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kazusys · 2 months ago

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— kissing under the mistletoe.

kissing genshin men under the mistletoe! / fluff / no cw / other: you’re not dating in all scenarios! (❕) a/n: i did NOT proofread. but this took me a bit… hope you guys enjoy nonetheless! happy holidays! :)

characters included: albedo, childe, cyno, diluc, kaeya, kazuha, lyney, scaramouche, tighnari, wriothesley, xiao, and zhongli.

wc: ~4.4k words

“relax, it’ll be fine!” he said. “just lead her to the mistletoe when you two are chatting at the party; after all, you both are probably going to stick together the entire time anyways.”

that was kaeya’s advice. of course albedo took it, considering the probabilities of it working due to his insane roster of people fawning over him for just existing. of course he’d be more educated in this area.

but how would he be able to enact said advice if the guy who gave the advice in the first place was busy taking up all your time at the stupid party?

albedo was ready to just head home at this point. there was no point in waiting for you if he was most likely going to chicken out in the end anyways.

a boisterous laugh from kaeya brought albedo out of his little slump as he looked over, watching as the guy pushed you lightly his direction. you seemed… almost bashful. it was cute.

you shuffled through the people dancing and walking around before stopping in front of him.

“hey, ‘bedo.” you smile.

“(y/n), it’s good to see you here.” albedo returned, realizing that besides the initial hello you two shared before you were whisked away elsewhere, this was the first time he’d been able to talk to you tonight.

“good to see you too, i was thinking— there’s this place i wanna show you outside of the party, would you want an escape for a bit?”

he followed you immediately.

the spot was serene. the backdrop of all the constellations and the hanging moon in the sky were in full view, a couple trees here and there adorning the already pleasing landscape. albedo wished he had brought something to paint with, but a mental remembrance would have to do for now.

“it’s… stunning.” he murmured out as you continued walking. you went over to a tree whose leaves leaned forward just a bit, providing some shade. you sat down under it, patting the ground next to you.

this was his sort of paradise. the cool breezes, the quiet atmosphere, the world seemingly frozen as you two sat so close that one movement would have your arms brushing together.

he made that one movement.

you gave him a glance before seemingly staring at the sky. “look up in the branches of the tree.”

he did so without a word, his eyes zeroing in at the singular, small irregularity amongst the greenery of the tree.

mistletoe.

a light blush spread across his face, his eyes widening as they faced yours, which were already staring at him. he forced his expression to go back to being as neutral as he could manage, before cupping your face with one hand and bringing you in for a kiss.

needless to say, kaeya was a good matchmaker.

the holidays have always been a heartwarming time with ajax’s family, not to mention that ever since you joined him, he waits twice as excitedly to see them again.

he loves the domestication of you with his younger siblings, his parents, him; in a warm house with snowflakes floating down amongst the scenic landscape outside and everyone inside away from the troubles of the world. all his loved ones, together, in one place, safe.

taking your hands and spinning you around, he lets go of one to hold your hand as you both sprint to the house ahead. you love how his eyes shine as he knocks on the door, his younger siblings tackling him and squeezing you tightly to the ground with his parents reprimanding them and herding them back inside.

you’re grateful for the warmth of the house as you shed off your winter gear and help ajax get off his as his siblings spout off with questions for him that they couldn’t fit in the letters sent back and forth between them.

at one point, they bring their big brother in to whisper something in hushed voices. ajax chuckles as they scurry off, shaking his head and smiling brightly at you. he almost seems like a kid again, the way his smile reaches far and he looks like he can’t get any happier.

you see teucer poke his head out from behind a wall and beckon ajax over. he goes over, but not without a glance to you showing off the mischievous glint in his eyes.

you wait in anticipation with a smile as you hear everyone with him giggle and push him out with a newly acquired headpiece, a headband with a string attached to a mistletoe.

a few seconds go by with your laughter before ajax teasingly says, “so, are you going to come over here, or?”

you be sure to give a thumbs up to his siblings before tackling him in a hug and bringing him in close for a smooch or two.

“stay still,” you softly chided, “i’m not going to be able to get all this sand out if you don’t.”

“sorry.” cyno replied, glancing back at the ceiling. of all methods…

this was purely tighnari and collei’s doing. they’re the only ones who know cyno’s preferred place to sit as you “help get the bits of persistent sand in his hair” even though he knows that he can do it himself.

when had they placed that there?

cyno quietly sighed as you finished with the ends of his strands, carefully taking off your gloves and putting down your brush on the towels beneath you both.

“alright, then— good night, cyno.” you say as you get up, although hesitant. you wanted to spend more time with him, but with his narrow schedule, you don’t mind putting his rest before your own desires. you wait for him to stand and get off the towels, which he does, before cradling them in a way so that the sand on top of them won’t spill. you give a small “bye, sleep well,” before turning to leave.

you feel his coarse fingers delicately wrap around your upper arm, a gasp leaving your lips as he pulled you back with a force that you’d be able to escape from if you wanted to.

“cy—”

“look up.”

you do as told.

as soon as your eyes meet the red and green symbol, you feel the same fingers that pulled you to him hold your chin, bringing your focus to him.

he speaks through the meeting of your eyes, and you allow him with a response of your lips against his.

he separates after a bit before diving back in. after such a small taste of paradise, he can’t help but want more.

of course someone put a mistletoe above the doorway of the tavern. and of course he didn’t remove it incase you came by today. and of course kaeya teased him for it.

no matter how annoying, he’d go through it if it meant you’d come to him at the end of the day.

and that you did.

you rushed past the door in excitement to tell him about your hectic, but interesting, day as diluc ignored the knowing stare he got from the calvary captain.

with a small smile, you two stayed talking until midnight, when diluc finished cleaning and closed up the tavern.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, ‘luc.” you smile, as he does the same despite his diminishing hope at being able to kiss you under the protruding plant that you two were still standing under.

just as he came to the conclusion that he’d have to be the one who’d initiate the kiss, you leaned in close to place a kiss on the corner of his lips. “you’re obvious when you want something, you know that?”

he chuckled a bit after he recovered. “you just know me well.”

he put a hand on the side of your face and pulled you in again.

“your office is so… bland. for someone like you, i expected at least some interesting decorations especially during this season.”

“‘for someone like you’?” kaeya rose an eyebrow, eyeing the box you set on his desk. “and furthermore, i haven’t had the time to decorate for the season! i’m always busy with work or spending time with you.”

“or at the tavern,” you pointed out, taking items and sorting them out across the floor from the box. “hmm, red or blue?”

“both. and what if i was just waiting for you to come in and help me since we both did a pretty good job last year?” it wasn’t a total lie. he was waiting for you, but only to be able to spend more time together.

“straight line or dips? then i think that’d be a lie,” you countered, “after all, your office was as brightly adorned as the outside all those years back before i came in to help.”

“on the walls? straight would be easier. dips would look good on the desk, though.” kaeya said as he adjusted some of the ribbons he fluffed out. “i like your company.”

a smile creased your features as you stayed quiet at the thought for a few seconds before replying with a “i like yours, too.”

eventually, you both stepped back to revel the sight. you sipped the last bits of the now lukewarm drink kaeya brought for you earlier. you remembered the way your fingers brushed against each other and the small spark that you hoped he shared.

you felt him brush a piece of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

when did he get so close?

he tilted your head up to the ceiling, your heart beating fast and resounding in your ears.

and then he kissed you, soft and delicately.

amidst the glowing lights and cheery decor, nothing could’ve matched the high spirits you and kaeya were feeling right then and there.

kazuha's observant. he always has been. so he’ll always know when you’re not giving yourself as much love as you should be. case in point…

“i know that i am not the most perfected in this art…” says the guy who can make cussing sound flowery and sweet sounding, “but i made this small book for you. it’s full of haikus and other forms of poetry containing everything i find attractive about you.”

you take the quite hefty book full of papers and some apparent trinkets sticking out of some of the pages (like flowers that remind him of you and such) with care. its title is (y/n), my muse and eternity.

you can’t seem to find your words. “kazuha… this is…”

he smiles at how happy you look.

he knows that insecurities are far from that of the like of small insects and the such, in which you can just kill them with a little flick or small press of a youth’s finger.

insecurities are plagues, brought from hell itself to block out what objectivity sees.

he knows that his words won’t be enough to quell your troubles permanently, but he’ll damn well try just to see that smile and see you free from what’s trapping you in that moment.

he flips the pages to the end where papers face you devoid of ink. he gestures above, where a small plant glistens amidst the dull space where you two are seated. you swear that wasn’t there when you walked in.

you feel him slowly trace your arm, as if asking permission to pull you closer. you lace your fingers together, relishing in the warmth of his presence as you let yourself come closer.

his lips meet yours, soft as his appearance but as passionate as his dreams and ambitions.

and when you two come apart, he takes ink and a quill from a nearby table and fills in the blank page with new words, swiftly getting the mistletoe from above to tuck into the pages like a bookmark.

lips—

with the snow falling

in the slumber of the world

Heaven-sent are they

with warmth to my days

with feelings of home in you

paradise is found

“a private show right now?” you softly laugh.

“exactly! and you’re in for a treat today— i picked up a book per someone’s recommendation about the significance of different flowers and their meanings! and i will incorporate that in the trick i’m about to show you!” he spouted excitedly, bowing in front of you as he usually does before a performance.

“well then, let’s see what you’ve got for me today that’s different than all the other shows you’ve already shown me!” you say, sitting in the chair he prepared ahead of time.

he smiles. taking his hat off again, he swirls his fingers over the opening.

“oh, it seems there’s something stuck; give me a second…” and with a yank, out he pulls a bouquet of rainbow roses. he offers them to you with a warm grin.

you take it with wide eyes, holding it close to you as you relish in how your fingers brushed against his and the remembrance of the meaning of these flowers.

taking advantage of the proximity, lyney brushes back a piece of your hair, reaching behind your ear and pulling out a piece of mistletoe with small buds blossoming on the branches.

you feel your face become unbearably hot.

he leans in to whisper. “this part isn’t a trick, by the way… these flowers represent my feelings rather well, i think. do you accept them?”

you can feel your heart pounding as you nod, his lips reaching yours as soon as you do. it’s passionate, just as the flowers represent.

once you both pull back, he says, “how do you rate your performance?”

“i’ll rate it ten out of ten if you kiss me again.”

he does. 10/10!!

what a stupid touchy feeling tradition. absolutely stupid. absolutely not worth his time setting up just because of your stupid romantic fantasies.

well, i guess that makes him stupid, then.

if all goes wrong, he has at least five back-up plans ready. so there’s nothing to lose, right?

except maybe possibly hopefully the norm of friendship you two have changing into something more.

but, he knows that if his hopes are set too high, they can come crashing down more hurtful than falling from a fifty-story skyscraper.

so he settles for stomping out his icky hopes and dreams for this encounter in favor of not going insane. at most, you were probably going to just peck him on the cheek as a ‘friendly gesture’. or slap him altogether.

it was still a good ten minutes or so before your designated meeting time, so he closed his eyes and waited beneath one of the shady areas of the forest hangout you both discussed on, listening for the sound of your footsteps. to his mild surprise, he heard them coming just a few minutes later.

you emerged from the trees, your eyes widening a bit before smiling to seemingly cover it up. “scara’! sorry, did i make you wait for long?”

he shook his head, eyeing the basket you were holding before meeting your gaze. “you’re fine. i just arrived.” which was a lie, he came extra early to prepare.

“that’s good to hear. i met with the traveler a few days ago, and he taught me a few new recipes. i was wondering if you’d like to try them out?” you say, taking a small picnic blanket out. scaramouche offered to take it as he spread it out under the tree he was leaning against.

“sounds good, your cooking’s always something i look forward to.” he replied, throwing that compliment in for good measure.

you laugh softly, opening the basket and setting out the dishes. he can’t help but notice a certain small plant in there as well for a brief second before it’s gone, covered by a few napkins shifting around as you arrange the food and utensils.

ah. well…

he stops you momentarily, gently moving your hands off the basket as he brings it closer to himself, knelt down as he rummages through it and pulls out the small piece of mistletoe inside.

you’re quick to talk. “oh, that’s… that’s just a lucky charm i carry around. i… a friendsaidthat it’s supposed to bring good luck! and fortune! and i brought it to ensure that you wouldn’t uh—get food poisoning or something, y’know? or so that i won’—!”

you’re startled by scaramouche pulling you to your feet, a smirk on his face as his hands trail up to your face. his thumbs trace the sides of it as he says, “if you look up, i’m sure you’ll find something very confidence-boosting.”

you do.

he slowly leans in, like he’s seen other couples do. and he swears you’re something else and that something zapped his lips and spread through the rest of his body, because the moment your lips met it felt as if a small electrocution was taking place in each part of his being.

it’s almost so overwhelming that he also swears that he can feel his own heartbeat in there. what did you do?

a small paradise of his own, and he plans on never losing it.

(also something ate a portion your food— it wasn’t you or scaramouche— but hey, at least that means that he can spend time with you cooking that same dish again!)

sleeping out in the forest can be difficult, but for people like tighnari, you just get used to it.

however, that’s not the case this time around with the only sound that his ears seem to be registering being the sounds of you outside your tent, sitting on a stump, writing in your plant/personal(? he thinks?) journal, and very much awake after he told you to rest up for tomorrow.

he sighs, getting up. he’s not letting you do this.

you immediately turn your head to the sound of him exiting his tent, knowing you’re in for an earful about taking proper care of yourself. you know he cares, but at least wait until you’re finished writing these last few words…

“i told you at least an hour ago to head to sleep. you’ll need the energy for tomorrow.” he walks closer, ending in front of you with a hand on his hip, which he drops as soon as you look up at him.

“i know, but…”

“you can fill in whatever you want to fill in tomorrow. come on.” he gently ushers you to your feet, taking your hand and confiscating your notebook.

“tighn—!”

“i’ll give it back tomorrow. i don’t trust you not to write in it in your tent.” he leaves no room for complaint, evading all your attempts in retrieving the book until you eventually give up with a more than devastated look.

you reluctantly lie down, tighnari watching you till you put your covers over yourself.

“good night, (y/n),” he gives a small smile, “tell me if anything nearby irritates your senses. i won’t mind being waken up for that.”

and with that, he leaves.

he spares a glance at the notebook in his hand, still open to the page you were writing on. he had no intentions of reading it, but when your name’s written down in someone’s time, you’re bound to be curious why.

𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘰𝘦

𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺

— 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥…

you’ve certainly done your research. after swiftly skimming through that portion…

𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴

— 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘪 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴? 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵: 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘺. 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘣𝘶𝘵

that’s where it ends. in the book, a small mistletoe plant is nestled in between the pages. tighnari can feel his face heat and his tail jerking around excitedly behind him, prompting him to take a deep breath to calm down. it’s no use, really.

you like him?

he can’t help the smile that flutters up, taking the plant out and dropping off your notebook in his tent.

he goes over to yours, knocking his foot against the rocks outside as a sort of doorbell. he knows you’re awake.

meanwhile, you’re panicking and on the verge of running out and taking your chances in the dangers of the forest in the dark. you hear his knocking.

“you read it.” you manage from behind the curtain like doors. “i’m sor—”

“may i come in?”

he hears you inhale deeply. hesitant footsteps make their way over, opening the entrance to him.

immediately, he takes your hand. lifting his other arm, the mistletoe he has a hold of dangles above you both.

“i would,” is all he says before his lips press against yours.

both of your worlds spin, and every other noise in the avidya forest blurs away.

when you separate, he’s the first to speak with rosy cheeks decorating his features.

“mistletoe is also categorized as a parasitic plant, meaning it depends on other plants to survive by drawing nutrients from them. be sure to add that to your journal.”

“tighnari.”

he kisses you again in apology.

“your knuckles are all bruised again…” you mutter, taking his hands into your own. you brush your thumbs over the especially calloused areas.

“it’s really no big deal…” he murmurs, thinking you to be sweet for caring so heavily about him.

you get your bandages out. “are there any other places that are injured that i should know about?”

he shakes his head no, but then answers verbally realizing that with your eyes focusing on his hands, you probably didn’t see.

a couple minutes later and you’re done, a lot sooner than wriothesley would’ve wanted.

“flex your fingers.” he does so. you take the hand you just bandaged to fix one loose end. “i think that’s it…”

he subconsciously holds your hand in his. as per tradition— a sort of inside joke between you two— you bring his fingers to your lips and kiss his bandaged knuckles with a smile.

when you do the same to the other hand, he chuckles. you look at his head tilted upwards, looking up at the ceiling. you trail up as well, your eyes widening for a moment.

“it looks like sigewinne must’ve slipped in and done some decorating for me. we don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

you recall her words from a few days ago to you. “well, if you don’t make a move soon, don’t be surprised when i intervene.”

you meet his eyes. he looks… bashful? embarrassed?

you gather up your confidence before it evaporates and move up to kiss him.

