm energy.

Hillford Camp is the place your mother spent her youth as a camp counselor. She loved it so much, she eventually bought the land and intended to run the camp herself. She’s gone now, but the land is yours. The camp is yours.

With the tip of his index finger, Simon pushes the rim of his sunglasses down, revealing whiskey-brown eyes. “Give me the word and I’ll make them leave,” he says, gaze fixed on the herd of media in the parking lot beyond the wooden fence.

“Leave them,” you mutter. “Won’t matter if they stay or leave.”

The corners of his mouth turn downward. "You know what they're talking about."

"I'm aware," you grumble.

"And it doesn't bother you?" he counters.

"I'm not allowing it to bother me," you reply.

Hillford Camp was popular for years before people started disappearing. It started small, just one or two people a season. Their bodies were never found, and many chalked it up to accidental deaths. The forest beyond the camp is wide. Local authorities believed the missing campers likely wandered off.

Everything changed ten years ago.

People started disappearing, and this time, their bodies started to turn up in gruesome display. Hillford Camp was shut down completely and left to rot in the shadow of the forest. The Hillford Camp Murders remain unsolved.

No one knows who did it, or why, but the rumors persist, especially now that you’re reopening the place.

Simon crosses his arms over his chest. His high-waisted khaki shorts stop mid-thigh, showing off thick, muscled thighs. The Hillford Camp shirt he wears beneath his jacket is a size too small, the material stretching tightly across his pectorals.

"I don't like it,” he says cooly, gaze still fixed on the herd of media.

A little flare of heat blooms in your chest and rolls outward to steam your cheeks. You may have hired Simon as Camp Director, but he’s no stranger. There was a time when the two of you shared secrets in the dark, when he learned your curves, and made you moan for him.

An old memory resurfaces and you quickly wave it off like a pesky fly. You will not venture into old territory.

“They can’t cross the property line. It’ll be fine, Simon,” you reassure him, patting his arm.

Your hand lingers a little longer than necessary, that old memory resurfacing again. As you pull back, Simon gently grasps your wrist, keeping you close to him. That one touch sends a little reminder to your clit of just how sweet he can be.

"Are you sure?" he murmurs. "I can make them go. Just say the word."

He's always been protective. Even now you're reminded of just how gentle he can be with you.

"It's fine," you emphasize.

Within his grasp, you twist your wrist, presenting your palm. Simon glances down at it, his thumb rubbing against your pulse point. A little shiver runs through you, and you know Simon notices by the way he smirks.

"All right, love," he says, dropping your wrist.

The moment with Simon is there and gone but your heart rate remains a pounding thing that doesn't cease. All day through orientation, introductions, and team activities, you float around the grounds, moving from place to place. That feeling never abates. It clings to you like gum on the bottom of a shoe until your head finds your pillow.

When you awaken, you expect the feeling to pass. Instead, it stays, and it is Simon's first words to you in the morning that turn that sensual anxiety to bleeding stress.

"Two of the counselors are missing."

"Missing? What do you mean missing? Who the fuck is missing?" you hiss, leaning close as the two of you monitor breakfast.

“Jessica and Michael.”

“Oh, God.”

Simon sighs and nods at a passing camper before he speaks again. “Their bunk mates said they weren’t in their beds when they woke up this morning. No one’s seen them.”

“Do their bunkmates know where they might be?” Simon shoots you a look and you already know. “Fuck,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Is anyone looking for them?”

“I have the Activities Director and Lead Lifeguard discreetly searching all the possible spots.”

"You're fucking with me," you groan.

Simon smirks and then leans in a bit closer. "Blood runs hot at that age. Remember how we were together?" You smack his chest and he laughs. "Just saying."

"These are college freshmen we're talking about, Simon. They’re here to earn a little extra cash. Nothing more."

"That's my point." A group of teens walk past and Simon waits until they're gone. "They probably found themselves a cozy spot in the woods to get drunk and fuck. They're likely trying to avoid their walk of shame."

"They better be,” you snap. “Calling the local authorities on the second day is the worst possible scenario."

Simon laughs and takes his sunglasses off his head, cleaning the lens with his shirt. "I'd think calling them at all would be the worst."

"Simon. I swear—"

He places his hand on the back of your neck. It's a protective yet possessive gesture. Your body instantly calms—instantly submits to him.

"Let me handle this,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle caress. “It's my job."

You do allow Simon to handle it even though your stomach is a knot the rest of the day. After everyone moves through the dinner line and evening activates wrap, Simon appears at your private cabin.

You open the door, and Simon leans against the doorframe, taking up far too much space.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

You step aside, and Simon enters. Closing the door behind him, the small space suddenly feels incredibly cramped. Staff cabins are slightly larger than those the campers live in, and they aren’t communal.

Simon drops onto your bed, taking up the entire surface. He fishes around inside his grey windbreaker, retrieving a small bottle of whiskey.

"Care to join me?" he asks, offering the bottle.

"What's the occasion?" you counter, taking it from him. You uncap the lid and bring it to your lips.

"An update on our missing lovebirds."

You take a massive swig, the whiskey burning as it goes down. You grimace and offer the bottle back to him. Simon takes it and sits up, taking some for himself.

"And?"

Simon sighs loudly. "And we haven't found them."

You place your head in your hands, groaning with frustration.

Simon sets the bottle down and reaches for you. "Come here," he murmurs.

With the whiskey warming your veins, it's easy to go to him, to settle beside him, and rest your cheek against his firm chest. Simon's arm drapes over you, keeping you close to him. You inhale his scent, remembering the way it felt to be in his arms like this when the two of you were lovers.

"Simon," you sigh, shifting your face toward him.

You don't mean to sound so breathy—so needy, and yet Simon responds, closing the distance, gently pressing his lips to yours. Calmness washes over you, chasing away the day's anxiety. The missing campers are pushed to the back of your mind.

With his arm draped over your hip, Simon uses that leverage to gently roll you onto your back, pinning you beneath him. His hand roams upward, trailing over thigh and stomach before exploring the valley between your breasts. Further he ascends until his hand comes to your throat. He grasps it, a sign of dominance and possession.

Is he not over you? Is this simply going to devolve into sex? A distraction? And does it even matter?

His kisses deepen and you greedily accept them, wanting to consume like you did the whiskey. Forgetting would be nice right now. The trials of the last two days can wait until the morning.

You part your legs and Simon slots himself between. His hardness presses against your pelvis, an insistent sensation that you want to explore. You haven't been with anyone since Simon, and your body yearns for him now.

His free hand explores. Roams. It delves beneath your shirt, stroking skin until you're both tugging at the fabric in an effort to remove it. Your bra is gone next. Then his jacket and shirt. The two of you are skin against skin, fingers digging in, mouths meeting repeatedly until you're both gasping for breath.

"Let me in," he murmurs softly as he fumbles with the front of his pants.

You reach for him, helping him out of his shorts before removing your own. The moment there is nothing between you, his lips find yours again, limbs entwining on the small bed.

Simon's hand delves between your legs, stroking until a pressure builds. Molten and bright, it explodes outward. You moan into his mouth, and Simon swallows it down, enjoying every second.

The head of him replaces his fingers, and your body greedily accepts him, devouring every inch until you're full and perfectly stretched. Simon rocks his hips. The damp, sticky air clings to your skin and his, mixing with sweat.

"I miss you," he whispers into your ear, lips brushing along the curve.

Another release builds, swamping your senses until all you know is Simon and the humid air. The fan in the corner of the ceiling spins and clangs, but it is a distant thing. He groans, lower back stiffening against your hands as you press him closer. You come undone before him, shuddering, and Simon follows soon after.

The two of you linger above the sheets, a tangle of limbs. There is rest for a bit, and then you're reaching for him again. Simon happily complies, the two of you further tiring yourselves until sleep seizes you both.

Early, just before the sun rises, you and Simon grab flashlights and hike out to the place you want to forget: the old Hillford Camp.

Not a single building was torn down. Due to the police investigation, the buildings remained standing, but after they cleared out, the buildings were boarded up and left alone for years. It's not like you didn't try to have it all demolished.

The case is still open. And the buildings are nothing more than skeletal structures.

From a clip off his belt loop, Simon produces a massive set of keys. Shuffling through them, he finds the one he's looking for. Placing it into the lock, it clicks, the chain holding the metal fence together sliding away as Simon gives it a tug. He pushes it open, the metal screeching loudly, echoing amongst the trees.

Before you are the old cabins. The rec center and communal buildings are further in. While most of those went untouched, the cabins are another matter entirely. Each one is a crime scene. Each one tainted by the killer's bloodthirst.

"Should check them all," says Simon, pointing his flashlight at the nearest cabin. "Look for signs of entry."

"There's thirty cabins,” you counter. “We can't cover them all one-by-one. We should split up. Cover more ground."

Simon's response is immediate. "You're not leaving my sight."

You casually shrug. "We’ll find nothing except a few empty bottles and dust." You shrug absently. “Maybe a dead racoon or two.”

"I'd feel better if you're in my line of sight at all times."

His “line of sight”. As if you’re one of his old targets. A part of you loves the protectiveness while the other wants to smack him over the head. The two of you aren’t a couple anymore, and this isn’t the military. He won’t boss you around.

"Seriously?"

"Dead," he grumbles, striding toward the first cabin.

The two of you walk around the perimeter checking windows and the front door. All of them are sealed tight. Cabin by cabin, the two of you walk, finding nothing out of place.

"No fresh tracks," mutters Simon. "Not of the human variety."

The sun is starting to rise, the dark giving way to the light.

You shine your flashlight on the nearest cabin door and frown. "Simon. Look at that."

He turns, flashlight beam joining yours. The door appears askew as if it's not entirely on its hinges. Simon strides toward it, you following on his heel.

As you near, you notice the crack.

The door is open.

Simon holds up a hand, a sign to stay put. You nod. In this, you will do as he says. Simon reaches out with the flashlight, pushing the door open further with the tool. It creaks but swings inward.

Inside, it is dark. Simon slowly swings the flashlight back and forth across the interior. You step up behind him, peering around his shoulder.

The two bunks are empty, all four stained mattresses on the ground. Next to them are several used condoms, crushed beer cans, and a half-consumed bottle of off-brand vodka.

Simon snorts. "They left vodka." He tuts. "A shame."

"At least we know where they snuck off to." You turn the beam of the flashlight outward toward the rest of the cabins. "Just need to find where they went."

Simon leans against the doorframe, a sultry smile on his face.

"What?" you prompt.

He nods toward the mattresses. "You want to get on all fours for me?"

The image of you on your hands and knees as Simon fucks you from behind invades your senses, momentarily seizing your sanity. With it comes the feel of his hands, of how large and strong they are, of him grasping the back of your neck as he holds you in place.

You roll your eyes in an attempt to hide your sudden arousal. "You're disgusting."

Simon barks a laugh, slapping your ass on the way to the next cabin.

Each one is searched, and the remainder are all untouched.

“We should search the communal buildings,” you suggest.

Simon shakes his head. “I don’t have my walkie,” he replies, patting the empty spot where he usually clips the behemoth of a device. He glances up into the sky. “We need to return. People are going to start questioning where we’ve run off to.”

You give the old campsite one last long look. "I wonder where they went," you murmur, the unease starting to settle in again.

Simon relatches the lock on the fencing. "I'll radio the sheriff when we return."

John Price, the sheriff of the nearest town, is a good but stubborn man. You’ve only talked to him a handful of times, but he was always polite to you.

Approaching the communal dining hall, you notice a large crowd of campers gathered outside. The main doors are shut when they should be wide open for the breakfast crowd. Several of the older camp counselors stand in front of the doors, barring entry.

Simon arrives first at the edge of the crowd. They part for him like Moses and the Red Sea. The eldest of the camp counselors, Jesse, a senior in college, has a stony expression on his face. His tanned skin is pale, eyes sunken as if he's sickened overnight.

"What happened?" asks Simon, keeping his voice low. Jesse shakes his head, keeping silent. "Is there anyone inside?"

Jesse licks his cracked lips. "Yes," he murmurs. "But they're not—" He glances at the crowd like a wounded animal looking for an escape and grimaces.

Simon lowers his voice further, trying to soothe the young man. "Let us see."

Jesse steps aside and Simon cracks the door open. The smell hits you first. Rotten. Fetid. Like garbage that's been left out in the sun.

Simon pokes his head in and then retreats, turning toward you. His mouth is a thin line, and his face is grim.

"You shouldn't," he whispers.

You shouldn't? What the fuck is in there?

"I will," you insist.

Simon’s nostrils flare slightly. It’s his tell when he’s irritated with you. But he doesn’t push back. Simon opens the door, ushering the two of you inside.

The smell is worse with the door closed. The lights are off and all the windows are shut, the blinds down but cracked, allowing in some of the morning light. The large ceiling fans overhead are still, leaving the air stale and unmoving.