He stiffens before melting into the kiss, bringing you closer with the hand not holding yours on the small of your back and the other intertwining your fingers.

he chased your lips after you separated, and well; you both didn’t leave his office for a bit.

you definitely made sure to hug and give sigewinne a new sticker sheet afterwards.

you thought up the idea a while back, but never acted on it. xiao was… well, xiao. you simply didn’t think he’d like it, especially if he didn’t like you in that way. that’d just be awkward.

so you never did it, until one day after you consulted zhongli.

“it seems he does feel the same way, after all the talks we’ve shared of the topic being you, to whom he speaks very highly of.”

you smile at the thought now as you sit beside xiao, explaining the topic of mistletoe, which apparently he overheard from some people walking past that he wanted to learn about. what he heard you don’t know, so you prompt to start from the very beginning from its origins all the way to its tradition.

he stays quiet with a few questions throughout your speech, seemingly deep in thought.

you think that’s a good sign.

when you’re done, you look at him only to find him already staring at you.

“would you want to do that with me?”

your eyes widen at the sudden sentence before you throw out a response. “yes, i would.”

“i’ll be right back.” and before you can say anything, he vanishes. he comes back a few minutes later with something in his hand. a small mistletoe.

you stand up to his level, eyeing the blush beginning to spread across his face.

you smile serenely, taking his hand holding the plant and raising it above your heads. you then take the lead and lean in to kiss him.

in all of his years of being alive, xiao thinks he’s never felt so… actually alive. it’s always like that around you. you take him away from the automatic responses he gives and seemingly endless monotony that is slaying monsters and the sort. you give him some sort of essence he can’t describe that he’s been lacking all these years, decades, centuries, millenniums.

he loves you so dearly.

and when you separate, he finds himself seeking more, pulling you closer and kissing you again.

it’s his sort of reward for suffering for so long without this, he supposes.

“it’s rather late,” zhongli glanced over at the night sky, “shall we get going?”

you nod. “thanks for accompanying me today; though, i still feel guilty for taking up your time…”

he gives you a reassuring smile. “it is of no concern. i was not particularly busy, and any time spent with you is never wasted.”

you smile back. “you flatter me too much.”

“it is not as if you do not deserve it.” he responds. you can’t help but widen your smile. he continues speaking. “you’re staying over at the baiju guesthouse for now until your renovations are completed, correct?”

“i am! it’s been pleasant so far, and the decorations adorning the building for the season are definitely a sight to wake up to!”

a good amount of talking later, and finally at around midnight, you both arrive.

“i’m afraid i now must apologize for taking up your time, you ought to rest for tomorrow. shall we meet up soon?” his expression is soothing, but if you look a little deeper, a small glint in his eyes shows a bit of hopefulness and something else.

“of course, and…” you trail off, glancing up at the archway you two are standing under in front of the guesthouse. “happy holidays, zhongli.”

you quickly kiss him on the cheek before hurrying away, leaving a stunned zhongli in your wake, hand to the place where you kissed him, seemingly in awe.

he says your name delicately, like a sacred word meant to be worshipped. you stop your hand on the door, turning your head over to see him reach for your hands and spinning you around.

a small intake of air leaves you as he walks you both back under the mistletoe above that you spotted earlier. he then leans in close.

“may i?”

and you close the distance.

happy holidays indeed.

©️kazusys — 24/12/24; do not plagiarize/steal, repost, translate, and/or claim any of my works as your own.

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mcpaw · 2 years ago

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Bassshful

#bashful #snake girl #shedding skin #monster girl #frog shirt

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letthewordsoverflow · 4 months ago

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So I saw Anora two days ago and can't get this epilogue out of my head so just imagine this, directly following the end of the movie....

So Igor holds Anora in the car until she stops crying

then finally she gets up and then gets out of the car with a flippant joke about him zipping his dick back in "pervert"

then she takes a few steps back towards the house and then turns back and goes "well? Are you coming?"

So he goes from scrambling to zip up his pants to scrambling out of the car and following her inside

and then they go into the living room and her sister is there w her boyfriend sitting on the couch and shes just like "hey there's some lasagna in the kitchen"

so he follows anora into the kitchen (he'd follow her anywhere) and they get lasagna and they go to join her sister and her bf in the living room to watch the movie and they're cuddled on one side of the 3 seater and anora sits against the other arms so there's space in between but it'd be tight so he sits in the arm chair next to the couch

and they eat their food and are watching and he's super aware of her but definitely NOT looking at her (okay but only from the corner of his eye and she DEFINITELY cannot tell)

at some point she lets out a frustrated sigh and stands up and comes to sit in his lap and cuddles into him

eventually she falls asleep there, with her head curled under his chin, and she stays like that for a long time

he considers asking her sister for a throw blanket but then they get up and go into one of the two bedrooms down the hall

He waits a while longer, just holding her. Shes safe. And she's in his arms.

If you had asked him what he expected from being 30 three days ago, it definitely would not be this. But this, this is so much better.

He stands up and takes her to her room and sets her down in her bed and he moves her hair out of her face and just gazes at her for a second

He moves to leave but she groggily reaches out her arm and says "stay"

so he kicks off his shoes, climbs into bed, and just holds her while they sleep.

and she actually sleeps through the night instead of getting up to work (at some point he woke up to piss and he gently pushed her to ask and she was not pleased about the disruption because she "needs some fuckin rest after the last 48hours")

they wake up the next day at like noon (early for her, late for him)

So they wake up and just look at each other for a moment and then he asks "may I kiss you?" And she says "but I have morning breath" and he says "may I kiss you?" And she says "you have morning breath" and he says "may I kiss you?" And she nods, not breaking eye contact but clearly a little bashful at the vulnerability

and theyre kissing and then they're making out and at some point he pulls away and moves to just hold her and shes like "do you...not want to?"

And he goes "I want to, we just don't have to. I'm happy like this." and he cuddles her closer

and she smiles to herself and hides he face into his chest for a moment

but then she moves to straddle him and goes "what if I want to?" And he goes "whatever you want" in the tone that says 'you can have whatever you want and we never have to do anything you don't want' and seeing the sentiment echoed in his eyes has her kissing him with all she's worth (which a lot in his estimation)

and then theyre getting all hot and heavy and she takes off his shirt and moves to take off his pants

when she realizes he's still wearing his jeans so of course she gives him shit for that (but he wasn't going to climb into her bed in his underwear without her go ahead so he just takes her teasing)

and they laugh together as they keep making out and shedding clothes and then she moves to touch him (like she did in the car, but this time it was about him)

He stops her and he asks if he can do something

and she says sure

so he flips them so she's on her back (she knew he was strong, he threw her around a whole bunch not two days ago, but it was different to have him move her like that....it did it for her honestly)

he moves to go eat her out and she starts to stammer that he doesn't need to do that and he says "what if I want to"

like she said before

and then he goes at it for a nice long time

And he makes her cum

like HARD

and so shes like "I finished," meaning to say 'okay cool now im taken care of so over to fucking so you can get off' (that's just how sex works, right) and hes like "who said i am?"

And then keeps at it, making her orgasm a few more times before he even lets her touch his dick

(she can't even recall the last time a guy she was with got her off)

so she's like on cloud nine when she's finally like "stop stop"

he pulls back IMMEDIATELY and asks if she's okay and if he did something wrong

she says no, she's just over sensitive and then next time she cums she would really like if he was inside her

so then he smiles and moves up her body, kissing her along the way, to get into position

and he kisses her (she loves the taste of herself on him) and then asks if she has a condom

she says she does "but....also....we don't need to use one of you don't want to"

hes very confused

so she gets nervous and starts to ramble about how she always ALWAYS uses protection w clients and she gets tested all the time and knows shes clean (to which he says "me too") and she has an iud but its also totally cool if he wants one because she has been w a lot of partners (bc she assumes he doesn't bc of a judgement for her profession)

meanwhile hes just confused bc it didnt even ocurr to him she may want that

so he asks what she wants and she says no condom (which is kinda the biggest display of trust and intimacy she has bc she is METICULOUS about protection) (even w Ivan who, she was seeing exclusively for what is a long time in her book, she always made him use a condom)

so then they have sex

and he hits a smooth slow wave of a rhythm that really works for her

and he uses one hand to support himself over her and his other to rub her clit

and he just keeps looking at her

and the eye contact and the intimacy are too much and she cums

She cums a lot

and only then does he finally start to lose his rhythm until he's moaning into her neck as he cums

And then he rolls off her and she must be the sappiest bitch in Brooklyn because she misses having him inside her

And then he is just lying next to her breathing heavily for a moment before he quickly gets up and puts on his pants and walks out

and she feels like she must have whiplash bc they were just so intimate (more intimate than she's been with a guy in.... god she doesn't want to think of how long it's been like this)

and he's just gone

like every other guy

maybe this was all just a good fuck to him

Maybe he saw the opportunity to fuck the sex worker, knew it'd be a good time, and now he was done

she's working herself up, even though a whispering voice in the back of her mind kept saying he couldn't have gone far without shoes....or a shirt....or his phone and car keya....

by the time he comes back and shes convinced herself that he was using her and she shouldn't have let him in or trusted him or slept in his arms all night

So she starts to yell at him, which she certainly has a talent for

At first he's confused but he slowly approaches her and sits on the edge of the bed

and he looks down at his hand and then at her, asking for permission

and only then she realizes he came back with a glass of water and a warm damp towel - to clean her up, she realizes as he gently and methodically starts to clean her thighs

she sips at the cool water he handed her as she watches him slowly tend to her

then he sets the towel and glass down (after taking a sip himself... somehow his swallow was a turn on? What is happening to her?)

and he takes is jeans back off and climbs back into the bed and pulls the covers up over them and pulls her to his chest until they both fall back to asleep.

Later he drives her to work at the strip club, kisses her goodbye, and says he'll pick her up later.

As he watches her walk into HQ he can't help but think how much his grandmother is going to love her.

#anora #film #fan fiction #writing #epilogue #what happens next #fanfic #ani #igor #ani x igor #anora x igor #service dom #soft #fluff #happy ending #Mikey madison #yuriy borisov

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celestialowlbear · 1 year ago

Text

Give You Everything

Pairing: Halsin x Fem!Reader (Tav)

Summary: Halsin gives you some morning loving. No plot. Just fluffy smut. 💕

Warnings: NSFW, 18+. Oral (fem receiving), mentions of m receiving.

WC: ~1300

A/N: My hand slipped. Oops. 😏 I have no reason for this besides Halsin consuming my thoughts by being the big sexy romantic he is. This takes place years after the end of BG3, however you may imagine it. Maybe Tav and Halsin live in a cottage in the woods? Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Let me know what you think!

You wake to Halsin’s lips on yours, tasting vaguely of honey and figs he must have snacked on before gently rousing you.

You stirred, eyes opening as you stretched under the animal furs you were tucked into.

“No need to rise, my love.” Halsin kissed your exposed shoulder. “I’m coming back to join you.”

Halsin often woke with the sun, greeting the day with a stroll in his bear form. You usually joined him, but he must have let you sleep this morning.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” You mumbled, turning toward him, realizing the sun had already risen based on the bright light speckling through the paned window.

“You looked so peaceful, I did not want to disturb your dreams.”

Halsin huddled his face into your neck, inhaling your scent, gently tracing his large hand up your arm.

“Not to mention, I wanted to keep you in bed.”

Halsin’s hand lazily trailed up your torso, reverently cupping your breast and giving it a light squeeze.

“Is that right, my bear?” You chuckled, a faint sigh departing your lips immediately after as Halsin brushed his thumb over your hardening nipple.

“Why, oh why, would you want to keep me in bed on such a lovely morning?” You hovered your lips close to his in a teasing manner, catching his eye that was tinted with a familiar hunger.

“It is best I show you, my heart.” Halsin rumbled as he maneuvered himself on top of you momentarily, pulling the furs off your body.

You were naked, as that is how you slept together. He was naked as well, shedding his clothing from his morning walkabout to join you once again in bed.

Halsin ran his hands down your thighs, taking worshipful handfuls of your supple skin.

He paused, gazing over you.

“Always so perfect. Nothing, nothing in all of nature could ever compare to you.”

Halsin brought his lips down to your inner thigh, maintaining eye contact as he kissed your flushed skin.

“As the sun rose, I was reminded of you.” He slowly made his way up toward your core, dampening with anticipation.

“A bright light to guide me to new beginnings. Through any hardship or affliction, I know you will always be my rising sun.”

You still blushed at his words, even after years together.

Halsin never held back on his feelings for you, constantly reminding you how deeply he loved you, and how thankful he was to have you by his side.

You reminded him as well, holding dear the bashful look that always crossed his face when doing so. He was a gentle soul at heart. All the more reason to remind him of your love, and let him care for you.

“Was that all you were thinking of this morning?” You whispered, a coy smile turning up your lips, watching him make his way to your center.

Halsin chuckled deeply against your skin, his breath now ghosting over your center, the smell of your arousal stirring the beast within him.

“Perhaps not…I was also reminiscing of the night before last…the sounds that left your lips that evening have not left my mind.”

Halsin brought a finger between your folds, gently circling and exploring.

“I would greatly enjoy hearing those sounds again. If you permit me…” Halsin kissed your clit, his tongue softly probing, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he felt your body squirm and legs tremble by his head.

“Yes, Halsin, always for you…”

You threaded your fingers in his hair as he went to work, slowly licking and sucking at your now thoroughly soaked pussy.

Halsin was in no rush, enjoying every gasp and soft mewl and twitch of your legs as he feasted.

He carefully moved your legs over his massive shoulders to gain better access, holding you in place.

At this point, Halsin knew your body even better than you did.

He knew exactly what made you squirm, what made you beg for more, what made you get intensely lost in pleasure.

You knew the same of his body, knowing his most sensitive parts, what pushed him to the limit of his control.

Halsin had never truly been as vulnerable with anyone else in his long life as he is with you.

You knew every part of him, his deepest fears, the darkest corners of his mind. You helped him through his anguish all that time ago, helped him see clearly for the first time in his life.

You held and protected his heart as delicately as one would a newly hatched bird.

He owed everything to you.

“Halsin…” your grip on his hair tightened, tugging in just the way he liked. “More, please…”

Halsin hummed into you in response, knowing he was teasing you by going slowly. He treasured tasting you like this, the sweetest nectar in nature could never compare.

It was a taste he craved daily.

He didn’t want to be too selfish, though. He knew you were desperate for release.

How could he ever deny you such ecstasy?

Halsin picked up his pace, switching between circling your clit with his tongue and fucking you as deep as he could go with his warm muscle.

You cried out, the fire in your belly growing. You knew Halsin was aching between his legs, his body begging for his release.

Sometimes, getting you off like this was enough, coming to his end without touch.

You hoped you could taste him, though, to give back what he so selflessly offers to you.

The sounds were obscene as he lost himself between your legs, mixing with your trembling moans and cries. He was wildly lapping and licking and stroking with his tongue, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs.

“H-Halsin I’m-I’m so close, don’t stop!” You managed to coherently string together one sentence, the molten coil in your belly threatening to explode with each pass of his tongue.

You were gripping his hair with both hands now, bucking up at him to get the most pressure possible as your climax was rushing toward you.

Halsin was growling against your pussy, his chin dripping with your slick, his hips instinctually bucking for any type of friction against his cock.

Your body was shaking and Halsin knew you were about to explode.

You came with a cry of his name, chanting it like a prayer to the Gods as you fell over the precipice of bliss. Halsin didn’t let up, keeping up his ministrations, drinking up your essence.

Halsin didn’t want to waste one drop of your pleasure.

Your body spasmed, toes curling as your mind went blank.

Soon, the flicks of his tongue were becoming too much, coming down from your heaven.

You gently pushed him away and Halsin lifted his head, his eyes flashing gold momentarily as his eyes locked on your body, licking his lips, savoring your taste.

“Beautiful, my heart. Perfection.”

You were trying to catch your breath, your body gelatinous. You motioned for him to come back on top of you.

Halsin crawled up your body, hovering over you. You lifted your head, capturing his lips to yours in a fervent kiss of thanks. Your tongues danced, Halsin immediately submitting to your passion. Your hands grasped at his back, pulling him down into you.

Halsin let out a deep groan as you rubbed your sensitive pussy on his throbbing cock.

“Take me, my love. Take your pleasure, too.” You nibbled at his bottom lip, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Believe me when I say I get my greatest pleasure from watching you come undone on my tongue.” He replied, breaking the kiss momentarily.

“Let me do the same, then.” You smiled against his lips, bringing a hand down to grasp his rigid, thick length. “Come undone on my tongue.”

Halsin shuddered and let out a low moan at your touch, your hand gliding over his hot, velvety skin.

Halsin nipped at your chin, flipping you both so you were on top of him, your legs barely able to straddle his wide body.

“You know I cannot deny you anything, my heart.”

You smiled sweetly, sliding down his body, watching his eyes glow gold at the anticipation of your touch, ready to return him the favor.

-ˏˋ⋆ Thanks for reading, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! ⋆ˊˎ-

#Halsin x reader #halsin x tav #halsin bg3 #halsin #halsin silverbough #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 #halsin smut #x reader #owlwrites #bg3 halsin #Bg3 fanfiction #halsin x fem!reader #Halsin x fem!tav

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old-transport · 1 year ago

Video

East Greenwich Gas Works engine shed - Mar 1951 by Frederick McLean Via Flickr: An old amateur photograph of a 'shed bash' to the East Greenwich Gas Works engine/loco shed in Mar 1951. The gas works had an extensive internal steam/diesel rail network, bringing in coal via a 'coaling pier' on the river, sending out coke and chemicals, as well as many internal rail movements. The network consisted of two narrow gauge and one standard gauge railway, from 1900 it was joined via a spur to the Angerstein railway. On the reverse is annotated "East Greenwich Gas Works loco shed 31/3/51". Old/new overhead maps view:- maps.nls.uk/geo/explore/side-by-side/#zoom=14.6&lat=5... A history of the gas works is here:- en.wikipedia.org/wiki/East_Greenwich_Gas_Works If there are any errors in the above description please let me know. Thanks. 📷 Any photograph I post on Flickr is an original in my possession, nothing is ever copied/downloaded from another location. 📷 -------------------------------------------------

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neovillains · 3 months ago

Text

GENESIS | SUKUNA RYOUMEN

syn. isolation can lead to insanity and the desperate will do anything to live.

── sukuna ryoumen & fem-bodied!reader, apocalypse!au, blood, religious themes, suicidal ideations, death & violence, minor character deaths, reader is described as skinny, cannibalism, biting kink, bruising, forest sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, etc | 4.4k words ( minors, ageless, & blank blogs: do not interact. )

note. here's a small playlist to accompany you on your reading journey. i hope you all enjoy this. please let me know your thoughts afterwards in the comments or in your reblog. thank you so much!

credit. thanks to my babe, leilani, for helping me out and screaming about this idea with me. im so happy with it :3

Dilapidated buildings with rust growing on the side, resembling the colors of a forest fire. A deep auburn that grows into orange and yellow as it rises. Overgrown grass, the vibrant and various hues of green growing in the dirt and critters dig and groove around in sanctum. They’re free to roam through the deep crevices of soil, still living in harmonious nature as blood shed rids the rest of the Earth.

The number of humans dwindle as they become rotting flesh running amuck in search for something to satiate that hunger inside of them. No longer a society built on order, but one fighting to survive in hopes of seeing a better future. They tell themselves that soon a god will come to free them from their trepidation and ease their aching hearts. However, the longer they look through their windows— what’s left of them— that optimism slowly dwindles into nothing. Just bullshit that they tell themselves as their guns become more enticing and the sweet taste of one bullet to the head will take them out of their sweet misery.

It’s come to a point where everyone knows that there’s no point in having faith in their government. All televisions and radio responding in static, and no one hearing anything from them. It’s always been a world structured towards survival of the fittest, the rich leeching off the poor. Now, it’s whoever can leech off of who.

Once upon a time, you called yourself a true child of God. Church every Wednesday and Sunday, a prayer every morning and night. When the announcement of a deadly virus sparked the news, you prayed to God for sanctity, knowing that it was your time to join him and for the angels to sweep down and take you away. However, you must have missed your stop.

Deadly missiles launched into cities, killing multiple of thousands. They looked like blinding light, what you believed to be heaven reigning down upon the Earth. Oh, how you cried to join the dead and sought refuge with your people. However, the moment they landed was just as quick as they left, and after that, God never answered your prayers ever again. You asked time and time again, did you do something wrong? How could you repent and join Him?

You had done everything right. You had been an obedient child through and through, through every calling moment. What was He seeing that you didn’t? Did you really need to be damned with the rest of them for it?

The small religious group you sought refuge with started growing weak in numbers, their naivety leading them open to numerous attacks from the selfish and the careless leading zombies inside the church. Slowly, did a group of fifty turn into twenty-five, and twenty-five turned to ten. Ten to five, and five to two— you and Sukuna.

Sukuna Ryoumen, a brute of a man he was. Someone who came seeking refuge with a group of five, though he always did voice how much disdain he had for the church. Oftentimes, he snorted during sermons and rebuttal the word of God with self-proclaimed pastor, Geto Suguru. He belittled everyone and everything, even when it came down to you being the last to survive alongside him. He scoffed, crimson eyes that matched the bloodstain on his white t-shirt. “Of all people, you’re the last to survive.”

Later that day, he bashed the window in. The rest of the church was flooded with the undead, the outside much clearer than the hoard still in search of them. It was a distance down, but nothing to kill you both. You looked at him as if he were crazy when he asked you, “Are you coming or what?”

What else was there left to lose? All of your immediate family, gone. Having joined God up at those golden gates, watching you with a heavy amount of disgust. What did it hurt to keep on surviving?

In a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved sweater, you dusted away the rest of the broken stained glass with your sleeves before asking for a hand. Neither of you said anything, Sukuna helping you up before you were holding onto the window panel. You stared out, eyes widening as your heart raced. Were you really ready to take this leap?

The memory is foggy, but you can’t remember if Sukuna pushed you out the window or your mind had made the decision for you. But all you remember is eating dirt before someone yanked onto your sleeve, forcing you up and dragging you alongside him. Sukuna dragged you through it all, managing to pull you both to safety.

Before that, all you saw was a selfish and sinful man that only sought for his protection and safety, but now you see him in a different light. He could have thrown you to the wolves and watch you get mauled by a stampede of the forever hungry. However, his steps were always careful and he never looked back, a set determination to make sure that the both of you survived.

And God said, Let there be light. You always took that as a saying of hope. That with darkness comes light and whenever the sun shines, it’s your reminder that God is a true man. Only, Sukuna has become your god.

Sometimes, you still read the bible. Just something you use to give yourself hope before you’re pulled back into reality and only to realize that it’s all bullshit and lies. And that Sukuna was right, God is just a bunch of bullshit. However, it’s a constant reminder of what you used to be, and who you used to be. The bible now a set of affirmations though you know that in your sweet death all there will be is an eternal inferno waiting for you.

Out in the woods, everything is silent. Only the occasional grumble of a walker lurking through these parts. It’s a surprise that the two of you have lived for so long by yourselves, but Sukuna’s managed to toughen you up. Teaching you how to shoot a gun and aim right for the head, though the two of you never use guns often. It attracts them.

Opening up to him, you reveal that you used to be a nurse. In turn, you teach him how to disinfect stitches with the supplies the two of you find and how to create holistic remedies so neither of you die from a cold. Neither of you give without taking, always having something in return for each other.

Right now, the both of you equally have as much to give as it is to take. In a tattered dress, dirties and white, you peek from behind the trees as a group of survivors follow the dirt path back to you. The growl of a walker sounding from behind you as it’s shackled on a chain, the key dangling in your hold. Every step you take is careful, stepping over twigs and making sure every part of you is soundless. You move slowly to loosen the manacles off the zombie, but making sure he’s not entirely free. You feel bad for the poor man that you’re taking advantage of. Underneath all that decay, he couldn’t have been older than thirty-five— a healthy and active man to be blinded by whatever factors that led to his demise.

One day, a voice rings inside your head. That will be you. However, just like all those constant reminders, you push them to the back of your mind as everything’s set in place. You just have to do your part while Sukuna does his.

The five stay huddled together, never losing their guard for a second before they hear the rushed snaps of twigs and the crunch of leaves underneath a pair of feet. Mechanic weapons already in bat— a crossbow, a bat with nails embedded, a bow and arrow, a katana and a sharpened staff, aiming it towards the direction before finding a small figure running out of a band of trees. You run barefooted, no longer hissing at the sharp pricks and pebbles that poke at your bare skin as you’ve done this routine a dozen times now.

Your breath comes out in heavy pants as you cry and moan. “Please… Please… Help me!”

They lower their weapons, but not enough to where they’ve lowered their guard. Staying wary as they huddle together in one group, so cautious over such an “innocent” thing like you. “Please,” you croak, your footsteps staggering as they take in your tattered appearance. “I need help. My– my–”

The waterworks start, able to spill the salt so easily now as tears prickle from the corner of your eyes. “My boyfriend, he got hurt and I don’t know if he’ll make it! I promise, I’ll be out of your hair. Just… Help me, please.”

The desperation that reeks from you, wide eyes that look so helpless. You look like you’re barely surviving, dirt covering every inch of you as you pant heavily. They’ve run across people looking to take advantage of people, making them on the constant lookout for those who’re the bait. There’s usually an underlying piece of evidence that singles them out, it's a hidden identifier. However, before they can come up with a conclusion, snarls behind them call for their attention. Three zombies— two handled by Sukuna with yours in tow— trudging in their direction.

“Walkers!” One says in a hushed voice, raising his bat and ready to swing. With their backs turned to you now, a smirk graces your features as you trail behind them in their preparation to fight. Dark hair with a bowl cut, you attack from behind just as you were taught, lodging the pocket knife that you had hidden away into his neck. He gurgles blood, unable to say anything, managing to grab ahold of the blonde next to him.

“Haibara!” the blonde cries out, but before he could lunge at you, you kick him in the path towards the zombies with all your strength. Two down, three to go. Unfortunately, just as your victories came, your losses came in twice as fast as the three zombies were quickly handled by the three that were left. One with white hair that seemed unreal, a girl with auburn hair stopping at the nape of her neck, and another girl with jet-black hair and a gnarly gash running across her face.

With gazes filled with determination, they’re ready to attack within a split second. The unsheathed katana comes out to play, swiping through the air. You manage to duck right in time, dodging the sharp blaze to your body. The next to swing at you, the bat with rusted nails that would possibly lead to a disgusting infection if it got into your skin. You back up and back up until you’re at the right spot. When the girl goes for her final lunge at you, you manage to jump in time, clipping the string and unloading the trap. The heavy cleaver swung in the air and landed straight to the head.

The play of events leaving the two that are left in shock and giving you ample time to hide away. All you can hear is, “Where’d they go?”

“I don’t know, but keep your eye out,” the male says. In this neck of the woods, you have the reign. The vastness of a playing field that you’ve managed to memorize. You’re as silent as a ghost, having them second guess every direction they look in.

Sukuna was right in a way. You shouldn’t have lived as long as you have, but you’ve also come to learn that the strong can’t win all on their own. Where Sukuna will excel in a battle of strength, you’ve defied your very teachings, surviving off of deceit and mischief. Every trap set in place a work of your own while Sukuna cleaned up your mess, leaving the two victims clueless to the fact that their three friends have already been properly disposed of.

However, he leaves you the crossbow behind. Bending down to pick it up, you think you’ve won another round until your hear the click of the gun. “Smart, I have to say.”

The man with white hair smirks at you, cocking the gun right in your direction, aimed straight at your head. “You had me fooled. You had… us fooled.”

You stand tall, posture straightening as you stare straight in the man’s eyes. Your hand is still on the crossbow, you know if you move your hand, you’re dead. He glances at the weapon. “Drop it.”

You don’t listen. “Drop. it.”

Again, you stay stubborn as a mule. His finger is so close to pulling the trigger, he tilts his head to the side. “Drop it.”

It’s a risky move. You know it, but you make a run for it. The gun fires throughout the forest and immediately alerts your partner. He’s immediately on your trail, making sure not to lose you from his sight again. You drop the crossbow, leaving yourself completely defenseless now in your dash to safety. You can hear him gaining in on you, his gun finding refuge tucked back in his pants. The palm of his hands open and ready to grab you when you halt abruptly, too quickly for him to gain proper footing. You use it to your advantage, turning around and knocking him on his back.

You jump on top of him, the pocket knife revealed as you take his disadvantaged state and stab him repeatedly. Blood splattering from his arteries, it splashes against your skin as you find yourself lost in bloodthirst and all that you can see is red. Before that voice of the god you follow rings through, bringing you back to reality. “Woah there, princess. I think he’s dead now.”

“Wait,” you pant. Both hands around the handle of the blade, you use your strength to plunge the knife inside his skull. Finally, you look up at Sukuna, eyes bright when you say, “He’s gone for good now.”

—

“You were reckless,” Sukuna breathes, the two of you walking back to the cabin. You dragged back the white-haired man and the boy named ‘Haibara,’ while Sukuna managed the rest— chaining one to a tree so that they could have a zombie at leverage. Both covered in blood, the metallic stench of it has become a habitual thing now. You grunt, used to his chastising now. He always has something to knit pick at every time the two of you go on a hunt.

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” you shrug.

“And next time, you’ll die,” he sneers. “I’ve taught you all that you need to survive. Stop with the theatrics and get straight to the point.”

“If it’s my time,” you shrug again. “It’s my time. Fate will tell.”

“Oh, don’t start with your religious bullshit again. I thought you were over that by now.”

“I am, but—” He drops the bodies, hands immediately on you. The blood’s starting to oxidize, the red hue darkening as he grabs you by the face. You no longer flinch in his touch, letting him grab you by your cheeks and pull you in. You can feel his breath on you when he snarls, “Then, stop with the suicidal crap. It’s getting old.”

At one point, you swore that Sukuna hated you. However, whenever he looks at you like this— feigned anger as his vermillion pupils stare you down— you know you were all wrong. There’s a longing inside of him, he needs you. He needs you just as much as you need him. You don’t know if it’s because of the familiarity and losing the sense of that that makes the two of you feel this way, or if it's genuine. Nonetheless, whenever this moment is sparked between each other, neither of you are afraid to ignite those deadly flames.

“Okay.” You give in. He rolls his eyes.

“Don’t turn into an obedient puppy on me now,” he breathes, grip on your cheeks tightening. “Give me something more.”

Letting go of the lifeless legs, your hands reach for his biceps. The palm of your hands, providing him the warmth of you. When you look at him, there’s always awe tinged inside of your pupils. “I’ll do whatever you want of me.”

There’s something carnal about sex. It reminds you of when you’re baring out your teeth, gnawing at human flesh. The hunger and need that you have for each other closely resembles the battles the two of you share while hunting, watching the life leave your poor victims’ eyes. Sukuna’s brute strength on your body, pulling you and manhandling you in any way he deems fit, reminds of you the way he steals a person’s last breath. Veins protruding from his hands, squeezing the air out of someone’s lungs.

It reminds you of the moments with his hands around your neck, his length pounding into you deeply as you can barely utter a word. Thumb and index pressing just where they need to restrict air flow as he presses down. Scratchy moans and mewls that manage to escape as tears escape from you. He batters your pussy how he pounds on the defenseless, punching them until their face is unrecognizable and lifeless, and taking away that privilege of revival with a knife through their skull.

When he manhandles you and pulls you just where he wants, it reminds of moments like these heading back to the cabin, dragging your next meal to your shared abode before starting a fire. The sky darkens and the two of you are still in your soiled clothes, a deep red painting the two of you. It only becomes worse when Sukuna hands you a cleaver, the two of you chopping away and more blood spilling on the palm of your hands. A heavy tension that cascades the two of you before the human meat is properly distributed into smaller chunks. Sukuna did the heavyload of harboring it away with the rest of them.

And when he comes back, his hands are still bloody and you do the favor of cleaning him off. Holding his much larger hand in yours, the taste of blood becomes a regular occurrence, no longer shying away from it. Pink tongue that tickles the palm of his hands as red melts on your tongue. You’re careful and thorough, making sure that you’ve reached every crack and crevice. A purr reverberating off his chest as those vermillion pearls look right into your eyes, how your lips hollow around his digits. He’s a blood-born predator the way his chest vibrates; you, the only one able to tame the beast he is.

Every inch of him makes you feel frail, how he’s able to tear you apart with his bare hands. He rips through the fabric of your clothes, turning them into scraps in his impatience. He’s left you bare in a matter of seconds, fingernails digging into your flesh as he pulls you impossibly closer to him in a deep need for your proximity.

Warm-blooded, his body heat beats off of him as your nimble fingers cling onto his shirt, tugging for him to remove. And one-by-one, you help him out of every piece before you’re being lifted into his arms, legs draped around his refined torso as the two of you share such fervor and passion in a kiss. Saliva dribbling from the corners of your lips before you’re pulling away, hooded eyes that darken before your tongue lulls out again. The splotchy patches of blood getting cleaned off and making his skin shine. The twinkle and sizzle of the fire guides a path to the busted patio furniture.

Your back pressed into the cushion, like this, the two of you resemble two cats grooming each other. Both taking turns to sweep the dried blood from each other’s bodies, the taste of each other’s flesh being something heavily embedded in each other’s memories. Each other’s potent stench of sweat and musk so familiarized in each other’s senses. Rough and calloused hands come to explore your body, further ingraining the softness of your skin deep into his core. Groping and grabbing at the fatty flesh of your breasts as he takes in deep breaths. His breath tickles your neck, providing you warmth as the cooling night comes to cascade down on the both of you. He kneads at your breasts, thumbs flicking at your pert and erect nipples.

You hum a sultry melody before yips of pain end the song abruptly, the pinch of Sukuna’s canines marking at your skin as his mouth clamps down on you. Your hips buck when he pulls away, a string of saliva following in his path before the band breaks. When he sinks his teeth in you, it reminds you of how dangerous a man he is. Every part of your body is a weapon, he told you once upon a time, and thus proving it when he killed a man with his bare teeth. Arousal that had pooled inside you watching the moment and arousal that pools inside of you now as he covers your body in bites, a call of ownership as his hands bruise your waist and his length pressed to your stomach.