At this hour, the place should be full with people at tables stuffing their faces with eggs and pancakes. But the place is utterly silent. You check the switches on the wall but none of the lights turn on, nor do the ceiling fans.

"Are the generators not working?" you ask, staring up at the unmoving fans.

"I think we have worse things to worry about," replies Simon.

You follow his line of sight, coming to rest at the far end of the dining hall.

At the center table closest to the kitchen are the two missing camp counselors. Jessica and Michael appear completely normal at first, but as you move closer, you suddenly realize the horror before you.

The two lovebirds sit across from each other at the communal dining table. Before each of them is a plastic tray. In front of Michael on his tray is a small pile of open condom wrappers. On Jessica's tray is a lone pregnancy test. You have no idea if it's used or brand new, and you don’t really care to know. Between their trays in an empty liquor bottle, the label partially removed.

They are posed with arms outstretched; hands clasped. Their skin is grey and sunken, mouths terribly stretched into loving smiles. Flies swarm them, switching between bodies and buzzing about in the air. Their eyes are gone. Not vanished, but crushed to pulp.

Your gaze lingers and then moves beyond them toward the kitchen. It's designed to be an open kitchen, giving an airy feeling to the space. It’s also designed with space in mind and for the kitchen staff to keep track of how many people are eating and still need to fill their plates.

All six cooks stand behind the buffet line and yet nothing is on. Nothing is cooking. They are posed with tongs and spatulas in hand as if ready to serve the horde outside. Most of them are upright as if they're completely fine. Yet as you look closer, you notice the hooks and wires digging into their clothes and flesh. You follow those wires, and how they're anchored to heavier objects to counterbalance their body weight.

"They're all dead," murmurs Simon.

You wretch, the stink and horror becoming overwhelming.

"Fuck," says Simon, placing his hand at your back.

Another wave of nausea hits you. Simon grabs your arms, guiding you away from the grisly scene toward the side door. He kicks it open, the two of you almost falling down the short stairs to the hard ground.

Yanking yourself from Simon’s arms, you fall to your knees in the dirt, gagging. Saliva pools in your mouth.

You spit into the dirt. "What the fuck was that?"

Simon is far more experienced in the art of brutality. Before all this, he was military. He’s seen war—worked on countless mission.

"I'm calling Sheriff Price," says Simon. "We're shutting this place down. Sending everyone home."

"Oh my God," you murmur, rubbing your dirt-stained hands against your legs in anxious agitation.

Simon's hand finds your shoulder, and you flinch. "I'll handle this," he reassures, helping you off the ground.

His embrace is comforting, reminding you of how much you’ve missed him. It’s cruel and unfair, and somehow completely needed. In this, Simon is your rock. An anchor in a stormy harbor.

"We handle this,” you reply. “Together."

Simon cradles your cheeks, thumbs brushing away your tears.  "You need to be out there. Put on a brave face. Smile. Take everyone to the amphitheater. Have a couple of the remaining camp counselors go to storage for water bottles and packaged snacks. Feed everyone. Keep them entertained."

It’s the smart thing to do until a plan is formed. Keep everyone in one place. Nobody wanders off.

You nod, swallowing.

Simon presses his lips to your forehead. "Take a deep breath. You can do this." You follow his instruction, exhaling slowly. Simon holds you the whole time, not letting go until the shaking stops.

“Ready to face the crowd?” he whispers against your hair.

“No,” you reply. “But I will.”

"Tell me what happened again."

Sheriff John Price lights up a cigarette, his sunglasses low on his nose as he stares Simon down.

"I told you," replies Simon, his voice nearly a growl. "They're all dead."

“You said that.” Sheriff Price takes a long drag on his cigarette. Expelling the smoke from his lungs, he returns the cigarette to his mouth. "You also said," he checks his notepad, "you're missing five additional personnel."

Simon sighs heavily, clearly irritated. "We are."

"You didn't check to make sure everyone was accounted for before you left?" The accusation is clear, and Simon is clearly agitated by it.

"Sheriff," you interject, placing your hand on Simon's bicep in a comforting touch. "As we noted earlier, there were signs of tampering to the generators and vehicles. We needed to do what was best for the campers. And that was getting them to town as quickly as possible."

"By leaving personnel behind?" counters Price.

"All of the campers are accounted for,” you reply, ignoring the question. “We need to start reuniting families with their children, Sheriff." You emphasize his title to get your point across.

Sheriff Price sniffs and puffs on his cigarette. It hangs from one side of his mouth while he exhales smoke from the other side.

Not long after you herded everyone to the amphitheater, Simon sought you out to report damaged generators, a severed power line, slashed tires on the Jeeps, and missing fuel. Calamity after calamity. Something had to be done.

"Unification is important. Is it not?" you continue, wanting to move on from this.

Sheriff Price tucks his notepad and pen into the front pocket of his uniform. "It is," he agrees. The sigh he releases is heavy.

You aren't upset with him. It's understandable. You showed up with an entire summer camp. There are now hundreds of people occupying the Hillford Library. You've dumped far more in Sheriff Price's lap than he can handle. And that doesn’t even begin to tread on the crime scene of a communal dining hall back at camp.

Without removing the cigarette from his mouth, Sheriff Price presses the button on his walkie attached to his shoulder. "I need Sergeants MacTavish and Garrick to report to the library's south side exterior."

A pause. Then the radio crackles. On our way.

"So, we have dead staff. Busted generators. Slashed tires. Missing fuel. A severed power line," lists Price. "What else am I missing?"

You sense a snarky remark ready to fall from Simon's lips. "Nothing, Sheriff,” you answer before Simon can interject.

Sergeants MacTavish and Garrick appear. They both look a little weary. Price begins rattling off orders the moment they arrive.

"The five of us are heading back to Hillford Camp. Return to the station and pick up a squad car. Grab a camera and the evidence emergency bag. We need to collect what evidence we can." He turns toward MacTavish. "Tell Deb to call the federal bureau in the city. I want them here now. We need to prepare for media coverage. Everyone else needs to be here. I want families contacted. We need cots. Blankets. See if any of the locals are willing to assist."

"On it, sir," replies Sergeant Garrick. He pats MacTavish's shoulder, the two men briskly walking away.

Sheriff Price watches them go. When they disappear, he turns back to the two of you. "Well then. Let's go catch ourselves a killer."

It's full dark by the time you, Simon, Price, MacTavish, and Garrick arrive at Hillford Camp.

With the generators damaged, all the outside lights are off, submerging everything in utter darkness. Your quintet stands in front of the squad car, headlights and brights on to cut through the void. Each of you holds a flashlight but even that doesn't seem to pierce the night. Forests are always more sinister in the dark.

"This is fucking creepy," mutters Sergeant MacTavish, slowly sweeping his flashlight beam back and forth.

An owl hoots and insects buzz but otherwise there is complete silence.

"Show me the bodies," says Price.

"They’re this way," says Simon, guiding the group forward.

The smell of the corpses is worse now that they've been sitting. Covering your nose and mouth helps a little, but the stench is nearly overpowering. You and Simon linger near the main door, watching the three men move about the communal dining hall, flashlights illuminating the horror. Simon places his hand on the back of your neck. With just the slightest pressure, he pulls you into him, lips pressing to the top of your head. He's trying to comfort, to bring you peace, and while his touch and closeness is pleasant, you're still on edge. Still wired and unsure.

"Look at this," says MacTavish, tracing the wires and hooks with the flashlight beam.

"This can't be one person," observes Garrick.

"If it is, it's goddamn impressive."

"I want to take a quick look around. Show me those damaged generators. And the severed power line," says Price.

As you exit, you sense a presence. A lingering sense of dread, as if a knife hovers above your head, ready to drop.

"Simon," you whisper, reaching out in the dark for his hand. His fingers find yours, tangling, pulling you close.

"What is it?"

Something wet drips onto your face. It's just a drop. Lukewarm. On your forehead. As you reach up to wipe it away, you feel another.

"What the fuck," you mutter, smearing whatever it is. There’s no rain expected in the forecast.

Simon brings his light closer, and then his hands are on you.

"Are you hurt?" he asks sharply.

"I'm fine. I—"

You see it then, the deep dark red smeared across the back of your hand.

"What the fuck," you mutter.

"Move!" yells Price, waving. "Move.”

Simon grabs hold of your arm, drawing you away, all the flashlight beams pointing upward into the trees.

A scream lodges in your throat. It sticks, twisting.

The five missing personnel dangles from the overhead tree limbs. They are naked, skin split and splayed open as if they are descending from the heavens.

"We need to leave," growls Simon.

"Back to the squad car. Now!"

One moment Simon’s arm is around you, and the next it’s gone. You stumble forward, flashlight beam swinging wildly as you try to find balance.

Behind you, someone cries out.

"MacTavish!"

You glance over your shoulder as the sergeant takes a swing at something in the dark. His flashlight goes tumbling as he draws his gun. Shots ring out. You flinch at the first one, cowering as MacTavish unloads his weapon.

There is silence, and a groan.

"MacTavish!"

Price and Garrick go down on their knees beside their coworker. MacTavish is on his back attempting to sit up.

But where is Simon?

His name forms on your lips, and then you feel hands on your arms. You shriek and swing out.

“It’s me. It’s me.”

You throw yourself into Simon’s arm, chest heaving.

“We gotta get him back to the car. Lift in one…two…”

Sergeant MacTavish howls as they lift him. “My bloody fucking ankle. Goddamn it!”

The five of you shuffle toward the exit only to find that there is no escape. At least, not by car.

“You’re fucking joking,” mutters Sheriff Price.

Sergeant Garrick sighs. “Tires are flat.”

Price turns to you and Simon. "Where can we hole up until morning?"

"My office," replies Simon automatically. "I have a first aid kit."

When you arrive, Price barricades the door and checks the windows while Simon and Sergeant Garrick lift MacTavish onto the desk.

“Just twisting. I’m fine,” mutters MacTavish.

Price lifts MacTavish’s pant leg, revealing the bruised and swollen skin. “You can’t fucking walk on that.”

Simon opens up a nearby cabinet. From it, he removes a hunting rifle. He turns to you, and you realize that you might not see him again.

“You’re staying here. With him.

“Simon—”

“Stay. We can move faster with three of us. You don’t leave this room. Not unless one of us comes to the door. You understand?”

You nod. “I understand.”

Staying is hard. But you do it, because what other choice is there? At some point, you help MacTavish off the desk and into a chair, elevating his leg. All you can do is pace, tapping the side of the baseball bat Simon left for you against your leg.

"Where are they?" you murmur to yourself.

MacTavish grunts. "They'll be fine."

"What if there's more than one out there!"

He shrugs. "It's possible, but I doubt it. Killers don't like to hunt in packs. They're lone wolves."

In the distance, you hear a gunshot. You and MacTavish both jump.

Another shot. Distant.

“What if that’s them?” you whisper. “We should check.”

“We are staying here,” replies MacTavish. “I have to protect you.”

“With that ankle?” you counter.

MacTavish snorts, and then flinches when another shot rings out.

“That sounds like Simon’s hunting rifle,” you murmur, saddling up to the window. You partially open the blinds, but see nothing in the empty dark. You quickly close them and back away.

MacTavish has a deep frown on his face.

“We should—”

You hear you name. It’s shouted, but muffled as if from a distance. You and MacTavish’s heads snap in the direction of the noise.

The two of you remain quiet, lingering in expectation.

Your name, again. Closer now. And clearly Simon’s voice.

“Stay here,” you insist, handing MacTavish the baseball bat.

“You can’t leave,” he replies sharply, attempting to get out of his chair but failing as the pain radiates up his leg, causing him to fall right back in it.

“It’s fine. He said not to come out unless one of them called for us. I’ll be right back.”

Hope blooms in your chest. Unlocking the door, you step outside, and into the utter dark. The reality of the darkness begins to creep in, invading all your senses. The forest is eerie at night without light. Simon may have called out to you but he’s nowhere to be seen.

You linger on the small stoop, listening for anything. When you’re greeted with silence, you plaster yourself against the side of the shed, moving slowly, unwilling to step away. If he calls out to you again, you might be able to discern direction. Part of you longs to call his name, but another part knows better.

The killer might still be loose.

As you approach the north side of the shed, the darkness moves. It is human shaped and tall. Towering.

A flashlight clicks on, but the light does not illuminate the figure. It’s pointed at you, the beam incredibly bright and blinding. They have it aimed at your face, causing to shrink away from the light and squint.

“Simon?”

The beam lingers on your face, and then it arcs up, illuminating the figure before you.

“Simon,” you sigh with relief.

Your limbs relax, and you start to reach for him, but hesitate at the last moment. There is something strange about him. His demeanor has changed. And there’s…blood. Lots of blood.

“Simon,” you whisper, eyes widening as you notice just how much there is. He’s nearly soaked to the bone but he stands tall and unafraid.

This isn’t his. It’s not his blood.

As you glance up to meet his gaze, you find only coldness there. A deadness.

A scream sticks in your throat as he reaches out with one bloodied hand. It wraps around your forearm and squeezes. Like iron, there is so much strength behind it. With a yank, Simon tugs you away from the wall of the shed, shoes sliding and skidding against the ground as you resist the pull.

“Simon!” This time you do shriek. This time you yell. “Let me go!”

Has it been him all this time? And where are Price and Garrick?

When you swing out at him, Simon gives your arm a firm yank. It sends you spinning, twisting until you’re pressed into his side. He hooks you against his body, half-dragging you in the direction he’s walking.

“Was it you?” you whisper. “Did you do all this?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Why?” you ask. “Why?”

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[flemingology]

Hi !! :D Following your most recent post I wanted to request smth for Jessie . Basically reader is not used to celebrating Christmas since she had problems with her family growing up which lead to them never celebrating it in their household . Cue to now where Jessie and her are spending their first ever Christmas as a couple , Jessie invites reader to her parents’s for Christmas and it becomes the first time reader gets to celebrate it ? Just really fluffy mostly (idk if what I wrote made sense English is not my first language 😭)

home for the holidays ─ jessie fleming x reader

part of my christmas series. full masterlist here!

in which: jessie and her family are determined to change your mind about celebrating christmas

warnings: talks of a poor youth, poverty, financial issues, dysfunctional family dynamic but also lots of fluff, i promise

wc: 4.6k

a/n: first part of the christmas series! combined a couple drafts of jessie taking reader to celebrate christmas with her family. hope you enjoy!

Growing up, you missed out on a lot of things due to the precarious financial situation of your family. Your dad had incurred a work-related accident when you were three years old, leaving him bedridden with permanent spinal cord injury. Your mum worked 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, trying her hardest to muster up the money to take care of both you and your father. Nonetheless, your family struggled. You never experienced any of the traditional things that most kids did; no birthday parties, no holidays, no trips to the zoo or an amusement park, and certainly not Christmas. You dreaded the Christmas holidays. It confronted you with the dysfunctional family dynamic, never having the money to buy presents, let alone decorate the house.

The longer you found yourself in the terrible conditions in which you grew up, the more you promised yourself that you would try and break that vicious cycle. From the age of 16, you started looking for a job. You struggled, a lot of employers judging you based off your background, but eventually you managed to get a job at a local supermarket on the corner of your street. When you weren't at school, you were working, and when you weren't working, you were helping your mum with household chores. You didn't have any free time at all, but you kept reassuring yourself it would all be worth it in the end.

By the age of 20, you finally felt like you could look forward a little. You had finished school at 18, and now had been working full-time in the supermarket for 2 years, still helping your mum out with the household and even giving a big part of your income to her to help out with dad's care. Besides that, you opened a savings account for yourself, where you put the remainder of the money you made every month. You felt like you were slowly but surely creeping out the vicious cycle, paving the way for yourself to have a more positive looking future. You didn't have to take things day-to-day anymore. You started doing some charity work for OHOH: Oregon's Harbor of Hope – an institution caring for the homeless people of Portland. When you weren't on the clock in the supermarket, you went out there to help the volunteers. OHOH worked on giving homeless people a safe space, a community, and the essential services they needed to stabilize their lives.

You stumbled across the organization while browsing on the internet on a library computer, and you'd felt the fire in your belly to help them. You wrote down the address on your hand and went to check it out the following day, opening up about your past experiences and about how you thought you could aid OHOH. They took you in, welcomed you with open arms, and you had been one of the main volunteers there for the past three years now. But if anyone had told you that you'd meet the love of your life at one of their fundraisers, you would've never believed them.

OHOH organized fundraisers on every first Friday of the month. They were open for everyone who wanted to come check out the institution and help out – whether that be financially or actual engagement. That's where you met Jessie. Jessie, who also stumbled across the organization while scrolling through her socials. Jessie, who was so eager to help the local community. Jessie, who you bonded with the first time she came around and then she just kept coming. Every first Friday of the month she'd be there, claiming she was just there to help out, but she knew deep down that there was more to it than just helpfulness.

Jessie and you got talking on her first time visiting OHOH. You took it upon yourself to show her around the place, explaining her the ins and outs about the services you offered, Jessie listening to you with care and intent. Before you even realized, you started opening up about yourself to the Canadian. Conversation flowed easily between the two of you and you felt at ease, Jessie not judging you for any of the things you opened up to her about. It was late into the night when you two wrapped up, the only two people still hanging around at the fundraiser. You had an early shift in the supermarket the next day and you already knew you'd curse yourself for staying up late today. Jessie lingered a little while you locked up, and you caught yourself stealing a glance of her every now and then. You said your goodbyes then, parting ways with Jessie's promise that she'd be back next month.

And she was. And then again the next month. Jessie and you had grown closer over her past couple visits. You felt something warm and fuzzy coursing through your body every time you talked to her, a foreign feeling you'd never experienced before and you didn't really know what to do with it. Things with Jessie were easy. It felt like a fresh start, like a blank page ready to be written on. Jessie, on the other hand, cursed herself every time she left the fundraiser without asking for your number. She was in her head about it, thinking she might just be reading in to things, but she couldn't deny her feelings for you anymore. Not when your touch seemed to linger a little bit too long after she pulled you into a hug, not when you memorized the way she drinks her coffee after only making her one once, not when the way you said her name would make her stomach flutter in ways she'd never felt before. So she promised herself that next month, she'd ask for your number. And if you then didn't seem to be on the same page, well then at least she tried.

When next month came around, Jessie found herself trying to make an extra effort to look good on Friday. She usually wasn't really one to be very bothered about her outfits, but she caught herself standing in front of her wardrobe a little too long for what was just a fundraiser she'd been at multiple times. After a quick shower and freshening up a little, she made her way over to Portland's city centre, expertly navigating the roads to a place she'd visited frequently enough to know the way by heart. She noticed you from a little while away, talking to some of the other volunteers by the entrance. You spotted her too, giving her a small wave from across the street, which Jessie readily reciprocated. She scolded herself over how excited she got over the little gesture. She quickly made her way over, greeting everyone before eventually finding herself opposite you. You engulfed her in a hug, the embrace a welcome barrier against the cold Portland wind that nipped at Jessie's skin. "Hey. Thank you for coming," you mumbled against her, slowly pulling back from the hug. "Always."

You went through the motions, as you did every month. Talked to newcomers, caught up with old visitors, gave tours and explanations on what you did at OHOH. Jessie busied herself, talking to people here and there, sharing experiences with the people of Oregon. It was a welcome change for her, being somewhere where nobody really knew who she was. To be taken as herself, as Jess, not so much as Jessie Fleming – the Thorns and Canada midfielder that everyone seemed so eager to get a piece of. That's one of the main reasons she was so fond of you. You didn't know who she was. You hadn't found out yet either, or you were just very good at hiding it. It never came up in conversations, either. The only time Jessie spoke about football was the first time you met each other; when you asked her what her hobbies were. Football. A hobby. If only you knew. Jessie realized that she'd have to tell you at some point, but she liked the calm for now. The comfort.

As the night furthered, you two started gravitating towards each other more and more. From fleeting glances whenever you passed her with a new group to guide around the building, to quick conversations in between catch-ups, to full on spending the last hour of the fundraiser tucked away in a slightly more quiet corner, talking to each other like it was the easiest thing in the world. Neither you could deny the feelings that were starting to build inside you anymore. The fuzzy feeling remained, and now your skin felt tingly whenever Jessie's touch was on you. It excited you, really, but it made you oh so nervous. Scared, even. You'd never felt this way, not in your 24 years of doing life had you ever felt like this about someone. You didn't know what love was. Your mum loved your dad, you could see that, but that got lost in the dysfunctional dynamic of the family. Platonic love isn't something you experienced either throughout your youth, your peers had never been fond of you. You'd gotten used to that, grown accustomed to being alone. Not lonely, though, you didn't mind being alone. But this was different. Jessie made you feel all kinds of things and she made being alone feel like the worst thing in the world. You wanted to be around her, be alongside her, be with her.

You'd noticed a nervous touch in Jessie's behaviors that night. A little more restless than usual, a little more jumpy, much less controlled. Controlled. Jessie was always controlled. Although, that's what she thought. She liked being in control. In control over her thoughts, emotions, her behaviors. But the way she was fiddling with her fingers, the way she kept tapping her feet and how she seemed to stumble over her otherwise so composed words, you knew something was off.

"Are you okay, Jess?" You'd just locked up the building as the fundraiser came to an end, another successful evening wrapped up. You'd been building up the courage to ask her the question all evening, much as she had been trying to build up the courage to ask for your number – unbeknownst to you. You glanced at her over your shoulder when she didn't give you a reply. "Jess?" You raised your voice a little bit, seemingly startling the freckled Canadian. "Hmm?" She cocked her eyebrows, a nervous glint in her eye. You chuckled and made your way over to her, stalling opposite of her. "I asked whether you were okay. You've been a little... off tonight, or something? I don't know. I just wanna make sure, you know." You carefully approached the subject, not knowing if you were just overthinking things or if something was genuinely up.

Jessie cleared her throat. "Uhm, yeah. Yeah, I don't know. Bit off, I guess," she said distractedly. "You sure?" You decided to pry a little, inching closer towards her, your fingers nearly brushing hers. She chuckled, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips before she met her gaze again. "Yeah, it's fine, I promise. I think- I've just been in my head a bit this evening, I'm fine." A frown painted your face as you listened to her words. "Mhm, okay. You wanna tell me what it is? I hope I didn't do anything to upset you." You wracked your brain trying to think of a moment in the past couple hours that could've possibly upset the Canadian, but you blanked.

"No, no, God, no, it's not that. Please, don't worry about that," Jessie chuckled before continuing, "it's not you. It's me, I swear." You cocked an eyebrow at her. "'It's not you, it's me'? Really, Jess?" You couldn't contain the uneasy feeling that started to grow inside you as the conversation progressed. It seemed like Jessie didn't want to talk about what was bothering her, but she gave you just enough of an insight to keep you on your toes – it was almost annoying you. "No, fuck- I'm making it worse." Jessie rubbed her hands down her face and lifted a hand when she saw you were going to speak again, ordering you to wait. "I've been in my head tonight, yeah. But it's nothing to do with you. Well- in fact, maybe it does. But, not like that. You know? I'm just-" "Jessie Fleming, what are you trying to say? Get it over with."

Jessie took in a deep breath, trying to compose herself, before she opened her eyes and a waterfall of words left her mouth. "Wouldyoumaybewanttogivemeyournumber?" You slightly tilted your head and gave her an amused look, cocking an eyebrow when her gaze fluttered down. "Jess, I couldn't make much of that, I'm sorry." You couldn't help the chuckle that crept up your throat, you'd never seen the Canadian this unsure. "Would you maybe want to give me your number?" Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you took a moment to process her words, but Jessie assumed your silence was your way of denying her request. "I mean, you don't have to, really, I was just asking because- uhm, because, you know, things for the fundraisers and stuff. It's okay, honestly-" You cut Jessie off by a placing a hand on her chest and searching for her gaze that was flicking everywhere but to your face. "Hey, take it easy. Take a breath, okay?" Jessie's eyes were filled with concern but she did as you asked, feeling her chest expanding and deflating a couple times underneath your hand. "I'd love to give you my number."

Safe to say that you and Jessie struggled to find your way with one another. You, not used to romantic love, or love in general, you struggled with accepting Jessie's affection. But in the end, you made compromises, communicated with one another about what worked and what didn't, and you had been in a relationship that you could only describe as perfect for the past 8 months. Jessie and you complimented each other. You fit together. She got you up when you were down, and vice versa. You learned very quickly about her career in football, something that took you completely by surprise when she told you. You adjusted, you compromised, and it worked. You were happier than you'd ever been.

Your first big argument with your Jessie didn't come until December, near Christmas time. Jessie insisted that you came with her back to Canada to celebrate the holidays with her and her family, but you insisted on staying home. You didn't want to be a bother, and as much as your girlfriend had tried to convince you that you wouldn't be, the thought remained firmly planted at the forefront of your mind – whatever Jessie did, not helping to get rid of it.

You'd told Jessie about your upbringing. How it hadn't been the best, how you'd missed out on all the traditional things. You never went into much detail, not wanting to relive your past, preferably living in the now, but Jessie knew. That's the reason why she always treaded very carefully when approaching the subject, not wanting to pry or ask too much leading to you closing yourself off. It wasn't until after one particularly rough night with your girlfriend – the both of you spending the best part of 30 minutes fighting about the whole ordeal – that you thought it was best to just get it over with and tell Jessie why you were so reluctant.