One hand around his cock, aligning himself to your entrance while the next pushes the strands of hair that dare to get in front of your face, it’s a short period of gentleness before he’s pressing his mushroom tip inside of your walls. The way you gasp out from the pain, a stretch that you always have to brace yourself for before his teeth pulls at your bottom lip. This brave face you always try to pull in front of him falters as a single stray tear falls and you’re holding back your cries. He sees right through you, his pretty little thing. Someone once so fragile has stepped into the light, mustering up strength out of you to become a cold-blooded killer, but yet you’re still so weak in so many ways.

Like, how your knees always come to buckle at the sight of him, always falling into submission like a dog loyal to its owner. Your eyes twinkle as if to forever promise your evermore devotion towards him, casting a light upon him and naming him your god. You lay so much trust in one man. One man, that if he truly wanted to, could play God and end your life. Sometimes he comes to question whether you continue to survive for him or for yourself. But now, he’s come to ask himself the same thing. Who is he surviving for? Because in his mind, all that comes up is you.

The taste of mankind is a flavor he’s well accustomed to, but no matter how many times he made you bleed and have bitten down on your soft flesh, it’s one that he’ll never find himself acquainted with. It’s something so intoxicating and something that always makes him feel weak in the bones, his hunger for you so overpowered that it drives him to insanity.

His cock sheathed inside of you, the way your walls clamp down on him has his body shuddering. A breath he forces himself to hold until he withdraws himself completely before battering your poor pussy. As the stars shine and the two of you are more at risk of being attacked, the two of you willing to take such a risk just to indulge into each other’s pleasure. The buck of Sukuna’s hips drives you wild as the sting subsides and is replaced with euphoria. One hand clamping around your mouth as he forces you silent. You poor thing, never able to hold yourself back with your pathetic claims that he just makes you feel too good.

The way he drills his cock inside of your pussy, pistoning inside of you with such vigor that it has your nails digging into his back. Creating more scratches to accompany the old ones that are slowly fading away, your mewls and moans go muffled as he grunts and groans from above you. Glossy eyes that stare up at him with such heavy admiration as you hold on for dear life. Your juices intermingle with the translucent precum that seeps from his tip, his hips holding no rhythm as he selfishly uses your body. For a moment does he uncover your mouth, replacing his hands with his lips to swallow down your moans as his pelvis beats into yours. And though the undead prowls through the night, the squeaks of the battered and overused patio sofa goes unheard, the crickets and cicadas creating a song to deafen the lustrous intimacy the two of you share.

When you cum, it reminds him of the desperate who plead for their life, so weak and torn that they whimper out so pathetically that it sends blood rushing straight down, the depiction reminding him of you. A look of craze that always washes over his face before he lands the finishing blow and they’re no more. Your face contorting in pleasure as you beg and plead to him. You pull away from him, calling his name. “Su…Sukuna, please.”

Please, that one word he associated with weakness. A word that he’s always associated with asking instead of simply taking what you wanted. You weak little thing, begging for something you know he’ll always grant you just to see the way your body responds.

He grabs your face, squishing down on your cheeks before his index and middle finger shove their way inside your mouth. No gentler than before, he only continues his abuse on your cunt, the head of his cock kissing roughly at your cervix before your body stiffens. Your legs tensing up and trapping him inside you as your mouth falls open. You resemble a wounded animal, whimpering and croaking out in pure lust and ecstasy.

Your pussy flutters, beckoning for his orgasm to follow in suit as you cream around his cock. One more bite— letting go of your lips and his mouth now on your neck, a high-pitched squeak leaves you as he spills his seed inside of you. He paints your walls white as your heat holds him tightly inside, canines digging inside your flesh as he groans in pleasure. A white ring forming around the base of his cock, a beautiful picture painted as both bodies lay pliant in attempts to catch your breaths. At the end of it all, your eyes close shut. Just like all of his victims, accepting a pitiful defeat.

Only, yours has come to be something he loves.

( 🫀 ) : @r0ckst4rjk @kasukuna @pixelcafe-network @satsattoru

#sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen smut #sukuna smut #sukuna x you #sukuna ryoumen x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryoumen #ᯓ★ standalone.#tw: (n)sfw #tw: dark content #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #sukuna

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teenidlegirl · 11 days ago

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⠀✸⠀⠀𝓑𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝓞𝐅 𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝓜𝐄𝐒𝐒⠀⠀┈⠀﹙⠀𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎⠀﹚⠀ა ︎ ﾞ .

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀summary.⠀as your pregnancy progresses and endure various bodily changes, you begin feeling a bit insecure. however, miguel shows you how much he admires your changing body.

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀content.⠀fluff, tiny angst, body insecurity, smut, pregnancy sex, unprotected p in v, creampie, cowgirl, cunnilingus, breast play, body worship, lactation kink, breeding kink ( mdni )

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

as your pregnancy progressed, you endured numerous changes. thicker hips, bigger tits filled with milk, swollen feet, achy back and feeling tired as shit most of the time. with all those bodily changes, you begin feeling a bit insecure about yourself. your body is forever changed and not how it used to be. of course these are the effects of motherhood and you should embrace them because you’re doing the most incredible thing ever, creating life.

however, that doesn’t shed away those negative thoughts plaguing your mind. in the beginning of your pregnancy, you were doing fine and simply enjoyed the process. but now with visible proof of the pregnancy, your mindset flipped a switch. every time you stare at the mirror, you sulk at your tired swollen state. those damn saggy tits filled with milk that leak sometimes and stain your clothes which pisses you off. the additional thickness and roundness of your hips accommodating your growing baby. swollen feet that bother you indefinitely. the bags under your eyes, sighs of trouble sleeping sometimes due to the aching. you just look like a damn mess.

you just feel so unattractive and not enough for miguel. when you first began dating, you were so much different. now, you’re a giant balloon. you know miguel doesn’t only love you for your body. he adores you completely, your soul, body, spirit, heart. he would, still, worships your body like a goddess because you are a goddess in his eyes. that man always managed to make you a bashful mess due to those sweet praises and compliments he’d whisper while planting kisses here and there. especially now you’re pregnant, oh he’s been worshipping you overboard. kneeling in front of you and kissing your swollen belly, gently holding it in his hands as he whispers sweet praises of love to you and your unborn daughter. massaging wherever you needed, boobs, back, feet, anything that brings discomfort. gently lift up your belly to relieve you of the weight. miguel would reassure you that he loves you, appreciates you, and says wholeheartedly that you are the most beautiful woman in the universe. the man is your number one worshipper.

yet, you still feel not enough for him. you don’t feel pretty enough for him. miguel is such a handsome man, he deserves to have someone match that same level of beauty by his side. you don’t fit the category, not with baggy titties, thick ass hips, and swollen feet. you just feel so… unattractive. those negative thoughts were ruining your mind to the point where you believed miguel would’ve be better off with a much prettier woman by his side.

you hate it so much. you hate how this pregnancy makes you feel negative about your changing body. you hate how it makes you feel so insecure. you hate it how affects your relationship with miguel. you just want those stupid thoughts to stop but you can’t. it’s taking control of your mind at this point.

now here you are, sulking at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. wearing nothing but underwear since your breasts are swollen so you discarded a bra. thick, heavy, swollen are words to describe your appearance. heavily sighing as your fingers lightly trace over the stretch marks under your belly and hips. another burden of pregnancy, something you should embrace yet those negative thoughts take control and tell your mind the opposite.

the sight in front of you brings tears to your eyes. how could miguel love this thing? how could he be willing to kiss, hug, touch this thing? how could he say this thing is the most beautiful woman in the universe? the dark thoughts were getting too intense. you quickly wipe away tears that were about to spill, put on your robe, and frustratingly exit the bathroom. a frustrated groan falls from your lips as you throw yourself on the bed, cover your entire body with the sheets, and let out soft sobs meaning to be released.

you look terrible, disgusting.

you should be ashamed to be standing by miguel’s side while looking like that.

how could he love a gross thing like you?

endless dark thoughts plaguing your mind, making you sob more underneath the sheets. it’s unhealthy, you want them to stop but you just can’t. they won’t stop, you can’t stop thinking about them. not to mention the pregnancy hormones aren’t much help. in fact, they make it even more worse.

you are drowning yourself in those dark thoughts that you don’t hear miguel coming home. he returned from the bike shop to pump his tires. he stopped by the habit to pick some food up for you both since he figured you’d be hungry by the time he returned home. he also knew you were craving the chicken sandwich with teriyaki sauce.

“mi reina, i’m home.” he calls out, expecting you to respond but instead it was only silence. that confuses him a little. miguel calls out your name again yet there was no answer.

okay, now he’s concerned. especially more when he hears soft sobs and sniffing from your room. miguel doesn’t hesitate to rush over, panicking. are you hurt? is something wrong with the baby? many negative thoughts ran across his mind.

opening the door but not aggressively since he doesn’t want to scare you, he stands there confused at you completely covered with the bedsheets.

“mi reina?” miguel calls out softly but all he gets is a soft whimper. he walks around the bed to your side but is taken aback when you pull the sheets more over your head so he won’t see you.

and you don’t want him to see how much of a sobbing mess you are right now.

you don’t sound in pain yet your entire body is covered so it doesn’t prove anything and he only gets more concerned. “mi amor, what’s wrong?” miguel kneels next to the bed in front of you. “are you hurt? is something wrong with the baby?”

“no…” you answer with a quiet sob.

his brows furrowed at that, specifically at the quiet sob. “are you sure?” he leans a bit closer.

another quiet sob but more of a whine. “yes…”

if you’re fine physically, then what’s wrong emotionally?

miguel believes you but he wants to know why are you crying and covering yourself. his fingers find the top of the sheet and slowly tries to pull it away but you instinctively pull it back with a whine.

he retracts his hand. “¿mi amor, qué paso? why won’t you let me see you?”

“just go away, please…”

his heart breaks, at both your request and the sadness in your tone. one thing miguel hates is being away from you, he learned his lesson hard. but something tells him that this is different.

he gently rests his hand on your back and give it a few tender rubs. “por favor, mi reina. i just wanna see that you’re okay, i wanna see my pretty girl.”

miguel waits patiently, not wanting to rush you and allow you to take your time. all he wants is to see you and if you’re okay, physically at least.

oh you can’t resist that loving tone. it always makes your heart ache in a good way, with much love.

very slowly yet reluctantly, you pull down the sheets but only revealing your teary eyes. miguel’s heart breaks, once again, at the sight of the tears in those gorgeous eyes he adores so dearly. another thing he hates is seeing you cry, it breaks his heart.

“oh mi reina… por qué llores?” his hand in your back moves up to gently wipe your tears away but you move away from his touch with a soft whine.

you wipe them yourself frustratingly, refusing to look at him. “it’s just the hormones.”

it’s more than the hormones, he can tell. this was different, you’ve never behaved like this before during your pregnancy. miguel wants to know the problem so he can help you.

“bebé, i think it’s more than just the hormones.” his hand returns to your back, gently rubbing it. “dime, por favor. i wanna help you, mi amor.”

you sniffle as you roll your eyes, weakly shaking your head against the pillow. “it’s stupid…”

he sighs sadly, leaning closer. “dime, amor.”

you shouldn’t tell him, it’s just stupid thoughts that got the best of you. but you also hate making him worry, especially over dumb stuff like this. it’s the last thing you want yet here he is worried about why you’re crying while wrapped up in bedsheets like a burrito. you probably look ridiculous even.

with a heavy sigh, you shove your face into the pillow to conceal the tears. “i look gross…”

“mande?” he doesn’t understand since you’re muffling into the pillow.

goddamnit.

groaning, you turn your face away from the pillow but cover your mouth with the bedsheet, still refusing to look at him. “i look gross.”

miguel’s brows furrowed in confusion and disbelief. “gross? you’re not gross, bebé.”

a scoff left your lips. “yes, i am.”

“no, you’re not. you’re beautiful, a beautiful woman going through the process of becoming a mother.”

that elicits another scoff. he doesn’t get it. how could he say you’re beautiful when you literally look like a walker from the ‘the walking dead.’ a pregnant walker at that. he just… he just doesn’t understand.

miguel notices how reluctant you are and it breaks his heart even more. he’s telling the truth, you’re a beautiful woman enduring the process of growing a baby and becoming a mother. it’s a beautiful thing.

he is, however, aware of body insecurity that pregnant women endure. it’s strange to see your body change in various ways. some changes are temporary and others are permanent. you, just like another other pregnant woman, are enduring various bodily changes. miguel finds it fascinating how the female body changes with pregnancy. all these altercations for creating and carrying a baby. women are powerful beings. however, it doesn’t mean his heart doesn’t ache seeing you so upset.

“mi amor, escúchame por favor. you’re beautiful, you’ve always been beautiful.”

“no, i’m not!” you abruptly sit up but being mindful of your belly. “i’m gross, fat, swollen, all of the above!” you throw your hands up frustratingly before lowering them and finally looking at him with teary eyes. “how could you love me?”

miguel is shocked, in disbelief actually. how could you say much a thing? how could he not love you? he loves you with all his fucking soul, for fucking eternity. however, he understands the hormones and doubts are getting the best of you.

“bebé…” he starts softly, bringing a hand to cup your cheek ever so gently. exhaling softly when do you move way from his touch. “i understand why you’re having these thoughts pero i’ll tell you that i love you and will always love you no matter what. even pregnant, i still love you. no matter what.”

tears prickle in your eyes. god he’s such a sweetheart, his kind words always melting your heart. how did you deserve such a sweet man?

“i-i’m sorry… it’s just…”

“don’t be sorry and take your time, amor. i’m here forever, no rush.” he reassures you sweetly, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“it’s just… i feel so unworthy. i’m not how i use to be. i’m just so big and swollen and it drives me fucking crazy. i’ll never be the same again. a-and you, you’re so fucking handsome and i feel so unworthy to be by your side. like you deserve someone who has the same beauty level as you, not some big balloon like me. i know you’re gonna say i’m the most beautiful woman in the universe blah blah blah, i just… i feel not pretty enough, for you or in general.”

miguel was attentive to every word. it pains him to hear you feel so lowly of yourself but ultimately understands why. he just wished he could show you how beautiful you, how you are in his eyes. all he wants is to comfort you, make you feel loved and appreciated by him, make you feel worthy.

“mi reina,” he starts softly, cupping your cheek, making you lean into his touch. “you’re right, i will tell you that you are beautiful because you are beautiful to me, siempre. yes, your body has changed but it has changed porque you’re carrying our daughter.” his other hand rests gently on your swollen belly through the sheets, caressing it. “you’re carrying a baby, a life. isn’t that amazing?”

“well… yeah but also kinda weird, y’know? there’s literally another human being inside me.”

that elicits a chuckle from your boyfriend. “pues, si. it is kinda weird growing another human being inside pero it’s still a fascinating phenomenon.”

while tears trail down your cheeks and he gently wipes them, you can’t help but smile a little at that. pregnancy is a weird, fascinating phenomenon.

“mi reina, i’m the one who feels like i’m not worthy of you. after what i put you through for three weeks, i felt so undeserving of you. not as much now since we’ve been making so much progress and doing much better now, there are times when i feel like that. but when i see you and our little one,” he gives your belly a few gentle rubs. “i remember that i’m very grateful to have you both in my life, to have my two girls in my life.” much adoration in his tone.

your heart swells with much love. he always knows the right words to say to melt your heart.

“i know i can’t take away those bad feelings but i am always here for you. please believe me when i say you are the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen and i love you. one else has my heart but you, siempre.”

finally, you break down and begin sobbing. miguel quickly sits on the edge of the bed and takes you in his arms, wrapping his arms around you as you sob into his chest. his hold on you tightens a little as he feels your trembling form. one hand rubs gentle circles on your back as comfort. he holds you and never lets go. you break down and miguel is there to catch you, just like you did with him that one night when he told you what happened to gabriel.

“i love you…” you sob softly.

his heart swells, gently squeezing you with love. “té quiero tanto, mi reina. more than you know.”

you two stay like that for a while until you finally calm down and the tears finally stop. just a tender moment of embracing one another.

“i’m sorry… the hormones fuck me up.” you lean back, letting out a few sniffles.

“don’t be, it’s okay.” his hands slowly rubbing encouraging circles on your arms before one of them reaches out to grab a tissue from your nightstand.

“thank you…” you take the offered tissue from him. “god… i know you just said those sweet things but i really do feel like a mess after all that crying.” you glance down at yourself. flushed cheeks, dried up tears, messy hair, and still in your robe.

“you can take a bath, clean you up so you can feel better.” miguel suggests.

“yeah, a bath does sound really nice.”

he softly chuckles before helping you up from bed. “vamos, amor. let’s go prepare your bath.” as he guides you to the bathroom, miguel leans down towards your ear. “afterwards, i can show you exactly how much i adore you and this gorgeous body.”

there’s a hint of seductiveness in his tone that sends a shiver down your spine. you know exactly what he means and you anticipate for what plans he has.

after a relaxing bath with miguel’s help washing you and cleaning you up, you find yourself spread out on the bedsheets wearing a fresh, thin satin nightgown and a pregnancy pillow underneath for comfort. your heart beats quick with anticipation as miguel slowly approached towards the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweats, your favorite. that mix of lust and adoration glint in his eyes increases your anticipation. those same brown eyes admire your plump, glowing form.

“tan hermosa.” he notices your bashful face and makes him smile. miguel loves his effect on you and how simple sweet words can make you shy.

slowly kneeling in front of the bed, miguel leans down towards your legs and gently grabs one leg and brush his lips against your ankle. his lips leaves a trace of soft kisses as he slowly trails up your leg, reaching towards your inner thigh.

“i love these thighs.” he murmurs against your skin. “wanna wrap them around my face all day.” before you can say anything, your breath hitches as you feel his lips suck your inner thigh, silencing you.

your core begins throbbing with want. “miguel…”

“so soft…” he whispers in between kisses and light sucks, earning soft gasps and moans from you. alternating between thighs, spreading them to access more skin and leave more kisses.

the teasing kisses were wearing your patience thin and your body started feeling hot. “miguel, please~” a soft whine from your lips.

“relájate, bebé. lemme worship you.” miguel can’t help but grin at your impatience. it’s so adorable when you whine and beg for him.

trailing upwards, miguel slowly lifts up the hem of your nightgown exposing your swollen belly and panties. a soft gasp falls from your lips as the cool air hits your core. he doesn’t ignore the wet stain on your panties, making him grin. but miguel’s attention is on your belly. he peppers it with adoring kisses and whisper sweet praises, making your heart flutter and mind floaty while feeling hot and bothered.

miguel feels a faint kick against his lips, both of you chuckle. “si, princesa. papí is taking care of mamá.” he softly whispers against your skin.

that melts your heart.

“té quiero, mi reina. té quiero tu pancita. your gorgeous belly, growing our baby.” he murmurs between kisses, worshiping your tummy. each kiss earns a faint kick from your baby.

you reach down and dig your fingers in his hair, brushing through those soft wavy curls. “miguel~”

“such a pretty mamí.” very slowly, his lips trail back down to where you really want him. he chuckles at the way your hips buckle ever so slightly. “don’t worry, bebé. i’ll take care of you.”

gripping the sides of your panties, miguel slowly slides them off your body. he curses quietly at your glistening pussy, dripping already for him.

“dios, you’re dripping, bebita. ¿todo para mi, huh?” his eyes never leave your glistening cunt as he tosses your panties somewhere on the floor.

“y-yes, miguel por favor—”

“shhh, i’m here…” he shushes you softly, calloused hands spreading your thighs and rest them on his bulky shoulders. “let me know if it’s too much.” miguel glances up at you with sincerity, you nod, and he doesn’t hesitate to dive into your sweet cunt.

a moan erupts from your throat as miguel’s lips suckle on your throbbing clit, causing your back to arch off the bed. the bedroom is filled with your moans as your boyfriend eats you out passionately. his tongue draws delicate circles on your precious pearl, sending your mind haywire and squirm underneath his hold. a loud moan echos in the room as miguel’s tongue begins penetrating you.

“oh my- miguel!~” you arch your back, gripping tightly on his brown locks, earning a groan from him.

you’re so fucking sweet, an addictive nectar that he can’t get enough of. you always tasted sweet but even more now that you’re pregnant. miguel is going fucking crazy at your sweetness, slurping and eating you up as if you’re his final meal.

“fuck- you’re so- fucking sweet, bebé.” he moans in between slurps and licks.

unfortunately, you swollen tummy blocks the beautiful view but you can still see those cute brown locks. while alternating between his tongue fucking you and sucking on your clit, miguel reaches a hand up and places it on your belly, his thumb caressing it. the multiple sensations of pleasure he was providing was overwhelming, your mind haywired. using your free hand, you interlock yours with miguel’s that is on your belly, making the connection more intimate. the familiar warm sensation in your tummy gradually develops, building and building up as miguel continues pleasuring you in miraculous ways.

“m-miguel, i’m gonna—”

“dámelo, bebé.” he gently squeezes your hand.

god you love it when he says that, so fucking hot. his tongue movement increase, determined to make you reach the pinnacle of pleasure. your pitchier and louder moans echo in the bedroom as your orgasm approaches. finally, with a loud whine of his name like a prayer, you gush around his tongue. the death grip on his hair makes him groan but miguel doesn’t give a shit, too busy devouring your sweetness. miguel is a greedy little shit, devouring every ounce of your sweet nectar. swirling his tongue around and slurring up everything he can get, not wasting any drop as if his life depends on it.

“m-miguel, please stop- no more, i can’t—” your legs tremble as you begin to feel overstimulated by the never-ending pleasure he still provides. plus, the pregnancy hormones make you extra sensitive. if he doesn’t stop, you will have another orgasm and right now you’re desperate for his cock.

your boyfriend slurps up any leftover sweetness and gives your now sensitive clit one final suck before finally rising from your trembling thighs.

“you taste so fucking sweet, mamí. even sweeter now because you’re pregnant.” his tongue runs over his lips glistening with your come, collecting the leftover. the sight makes your pussy flutter.

goddamnit, this man drives you crazy.

“¿estas bien?” he returns to his sweet, caring nature. a huge contrast from his seductive nature a few seconds ago. while wanting to provide you pleasure, miguel still focuses on your wellbeing.

you hum softly with a weak nod, recovering from your high. melting into his touch as his fingers stroke your cheek with such tenderness. sudden discomfort hits you when you feel wetness on your chest. glancing down, a frown settles on your face when two small wet stains are found on your nightgown. your face grows warm with embarrassment.

“goddamnit…” you curse frustratingly at the sight.

miguel’s brows furrowed in concern for a moment then follows your line of sight.

oh… you’re leaking.

you pinch the bridge of your nose while sighing frustratingly. great, now you ruined the sexy time. “sorry… didn’t expect this shit to happen.”

miguel quickly shakes his head. “no, no, no. don’t be sorry, it’s natural, mi amor. no te procupes.” he caresses your face as a sign of reassurance.

he might be weird but miguel can’t stop… looking at those two damp spots, more specifically your tits. he figures you’d start leaking since your breast are overflowing with milk prepared for your daughter when she arrives. it’s just… so fascinating to see. miguel is so fascinated that his hand has a mind of its own and slowly reaches towards your covered breasts. a frown settles on his face when your hand stops him, glancing at you worryingly.

“perdóname, mi reina. i just…”

god, how the fuck can he say it? i wanna suck on your tits, drink your milk that’s clearly meant for our daughter? you’d think he’s fucking insane.

you look up at him with slightly confused eyes but brush it off. “it’s okay… i’m just gonna go change.” you’re about to get up before his hand on your upper arms stop you, gently holding you in place.

“don’t change. it’s okay, preciosa. don’t feel about it, like i said, it’s natural for a pregnant woman.” he reassures you sweetly, caressing your arms.

you shrug, sighing. “i just wasn’t expecting that to happen right now. they just feel so fucking heavy.” leaning towards him, you hide in his chest and you feel his arms wrap around you lovingly.

he understands your discomfort and wishes to take it away. miguel is a problem solving guy and he wants to solve this problem. then, a light bulb imaginably appears on the top of his head.

“want me to message them for you?” he asks.

“sure.” you’re about to scoot over and expect miguel to sit beside you but instead he guides you to lay back down on the bed, leaving you slightly confused.

he notices your confused wide eyes. “do you trust me?” his thick fingers fiddle with the bow attached to the top of your nightgown where it holds your breasts, a sign of asking for consent.

your heart leaps in anticipation and excitement, knowing what he means. “always.”

with your consent, his fingers slowly untie the pretty bow and opens up the top of your nightgown, revealing your swollen breasts. his pupils dilate dramatically as he admires your beautiful breasts. licking his lips subconsciously at the small white droplets leaking from your perky nipples.

you recognize that glint in his eyes.

hunger.

that hungry look makes your clit throb but your mind says otherwise, feeling a bit insecure. you try to cover your chest but his hands gently pry them away.

“don’t hide from me, preciosa.” miguel looks up at you with sincerity and pleading. “ever.”

his whispered reassurance makes your heart flutter, a task he never fails to do. obliging, you allow your arms to move away and rest flat on the bed.

staring in awe of your breasts, miguel’s hands slowly come up and carefully cups them. that elicits a soft gasp from you. his cock twitches at the soft sensation of your breast in his palms. board palms gently message the soft, sensitive squishy fat. message out the knots and swollenness of your breasts, relieving you of that discomfort. the addictive sensation elicits soft moans and whimpers from you, arching your back into his touch.

“more, please…” you whimper, needing more pressure to feel more relieved.

“okay, mi amor.” miguel obliged and applies a bit more pressure with his hands, messaging your tits with care. each cute sound you make goes directly to his cock, twitching and throbbing with want.

miguel loves making you come undone with his touch. all he wants is to make you feel good.

those brown eyes stare in awe of your moving breasts, admiring the squishy fat moving in his large palms. but miguel is more focused on the tiny white droplets leaking from your nipples. a sudden wave of hunger courses through him like a tsunami. the longer he stares, the harder his cock becomes.

his honey mind also conjures up naughty thoughts. so much milk… flowing inside those pretty breasts of yours… begging to be drank.

fuck- does he have a lactation kink?

well, he does now thanks to you.

allowing those naughty instincts to take control, miguel leans over and captures a nipple with his lips hungrily. a gasp falls from your own when you feel him suckle on it, instinctively gripping on his hair.

“miguel!~” your chest arches into his mouth with a moan, seeking for more and more.

fuck, your pussy is so sweet and addicting but your milk is just something else.

another part of you he’s addicted to.

“y-you taste amazing, bebé.” he can’t get enough of your sweet milk, the warm liquid flowing down his thirst, humming happily. his hand squeezes your tit with a little pressure to gain more milk.

you feel his adam’s apple bobble with each gulp. his cheeks hollowed as he continues drinking. miguel alternates between both breasts, drinking one while his hand squeezes the other. the sensation sends tingling of pleasure to your clit. each suckle, lick and squeeze leaves you a throbbing mess. the pleasure is so intense, so good that you feel hot and bothered. as if he knows your body well, miguel lowers one hand down and gives your clit some attention after being neglected for a little. the sudden sensation causes a sharp moan to erupt from your throat.

“oh! miguel!~ please, don’t stop~” your fingers grip tighter on his hair as you feel that familiar warm feeling in your lower belly coming back with each flick of his finger on your sensitive pearl.

miguel continues suckling on your tit while playing with your clit before pushing in two digits into your tight folds, eliciting a heavenly whine. now that warm feeling was approaching fast. overwhelmed with the intense pleasure miguel continued providing. the next thing you know it, another loud moan of his name echos in the room as you come for the second time, gushing over his thick fingers. miguel gives your nipple one last suck while your chest arches as you come before finally breaking away.

your panting echos in the room, overwhelmed with the pleasure yet feel so good. god you love your boyfriend. a prideful grin on miguel’s face for making his girl feel good for a second time.

“you okay, amor?” he carefully slides out his fingers from your dripping folds while looking down at you with a loving, caring expression.

“holy shit, miguel. fuck yeah, damn…” you weakly chuckle, feeling utterly fucked out.

he chuckles as well, sheepishly. “sorry for going overboard, you just tasted so good.”

you weakly shake your head, giggling. “i can tell.”

a sheepish smile graces his lips as he rises to grab the cloth on the nightstand. miguel begins cleaning up in between your thighs but stops when you tug him back his dog tags and bring him down for a kiss. it surprises him but immediately reciprocates, hovering over you, mindful of your tummy. although, he doesn’t expect you to be so eager. practically devouring his lips as if your life depends on him.

“bebé—”

“get on the bed, now.”

now miguel is the surprise one but honestly is turned on by your command. he loves it you boss him around. authority looks so good on you.

all that pleasure left you a throbbing mess and craving for him, specifically his cock. not to mention the pregnancy hormones going bonkers now.

you’re a horny mess thanks to your boyfriend.

the man knows better than to keep you waiting so he swiftly takes off his sweats and lays in bed. his pupils dilate immensely as you get on top of him, groaning when your cunt meets with his aching cock. you’re so hot and bothered that you take off your nightgown, leaving yourself bare to miguel’s hungry eyes. you feel his cock twitch underneath.

“joder, bebé…” those brown eyes roam over your gorgeous figure, admiring the angel above him.

actually, a goddess above him.

once aligned with his cock, both of you let out a moan as you slowly sink down his length. fuck, you’re goddamn so tight, miguel’s mind goes haywire. his tip glazed your cervix perfectly. of course with miguel’s help, guiding you with his hands on your hips. however, your hips seem to have a mind of their as you begin already bouncing on him. finally riding his cock after what felt like forever.

moans and groans linger in the hot air of sex, bouncing the four walls of the bedroom. miguel admires his angel riding his cock to oblivion, admiring your bouncing tits. his hands leave your hips and cups your breasts, giving them squeezes. relishing the soft squishy fat in his palms, earning angelic moans from you since they’re extra sensitive. his hands move down to your belly and holds it securely. possessive thoughts ran across his mind.

your gorgeous belly, your baby growing inside. it’s his baby growing inside you. he is the one who got you pregnant, no other man. proof that you belong to him. miguel never felt that possessive of you but the longer he admires your pregnant belly, the more possessive he is of you. the fact it’s his baby, he is the father, he got you pregnant ignites that certain possessive side of him. it drives miguel insane.

“mira, mi niña hermosa.” his sweet praise makes you flustered, moaning softly. “growing our baby.” he gently rubs your baby bump. “my baby… growing inside you… so fucking beautiful.”

each praise goes straight to your pussy, making you clenching around him which causes miguel to groan. you’re extra sensitive so the praises hit different than usual, feeling more shy and vulnerable.

“m-miguel~” you arch your back.

“sí, hermosa. doing so good, baby~” miguel groans and throws his head back against the pillow as you continue riding him. relishing the sensation of your sweet pussy squeezing the fuck out of his cock.

he keeps his hands on your rest so he can do most of the movement, despite you wanting control. even though he’s deep in a state of ecstasy, miguel is still attentive to your wellbeing and makes sure you don’t accidentally harm yourself due to your pregnancy. the moment you feel discomfort, he’s stopping. however, you seem to be in a deep state of ecstasy too considering your pitchy moans and furrowed brows of pleasure. such a pretty sight.

“miguel, miguel, miguel.” a mantra of his name.

“ay mi amor~ so fucking good.”

the lovemaking process increases intensely. each thrust, the tip of miguel’s cock kissing your sweet spot, his thumb flicking your clit. you release another loud moan, coming for the third time. jesus, that is the most orgasms you’ve experienced and it all thanks to miguel. speaking of him, miguel soon follows and releases his thick seed deep in your pussy with a groan of your name. if it was possible, you would’ve made another baby. your hips finally come to a stop while indulging in your high, utterly fucked out. miguel’s hands give them gentle rubs. noticing how exhausted you are, miguel lays you down on the bed after pulling out and you come off top of him. calloused hands slowly guide you down until your back meets the mattress.

“you okay?” your boyfriend asks, caressing your cheek. “both of you?”

“mhm, we’re fine.” you hum, exhausted.

miguel leans forward and places a soft kiss on your forehead, making you smile droopingly. reaching from the nightstand, he grabs the prepared water bottle and brings it up to your lips once you’re sit up, with his hand on your back as support.

“más, preciosa. we pushed your limits tonight.” he encouraged, feeling a bit dissatisfied with the little water amount you drank. you came three times tonight, that exceeds your usual count.

you obliged and drink more water, relishing the refreshment to cool down your body. once you finished and miguel was more satisfied with the amount, you hand the bottle to him and he drinks.

“let’s get you washed up, amor.”

“but i don’t wanna get uuuup.” you whine, flashing that cute pout miguel adores.

“mamí, you know you hate not taking a shower before bed and you won’t stop complaining about feeling dirty until you do.” he shoots you an unimpressed look, arching a brow.

you sigh grumpily. “true… okay, fine.”

“don’t worry, i’ll carry you.” he smiles before setting down the water bottle and carefully scoops you up in his arms, heading to the bathroom.

you and miguel indulge in a relaxing bath together. well, your second bath but with miguel this time. your back rests against his chest, eyes closed while relishing the warm water and his body heat. his calloused hands rub gentle circles on your belly. a quiet, relaxing moment with the man you love.