You told her about how you spent most Christmases at home. No Christmas tree or Christmas lights because they would cost too much, no Christmas films because renting one was way out of the budget, never any fancy meals as the holidays were just another period of trying to survive off stale bread and canned vegetables. You told her how you'd felt jealous in school, embarrassed even, your peers gushing about the presents they received or the family dinners they went to, while you had nothing to bring to the conversation. Not that they wanted you to be part of it, anyway. You explained to Jessie that you just didn't know how to celebrate Christmas, and that you didn't want to be a burden to your family and to herself. You didn't know how to replace those feelings of resentment with new ones, forever feeling guilty at how much better you had it now than then.

The Canadian assured you that she understood, but she also saw an opportunity that she was ready to take with both hands. She tried convincing you one more time to come with her, how she would make sure to take care of you and be gentle with introducing you to all the Christmas traditions. That you didn't have to worry about her family, who always seemed to think 'the more, the merrier' when it came to these types of days. You'd met them before, twice, when you accompanied Jessie on her occasional weekend going back home, and you knew they liked you. It wasn't that that you were worried about, it was more so that you just didn't know how to act during these types of days. What do you do? Say? What do you wear? Should you get something nice or do they prefer you to just wear something cozy? How do you behave? What presents do they want? Many questions and so very little answers.

Eventually, after some more raised voices and a lot of frustration, you agreed. Agreed on accompanying your girlfriend to Canada, the prospect of being with her and her family much more enticing than having to be on your own in your shared apartment for 3 weeks. When you finally, albeit reluctantly agreed, Jessie couldn't wipe the grin off her face even if she tried. She gently cupped your cheeks and leant her forehead against yours, pressing a soft kiss against your nose. "I promise it'll be good. It'll be so much fun and we'll take everything slow. Your pace, hmm?" She pressed a couple more kisses against your nose, before leaning down and pressing a gentle, fleeting kiss against your lips. You exhaled deeply and closed your eyes, leaning your forehead on her shoulder. "Yeah," you sighed, "yeah. We'll be fine. It'll be fun." Jessie sensed the hesitance in your voice, and promised herself then and there that she'd do everything in her power to make the holidays a fun time for you.

Traveling to Ontario wasn't that bad. No delays, no abundance of traffic, no problems with baggage, your 3-week getaway had gotten off to a perfect start and it did wonders to relieve you from some of the stress you'd been dealing with the past couple weeks leading up to this trip. Jessie and you had hired a car to drive yourself from the airport to her childhood home. You could've taken a cab, but figured it would be easy to have an extra car at home for if you wanted to go somewhere, just the two of you. You'd been in London before, but Jessie was adamant to reintroduce you to all the spots she'd shown you around before, insisting that it would be a completely different vibe now that everything was decorated for Christmas. The drive went smoothly, your plane arriving a little past 8 meaning you just about dodged the flurry of evening traffic. Your eyelids were growing heavy in the car, exhausted from the long plane journey, and with the low hum of the engine and Jessie's fingers tracing soft patterns on your thigh, it didn't take long for you to doze off against the car window.

You didn't wake until a few hours later, when Jessie put a hand on your shoulder and lightly shook you to try and wake you from what had seemed quite a deep sleep. "We're here baby, wake up," she whispered, putting a couple strands of hair behind your ear that had fallen across your face. You grunted, eyes still closed but you stretched, sitting up straight and leaning into Jessie's touch. "Tired," you grumbled. "I know, baby, it's late. We can sleep when we're inside, yeah?" You opened your eyes and looked at your girlfriend, who was sporting a small smile on her face. "You're cute when you snore." She gave you a small wink and pressed a kiss on your nose, unbuckling your seatbelt and leaning across you to open your door. Any protests that were forming in your head about how you were not a snorer died in your throat as you felt the cold wind coming from outside nipping at your skin. You hurried outside, any propositions to help your girlfriend with the bags waved away as she carried all three of them comfortably to the front door. You rang the bell, not allowed any time to complain about the weather as it took no longer than a couple seconds for Jessie's mum to open the door.

Michaele sported a beaming smile and her eyes were brimming with unshed tears as she pulled her daughter in a heartfelt embrace. It'd been a while since they saw each other. Jessie opted to stay in Portland after her domestic season had ended, the environment motivating her more to stick to her training plans than if she'd gone home early. She also still had a couple Canada camps to attend to, so she needed to stay on top of her fitness if she wanted to perform. It'd been close to 4 months since she'd been home, and you could tell that it had been weighing on her. Jessie had always been very family-oriented, so her excitement to come back home for the holidays was second to none. Especially since she managed to convince you to come too.

Ever since Jessie introduced you to her family, they took you in as part of the family. Her parents never questioned anything, loved you as one of their own and you managed to bond quite well with Tristan and Elysse. You truly felt at home with the Fleming's, a feeling you never managed to experience within your own family. It lead to a lot of uncomfortable feelings at first, when you realized that you felt more comfortable with strangers than with your own mother, but Jessie reassured you that it was okay. That it was okay to feel those things, to be upset, but that you'd never have to worry about experiencing such love ever again. She'd make sure of that.

Safe to say that Jessie kept her promise of making sure the holidays went by smoothly for the two of you. Your first week in Ontario went by quickly, the two of you re-exploring the city in which Jessie had grown up so many years ago. You visited coffee spots, strolled around her elementary school, went for dinner at her favorite burger restaurant and spent a lot of time with her family. Game nights, movie nights, going out for walks together, you name it. Jessie's family dynamic was so different to what yours had been, it was a breath of fresh air. It was healthy.

Your getaway went by quick and before you knew it, you were reaching the final week of the year. You woke up on Christmas morning with a weird feeling in your stomach. You knew everything would be fine – Jessie assured you it would, but you couldn't help the nerves that were settling in your stomach the moment you stirred from your sleep. You'd bought everyone a present, it wasn't much, but you hoped it would suffice. You didn't want to come empty handed, especially not when Jessie's family let you stay with them for the best part of a month. The feeling of being an intruder in their house had long faded, a heartfelt conversation with Jessie's mother aiding to you feeling at home within their house.

Your girlfriend must've sensed your restlessness that morning and woke up not long after you, pulling you down in a warm cuddle before agreeing to get up together. You made your way downstairs and were pleasantly surprised to see you were the first ones up. Jessie made you and her a steaming warm mug of coffee, before cuddling up with each other on the couch. You looked out across the garden, snow wrapping the town in an icy blanket of cold.

"You wanna make cookies?" Jessie's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. "Cookies?" You weren't opposed to the idea. It was nice to be alone for a moment, doing something together – just the two of you. "Yeah, cookies. I can't say it's a tradition, we don't do it every year, but sometimes my mum makes these Christmas cookies. Her own recipe. They're really good." Jessie raked her fingers through your long strands of hair from her position behind you on the couch, your back resting tight against her front. You craned your neck towards her. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

You and Jessie got to work in the kitchen, combining your forces to try and make sure the cookies would be as good as when Michaele would make them. You followed the recipe step by step, measuring and mixing the ingredients that would soon come together in small, bite-size, Christmas sugar cookies. It made you feel at ease, to have a little moment with just Jessie, before the prospect of what would surely be a busy day. Just the two of you, cuddling up to each other in the kitchen while making something that reminded Jessie of her childhood. It felt good, it felt right, it felt like home. A minute or 20 later, you put the cookies in the oven. 18 of them, 3 each.

Elysse and Tristan had already made their way downstairs, with Jessie's parents following suit only a couple minutes later. You all made some small talk, Jessie now also providing coffee for the rest of her family members. Before long, you all gathered in the living room where the presents would be given out.

"We've got the stockings first, as always," Michaele announced. She opened a bag that was sitting near the edge of the sofa and started giving them round, everyone receiving a stocking with the letter of their first name. What you didn't expect, though, was you to get one yourself. So when everyone had gotten their stocking and Michaele reached back into the bag to get one for you, it was hard to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat. Jessie noticed this, placing a comforting hand on the small of your back as you thanked and hugged her mom. You'd never felt more loved, more part of something than in that moment. You were part of their family, part of their home and everyone wanted to make sure you knew that.

The rest of the day went by so much better than you could've imagined. The Christmas cookies turned out perfect, some more family members came over for lunch, you went out for an afternoon stroll and then you all watched a Christmas movie on the sofa together late at night. You were feeling apprehensive about many things before you both took off to Oregon, but it's safe to say that Jessie kept her promise of trying to turn Christmas into something joyous for you.

Ever since that year, you hadn't missed a holiday season with the Flemings ever again. And you wouldn't want to have it differently anyway. Because after all, they were your family.

[alexandraisyes]

500 FOLLOWERS

Wow. 500 of you. That number feels surreal, especially after everything these past few months. (Don't scroll away there's a surprise at the bottom of the post.)

In July, I faced harassment over a rumor about being hired as a TSAMS writer. In August and September, it escalated—stalking, harassment, and widespread slander over SolarNexus, a ship I don’t even ship. October brought betrayal as someone I trusted turned out to be a predator, slandering our friend group, faking their death, and running away upon confrontation. Last month, I had to take a stand against someone sharing NSFW with minors, leading to more slander and harassment.

Now it’s December, and honestly, fandom discourse feels inevitable. But you know what? I don’t care.

This community has been so supportive to me throughout this. I have grown close with friends, made new ones, and gained so many supporters and I don't know how to say thank you enough. I've reached so many of my goals for this year, and there's always going to be more work to do.

I'm starting a new fic. I'm updating my old ones. I'm making art for a voice actor. I'm a mod in the community server. And I'm finally working on a project again that I started in August.

I’ve been really hesitant to show this project off on main, beyond reblogging things here and there. I won’t reveal which character I specifically play—though it probably wouldn’t be hard to guess.

This project started as a way to support the mod who plays Lunar, who was receiving harassment simply for enforcing their boundaries. Yes, you read that right—they were harassed because they didn’t want to post negative confessions. When we saw that happening, my friends and I got together, and I said, “Haha, wouldn’t it be so cool if we just made a bunch of confession blogs to dunk on the haters and roleplay and shit?”

Within 24 hours, two new blogs popped up. One hasn’t done anything to hurt me, so I won’t name them, but we all know who they are. The second? Biased-tsams-confessions—a blog that was one of the leading forces behind the harassment I faced in August. They would flip their lid if they knew I was the leading force behind TSBS CVAU and remain its head administrator and manager. Honestly? That makes me even prouder of this project.

Of course, I couldn’t do this alone. A huge thank you to my partner in crime, @lyrical-hue, who has been my rock throughout this journey. They’ve helped smooth out the bumps along the way, making sure I don’t handle everything solo.

I’m so excited to finally share this project with my fanbase publicly. We’re expanding our world and currently looking for new members to join the group! If you’re interested, you can apply here:

Okay so now the real question. How am I celebrating this milestone? The past two times I made a post like this I did a raffle (one of which I'm still finishing the artwork for). This time I'd like to do something different.

I want to make some free emotes for the community. My community. To give back some of the support I've been given.

To be applicable for this, reblog this post with references of your character designs, AU designs, OCs, or sonas. As many as you want. They can be your own characters, or personal designs for preexisting characters. Or even just. Characters. I will literally just take canon designs of characters too. I'll even take requests for my own designs. As you can see there are a LOT of emotes there, so I need a LOT of characters from the community.

RULES:

Characters must be submitted through REBLOGS

You do not get to choose which emote is made, I do, I'm doing this for free after all

You HAVE to be following me, this is an event to celebrate my followers after all.

And uh, yeah that's kinda it. If you want to join the discord you can join here:

[yujiqi]

match made in heaven

stranger!hyunjin x wealthy f!reader

synopsis: you’re feeling desperate tonight so you decide to look for someone to hook up with on a dating app and it seems you guys could be more than a one night stand

genre/s: smut, fluff

warnings: oral f!receiving, vanilla sex, lil bit of dry humping

wc: 1.7k

a/n: listen to singularity - bts while reading! i wrote this 2 years ago so it’s not that good but i feel bad for not posting so heres a little smth! mostly proofread!

you long for evenings like this. sipping on a glass of wine, taking a hot bath with a rich lavender essence filling the bathroom.

"miss y/n, your food has arrived. shall i leave it here?" you hear your butler from the other side of the door.

"leave it on my coffee table, thank you"

you hear his footsteps fading away. being wealthy is fun. many people say money cant buy happiness but you think that's false. they're just saying that because they don't have money.

you live alone, your butler and the others that do your housework come early in the morning, but by midnight, it's just you. a part of you wishes you had someone to spend your nights with. you’re the ceo of the company your dad owns. some say you were born with a silver spoon. they aren't wrong, but it does bother you how people badmouth you behind your back when you could easily end their career.

you take the last sip of your wine and set the glass down. you carefully step out of the bathtub and wrap a towel around yourself. the aroma of food fills your nostrils. you ordered lobster with a couple other sides. your butler left a new bottle of wine right by it. you usually don't have big meals like this but it’s friday and it’s been a tiring week. you hear your phone ring and you hesitate for a moment. you don't feel like talking to anyone right now. it’s your mom calling. she's always bugging you about how you need to get married.

"hello" you finally answer the phone.

"y/n. what did i tell you about ignoring my calls." she sounds mad.

"you know i'm busy, mom"

"too busy to answer the woman that brought you to this planet?"

"mom," you pause for a second because you really don't wanna do this right now. "i have to go"

"when are you going to get married, y/n" you feel like she can practically hear your eye roll at this point.

"why are you so worried about that when i'm literally the ceo of a company? i'm well off, i don’t need a man" you protest.

"i just think it would be best if you settled with a man, have a kid that will soon takeover the company too"

"i'm going to sleep. goodnight" and with that, you hang up.

you’re 26, she seriously needs to back off a bit. although you do feel you should find a man. you don't want a man to settle down with though, you want a man to satisfy you and pleasure you. lord knows you need it. you can't remember the last time you had sex. maybe 3 years ago? you’ve been so busy, you haven't had time to think about yourself. you look at your phone and can't believe what you’re about to do. you open the app store and type in "hookup apps".

you’re shocked you’d stoop this low, but you’re feeling really desperate tonight. you open the app and it asks for the basics. name, age, city, and a few extra questions. the app is very quick to find matches. none of them interest you until someone catches your eye.

hyunjin, 23, seoul

cool, hes 3 years younger than you but you can make it work. you send a request to him and he immediately sends a message.

hyunjin: into younger guys i see?

me: im gonna be honest... im really desperate rn

hyunjin: oh yeah? dont u wanna know even a little bit about me?

me: not really

hyunjin: i could be an old white man yk

me: the fact that ur saying that alr lets me know ur not

hyunjin: true

me: ill give u my address then

hyunjin: already???

me: i told u im desperate

you send him your address and anxiously wait in the lobby area of your penthouse. you mess with the strap on your velvet robe. you’re not wearing anything underneath so easy access, right? you get a message from hyunjin asking for the gate code. you give it to him and soon you hear the doorbell chime throughout the house. you quickly get up and open the massive door for him.

"woah" his mouth wide open, pure shock on his face

"you like it?"

"i'm not talking about the house, i'm talking about you" he says.

well that's a first. you don't get many guests, but when you do, all they talk about is the house.

"you're bold" is all you manage to let out. he's fine. incredibly fine. the way his long black his falls perfectly onto his shoulders. you notice the mole under eye. how unique. he's also very tall, much taller than you at least. he has long, slim fingers and your mind can't help but imagine what he can do with them.

"do you want a glass of wine?" you ask him

"i thought you were horny"

"i am, i'm just building up to it" you look up at him with those eyes. the ones that make any guy melt. you grab his hand and lead him upstairs to your room. we sit on the couch and you pour him a glass. even while he drinks, he doesn't take his eyes off of you. he looks hungry and you like it.

"this is a nice place you have" he says, setting down the glass.

"yeah, i'm the ceo of my dad's company" you’re not really one to brag so you don't know why you said that, internally face palming. he nods and continues to stare into your eyes. he then looks down to catch a glimpse at what you’re wearing. the hunger in his eyes grows even more. with the way he's looking at you, you don't think you can sit still any longer. you get closer to him. he watches you closely. you look at him and ask,

"what do you want?"

"you" is all he says before placing his lips on yours. he kisses you so slow and sensually, just how you like it. you wrap your arms around his neck and your hand moves to the back of his head. he deepens the kiss, if that was even possible. he adjusts himself on the couch, making you sit on his lap. you can't help but to slightly grind against him due to the lack of friction. he lets out a slight groan into the kiss. so he likes this... good to know.

"hyunjin, please" you breathe between kisses

he only lets out a low moan in response. his hands find your robe strap. he wastes no time unraveling it. you get goosebumps from the cold air. but the second his hands land on your bare chest, you feel hot. he plays with your breasts for a while before breaking the kiss. his lips move to your jaw, then neck, then collarbone. you start to breathe heavy as you wait for him to put his mouth where you want it the most.

he kisses the area right above your left nipple and takes it in his mouth soon after. you almost immediately moan at the sensation you haven't felt in forever. you run your fingers gently through his hair as his face is shoved in your chest.

"hyunjin, the bed" you whisper into his ear. he stops feasting on you and looks into your eyes with that same look from before, but this one more desperate. he hurriedly picks you up and places you on your king bed, white satin sheets. your lips connect again with the slow and sensual pace as hyunjin climbs on top of you. it feels like you’ve been doing this all night but its only been a few minutes. you pull his shirt over his head. he has a slim appearance, but also has visible abs. what a sight. he's so beautiful, you admire him before he starts to kiss down your stomach. he gets closer and closer to your pussy and you want to moan before he even does anything. you like that in this moment, no words are needed. you’re taking things slowly. you desperately want him to touch and feel every part of you. he looks up at you before eating you out like you’re his last meal. with every movement of his tongue, you feel like you’re in heaven knowing you’re far from it. you thrust your hips, shoving yourself further into his mouth. he pulls your legs further apart, trying to taste every inch of you. there's that familiar yet unfamiliar feeling building up in you.

a breathy "hyun m’gonna" is all that can come out of your mouth.

"not yet love" he moves away from your pulsing cunt. you’re about to whine before he shuts you up with another kiss. he sits up to unbutton his pants. he discards his boxers as well. he pumps himself a bit before leaning down to place more kisses onto your lips as if he'll never get to feel them again. he adjusts himself before thrusting into you slowly. gosh it's been so long since you’ve felt something this good. he leans forward onto his elbows, his cock buried deep in you. you feel his breath your my ear. you wrap your arms around him tightly. the way you are right now feels so comfortable. it's like you’ve known him your whole life even though you met 30 minutes ago. he ruts into you deeply and passionately.

"y/n you're doing so good" he breathes out. he holds you tighter, kissing the skin by your ear. his thrusts start to get faster as you both get closer to your orgasm, and your moans get louder. there's that feeling again, except it's much more intense this time. with one final thrust, you both release. it's interesting how you’re so in sync with everything. you don't want this to be your last night with him. you guys catch your breath for a second before he removes his head from your neck to look at you.

"you're amazing" he smiles at you, a sincere one.

"you too" you smile back.

for some reason, it feels like you don't need to say anything else. like you both know what the other is feeling and thinking through everything you just did. it's connections like this that you should cherish. you plan on sticking with him.

"lets stay like this for a while, then get cleaned up, yeah?" he says

you just nod, his hair tickles your chin.

you’ve finally found your match, your match made in heaven.

[doki-doki-imagines]

Hey there! Can I have a headcanons request of Germany, England and France who have darlings that are quite, calm, introverted and composed most of the time but during their game/fight. Their darling can be very intimidating and dangerous as their rival would be afraid of them (If you know KNB. They are like Akashi Seijuro)

Ludwig Beilschmidt:

-He is so surprised. Like, shocked.

-You have always been so cute and nice…totally didn’t expect that and at first, he thinks it is a joke.

-But Ludwig can’t say he isn’t intrigued by this new side of your personality…unless you get violent. That is a big no-no for him.

-He’ll try to bring that side of you out, not often, but mostly to understand when and with whom it comes out.

-Yeah, he will study you lol. A way to understand every shade of you.

Arthur Kirkland:

-He worries a lot!

-Not for you, for the rival obviously.

-He can recognize the aura around his partner, he and Francis often get it when they meet.

-Gonna kiss your forehead after you destroy your rival and go back home.

-He had to reprimand you in front of others because he is a gentleman, but his true self is so proud of you.

Françis Bonnefoy:

-As Arthur, he recognized the aura around you immediately.

-He has to admit that he prefers your nice and more introverted side of personality.

-Mostly because he doesn’t want you to get hurt.

-Like, it is hot how good you kick ass, but please don’t get hurt, Françis likes to wear his nurse outfit for entirely different motivations.

[ccrisalright]

Can you draw Felozzy (Felix x Ozzy) if that's fine? :P

Omg please click on the image I promise it's not that crusty. By god

Finally, I've gotten around to the Felozzy request! Here you go!

I really never considered these two romantically, but I see why people like it. Its silly. :]]

closeup of the lil comic on the bottom, because I know Tumblr is gonna compress my image to shit <3

[spotaus]

Late Night quick thing (New Age Sillies)

Bad news: That joke post about including Reset + Orchid is definitely not canon. (I legit got sad thinking about Reset being in a universe where Orchid isn't- because their stories are so so intertwined- but Nightmare 100% would NOT risk the whole twins exploding Error's soul thing.)

Good news: This means I COULD include Kane (Reset's older brother who usually dies in timelines where Reset is born) and use it to develope his character a bit more! Also! Perhaps a Blue × Dream kiddo is finally in the stars for me to design?

[ghastbutlikegay]

the funny thing about being an older sibling is watching as the younger siblings slowly realize what a loser i am

[sysig]

:D ♪

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 5:48

Bakugou’s in his third year of high school when he finally invites you over to his house. The reason? To finish a calculus project.

You’d think that after surviving through the hardships of being a hero-in-training together for three years, saving each other’s lives (more often you were the one being saved than doing the saving, really), and whatnot, he would’ve invited you sooner to his home (one could dream).

But this was Bakugou, after all.

And he knew that something was off the moment he left you to share a conversation with his mom while he went to get his books from his room—the greatest mistake he could have ever done because by the time he’s making his way back, Bakugou could hear you snickering to yourself.

Not a good sign.

“I’m not going to lie; you looked hideous when you were a baby,” you say, reading through Bakugou’s baby album.

Bakugou froze. He had absolutely no idea why his mother would cave in and give you the godforsaken album from when he was young, but of course she would’ve agreed with your request to see it if you did so much as mention it.

He dropped the books he’d grabbed from on top of his desk on top of the living room table before whipping his attention towards you, an indignant scoff escaping through his nose before he took a few slow, but heavy stomps over to you—practically snatching the album from your grasp when he’s within reach.

“Stop looking through those stupid pictures.”

“Hey! I wasn’t finished,” you reply with a frown. “You’re lucky my phone’s battery just died, or else I would’ve taken a billion photos.”

Bakugou’s jaw clenched slightly as he grumbled curses under his breath, trying to flip through the album in his hands to make sure you hadn’t managed to sneak a photo out—a small sigh of relief rolling off of his tongue to find that, luckily, it was still how his parents had done it.

He shot a glare over towards you, stuffing the album back into its original spot on one of the bookshelves, his nose crinkling as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t care; tell anyone what you saw, and you’ll drop dead,” he tells you.

“Oh, but how could I not? That photo album’s like hitting the jackpot—so many super ultra rare photocards of you,” you gushed, blatantly disregarding his usual threat. “Come on, I wanna see the rest!”

“Absolutely not.” 

Bakugou knew the damn photos were in the back of the album. There were probably a handful of the ones where he was in the bathtub, butt-naked—a common photo in most photo albums he’s seen, at least. Other photos include when he was three years old and wore an All Might onesie for his birthday, pictures of him during his school recital where he was the prince, him with a bald haircut, and so much more blackmail material. 

It was humiliating, for goodness sake! And he knew you’d just tease him mercilessly if you saw it.

You’ll never let him live it down, so it’s best to deprive you of it.

“Don’t come at me for saying this, but I was the cutest baby in our village back then,” you told him proudly. “Had the roundest cheeks and brightest smile, trust.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, a huff of air forcing itself past his lips. That was one thing about you that he couldn’t stand; you were so full of yourself most of the time—you’d always been like that, and he absolutely loathed it. It could be that it reminds him of himself, so the competitive meter on his head just flares whenever he’s around you.

“I doubt you were even 1% of how adorable I was as a baby.”

“Have you seen me?” you gestured to your face with your hands to emphasize your facial features. 

“I’m still as cute even now. And no offense, Bakugou,” you giggled, “you looked like a wrinkly raisin on your first few days on this Earth.”

Bakugou’s smirk dropped. He’d almost forgotten that you had seen the stupid pictures already.

“Shut the hell up. It wasn’t that bad.” He muttered quietly, his hands balling into frustrated fists. His parents always assured him that he was a cute kid when he was small—but to hear that YOU of all people, are in disagreement with that is just aggravating.

“Fine, fine. Quits it is,” you hum. “Let’s do that calculus project so I can get home before sunset.”

Bakugou grumbled something inaudible under his breath, reluctantly nodding his head in agreement. There was no point in arguing about something so idiotic—after all, both of you were there to get a project done, not to sit around and bicker about his past.

He took a few steps over to the living room table before plopping down on the polished floor ungracefully, yanking out his notes before he gestured his hand over towards the free space next to him.