“¿estas bien, hermosa?” he whispers.

you hum contently. “yeah, just perfect.”

he smiles and presses a kiss on the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you. “i’m glad.”

instinctively, you lean into his embrace and softly sigh. “thank you for everything tonight… the talk and mind-blowing sex but really the talk, i really needed that. the hormones can be a bitch sometimes.”

miguel softly chuckles at that. “i understand and of course, bebita. i’ll always worship you and love you no matter what.” he raises a hand and gently turns your chin so you can meet his eyes, brown pools of adoration. “té quiero tanto, mi reina. siempre.”

his sincere words of adoration melts your heart. faint tears begin prickling in your eyes but you blink them away. “té quiero, miguel.” cupping his cheek, your lips collide in a soft, passionate kiss.

after a moment of basking in each other’s presence in silence, miguel begins washing you. a happy sigh escapes your lips as his fingers gently scratch your scale covered in shampoo. after rinsing your hair with the nozzle, miguel grabs the loofah with soap and begins lathering your body ever so gently. his eyes admire every inch of your body. from every detail of your angelic face, eyes, lashes, lips, other facial features. to your chest, swollen belly, hips, thighs, legs. everything about you is perfect.

his perfect little angel.

his loving stare makes you look away shyly, feel heat rising in your cheeks and heart beating rapidly in your chest like a drum. even though he has seen your body before, he still makes you shy.

miguel noticed, softly chuckling. “¿qué?”

“don’t look at me like at.”

“i can’t admire the woman i love?” a smirk on his lips.

you roll your eyes, shyly smiling. “estas loco.”

“para ti, sí.”

oh my god- this man. he’s just so… ugh!

once he washed your body and rinsed you off, you do the same with him, despite his many objections. after treating you with adoration and pleasure, it’s only fair to wash him. besides, you love washing his hair, feeling those soft brown curls through your fingers and gently scratching his scale with your nails just the way he likes it. you also love peppering kisses over his face while washing his hair, you get to see that pretty smile of his, a sight you love.

once you washed him and he rinsed off the remaining soap in the tub, you two finally get out. miguel steps out first to grab your towel and gently drys you off before wrapping it around you and help you step out of the tub. with a towel wrapped around his hips, very low by the way, miguel helps you slip into fresh panties and a different nightgown. he then applies lotion on your skin. calloused hands rubbing amongst your skin, lips pressing soft kisses on each area he applied lotion on, whispering endless praises of love. just the way you like it.

while drying out your hair with your towel, miguel dresses himself in a red flannel sweats and applies lotion on himself as well. your eyes can’t stop lingering on his body and the flexing of his muscles as he maneuvers around. wet streaks of hair sticked to his forehead, the sliver dog tags adorned around his neck shimmering in the light.

he’s so pretty, dreamlike.

after miguel brushed your hair and you both brushed your teeth, he carries you back to bed. oh he’s so giving you princess treatment right now but you love it. plus, you know he loves carrying you to have you in his arms and to show off his strength. even though you’re lighter than a feather (no matter what, the man is a tank and can carry anyone any size).

once rested comfortably in the sheets, you snuggle up in miguel’s arms that are wrapped around you protectively. his broad chest against your back, his hands caressing your swollen tummy. that triggers another faint kick from the baby.

“she says goodnight.” you smile.

leaning towards your belly, miguel plants a soft kiss on top. “buenas noches, mi princesa.” he whispers sweetly then lays back down and embraces you, kissing your temple. “buenas noches, mi reina.”

“buenas noches, bebito.”

after a beautiful evening, you and miguel sleep peacefully in each other’s arms. his hand on your belly never left throughout the night.

𝓣𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @lovehadlovelost @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @asterrrrose @glossygreene @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @totallygyomeiswife @mcmiracles @celestialgarden23 @tatatida @whdhjfjvjvjfjdhsj @nocturne-light @xenop0p @juneonhoth @ghostsdoll @marshmallowsforever @ibelyss @imissubaee @demonic-bird @fandomtrash5092 ( if you’re not tagged, age/age-range is require since this fic is 18+, context for reasons why )

#⠀꒰⠀𝜗𝜚 ֺ 𓂂⠀꒱⠀﹕⠀ℬ𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝒪𝑓 𝒯ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℳ𝑒𝑠𝑠⠀.ᐟ⠀#miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #military!miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #across the spiderverse

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italiansteebie · 2 years ago

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Secret relationship steddie getting through vecna without suspicions from the others until steve hasn’t left eddie’s bedside for a week and he somehow knows wayne munson's phone number from memory and even gets a hug from the man when he enters the room. And he gets to stay when the others are kicked out.

It’s only when eddie wakes up that everything comes out.

He cracks open his eyes, meeting the gazes of dustin, wayne, and robin, but no steve.

“Where’s my baby?” he murmurs, and from the outside it sounds like “where mah beebee.” He watches the faces in front of him turn into something of confusion. “My baby, my baby. I want him.” It comes out clearer, and unfortunately for them wayne understands immediately and unknowingly outs them. “Steve’s off gettin’ some food, he’ll be back in just a minute,” Wayne pats eddie’s hand gently, watching as the kid smiles, eyes drooping once again.

Dustin and robin share a look but they choose to ignore it, maybe wayne heard wrong or eddie is just on too many painkillers.

Until steve walks in, seeing eddie’s eyes, tired, but open. He drops the coffee he’d brought back for wayne and bolts to eddie’s side.

Eddie raises a hand and cups steve’s face, “hey baby.” and for the first time, dustin and robin see steve harrington cry. “I told you-” he pauses to sniffle, “I told you not to be a hero,” his voice cracks, holding back tears. Eddie grabs his hand “‘M still here, baby.” and the dam breaks. Steve is sobbing into eddies chest, while the metalhead runs a weak hand through his hair.

Wayne would deny it with all his heart if anyone asked, but he shed a tear at the display in front of him, he wasn’t sure about steve harrington the first time eddie brought him home, but damn, the kid weaseled his way into his heart. And as touching as the moment was, dustin and robin where still highly confused.

Steve’s tears slowed, and he lifted his head from eddies chest, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

“Uh. Excuse me?” robin broke the silence, and the little world steve had found himself in shattered.

Eddie smiled though, ever the brave. “Me nd stevie are datin’. He’s mah baby.” he ended the sentence by placing a sloppy kiss on steve’s cheek. Dustin was, surprisingly, satisfied with that answer, but robin was not.

“YOU MADE FUN OF ME OVER TAMMY WHEN YOU’RE HERE WITH… HIM?”

Steve blushed, “We had just met when i started at scoops okay! It was really new, i- i didn’t know how to tell you so…. I just decided to be overly supportive by bashing your taste in women.”

This set robin off, and she didn’t stop until a nurse came in and threatened to have her removed from the premises.

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heartsofminds · 8 months ago

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i'm calling just to hear you scream - part i

"She’s tried to be positive. She’s tried to be kind. She’s trying to be the peacekeeper, but all of that falls out the window when her brother is bitching out everything that fucking blinks and breathes and Richie has slung a sledgehammer into the wrong wall that needed to be knocked down." or Natalie gets fed the fuck up and hires a hospitality attorney before everything else turns to shit.

a/n: i couldn't help myself at all and had to bite by trying my hand at writing for carmy! what can i say? i love men with trauma that need to be cuddled like newborns! please enjoy the beginning of enemies to lovers to enemies back to lovers fic with a workaholic chef and an overly empathetic attorney. angst is my brand! i hope you enjoy!

Being the peacekeeper of your family is never something anyone ever sets out to be.

One day you’re normal and live blissfully with the rose-colored lenses of naivety tinting life shades of bashful blush and magnetic magenta. The next day you’re diffusing a spitfire scarlett dispute between your anxiety-ridden mother and impulsively crude older brother while simultaneously taming the balloon of battered blue tears your baby brother sheds who observes from the corner; scared yet somehow unaware of the emotions sucking the oxygen out of everyone.

At first, it feels good. It feels nice to be appreciated and turned to in moments of darkness. Helpfulness defines your livelihood and gives you the nameplate of the gold star child who can never do any wrong and always finds a solution. But then you realize that is what you ever really are, and you’re both hated for your inability to let things sour and for always having an answer despite uncertainty plaguing every course of action.

Being the peacekeeper of your family is both a Medal of Honor, worn with pride and graciousness, yet a bullet wound wielded by shame and agony. The tenderness and hurt push on it until you can hardly stand it; half expecting pus to be seeping out in pale yellow heaps because the pain feels so real.

There are no exit wounds. There are no breaks. There is no humanity or personal identity or room for self-discovery.

A peacemaker is all you will be and all you will ever accomplish, and you’ll never say it out loud but it’s fucking exhausting.

Being the peacemaker is something Natalie Berzatto never fucking asked for, yet here she is, playing project manager to her haywire (and sometimes freakishly obsessive) baby brother’s blind-eyed throw of a dart that manifested itself in asking Uncle Jimmy for an eight hundred thousand dollar loan with the promise to have it completely paid back within eight months.

She’s not one to rain on a parade, but it’s hard to keep marching when your entire life has been putting out the fires of overly ambitious business ventures during unmedicated fits of mania. She had seen it with their dad, with their mom, and with Mikey. Carmen is the last needle needed to complete the fucked up haystack that engulfs their family.

She’s tried to be positive. She’s tried to be kind. She’s trying to be the peacekeeper, but all of that falls out the window when her brother is bitching out everything that fucking blinks and breathes and Richie has slung a sledgehammer into the wrong wall that needed to be knocked down.

Natalie has never thought of looking into Botox until now; when her face is set in a permanent scowl and her resting heart rate nears triple digits. Pete had been telling her for the past three weeks that she was doing amazing; that this was an impossible task to complete stress-free, and that the stress was “good” because it meant that she cared.

Sometimes she doesn’t realize that not everyone has a mom who drives the fucking car through the den during Christmas Eve dinner nor does everyone have a mom who moves all the furniture to the backyard before having to leave for their oldest brother’s high school graduation. Not everyone has an older brother who blows his head off and doesn’t leave a note and not everyone has a younger brother who would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to his body and had his mouth that was spewing hurtful insults by the dozen.

Stress does not mean that you care. Stress means that your eyes are staring at the fucking Sun trying to see where the other shoe is getting ready to drop because there’s always another disappointment and always another phone call to make to the pharmacy for more SSRIs.

Needless to say, Richie calling Neil “lard ass” on an antagonizing loop after he had pointed out the wrong wall was being destroyed was the last straw. Well, that and the fact she found a new patch of white hairs colonizing on her hairline the other morning. Constant shouted insults, gray hairs popping up overnight, and the colossal secret of a new infant making its arrival into the chaos in October weigh heavy on her. And she absolutely cannot afford to lose her cool and become the kind of bitchy and mean she knows that she’s capable of.

Your phone number sits inside the LED-lit text thread of a friend she had known in high school. Becca was the older sister of Claire Cantor whom her little brother may have or may have not had a pathetic crush on years ago when he was in high school.

She feels kind of grimy doing what she is; offering up information about Carmy to Becca to give to Claire who apparently thought her baby brother was the bee's knees (which, if she saw the way he was acting right now, Natalie knows she would run the other way). She doesn’t even think Carmen has the capability to think of anything outside of the restaurant and the menu and how royally fucked they all are.

She can feel the dull ache of guilt in her chest that comes with knowing how unlikely anything is to come from this, and how wrong she is for pretending like her telling Becca where he grocery shops or if he has a girlfriend or if he was currently looking for someone to date would somehow tether Claire to a world where her and Carmen are a “thing” (because apparently “boyfriend and girlfriend” is too permanent of a word for Chicagoan twenty-somethings to use).

But she’s doing it for the sake of everyone else! It can’t possibly be as gross and low-lived as she feels it is.

Becca Cantor is insufferable and can only be taken in small doses, but she’s also a big wig junior partner at one of the most lucrative law firms in Chicago. Natalie hates blowing smoke up people’s asses who don’t deserve it (and in Becca’s case certainly don’t need it), but she desperately needs help and knows that she needs to figure something out before she fucks herself in such a deep hole that she couldn’t attempt to unfuck herself if she tried.

Your official title is “junior associate” and you had been working at Becca’s firm following your graduation from Northwestern’s Pritzker School of Law a couple of years prior. Becca had said you were amazing; freakishly smart, funny, and hardworking. She also mentioned that you were the best kind of junior associate; the ones that know when to shut the fuck up and when to get the fuck out of the way. The addition added before the text conversation ended was how you were looking to get your foot into the hospitality legal field, and how you were willing to do anything concerning that for free fucking ninety-nine if it meant you would have some experience.

Natalie sits with her lower lip worried between her teeth and her hands one tick shy of shaking. Her heart beats erratically despite lounging on her couch with the lights off and a re-run of That 70’s Show playing softly in the background. She makes a mental note to bring up the high resting heart rate at her next OB appointment.

It’s because she’s pregnant. Yes. It has to be because she’s pregnant.

She shouldn’t be nervous. It would be absolutely ridiculous to be nervous. She’s not nervous.

She already ran the idea past Sydney and she agreed that they absolutely needed a lawyer in their back pocket. With all of the tax records fucked beyond belief, new workers being hired who actually knew their worth and wouldn’t tolerate not having an actual employement contract, and the lack of permits under their belt currently, a lawyer wouldn’t hurt if getting one turned out to not be as helpful as anticipated. Besides, Becca had said you were doing it for them pro bono which in turn meant free fucking nintey-nine.

But Natalie had lied to Carmen about how much some fluted cocktail glasses cost to ensure that they purchased the cheaper ones so that she could run the numbers and figure out a way to put you on the payroll. Pro bono or not, you’re doing them a huge favor and part of her can’t put the peacekeeping to rest.

Her fingers type and untype a novel of characters. She can’t seem to relax her mind enough to articulate what exactly she wants to say. She has one shot to not scare you off and not lose her mind in a fit of fiery rage and not have everything turn to shit and it be her fault. She has to be perfect.

Fuck. She is nervous.

Hi! This is Natalie Berzatto. I’m one of Becca Cantor’s friends and she referred me to you. I’m working on opening a restaurant and would like for you to swing by and discuss some things about it if you’re open to that! Please let me know. I’m looking forward to hearing back from you soon!

Nat’s finger hits the blue “send” arrow in the rounded box of her phone screen the same time she pushes a gag to the back of her throat. She used to work at a marketing firm for Christ’s sake. Cold contacting people isn’t anything new and she’s usually not one to shy away from reaching out to anyone in her personal life first. But she can’t help the fact that she’s never been able to swallow the artificial bubble gummy niceness of reaching out to a complete stranger for the first time. She feels stupid and knows that she sounds even stupider but tries not to think about it.

Besides, keeping everything together is never easy and she knows that she would be selfish for letting her discomfort prevent her from doing what she knows is best.

Her breath is stuck in her chest as she eyes the open text thread to an unsaved number; her blue text message staring at her menacingly and breeding contempt as the seconds pass. She gasps loudly whenever she sees the gray bubbles pop up beneath it. Pete pokes his head into the living room with a tea towel in his hand and one of the ceramic plates they had eaten dinner on in the other. His eyes wear concern but he knows better than to confront his wife. Natalie was anything but sugary sweet when she was stressed and the influx of hormones as of late have not been helping.

You see the message as soon as Natalie sends it. The unknown “312” number finds its way into your notifications and your eyes read over the words in a frenzy. You know that you’re intelligent. You graduated from law school for fuck’s sake, but for some reason you absolutely cannot comprehend the text you’re reading.

Firstly, you were sure Becca hated your fucking guts. She was a junior partner that everyone hated being assigned to because she pushed all her work onto the associates and nothing ever seemed to be good enough for her. Part of the reason you had to take work home tonight was because she sent you an email with enough passive-aggressive undertone to know that these edits needed to be done now; never mind the fact that the time she took to type out the seven and a half page report about the original report probably took up so much time that she could’ve done the task herself. But yet you replied kindly and have been working through your brain fog and finger cramps since arriving home at six in the evening five hours ago.

Secondly, hospitality litigation was absolutely above your pay grade. You had taken one elective course on it during your 2L year and did a two-week internship before the start of 3L simply because one of your friends wanted to go on vacation and needed to find someone to cover for them. You know jack shit about hospitality law and you don’t even know why Becca Cantor, of all fucking people, would be so willing to recommend you when she couldn’t care less if you lived or died.

But of course, you can’t say no. You can never say no, and if this Natalie person was desperate enough to reach out to you via text at 11 PM on a Wednesday, she definitely needed help and needed it now. Besides, you would tell her that you do not need to be paid and if whatever she needs proves to be way too advanced for you, you can always help her find an attorney that knows what they’re doing.

Right?

It definitely doesn’t mean that you’ll pull an all-nighter and research every aspect of hospitality law in Illinois that you can get your hands on. . .Or look up every department dealing with food and management regulations in the state. . .Or try and look at precedent cases. Your firm gave you unlimited access to West Law. Might as well use it for something slightly more interesting than trusts, estates, and contracts.

You’re unusually pensive for something you know you would love to do. The ongoing battle as of late has been the dispute between seeking joy and wading in practicality; happiness or falsified peace?

You rub your eyes with a roughness that would make your optometrist cringe. You know that staring at your computer screen five hours after your contracted work hours ended was the culprit for your dry eyes, but the hours you need are not going to bill themselves. Getting up to get your eyedrops will have to wait.

Replying to Natalie cannot.

Your fingers type and untype; the feeling of texting back an unknown number foreign and unnerving.