“Sit down. Let’s just get this thing done and over with already.”

Bakugou had already started working silently by the time you sat down; his hand was writing almost furiously as he copied equations onto his paper. He kept his attention focused on his notes, trying to stay quiet as he focused completely on completing the project.

He eventually stopped writing for a moment, turning his gaze over to glance at what you were doing before clicking his tongue at the sight. Bakugou could already see a few mistakes you’d made with your work.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he says.

“Wait, I’ve barely turned on the calculator, jeez.” You shook your head, solving the equation through your calculator.

“And that’s how I know you’re doing it wrong.” Bakugou huffed, shaking his own head in disappointment. 

“Formula first before adding 1.3.”

He pulled out a pen and began scribbling down on his own paper, glancing at yours every once in a while to compare the work. He knew from his experience that you were decent at math (he’d rather die than tell you that), but this was just pitiful even by your standards.

“Have you been dozing off during Ectoplasm’s class?”

“Ouch. Do you have a personal grudge against keeping the not-so-nice stuff from leaving your mouth?” you sigh. “You’re hurting my feelings— I’m devastated.”

He had a feeling you’d say something like that, and he was prepared to ignore your attempts at gaining sympathy from him.

“Unfortunately, you’ll fucking live,” Bakugou says, scribbling down the last of his work before turning it towards you. “And learn how to solve equations too, while you’re at it.”

“I know how to do it; calm down.” You huff, rewriting your solutions.

Bakugou raised a skeptical eyebrow, his head tilting with a hint of disbelief. Even if he knew you were capable of doing math, you had a bad habit of missing even the smallest details, like the operation to be used in your work, leading to the wrong answers.

His eyes scanned over the work you’d written on your paper before letting out a small huff. “Looks right. Are you done with your half?”

“Yep, yep. Are you going to write it down on our answer sheet, or should I do it?” you offered.

Bakugou glanced down at the answer sheet set to the side before picking it up and nodding. He was already holding a pen while you were still using a pencil, so it would make more sense for him to be the one to write it all down.

He began copying down the answers slowly and carefully, each number being written out with ease as his eyes flicked back and forth from the worksheet to the sheet of answers.

With him busy jotting down the answers, you occupied yourself with taking in the interior of his living room. It was beautiful, neat, and just screamed rich—not really what you expected (you really didn’t know what to expect, honestly). “Y’know,” you mention, glancing around. “You have a nice house.”

Bakugou hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes remaining focused on his task. It kind of took him by surprise to hear you say something out of the blue—about his house, no less. He’d fully expected you to talk about something else, like school or that new show you’ve been begging him to watch.

It went against what Bakugou had originally thought, which led him to look over at you from the corner of his eye, silently raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a nice house,” he said casually, his pen continuing to move over the paper. His penmanship was neat, and Bakugou hears you in awe. 

Bakugou continued to finish writing down the last of the answers, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed you looking around his house. It was obvious what was happening, but he decided to ignore it in favor of just getting the godforsaken project done.

He finished soon enough, his pen rolling back with a click before he leaned back a little and let out a small huff. “We’re done. Finally.”

“Nice, nice.” Glancing at your watch, you concluded, “I should get home.”

Bakugou was silent, rolling his shoulders and neck before glancing out of the nearby window. The sun had already begun to set over the sky, the day quickly slipping away into the night.

“Yeah, whatever. You need me to walk you home or something?” He asks gruffly.

“Nah, I’m good. I need to say goodbye to your parents, too.”

Bakugou watched as you packed up all of your belongings, a scoff rolling off of his tongue. It felt almost weird to be civil with each other, neither of you having taken jabs or making snarky remarks to taunt one another. 

“Alright, fine,” he finally said, standing up from his seat and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go find my parents then.”

He led you down the hall and into the kitchen area, his ears vaguely picking up the sounds of his mother and father talking amongst themselves about… something. He couldn’t tell what exactly, and frankly, he barely even cared.

“Mom, Dad.” He spoke up, capturing the attention of his parents. 

Mitsuki looked over at him, a smile spreading across her face. Masaru looked in the same direction, a warm smile forming on his face as well.

“Thank you for having me, Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou,” you said in gratitude. “I’ll be going home now before it gets too late.”

His parents shared a hum in acknowledgment, with his mother being the one to speak up first. She had a knowing grin on her face as she clasped her hands together, her eyes flickering over to her son.

“You’re welcome. You should come over more often,” Mitsuki said enthusiastically, her voice taking on a slightly smug tone.

Masaru laughed as he nodded in agreement. He gave a knowing look to his wife before he looked back over at you. “You should join us for dinner; we already made enough for you to join us.”

“I’d love to, sir, but my folks are waiting for me at home,” you answered sheepishly.

Bakugou noticed the glance his parents exchanged and immediately knew what they were thinking. He almost grumbled in frustration, already knowing that they’d ask him about you later after you left.

His mother spoke up once again, her smug grin growing wider. “You’re always welcome here,” she repeated, her eyes flickering over to her son as her voice came out teasing. “After all, Katsuki’s always in a ‘better’ mood when you’re around.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it, ma'am. I’m a joy to be around, after all,” you lightly joked, though you still maintained a respectful tone.

His parents were easier to get along with than you thought.

Bakugou’s eye twitched in annoyance at your words, almost making him want to quip back at your cocky behavior. However, it was the sound of his mother’s sudden laughter that stopped him from doing so.

Mitsuki mother put her hand up to her mouth briefly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she continued to chuckle. The expression on her face was elated, and it was pissing him off even more, knowing what’s to come. 

“I like this one,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Masaru added, “And clearly, so does Ka—“

“All right! They need to get going to catch the shitty train.”

By the time Bakugou accompanied you to the door, he had this obvious scowl on his face. “You’re never comin’ back here again, dipshit.”

“Wha— no fair! Why am I getting banned from the Bakugou residence when this is my first time here?” you replied.

“Shut up,” he grunts. “I could do whatever the hell I want because it’s my house, too.”

“Too bad I have your Mom’s number—“

“Delete that.”

“Hey— wai— no way!”

It was not the last time you were ever invited to the Bakugou residence.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[reverieblondie]

Remember Me?

Pairing: ExNerd!Miguel O’Hara X fem!civillainreader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), , Oral, Cowgirl, Missionary. You and Miguel make a mess...

Summary: Miguel has changed a lot since high school, but one thing remains the same...how he feels about you.

A/N: I have been trying to write about Miguel for weeks now! Every time I get close to finishing something for him I reread it and hate it! So I am posting this before I can change my mind! I hope you all enjoy I tried my best!

Word Count: 6,823

Part 2: coming soon....

“Pfft…I can't believe this is real; this can’t be real!” Gwen keeps repeating to herself, trying to stifle back her laughter. 

“I know! I couldn’t believe my eyes when Peter showed me but here it is!” Miles agrees; Pav quickly slings his arm around Miles for a better look.   

“Take a look at the specks on him. Did you know he needed glasses?” 

“Flip to the club photo. Now, that will shock you all.” 

At Hobies request the teens quickly start flipping through pages. The sound of flipping pages and then the sudden bursting of laughter from the small huddle was something Miguel could no longer ignore. Miguel wasn’t sure why the teens and Peter were in his office. But since the events with the spot and some well-deserved apologies, Miguel, in the teen's words, “Chilled out,” and now they seem to hang out around him more. Meaning they are often now in his office… Miguel, of course, tried to appear as indifferent as possible to this change of pace, though He had to admit it was somewhat nice to have the cheerful ambiance that came with them... Hell, sometimes they could make him chuckle; Miles was actually pretty funny. But, of course, he keeps these things to himself. 

Miguel makes his way to the huddle to see what could possibly be so enthralling. When he sees what's causing their uproar, his blood runs cold, freezing him dead in his tracks.

Is….that…his….yearbook…

It was turned to his picture and plan as the day under his unrecognizable photo was his name. So there was no getting out of this saying it wasn’t him…

“Miguel, is this really you?” Miles questions pointing to the picture. 

“Must be his name right there,” Pav teases, making Miguel groan. This was an actual nightmare. 

Looking over them, Miguel sees the picture they are all questioning; the difference is pretty night and day. A young 17-year-old Miguel was way scrawnier compared to his now bulking physique. His dark brown eyes were hidden behind his thick black-rimmed glasses, the only ones his mother could afford at the time. Miguel's thick, wavy brown hair looks untamed as it hangs down his forehead, threatening to cover his eyes if not for his glasses, the rest hanging loosely down to the nape of his neck. Poor kid was desperate for a haircut. Their cheekbones and jaw were still chiseled, and his face was not yet littered with lines of stress, sleepless nights, and age.  

Hobie quickly grabs the yearbook, vigorously flipping through the pages until he stops on a picture of a young Miguel holding up a mathlete trophy, awkward smile and all. “This is my favorite picture. Do you still smile like that, bruv?” 

“How did you all get this?” Miguel asks in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that will somehow stop his building anger and embarrassment. 

Very aware of the sight of Miguel about to rage out, the young spiders quickly part, pointing the blame to a laughing Peter. Who finally quits his laughing fit as now he is staring into the eyes of a very irritated Miguel, waiting for an explanation. 

Peter nervously clears his throat before speaking, “Wel, uh…do you remember a couple of days ago when you told me to drop off that equipment at your apartment? Well…I happened to see this on your living room bookshelf and thought I would look at it. Then I saw how much you had changed… I figured the kiddos would get a kick out of it…”

Miguel's eyes narrow, and his talons pop out, ready to bounce, but that is quickly escalated by Gwen taking back the yearbook, prepared to negotiate peace. 

“Okay, okay, no need to rip his head off; we will return your book.” Miguel's body relaxes as he sighs of relief, holding out his hand for the book, but Gwen smirks, holding the book back out of his reach, “But, you have to show us your old crush first.” 

Miguel’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, freezing at the terms of the agreement, and everyone else, including Layla, starts oohing. Making Miguel pitch the bridge of his nose again, muttering under his breath, “Esto tiene que ser una pesadilla…” (this has to be a nightmare…) 

Then, to make things worse, they start chanting, “Show us….Show us…Show us! Show us!!”

The chatting became too much, and he snapped, holding out his hand irritatedly for the book. “Fine! I will show you; just shut up!” 

A yay fills the room as Miguel starts irritatedly flipping through the book as soon as it’s laid in his hand. Everyone waits in bated breath until finally landing on the correct page. It's the page he spent the summer before college staring at, the picture he had agonized over. Miguel pauses, taking in the picture, and he feels those familiar feelings rushing up and swelling in his chest…Those high school crushes do hit you hard…

Even after all these years, he still remembers you so vividly; seeing the picture always solidifies for himself as confirmation as to why he had liked you so much. Beautiful and popular, everyone would only have positive things to say, even if your friend group wasn’t as nice. Miguel remembers that sweetness fondly. Though, behind that sweet smile, there was a mischievous side of you; he recalls hearing it hidden in your cooing voice when you would say that pet name during chemistry class… 

“Miggy~”     

The memory warms Miguel's cheeks, but he quickly dismisses the feeling. “There, that's her.” 

The teens quickly grab the book back, climbing over each other to marvel at the picture of the girl the oh-so-scary Spider-Man 2099 had a crush on when he was their age. 

“Wow, she's stunning!” Gwen complements 

Miguel hums in agreement, “Yeah… the prettiest girl in my grade…prom queen, part of the student council, incredibly sweet…, and we took chemistry together…” 

Pav and Hobie shoot Miguel a smirk, and he quickly huffs, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Ever work up the nerve to confess?” Pav questions, ever the romantic. 

The group watches as Miguel closes his eyes, thinking that the blush from earlier is slowly rising to his tan cheeks, making them all gasp in excitement. 

“You did!” They all scream, but Miguel is quick to correct them. 

“Well…technically…I didn’t” 

“What do you mean technically?” Miles prys

Miguel can’t believe he admitted this much, but since he's already down the rabbit hole, he might as well give some more context: “At graduation…I kinda did, then I…ran away…”

A look of shock and confusion fills the teenager's face, but Peter is all grins and is going to give Miguel a high five: “Ah, the mysterious type. Nice.” 

Gwen quickly swats him on the shoulder, earning a whine from the man. 

“Not nice! That is so confusing! You just ran? Did you ever talk to her again?” 

Miguel takes a second to avoid eye contact, stoically starting to the side, before letting out a quiet, “No…” 

There is a collective groan, and Miguel rolls his eyes, trying to contain his high school embarrassment. 

“Can we stop talking about this and return to work now?”

“Have you seen her since?” Miles questions, 

“No,” Miguel answers sharply, irritation coming back up.

“Wha-what! How will you ever win her love if you don’t clear up the misunderstanding and confess your true feelings!” Pav laments, making everyone look at him with a raised brow. 