Thanks so much for reaching out and thinking of me! I would love to. What dates and times work for you, and where would it be best for us to meet?

The text stares at you on your phone screen. Why do you sound so. . . corporate? Boring? Infantile.

She could probably tell you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about at all. The feeling of defeat rises in your throat but you ignore it and hit send instead. You’re trying to be better about that; letting your fear of uncertainty keep you from taking action. You’ve come to realize that the hard part isn’t doing the thing. It’s actually sitting in the aftermath of the “thing” and waiting for the rest of the world to catch up.

You bite your lip so hard it begins to bleed and throbs with each pulse of watery blood that fills your mouth. The gentle suck you give it to stop the bleeding makes it partially numb.

Fuck you, Becca. Fuck you, Becca. Fuck you, Becca.

Natalie chirps when your text illuminates her screen. She gasps and sits up; startling Pete who had settled next to her after finishing the dishes. Her eyes curl up in the same way her lips do.

Fucking finally.

The world no longer feels like it’ll fall apart.

408 notes · View notes

souliebird · 9 months ago

Text

[[and then I met you || ch 22]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 4.3k

ao3 link

It takes you a little over an hour to get Minnie to go down for bed. Tomorrow is her birthday party and to say she is excited is an understatement. She was practically jumping off the walls and it took three different books, a bottle, and two lullabies to finally get her to drift off. You are thankful when she doesn’t sit up again and call for you after five minutes, because you have a lot to do.

You need to clean up the apartment and decorate, you need to prepare pancake batter for a princess style breakfast, you need to finish wrapping presents, and you need to set up the couch for Matt. He will be coming by after his Patrol so he can stay the night and Minnie can wake up to the surprise of him being there, which is the perfect way to start her celebratory weekend.

But before any of that, you need to go take a shower so you can have a proper breakdown.

When you were younger, you believed crying was a sign of weakness. Your parents had treated it as such, always dismissive if you cried. The reason had never mattered - shedding tears was pointless and for children, so you had learned to bottle everything up and push it all down until the act of crying physically hurt you. Only very recently did you accept that crying is healthy.

You still hate doing it, though, and the only way you have found to balance your shame and your need for that emotional release is to treat it like another task you need to accomplish.

You triple check your daughter is truly asleep before you close the door to the bathroom and start the water. You keep yourself composed as you strip and only once you are under the spray do you let the tears start to fall.

So much has happened in such a short time and your anxiety has been through the roof.

The first bill for your hospital stay arrived today and you have been too scared to open it. You are terrified to go back into medical debt - giving birth in the United States had drained a lot of your savings and you have built it back up. You know there are all sorts of hidden fees, and you are going to need to do so much work contacting the various billing offices to try to get prices down.

It isn’t even like you are fully recovered from being in the hospital in the first place. You only just finished your antibiotics last week and your ear still randomly throbs or rings.

But honestly, you don’t know if that is from being sick or almost having your head bashed in.

You thought you would be okay after the attack. You thought Minnie would be the one with problems - having nightmares and jumping at shadows - but after the first day of making sure you were okay, she’s been fine. You haven’t been.

You’ve been plagued with nightmares about hands around your neck. You’ve been jumping at shadows when you leave the apartment.

You keep constantly checking your locks and you debate ordering pepper spray.

You don’t know what to do.

You aren’t okay.

You don’t feel safe.

The only time you have felt secure is when Matt was there to hold you and remembering such only signals your brain to send a new wave of tears.

He confuses you in a way no one else ever has.

You have never met anyone who cares so much before. It is overwhelming how much he loves Hell’s Kitchen - enough so to become a vigilante to protect it - and it is overwhelming how much he loves Minnie. You thought only you could love her that much.

Seeing them together does things to your heart you don’t understand. You just want to watch them play and bond until the end of time. They smile and laugh, and it is the only time you ever feel Whole. You feel like everything is perfect when the three of you are together.

You don’t know what to make of that. You don’t trust yourself with it - you’ve never felt like that before and you are scared that if you think too hard about it, you’ll find a flaw and the feeling will be ruined.

You just want Matt to hold you while the two of you watch Minnie play and that isn’t an okay fantasy for you to have. You don’t have that type of relationship with him.

He is a naturally touchy person with a huge heart. You’ve seen him hug Karen and Foggy before and you know he has only ever wrapped his arms around you to comfort you.

And he wants to comfort you because you are the mother of his child. He wouldn’t be around if it weren’t for Minnie and that is something you need to remind yourself of.

Matt loves Minnie. Family is extremely important to him, and he has told you time and time again that he strives to be the best dad possible for her - so of course that means he needs to take care of you and make sure you have a positive relationship.

If you and Matt butt heads, that wouldn’t be what was best for Minnie.

You need to do what is best for Minnie.

Which means you need to stop crying and get to work.

You wipe at your tears until they start to slow, then wash your face while still under the spray. It takes a minute or two for you to fully calm down, but once you do, it is like the tap is turned off. Crying time is over, so you stop your shower and quickly dry off so you can get dressed.

You feel better, but in a kind of dull way. It is like all the pressures in your life have been turned down to something more manageable and you know you will be able to focus on your tasks without slipping into a panic attack.

The apartment is not nearly as dirty as you believed it to be. You have to straighten some things up and you take the time to wipe down all the flat surfaces, but after that, you start putting things up. There’s a pink and yellow Happy Birthday banner and you blow up a few inflatables you found shaped like flowers and stick them to the walls. You twirl streamers together to decorate the back of the couch and the dining chairs, and your favorite piece is the pink sparkle fringe to hang over the hallway entrance. It isn’t the most elaborate of set ups, but you know Minnie will love it and that is all that matters to you.

Once your living space is Birthday themed, you turn to the kitchen. You went shopping today to make sure you had everything needed for a spectacular breakfast. You found a recipe for extra fluffy pancakes, and it seems easy enough - it calls for letting the batter rest overnight and you particularly like that as it is one less thing to do in the morning while trying to handle a rowdy toddler.

It doesn’t take long to get everything prepped and before you know it, it has been close to two hours since you put Minnie down to sleep and you feel it is finally safe to bring her presents out of their hidey holes to be wrapped.

She has grown a bit since you last bought her clothes, so you got her a nice little haul, including a new princess dress for her to wear to the zoo. It has sparkles and tulle and the dress comes with a matching crown you just know she won’t want to take off. You are extremely proud of the find.

You didn’t just get her clothes, though. Minnie has been more and more interested in helping you cook, so you got her a little kitchen play set. It comes with pots and pans, knives, utensils, bowls, plates, and some fake food. You thought it would be fun to have her practice her skills - she’s a pro at helping you stir and mix, and she knows how to use a butter knife to cut up fruit. You hope she enjoys pretending to wash her dishes, so you lure you into helping into that part of cooking, but you don’t think anyone finds that chore fun.

Before you can start wrapping, you need to go through everything and remove all the tags and stickers. It is a boring activity that takes far too long, so you decide you are going to multitask while doing so. You grab your laptop and notebook and settle down among your pile of bags.

Since your talk with Matt about Daredevil, you have been in research mode. The first few nights, you read every article you could find about the Devil. You started with the reputable sources - purely focusing on news reports - and once you had a timeline of events down, you switched to opinion pieces. You quickly ended up sorting those into three categories - positive outlooks, negative outlooks, and outlooks written by Karen Page.

You took notes on everything - making pro and con lists on each major event and circling back to jot down questions you had. You felt insane - and frankly a little invasive - but it was how you processed things. You wanted it all laid out nicely in front of you so you could come to your own conclusions.

But to get to that final conclusion, you still have a lot of internet sleuthing to do, so you open up a new internet tab.

One of the most important things you want to know about Daredevil is how real people feel about him. Published articles are always biased - it is in their nature to be based purely on who produces them - but social media lets the mass in on the conversation. You learned that well after the Attack on New York.

You remember the majority of the news singing praise for the Avengers and how they saved the Earth - which you truly did appreciate - but no one came and spoke to the people whose lives had been ruined. Sure, they talked about how much destruction had happened and how much it would cost to rebuild, but no one had mentioned how Hell’s Kitchen and Chelsea had been almost flattened. No one cared about the low-cost homes that had been destroyed or the poor people crushed in debris - not when they could talk about the Big Bank buildings the Hulk had run through. Why talk about those genuinely affected when you could bring in a mouthpiece who was halfway across the world?

Iron Man didn’t give two shits about the people whose lives he saved. If he did, he’d help them in the aftermath, and he didn’t. None of the Heroes did - they started going around the world while an uncaring government was left to clean up the mess. Repairs went to the lowest bidder and many things were deemed too expensive and just left to crumble.

But only internet forums and ten second social media videos talked about that.

Matt talks so passionately about helping people in Hell’s Kitchen, so you need to know if it is real, or just all a puff piece.

You look first into the forums and to your surprise, there is a whole section for New York vigilantes. You resist the urge to dive into the threads about Spider-Man and the Hero of Harlem and you have to scroll to the bottom of the front page to find something about Daredevil.

It is CCTV footage of Daredevil chasing off what looks to be some teenagers trying to rob a pawn shop and there are a few dozen comments under it. You smile as you start to read them - the majority of it is praise for Matt, with the few negative comments being about the quality of footage.

And each thread you find about Daredevil is like that. You expected to see issues with excessive force like you saw in the opinion pieces, but there is nothing. People who you can tell are locals all comment about how he doesn’t hurt kids, and his punishments reflect the severity of the crime. Muggers get a few good swats while those who commit domestic violence are given as good as they gave. It is gang members and real dangers who end up in the hospital. There are about a handful of posts giving firsthand accounts of how the Devil helped them - ranging from them being in serious danger to Matt helping a drunk woman safely get a cab.

From what you can see, the people who post in this forum like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and genuinely feel safer with him around. The site is a little niche, though, so you switch to a more popular platform to see if you can find different opinions and different opinions you find.

Just not the ones you expected.

There is a new picture of the Devil that has gained traction in his tag that is rather good quality - Matt is squatting on a roof, seemingly observing a street, and is framed in such a way to show off his lower half. His thighs, which you know are all muscle, are highlighted wonderfully and the angle of the photo only emphasizes his backside. His upper back and shoulders are all in shadow, but you can tell just how broad they are.

Twitter absolutely loves the image, and you think you have to agree with them. You can feel your cheeks heating up and you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the screen.

Matt is beyond physically attractive, and it is no wonder the internet is lusting after him. There is a litany of lewd comments from multiple people and one made by a user with a cartoon frog as their profile picture has your core twitching and you quickly hide your face in your hands.

“imagine him bending you over a rooftop and fucking you until all you can do is drool ♥”

You don’t want to think dirty thoughts about Matt. It makes you feel awkward and guilty but mostly they make you Want, and you desperately want to bat that away.

You very obviously have slept with him before and know what a good lover he is. You know what his skin feels like against yours and your mouth goes dry at the memory of how loudly he moaned while between your legs. His stamina is no joke, and you can only imagine it has improved since he’s started being a vigilante.

You have no doubt he could easily fuck someone stupid.

You tell yourself you can’t think like this - you are supposed to be researching Daredevil to figure out how you feel about Matt being a vigilante - not ogling pictures of his ass and remembering your night together.

You gently smack your cheeks a few times and tell yourself to focus.

That only serves to make you more flush, so you make the executive decision that you have had enough screen time for the night and slam shut your laptop.

You have removed all the tags from the clothes, and you only have a few UPC stickers to pull off fake food, so you hurry through those so you can get to actually wrapping presents and not thinking about what you saw.

It is easy for you to get quickly lost in this new activity. Your perfectionist nature has you needing to make sure every crease is even and crisp and that each present looks picturesque, and you can't do that while distracted. Your thoughts shift from the way Matt’s breath felt against your skin to how many gifts Minnie has and how each one needs to look unique.

You know Minnie is going to tear through them like a wildfire, but it is important to you to make sure love is poured into everything.

You never got that as a child. Your birthdays were practical affairs and more often than not your present was to go clothes shopping, so you didn’t get to unwrap things or have that grand surprise. You don’t want that for Minnie. You want her to feel like an absolute princess on her special day and if that means rewrapping the same present four times to make it perfect, then that is what you will do.

You are finalizing bow placements on the gift bags you had to use for odd shaped items when your phone vibrates with an alert.

For a split second you are confused - it is rather late, and you’ve muted most app notifications - but then you remember Matt is meant to be coming over.

You don’t know how it could have slipped your mind and embarrassment burns through you.

How are you going to face him after staring at a picture of his ass until your brain broke?

You hesitate to check your phone, but when you do, you obviously have a text from him saying he is on his way. You groan to yourself, wondering how you can save yourself from this awkward situation?

Maybe you can go to bed early. You aren’t at all tired - you usually are up for another few hours - but you have a long weekend ahead of you. You will need rest.

In your bed.

Where Matt will not be.

Because, for the first time in a while, he will be sleeping on the couch.

Which you still need to prepare.

You finish fussing with Minnie’s bounty of presents and set about arranging them up the Happy Birthday banner like it is a Christmas tree. You have to resist your urge to nitpick and instead turn your focus to cleaning up your mess. You hurriedly shove the pile of trash you made into a bag so you can toss it and your wrapping supplies are tucked into the back of the closet, where they will live until you need them again.

You do a quick once over to make sure everything is neat and birthday ready before you fetch your spare pillow and blanket.

You try to not feel guilty as you start making up the couch. You know it isn’t the most comfortable and Matt will probably be sore after doing God knows what all night, but you can’t offer him your bed again. There is no reason for him to be in your bed. As frantic as you are, you don’t need any comforting.

You just need to stop thinking.

But not in that way.

“Stop,” you hiss at yourself. “Stop being a slut. Pure thoughts. Have pure thoughts.”

Scolding yourself does not work as well as you mean it to and all you can do is pour your concentration into folding and refolding the blanket. You roll it up tight first like it is a sleeping bag, then you think that is stupid, so you fold it into a triangle. You realize that is trying way too hard, so into a square it goes.

The knock at the door startles you and to your credit, you don’t scream.

You do, however, bury your face into your hands again and take a deep breath. You are panicking over nothing. Everything is just fine. You are overthinking.

You mentally chant that mantra as you go to the door. You hesitate to open it, needing the extra moment to center yourself, and you are surprised you don’t automatically close it again at the sight of Matt.

His normal daytime attire is a suit, and he wears them like a model, but you much prefer him dressed down as he is now. He’s in a t-shirt and joggers, with a five o’clock shadow and fluffed up hair, and he looks devastatingly handsome. He looks friendly and soft, but everything is just tight enough to show off how toned he is.

Your body reacts exactly like it did to the picture, but this time you can’t hide.

So, you run instead.

“Come on in,” you practically squeak out before hurrying to get out of his way. He’s got a gym bag with him - probably to carry his clothes for tomorrow - and your entryway isn’t the largest. It makes sense for you to go back to the living room.

“Busy night?” He asks as he closes and locks the door, and you are completely thrown by the question. You must make a confused noise, because he follows up with, “You are out of breath, is everything okay?”

Your heart starts to beat hard in your chest and you can feel your entire body getting hot. Of course, he can tell what is going on with your body and you are nearly in full panic mode.

You need to get to bed and away from him.

You fail at keeping your composure by gesturing around the living room, “Yeah - um - just been busy. Decorating and stuff - it’s a big day tomorrow.”

“It is,” Matt agrees, a charming and boyish smile creeping onto his lips. You tell yourself he must be excited for Minnie’s birthday and that is why he is in such a nice mood.

“How was..how was your night?”

He hums at the question, moving to set his bag down by the couch, “It was relatively quiet. With school starting up again and the heat, the younger crowd isn’t out. I made a few laps but didn’t find anything worth going after.”

“So, there isn’t like…crime every night?” You ask, trying to wrap your head around it all. You haven’t actually asked what a Patrol consists of, so you don’t know what the average one is like.

“Despite what everyone thinks, no. There’s a good number of nights where I just keep things tidy, but being out helps to deter people as well. Not every night is drug busts and gang wars.”

“That is good to know.” And it is - it helps to ease your anxiety that he is out there constantly boxing people. People say New York is crime ridden, but it is not nearly as bad as it is made out to be. It is all scare tactics and sensational news - like the Satanic Panic.

Matt hums again, then tilts his head back towards where you hung the birthday banner, “That is a lot of presents.”

His smile is still bright, and you have to duck your head and bite your lip to keep your mind in check. Your mouth, as always, is quick to quip, “I’m not telling you what is in them. It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise, huh?” He teases, before kneeling down by his bag and unzipping it. You can see colorful wrapping paper peeking through, and you instantly wonder what sort of gift is inside.

“A surprise,” you repeat. “It isn’t any fun if everyone knows what is inside before it is opened.”

“I’ll concede to that, even if it is tempting to peek.” As he says this he stands up, holding three different sized packages in his hands. They aren’t as pristinely wrapped as yours, but you can tell great care went into it and you wonder if Matt did it himself.