“Pav, mate…you know how long it's been since he's seen her?” Hobie chides 

Pav shrugs slightly, muttering, “Maybe it could be like a romantic thing…” 

“So wait, You have all the resources and never thought to at least search her out? Aren't you curious?” Gwen prods 

“No, I never thought about stalking my old crush. Now, can we please-” 

“She lives in the city!” Miles' voice calls out, making Miguel whip around.

Miles and Layla stand on Miguel's platform with your picture, info, and social media pulled up on his halo screens. Everyone is quick to web over, including Miguel. Miguel quickly pushes away a beaming Miles as he takes in all your information. He sees where you went to college, where you work, and…

“Ooohhh! She's still single!” Pav beams, looking at Miguel expectancy.

Miguel rolls his eyes as he keeps looking at you, still as perfect as he remembered. Somehow, you seem more confident in yourself, you seem…sexier…

Feelings start rising back to Miguel's chest. He hasn’t seen you in so long, and even your pictures still stir something within him. 

“Wow! This is awesome!” Miles beams, pointing to one of the screens 

Miguel, being too lost in your pictures, hasn’t realized what the teens are yammering about until they all start shaking him back and forth in excitement. Then he finally hears it.

“You can see her at your High School reunion! It's coming up in a couple of weeks!” 

Miguel turns his head to the invitation Layla had pulled up. “You got this a month ago but didn’t think you would be interested…. It looks like you will be attending now, though!” 

Before he can protest, she is RSVPing, and all the teens are hollering in laughter and giving high-fives. Everything is happening so fast that all Miguel can do is stand there in something akin to a trance. That's until Pav comes up to him with a giddy smile, 

“It’s like density!” 

Miguel groans…he wants everyone to get back to work…

They really got him here….How the hell did he let them convince him to come here? They even managed to get him to dress up…

Hair in its usually slick back style, slate gray button down that did little to hide his bulk, and black trousers that he thought appeared too tight but Layla had insisted upon.  

Miguel stands uncomfortably off to the side as people he used to know all gather together, chit-chatting about their lives and reminiscing on the good old days… All while Miguel stays sulking in the corner…Maybe things from high school haven’t changed that much. Well, despite the whole genetic splicing that made him a superhero… Instead of still being the captain of the Mathletes team, he's now the CEO of Aleamax. However, one thing remains the same: When he is in a room filled with all these people from school, his eyes still roam around, trying to find you…

High school had not been kind to a nerd like him. He was 9 inches shorter, and the most important things to him were keeping all A’s, getting into his dream college, keeping up with his favorite comic series, avoiding bullying, and wanting so badly to kiss his crush. 

Miguel vividly recalls all those times in chemistry when you two worked so closely together. Miguel shyly mutters the mixing process while you lean in with stars in your eyes, taking it all in. Miguel never knew if you were interested in what he was saying or if you were trying to get a good grade, but he didn’t care. You still made his cheeks flush and heart race all the same. 

“Then…When-when you add fluid B to A, you will get a fizzing reaction…” 

A shaking Younger Miguel tries to steadily pour in the fluids while you watch, leaning in so close he could smell your sweet perfume and look at your glittery glossed lips. 

“Wow! Miggy, you’re so smart.” Your voice would be like sweet honey praising him, and the mere closeness of you to him would make his body feel like it was going to melt. 

“I keep telling my friends I have the best lab partner…” Miguel feels his throat dry as your hand slowly curls over his forearm. Then the bell rings, and Miguel is flustered, packing his things as you smile sweetly and wave goodbye. 

God, you must have been just messing with him, toying with him, knowing he was like a love-sick puppy for you. The worst part, if this was the case, he would have let you…Miguel would have let you toy and bat away at his heart until you felt content with it fully unraveling to you. Pathic…is that what you thought? Well, if it wasn’t what you thought of him before, it must be what you thought after his pitiful confession…

Miguel thinks back to that night when he last saw you…that all too familiar warmth threatens to take him over, so as he stares down at his drink, he slips back to that moment…

The ceremony had ended, everyone had exited the stadium, and Miguel was taking a second to calm himself in the dark hallway. High school was over, and his life was beginning. He was thinking back on all his decisions for this new chapter. Miguel fidgets with his graduation cap and feels about what awaits him. Then he thinks about the things he missed out on…

Then your face comes to mind…he had vowed to confess; even if you laughed and rejected him, he wanted to get his feelings off his chest. But when it came down to it, he let his shyness get the better of him and let you slip through his fingers without telling you. This was high school? He was sure to like other girls…but why was this eating away at him so much? Why did he feel so sick to his stomach for not doing this… 

The sound of clicking heels fills the corridor, and like fate, you are walking through the hallway back toward him. Miguel adjusts his glasses, unsure if this is some kind of halustion brought on by self-pity, but no… it was you…

As soon as your eyes locked to his, your lips curled to that all too familiar smile, the one that was so sweet. Then your voice rang that teasing nickname you graciously bestowed upon him.  

“Miggy, what are you doing, silly? Hanging out in the dark…Don’t you want to go celebrate?” 

“Oh…... I didn’t plan to go to any parties… just going to go home and get started on some summer reading…”

The smile that curled on your lips was additive as you stepped closer to his slouching form, “hm…Miggy…always so prepared… I’m going to miss seeing you around so much. I’m sure you're the only reason I passed chem!”  

“No…I am sure you will have more interesting people to talk to than a nerd like me…” 

“Maybe I like talking to nerds like you.” 

The statement made Miguel look up to see you so close to him mischive filling your eyes. Leaning in so close to him, he feels like he can’t breathe when he looks at you so close like this…

“You don’t mean that…” he chuckles softly.

Then your index finger lifts his chin, and you look at him with sweet eyes, but your tone is stern, “Don’t tell me what I mean…” 

Miguel feels his heartbeat quicken, and his palms begin to sweat. Before he can return to rational thought, he leans into you. 

He so gently cups your cheek with his nervous hands. Brushing his nose against yours, his shaky breath fanning over your sparkly glossed lips. Then, when your lips finally meet, he isn’t sure who fills the gap. 

The kiss was so sweet, and he held you so gently, but he knew you could feel the shaking of his hands and the heat rushing to his face. Everything around you two seemed to fade.

Eyes shut tightly from falling into the depths of the kiss, he pulls away to breathe. Peeking open his eyes, Miguels sees you are breathless, and your face is burning with a deep blush. You look so surprised... and he doesn't know what to say or how to explain. 

“I’m sorry…I just had to do that once…”

Then he ran off… leaving you alone in that dark hallway, scared of what you would say next…

“Miggy!” 

“Miggy!”

“Miguel?” 

Lost in his thoughts, Miguel failed to notice that one of his ex-classmates had been trying to get his attention. One of them must have finally recognized him. Looking up from his cup, Miguel expects to see one of his old mathlete teammates, but as he finally meets their eyes, he feels his heart stop at the sight. 

Looking up at him with that same sweet smile, you look just like he remembers: completely radiant. Your pictures showed you were still beautiful, but in person, you are the thing he remembers most about you: breathtaking.

“Miguel, that's gotta be you… Do you remember me?” -How could he not remember you?

Miguel feels himself staring at his thoughts, running everywhere; what does he say? What does he do? 

“I…I, of course, remember m-my lab partner.” -Okay, a little shaky…But with your face seeming to light up when he says he remembers and your eyes roaming over him, he can’t chastise himself too much for stuttering now. Miguel feels his hands starting to become clammy, and his stomach feels full of butterflies…shit…this feels like high school all over again. 

“I can not believe how different you look!”

“Yeah, late growth spurt and I uh… I started going…to the gym a lot….You though! You still look so beati- uh nice…good you look outstanding…” His mind is running a mile a minute, and he can’t believe how he is acting right now! He's Spider-Man, and he’s acting so nervous?

Smirking, you look as if you could read his mind about how nervous he is, though to anyone with working eyes, it was obvious. 

“You think I look good?” you ask, playful spinning, making Miguel's eyes take in just how tight your dress is. “I was hoping for beautiful…” you smile, giving him a wink. His blood rushes in his veins, and he swallows his suddenly dry throat. 

You could eat him alive…and he would let you…

“Beautiful then, you - uh… you have always looked beautiful…” 

“Thank you, Miguel, you look very handsome.” Miguel feels his heart racing as you step closer. Your eyes stay on his confident smile on your glossy lips. It teeters on cocky, and Miguel can’t bring himself to hate it…he loves it…

“Though Miguel, I do have to say…I miss the glasses; they were really cute.” 

“I still have some that I wear sometimes,” he says a bit too eagerly. 

Your smirk widens, “Really? Does your girlfriend like them?” 

“Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend.” 

The smirk on your lips borders on sinful “Good…” You purr 

Miguel feels a wave of electricity shake through him. Are you flirting? Miguel can’t help the smile and blush that's now reached to the tips of his ears. Miguel came here thinking that you wouldn’t be here, and if you were, you would be avoiding him, but he didn’t expect this. Do you even remember it? Well, of course, you would! Who forgets getting kissed, and then the person runs? He needs to apologize before he never sees you again. 

“So Umm…I am glad I got to see you, well other than it’s just nice seeing you…but I want to apologize…” 

“You’re talking about graduation.” Your cheerful voice cuts him off and utterly confuses him. Furrowing his brow, he’s lost and hoping you can explain. 

“Miguel, I liked the kiss…I wish you wouldn’t had run away…” 

Miguel is sure he’s died, and there is no possible way you're saying this to him. Sweet, perfect you, liked when he kissed you. Nerdy awkward him? Gently, Miguel feels your hands touching his chest, slowly dancing your fingertips over his muscles. Miguel hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat is racing right now. 

“You know, now that I really think about it…you owe me an apology or something. It was very rude of you to kiss me suddenly and then run away like that, teasing me. Then, when I went to reach out to you, you didn't have any socials. That's not very nice to do, you know…”  

Your hand slightly grazes his jaw, and he feels like he could melt. Rising to your tiptoes, you try to whisper in his ear as you lean into his chest, your chest rubbing against him. Miguel can feel himself starting to break a sweat. 

“I thought you were sweet…” 

Miguel feels you start to pull away, and in a moment of bravery or desperation, he carefully places his hands on your waist. Leaning down, he whispers back to you. 

“Could I make it up to you somehow?” 

“I have an idea…if you're up for it?”

Gathering his confidence, when he sees your smile, he squeezes your sides slightly, “Anything you want.” 

Without any hesitation, you grab his large hand from your waist and pull him along with you to slip out of the reception room into a dark hallway. The irony is not lost on either of you as you grin and pull each other close. Your lips are so close to his as you lean into his chest. 

“You're not going to run away this time. I want you to do this properly this time…”

Part of Miguel feels like he could be dreaming; your arms are wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair, smiling at him so sweetly. Your eyes are one of pure hunger, and your voice is so transparent with your want. It’s perfect. 

Miguel brushes his thumb over your tempting lips, slightly dragging the bottom down while he tries to archer himself back to reality. Moving his hand to your neck as he leans in and kisses you. Your lips are soft and perfectly guiding against his. Miguel's hands fall to your hips; he digs his fingers into the plush of your skin, making you gasp into his mouth with a moan. It’s been a long time since he’s kissed you, and he wants to make sure you know how much he wants you… trying his hardest to impress you. 

The fingers in his hair tighten to a fist as you guide him to part his plush lips, then slip in your tongue to get a taste of him. It’s gentle at first but quickly heats up from your eager influence. Then you start straddling his thick thighs, grinding slightly against him. Both your bodies feel like you’ve been set on fire in a blazing flame of want. 

“Miggy, I always liked you…just-”

Before you can finish your words, Miguel drives his tongue back into your mouth, eager to taste those words he had always wanted to hear. His hands cup your ass as he drives his knee deeper between your legs, letting you use him more. Breaking the kiss, you let out the most perfect moans as your body tingles and shivers. Miguel hasn’t had enough of you yet as he keeps his mouth kissing against your flushed skin. His tongue rolls over your rapid pulse as you keep grinding and mewing for more. 

“Fuck, miggy~”

Miguel licks a long strip up your neck before grunting in your ear, “I… I only came here… to see you…t-talk to you…” 

His rough words make you grind against him more, and right as Miguel starts to feel your slick soaking through his pants, you pull his hair, successfully pulling a whimper from him, which is quickly cut off by your soft lips to his again. Then, as you pull away, you bite his bottom lip, which makes him shiver. 

“Can…can I take you home…” Miguel asks breathlessly, his hands still squeezing your ass. 

A small giggle leaves your kiss-bitten lips as you take a second to fix his now-disheveled hair, thanks to you. 