“Foggy said they will come over around noon,” he says like you aren’t on the verge of a crisis. “And Maggie was hoping we could stop by on the way to the park. I told her it would be up to you, but I know she has a few things for Minnie. We’re probably going to need to bring that wagon you got.”

The idea of so many people coming to your apartment for a party - especially a toddler’s birthday party - boggles your mind but your heart soars that so many people want to celebrate your daughter. You watch as he goes to add the gift pile and that confusing feeling swirls in your chest again, reminding you this is everything you ever wanted for Minnie. Matt being in your life means more people to love your daughter like she deserves.

“Okay,” you say because that is all your mind can produce. When Matt begins to stand again, you go into a panic thinking he might say something to start a conversation and blurt out, “I should get ready for bed.”

He turns to you, and you don’t know what to expect, but it is not for him to look bemused. He raises his eyebrows over his glasses and lets out a huff of a laugh, “It’s a big day tomorrow. You should get your rest.” He isn’t condescending or rude about it, but you can definitely hear the hint of teasing.

Your face burns as you nod and stupidly repeat, “It’s a big day.” You clear your throat to try and regain some composure and point towards the couch, “I, uh, left you out pillows and a blanket. The..uh..remote for the fan is on the coffee table. I readded the labels after Minnie tore them off.”

“Thank you,” he says with full sincerity, and you cannot take any more of his charm and muscular biceps.

“I’m going to go to bed now,” you tell him as you start to back up towards the bedroom. You know you should tell him about the fringe covering the hallway, but you just want to flee and hide under your covers until your brain stops all of its nonsense.

“Okay.”

As you finally let yourself turn away from Matt, he says your name just loud enough for you to barely hear it. You freeze in place, but it is like your blood is boiling inside you. You breathe out his name in response.

“Good night.”

((“I love you.”))

a/n: orz please take this offering of a chapter - my brain is not working up to standard.

Also - Tomorrow is a Big Day

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then i met you

422 notes · View notes

eldritch-spouse · 5 months ago

Text

Full: Twitter/X; Postimages

TW: Parasocial obsession; Sugarbaby!reader

[Fem reader]

It's odd to think how things have escalated to this point.

When you started this whole "sugar companionship", "angel" thing, you didn't exactly expect anything to come of it. More of a last ditch effort to bring in some much appreciated side money, and fulfill someone's social needs while you're at it. It would be a win-win situation, right?

You don't remember how Viridis showed up. Probably through DMs in your social media account. You didn't post too much of yourself there aside from a few photos where you felt particularly pretty, and apparently, your taste for finer items showed itself there, enough for you to get hit up by something other than a scambot and creeps.

In his defense, the guy was never rude towards you. He didn't barge in begging for nude photos or demanding attention. Viridis just told you he thought you were gorgeous, and he wanted to see you living the lavish life you deserved.

Before you could even reply, a notification drops, displaying a sum of money transferred to you. The amount was large enough to have you choke on your own saliva, hysterically cackling.

Ever since then, he's been a permanent figure in your life, constantly there through thick and thin, someone you could even call a friend, even if there's a financial power dynamic always involved in your interactions.

It was hard not to get somewhat attached to your "donator".

You got to know each other, after all. You told him about what you do for a living, and he said he was an important figure in the ring of Sloth. You are both single. He's had bad experiences with former girlfriends and feels incredibly lonely. When you felt depressed, Viridis was there to console you, a generous tip accompanying his request for you to "Go cheer yourself up ;)".

And when he felt bad, he'd buy you something, ask you to unwrap it, send him a voice message saying you loved it.

You don't know when that turned into sending him videos saying you loved him.

It feels weird. Kind of wrong. But the more money he blows on you, the more you get to do all the things your finances never allowed before, the happier you are. So what, if he just wants a little good morning text with hearts and a picture of you dressed in the clothes he buys for you? It's puzzling how he got your measurements so right without asking, but maybe he just has an eye for that kind of thing.

Eventually, things escalated to video calls. And you finally got to see Viridis.

He's a surprisingly well-kept imp, with peculiar looking horns and glazed white eyes. Much better than what the morbid side of your brain was conjuring in its growing restlessness. He'd put so much effort into that paid ten minute call, and seemed so gleeful that you'd been wearing an outfit he put together. More than that, once the nervous jitters were shed, he actually made for a great conversation partner- Were it not for the alarm, you two might have spent an hour or more rambling together.

It comes as no surprise that you eventually started doing meal time calls. He'd pay to eat with you through video call, usually dinner time, or during his breaks. He seemed excited about them every time he "booked" these sessions, even going as far as asking what you'd be eating, and if he could pay you to get the exact same type of food as his. How could you refuse?

Viridis would tell you about his day, you'd tell him about yours, and the two of you would quell your loneliness that way. Sometime he'd hint at things he wanted to buy for you, gouging your reaction, waiting for that shine in your eyes. It always seemed to put a glow on the imp's face whenever you thanked him and got bashful over his many contributions.

He'd say I love you, my pretty bijou, and as agreed, you'd say it back to him in a convincing manner.

Viridis' latest idea involves spending his day off, scheduled to match yours, "with you". As usual, he was straightforward with what he wanted, and paid more than you'd reasonably stipulate for such a service. Enough money that you'd be incredibly foolish to decline, for a single day of sucking up to him- It's not even hard to suck up to the demon, he seems to melt pretty easily from the most basic of praise or admiration.

The imp wants to video call a routine he built for you, essentially. From the moment you put on your makeup and fix your hair to leave, to breakfast where he specified, then a shopping trip to whatever locations you desire, taking breaks for whatever needs you must fulfill in between, down to the moment where you get ready for bed, under the covers, and wish him good night.

It didn't seem so bad, if only a little overwhelming given there's a lot more interaction involved. And so far, things have gone pretty well! You can't lie and say that you're not enjoying getting to spend even more money on all your favorite brands, after all. Sure, at least two separate employees asked if you were in a long distance relationship -Something Viridis was all too eager to confirm- But there's hardly been a hiccup besides that.

" Hey, what do you think about these? " You point the camera at a set of dangle earrings, made of a beautiful rose gold and diamond, molded in the shape of three little hearts. You don't mention the price tag, but it's very visible.

The demon, who appears to be reclinging in a balcony of sorts, hums. " They'd look cute on you, I like the pavé on it. Get them. "

" Hold on, there's more- " You shuffle all the bags you're holding to pan over to a different display. " What about these? "

" Sure, but you're getting the heart ones. " Viridis insists, then pauses as you study the differently styled jewelry. " I should get you something with Hell's gold, the color definitely pops more, I think you'd love some of the stuff we have here. "

" Mhmm, I bet. " You absentmindedly respond. " Too bad I don't live in Hell, hah. "

There's a slightly heavier silence for a few seconds as you worry if you've touched a nerve.

" You could come visit, bijou. "

You resist the urge to snort. " Viridis, I- "

" You know I'd pay for the expenses, right? Get you a nice hotel in Sloth, it's one of the calmer rings, and I'd come pick you up so you're not walking around alone. "

The demon smiles hopefully, taking a sip of what you assume must be some kind of sparkling wine. Nothing less dignified in a glass as unique as the one he flaunts.

" You know that's... " It's hard to deny him without outright sounding ungrateful. That's one thing you've been noticing lately, how hard it seems to deny him. " I... "

Your hesitation is answer enough, making him visibly deflate. There's a flash of sourness on his face, though it fades quickly. " I get it. That's a big step. We can talk about it another time. "

Thank fuck.

You leave that store with possibly the most beautiful pair of earrings you've ever owned, proceed to wrestle a multitude of bags into your car -Thankful Viridis can't see you sweat it out- And proceed to fix yourself up in preparation for the dinner call. It's a lot easier to go through than the entire shopping spree was. You're home, it's just the two of you, the same as any other meal call you've arranged.

" Was today fun for you, bijou? " He sighs, ever enamored it seems.

" Of course! It's always fun when I get to shop with you. " It's not even a lie. Painted nails graze over the empty pasta plate when you pick new kitchenware up. " Let me just put these in the sink. "

" Uhm, before that- " The imp interrupts as soon as you stand. " Can I ask you for something? "

" ... Yeah? "

" I was wondering if you could try out what you bought today... For me. "

" On- On camera? " You gulp, suddenly feeling a lot more timid.

" Yes. " Viridis scratches the base of his horn. " I'd just... I don't know, it makes me feel closer to you than just seeing pictures of you with it on. I'll compensate, don't worry. "

You don't doubt him.

Part of you really wants to say no. In the midst of all this, you've never once undressed for him. You've put on risky outfits that toyed with the lines of common decency, but that's not as intimate as this.

Which also means he'll pay well.

Fuck.

No.

Yes.

He's waiting...

" Uhh- Erm- I... Y-Yeah, I guess we can try that after I organize things. "

" Super! " He winks at you. " Call me when you're ready. "

And you do. With some liquid courage in your system and a healthy amount of love for disposable income, you call Jayde with all the bags laid out around your bedroom, and the phone positioned just so that he can see you stand, and the reflection of your back on the tall mirror behind you.

You're shaking lightly, it feels like the first call you had with him.

When Viridis answers, you almost don't know what to say.

He's... In his bedroom. At least you've seen it enough times to recognize it as such. Distinctly topless, however. It's the first time you've seen him somewhat undressed. Maybe he's trying to be humorous, as if saying he's half-naked in solidarity with you. It doesn't stop you from staring at a moderately attractive figure.

" Hey! You ready, sweetie? " He grins with that jagged mouth.

" Mhm, yeah. " There's a clearing of the throat. " Why don't you pick the first one? "

He did, all too eagerly. You were quick to shuffle in and out of clothes, cheeks heated, a tiny smile on your face, hoping you could simply ignore the growing discomfort. The demon looked thrilled every second of the way, and even if you could somehow feel him ogling the generous slices of skin you'd show, he made an effort to keep talking just so you'd have something else to focus on.

It's okay, he's only seeing you in your underwear from time to time. You're just doing him a one-time favor. You can forget about it later.

" I guess that's it! " You pant, spinning again so that the imp can see how the lace looks on the back of the dress he bought you. " Boy, that was a lot. "

There's some shuffling coming from the phone, he seems to be sitting straighter now. " I'm... Pretty sure I got you something else. "

There's a long pause. You almost pretend you didn't hear him while you readjust the fabric on you.

" A-Ah? Really? "

" Yeah, check those bags bijou, pretty sure that's not all. " He urges. You can hear a faint tap. tap. tap. from his side.

Well, you tried.

Viridis isn't lying, there's another set he bought for you. Except, this set, is lingerie underwear.

Throughout your shopping trip, you'd forgotten that the local mall has a lingerie store. It wasn't one you had the chance to go to many times, since everything there is so expensive, and before Viridis came along your wallet would just scream in its vicinity...

Nevertheless, you weren't cautious enough to hide it from the camera, didn't think you had to, only to be proven wrong when the imp calls for you to halt and get in. It was awkward. It was very awkward. But he seemed enamored with a green set. It had floral designs covering plenty of see-through space, framing delicate parts of the body such as the nipples.

It is a lovely garment, you won't deny that. But you know the main draw for him was that it just so happened to be a shade of green which alluded to his username. It was viridian green. You looked it up from mild paranoia, yes. This was even more personal.

He insisted you got that one, specifically that one. And so, you did.

It's right there, on the last little bag.

God fucking damn it.

" Mm y-yeah, now that you mention it, I think there is something left, right. "

He hums, and you try to draw out the search as much as you can, in spite of the fucking thing being right there, practically staring you in the eyes. You return to the camera's field of view holding the lingerie up timidly.

" How could you forget that one? It's probably the prettiest thing I ever bought you. " Viridis swoons.

" ... You think so? Everything you get me is pretty, Viridis. " Distract him distract him distract-

Predictably, he blushes a little, a small 'heh' escaping him. " Jayde. Call me Jayde. "

Your head snaps up. Oh wow, okay. We've reached that point.

" Jayde. " His face lifts visibly. " Ah, thanks. It's very cute. "

The silence that follows is more tentative, unspoken words hanging in the air.

" Glad you think so... Can't wait to see how it looks on you. " He grins wide, reminding you, for a fraction of a second, that you're dealing with a demonic monster.

" Hahah, o-ok, let me just turn the camera- "

" Actually- " Your heart sinks. " I'd like to see you put it on. "

" The lingerie? " A bit of franticness bleeds into your tone.

" Yes. "

" R-Right now? "

Jayde chuckles. " Well, it's the only thing that's left, isn't it bijou? "

You think about it for a couple of seconds, wherein the reality of your situation seems to sink in. Can you truly deny him? You don't think Jayde would have an explosive reaction to rejection, but then again, you never rejected his suggestions before. What if he gets offended? Pulls away entirely? You'll never be able to afford this lifestyle without him.

What if all of this has stopped being in your control, and, in the end, you transferred the reigns to someone else?

He reads the reluctance plainly written on your face.

" ... Just this one time, sweetie. " He coaxes. " You're incredibly beautiful, you know that? I'd give a few fingers to see you. "

He continues to speak over the mental rut you've been thrown into.

" Any man would be lucky to have a jewel like you. I want to keep spoiling you forever. Please, put it on for me? "

You don't know what it was. Perhaps the fear of losing his money, maybe it was the praise, or simply the pure desire to get this over with- But, you take off your top.

The scene isn't sexy or mischievous, you just glance away timidly as you lower the straps of your bra and reach back to unclasp it. Your slowness may be unintentionally teasing him, and from the small glances you steal at your phone, he looks stupidly concentrated, cheeks nearly as dark as yours as he finally -Finally!- Gets to see your tits.

Air catches in your throat, you can't quite tell if it's the thrill of exposing yourself or pure anxiety.

" They're gorgeous... " He murmurs. You almost didn't hear it.

Slipping the new fabric in is easier, the garment is designed with maximum comfort in mind and settles nicely on your chest, especially when you arrange your breasts into position.

" Perfect. " Jayde sighs. " I wish I could touch you. You're so perfect. "

If you weren't running hotter than a steaming kettle before, you are now. All you manage to respond with is a hum and nervous giggling.

" Put the whole thing on. "

There's a full-body shiver when you start taking your panties off. In all your nerves, you fail to remember that the mirror behind you makes it so Jayde doesn't just get a view of your mons, he also gets to stare at your ass unhindered.

" Fffucking- "

He whispers something you don't notice when the fabric drops to the floor, and you lift a leg away to pick it up.

You're sliding the new ones up your bare legs when there's a little too much shuffling being heard from his side. Not a lot, but just enough to make you escape your own internal panic.

You only now realize that you can't see his hands anywhere. One is definitely holding the phone close to him, the other... Who knows. His shoulder shifts.

" Uhm, hahah, what are you doing there? " You jokingly ask, trying to reduce the awkwardness of the situation by insinuating something ridiculous.

The teasing look shatters when he doesn't immediately respond or laugh it off. In fact, he looks like he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

" N-!! No way! " You hurriedly fix the panties in place, choking on a breath.

" Sorry- I'm sorry, bijou- " He attempts a wobbly smile, not even denying it. " You just look so adorable flustered. You don't have to see it... Just pretend I'm not... "

Pretend I'm not jerking off, he means.

You can barely raise your voice above a whisper, doing a full turn so he can see how the lingerie sits on your body. Embarrassment has you grabbing your arm and trying to close your legs further, unwittingly flaunting exactly the curves he wants to see.

" You're gorgeous- " He repeats, eyes lidded, something far beyond lust shining in them. " You're the prettiest woman alive. You're sweet, you don't push me away or get spooked. I'm... So happy someone like you gives me the time of day. "

You don't know what to say, don't know what to do besides standing there as a monster audibly gets off on the sight of you in luxury lingerie.

" It's been too long since I met a girl like you. "

You don't quite like the intensity of his stare. Even if no man has ever directed words as flattering as these towards you, it feels like something is too intense about his demeanor.

" Jayde... " You cough. " Are you...? "

" Close. " He admits, laughing breathily. " I've never been this hard before. "

Apparently, he just said it to see you freeze and get even more flustered. " Please hurry up... "

" Are you tired, sweetheart? " His tone is near condescending.

" Y-Yeah. " Anything to speed it along.

" Uhuh, I bet. " Jayde's breathing gets shallower. " You'll go to bed soon, don't worry. "

" Mhm... " God, you're dying inside.

" I love you, bijou. "

Help.

" I... I love you too, Jayde. " You had to drag each word out of your tongue.

That did it. He's tossing his head back and furrowing his brows. You can hear the way Jayde stops breathing to hold any noises in, a groan still makes it through, you hate the traitorous flutter of your pussy that followed.

" I'm... Going to put my pajamas on now. Goodnight Jayde. " You try to break the silence while he recovers.

The expression on the imp's face can only be described as love-drunk, and sweaty.

" Goodnight, sweetie. "

As soon as the call drops, you make an inhuman noise of shame and bury yourself under the covers, kicking shopping bags aside.

It must have been mere minutes before a notification drops.

There's no doubt in you that's the demon's "compensation".

#Jayde oc #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #terato tag #not sfw #minors dni #pinnie's art

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