“Take me to your place, Miggy; you still owe me…” 

Miguel feels a rush of excitement run through him, making his length throb at your words. You really are going to eat him alive…

It's the perfect sight he’s only ever dreamed of seeing, you sitting on his large bed completely naked, a sweet smile on your face, soft legs crossed over each other, waiting patiently for him. Miguel adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose…you had insisted, and he’s finding he can’t deny you…

Miguel slips off his underwear, kicking them away. Your eyes widen as you see his massive length slap against his abdomen, then hanging heavily. Your eyes rake over his immaculate form; the sight of you licking your lips isn’t lost on him. 

“Strip for me, Miggy,” you taunted as you dropped your dress with little effort, waiting for him to follow. Of course, he did. He would follow anything your sweet voice commands. Just please…let him touch you…

Running his hand through his hair, Miguel approaches you, but your sweet voice turns to him in disapproval, and he pauses. 

“No walking, I want you to crawl on your hands and knees…please? Miggy~” 

Every time you use that old nickname, he feels his cock twitch. Keeping his now blazing eyes on you as he slowly sinks to his knees and begins to crawl to you obediently. The action is meant to make him look submissive, but you find that even now, he looks like a predator getting ready to devour its prey… The shiver that shoots down your spine goes right to your sex, making you drip down on his sheets. 

As Miguel crawls closer, you unfold your legs, stretching one out slowly toward him. His large hand immediately catches your ankle. Hungry eyes look up at you, blazing with want, as his hand slowly caresses up your leg. Miguel's lips kiss softly against your calf while he whispers faint words under his breath after every kiss. His eyes watch you as he slowly raises your legs, the back of your thighs being pressed against his broad shoulders.  

Miguel's hands grab your hips, making you slip a moan. His eyes turn softer as he hears you moan, his lips coming away from the fresh mark he's left on your inner thigh. Miguel's lips part to apologize, but you're quick to interrupt before he can. 

Leaning forward, you push his glasses back into their proper place and caress his cheek. “You're doing so well for me, Miguel…though…It does feel like you're trying to make me beg… Are you trying to tease me?” 

Miguel's lips curl into a smile as he lowers his face to lick his tongue against your clit. You throw your head back at the hot contact, Miguel groaning at the sweet taste of your cyprine. 

“I wouldn’t dream of teasing you…” Miguel's lips lower down to your clit before he gives it a quick lick. 

Unable to help yourself, you grab a fist full of his hair, making him let out a soft groan, “Then devore me, Miggy; you still owe me, remember? And I-Ah!~” 

Before you can finish your taunting, Miguel is driving his face into your wet sex to selfishly devore more of you. Long slow licks of his warm tongue send waves of pleasure to flood your body as your toes curl from every push of his nose to your clit. 

His breaths for air huffing against your quivering sex, the tip of his tongue darting back to lick against your soft folds, making you whine. Looking down at him, his glasses crooked and hazy and his groans continue to vibrate through your pussy. Then the sensation of his tongue probing you open makes you close your thighs against his head and grab this thick hair, pulling hard enough for a grunt to slip through his chest. Getting the message, Miguel moves his tongue to lick your sensitive clit as his finger slips into you. Your grip on his hair gets tighter as you squirm, grinding your hips against his face, mouth hanging open as your chest heaves moan after moan. Your body starts shaking at the addition of another finger, making you feel jolts of pleasure that make you need to roll your hips onto his face more. 

Miguel could carless at the apparent use of his face for your pleasure; it's all he craves right now, your cum to dip all over his eager tongue. For your hips grind onto his face for hours. He would stay on his knees worshiping you like this until you're calling out from too much pleasure, and even then, he doesn’t know how he could pull himself away from your delicious taste. 

You feel him groan into you, the vibrations rushing through you to cause you to gasp and shiver as his tongue keeps sliding in and out of you, desperate for your sweetness. You want more, need more, you crave it with every roll of your hips; you want him in you deeply. Unclenching your thighs from his head, you pull his hair, forcing his face from you with a wet pop. 

Miguel's eyes are blown as he keeps them steady on yours, his full lips parted and panting. The sight of his face glistening with a mix of his saliva and your arousal is sinful and complete perfection. His poor glasses are resting on his face, still lopsided from his ravenous pursuit to taste your cunt. Leaving forward, you keep a smile as you hold his cheek; he immediately melts into it. Grabbing his glasses from his head, you toss them to his nightstand; before he can say anything to you, you're leaning forward to bring him into a kiss. His lips and tongue are laced with you, and you can’t help but want to giggle as he groans and leans his whole body onto you, so needy for more. 

With a gentle push to his massive chest, you can change the positions as you now straddle his hips effortlessly. You are slowly running your hands up and down his chest and abdomen, feeling his hair decorating his skin, making your mouth water. As you shift yourself up, you feel his swollen length hanging heavily as you nudge against it. The tip is hot and already pebbling with glistening pre-cum, straining for you to envelope around him. Reaching down, you flick your eyes from his eyes to his length. 

Miguel sure has changed over the years, but his face is so breathless and furrowing with every strained pleasure as you slide your thumb over his cocks slit. Whining so softly, sounding like the sweet nerd you remember. On the other hand, Miguel is witnessing you in a way only his mind had fantasized about. Your smile is no longer so sweet but devious; He wants to push his cock into you so deeply and have you shudder and scream while you gush all over him, But this teasing and taunting… it's mouth-watering. 

Touching his length, you feel the sheer heat of it as you carefully trace over the soft skin, feeling every vein. Tracing over the red weeping tip, you feel him shudder and mumble something under his breath as you grasp him to hold against you, seeing that he measures to your stomach. You can't help but bite your lip in anticipation of the stretch. 

Your eyes flick back to Miguels, “Think it will fit?” you tease.

“I will make it fit…” his rough voice sends a shiver down your spine. 

Lifting to your knees, you line up his tip to brush on your clit, making you gasp as you slip him through your folds. Then finally, you slip him in slowly, feeling his cock stretch your fluttering hole; the stretch is intense and makes you roll your eyes as your back arches. Miguel grabs your ass tightly, bucking his hips to sink in a bit faster; he pants a sorry as you let out a moan and squeeze your hands on his chest for support. Looking down at his beautifully blushing face, you only smile as you sink deeper. 

“So eager, Miggy~” 

All Miguel can manage is a smile as he works hard to keep himself from bottoming out immediately. He so badly just wants to shove it in deeply and rut into you like a damn animal. A groan builds in his throat as he tries to keep himself from whimpering as you continue to sink so slowly. His cock throbbing and stretching your walls as it heats your insides. Before he can manage a whine, you sink all the way down, taking every inch; before either of you can moan, you lean down to catch his lips in a needy kiss, taking control you guide him, your tongue pushes past his lips to taste his groans. While his tongue eagerly does the same. Pulling away from the kiss, you grind against him, relishing in the feeling of his cock pushing in deeper and his trimmed hairs tickling your sensitive skin; you can’t help but bite his bottom lip to compensate for the mind-numbing feeling. 

Miguel's hands squeeze harder, making you release his lip as your cunt to clenchs on him, the moan of his name dropping from your lips as your hips start to grind on him at a slow pace. Using your hands, you slightly push yourself up and rock your hips back and forth, letting his cock slide to bully your gummy insides, brushing your cervix with every nudge. Miguels is mesmerized as he roams his hands over your body, worshiping every inch of your skin with his careful fingertips brushing and rubbing you so tenderly. His hands come to your breast, where he takes a minute to squeeze and pinch your nipples, your whimper in response, and grind harder against his cock, pushing him to rub harder against your cervix.

“You look s-so fucking beautiful…your body, your…tatse…I’ve never stopped thi-thinking of you…” Miguel mutters through pants of hot breaths. 

The words spur you on, and you start to pick up your pace, making him moan out and guide your hips to rock back and forth faster, “Always so sweet…” you coo to him…the words are less taunting but just true; he has always been sweet to you…

“Only for you…” he muses, and you can’t help but smile, 

“Good…” 

You feel yourself starting to sip from having a clear head that's now blurring in a haze of lust as you continue to pursue your pleasure on his girth. Pushing in and out on him quicker. Your hands grab onto him tighter as you ravish your tight pussy with his throbbing cock. Begging for both his and your release. Fucking so deep in you, now your jaw falls slack as his cock keeps pushing against your velvety sweet spot, making jolts of pleasure pulse through your body with every bounce. 

The sweat that has built on your bodies works hard to try and cool your fevered states, but with every push into your cunt and with every clench around his length rousing him to go deeper makes it all in vain. There is no cooling as you two approach your white hot release, bodies only growing more hot and sensitive with every whine and every mind-numbing push. So close to tipping the other to ecstasy…

With a couple of aided thrust from Miguel fucking up into you, your muscles tenase and your mouth falls open in a pitched scream of his name as your danm burst making you clench and shudder on his cock, coming undone on top of him. You're quivering on his length as he carefully grinds you through your drenching pleasure, the feeling of his cock slipping deeper as you eagerly ride him through your high. 

With the way you clench so tightly and grind faster, Miguel couldn't help but feel himself throb and spurt right into your cervix. The feeling of it spurting so thickly, his cock pulsing inside of you, feeling so heavy in you with each twitch. This cum is hot and fills you so that it's leaking down mixing with your arousal, creating a sticky mess. You can't help yourself when you side on more and more feeling your cunt want to stick to his skin. 

Haze starting to clear you fall forward on him, you try to catch your breath in between placing frantic kisses to Miguel's chest and neck. Your orgasm leaves you utterly satisfied, but Miguels is not done…

With a quick turning over your body, you're lying on your back now as Miguel situates himself between your legs. He takes time to look over your flushed form, his massive hands dragging over your sensitive body, and you shiver and buck your hips up. Miguel takes your legs, pushing them up to your chest, making your mew from his touch, your pussy completely exposed to him. Miguel feels his breath catch as his cum leaks out of your trembling puffy cunt in milky drops. Miguel releases one of your legs to fall to his shoulder so he can plam his cock, still erect and ready for more. His red eyes flick back to your blisted-out face, and though you're at the point of overstimulation, you still ache for more. 

“M-Miggy…” you're the one to tremble shyly for him now, and the switch of the roles makes him fold. He’s helpless for you…

Leaning down carefully, Miguel cages you between his massive arms as he places a gentle, sweet kiss on your begging lips. Breaking the kiss, he whispers in your ear so softly, “More? Can you give me more? Perfect girl…let me feel you again…please…” 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his damp skin, you buck your hips up in your whine of, “More, Please, Miggy ah—I need more of you, always. You are so good to me.” 

He catches your hips in a quick grip as he lifts them up, smiling; it's everything he has ever wanted to hear from your sweet lips. And he is always eager to satisfy you. 

Miguel slips his cock into you with a groan; you're already so sensitive as he pushes down to the base, filling you so quickly that your body already starts quivering around him. Pressing soft kisses to your sweaty skin, he rolls his hips slow and deep. He is taking his time with you. Every thrust is hot and tingling, and you feel that familiar tense starting to build up again from the consistent pace he's set. Managing to open your eyes through moans and rolls, you see Miguel with beautifully flushed cheeks, eyes filled with want as he softly pants and whimpers with each clench of your wet cunt. 

As his pace quickens, you feel him throb, giving you new resolve to meet your hips with each thrust, and your core starts to burn deliciously. Your nails find their place, digging into his broad back. Every slap of his balls to your overly sensitive skin makes you moan and throw your head back. Miguel takes the opportunity to kiss and lick against your neck, his hot breath rushing over you. With a final clench and strained moan, you feel that white-hot wave of pleasure burn through you; his body shudders at the feeling of your cunt, so desperate to cum against him to milk him dry again. His groan borders on a whine as his hips are still, and you feel that familiar throbbing against your cervix as his thick cum fills you up. Looking up at him, you watch his face contort to be in complete pleasure; the sight of it is completely addicting. 

Staying in you till you are both down from your highs, he slowly pulls out his softening cock. The pooling of both of your cum completely ruins the sheets underneath you, but Miguel doesn’t worry about that. He brushes stray hairs from your face and whispers he will be right back. You're too exhausted to move, and you can only twitch slightly as you feel a cool cloth cleaning you up so gently. 

After cleaning you up, you feel the bed sink beside you and the feeling of an arm around you, bringing you closer to his warm body, his other hand brushing through your hair so carefully. You gather your energy to curl into Miguel with a broad smile. You two lay there, slowly drifting away in each other's comfort. 

Clearing his throat, Miguel tries to be as unawkward as possible, and it only manages to make you smile more; you two just had amazing sex, and he’s still nervous; some things die hard, you guess. Looking up at him, you see he’s trying to gather up the best way to approach his next words; this night has been everything he hoped, and he doesn’t want to blow it now, but he needs to know the answer to his question, 

“Can-can I…take you out on a date?” 

His face is completely sincere and flushed; you have to bite back your giggle before you answer. 

“Miggy, about time you asked…” 

You two set the date up for the next night; Miguel, of course, wore his glasses…