#this is as much as i will let myself spoil for what the present is

[cupcakeinat0r]

Your middle-aged, loser Genetics professor who has a dad bod <3

Part 9

Wc. 7.7k

Miguel waits in his car, his gaze not fixated on anything specific; simply forward. He rests his forearm on the car door, window down. The thick hairs of his arm raise as his mind ventures, replaying the past few hours in his mind. A low hum stirs against his chest. There’s a sort of glow he emulates as he sits there idly, smizing at nothing in particular. He probably looks like a total creep with how he’s grinning in his car, alone, looking off into space. No passenger. You've sat there for the past few months, from campus to your place, and vice versa. But today, you aren’t there, yet he’s happy. His heartbeat intensifies, his stomach contracting once or twice due to unfiltered chuckles. As he waits patiently in the car, he lets it consume him, the memory of that morning, and he closes his eyes.

“Okay, what do you think?” you reach your arms out as if to present a prize, and the winner is Miguel. Miguel, who looks uncomfortable in your too-small-for-him lounge chair but shows no sign of strain on his face, fixes his glasses and observes with love-sickened eyes. After a simple, romantic breakfast at his place, he insisted on taking you back home so that you could get ready. Then after dropping you off, you figured he might as well stay so he can take you to the ceremony, too.

“Is it too much?” You give a little twirl.

His eyes scan thoroughly scan you. “Jesus… How’d I get so lucky?” The question sounds genuine, as if needing an actual answer. “You’re beautiful, mama.”

This makes you smile in return. You look to the mirror to see if Miguel is right (obviously, he is), running your hands over your pre-planned graduation outfit. Today, you receive your hard-earned Master’s Degree, and even though throughout the year you were convinced you wouldn’t be, you’re feeling more nervous than ever. “Picked it myself.” Your voice wavers just a hint. Has two years really gone by so fast? More specifically, the second year of your grad. The first one felt like eons. Maybe it’s just because you didn’t score an Adonis of a professor that year.

Miguel stands from his chair and comes from behind, his hands snaking through the gap between your arms and waist, holding you tightly against his plush exterior, “I just wish I was the one who got it for you.” and a kiss is pressed to your temple. His grasp seemed to soothe your nerves a bit, your body sinking into his natural warmth and plush. You can see his face through the mirror, the absence of doubt and judgment in his expression making you fall all over again. You really were a lucky girl. He looks at you with such reverence. And maybe a touch of arousal. Those aren’t his keys you feel on your backside.

“Oh, stop. You’ve given me more than enough, Miguel. All I need is you.” With his chin resting on the top of your head, you reach to cup his face, a picture-perfect moment displayed on the full-length mirror. He whispers into your ear, “Giving you lessons doesn’t count, that’s just my job. te voy a dar el mundo, mi Vida.”

“Right, right, and I’m guessing giving me that necklace was a part of your job description?”

You win a rich, dark chuckle from him, but he ignores you, still sprinkling kisses on your skin, his bifocals bending out of place at times. You giggle and even try to break away, but he doesn’t budge. You fight the urge to kiss back just to spite him.

“Or that skirt? Or those shoes? Or that one purse? Damn, how much does the school pay you?”

And before you can further argue, he presses more kisses onto you, almost sending both of you to topple over. “Just let me spoil you, mama.” He speaks against your jaw.

“Miguel!” the gravel chuckle of his voice continues to rumble against the side of your neck. You can’t complain and never will, but the difference between Miguel now versus the Miguel you met still leaves you baffled to this day. Or it isn’t much of a difference or change, really, but rather an unmasking. This Miguel was just stowed away until further notice; placed in the backest corner of the freezer to never see the light of day. This is the person Miguel was dying to show, he just needed the right person to coax it out of him. Now you have him attacking you with wet kisses in the middle of your living room, his hulking arms locked around you with no chance at an escape.

“Right, enough fooling around and help me into this, will you!” Reluctantly, he’ll let you move your hair for better access to the still-open zipper of your outfit.

“Fine. On one condition.”

Sigh. “Yes?”

“Un besito.”

“Oh my God.”

“Take it or leave it. Last offer. Don’t make me make it two.”

“Given there’s no one else around to zip me up, I guess I have no choice. Just my luck.” you joke, eagerly leaning your head back against his chest, granting his kiss entry to your neck, your chin, and then lastly, your lip. And then one kiss turned to multiple. If you weren’t so completely lost in his tongue and lips, you’d notice his hand rested and wrapped around your neck. The minor callouses provided a sensation that only added to the fervor of the exchange. Once y’all finally pull away, low eyes traveling in triangles, he politely requests, “Step forward for me.”

You move forward slightly so as to give him space to zip you up. But before he can do the job, he takes a second to look over the details of your back, a part of your body his hands have gotten to know very well, but his eyes haven’t gotten the same pleasure of. Miguel was very good at respecting your boundaries and wishes, which meant a lot (a lot) of making out, but nothing further than that. He notes to himself how soft it looks, the hills and curves of your spine creating a Grecian masterpiece.

And you can practically feel his eyes roam every inch of exposed skin, making you feel like art. You think to say something, but you’d rather let Miguel have this moment, and you let yourself have it, too. You’d often think about what it’d be like to see Miguel’s reaction to you. All of you. He’s made you feel nothing but like a deity for the duration of your budding, unlabeled relationship, and you’ve been fully clothed at all times. You can only imagine how he’ll act when you’re completely bare.

You know for sure he loves you. He said so. And he’s shown it to you. You’ve decided that being that vulnerable with him is something you want, it’s only a matter of when.

You start to hear the friction of the tab pulling the teeth together, one by one, that’s how slow Miguel was going. Unable to resist the urge, he stops the zipper and reaches to plant a tender kiss on the back of what’s left of your exposed neck. “I could do this every day, you know?” he admits softly, like a hymn. You turn, not completely, just so that your face is to him, “‘Everyday’? For how long?” You know the answer, kind of, but there’s still curiosity in what he’ll say. There are so many instances where you wait for Miguel to say the wrong thing; to do something that’ll break this spell, but he hasn’t. He just doesn’t have the capacity to. He’s perfect in your eyes.

“For however long you’ll have me. Which I’m really hoping is forever or else this’ll be extremely embarrassing.”

Damn, he said the right thing. People can say his stab at humor is mediocre all they want, but Miguel never ceases to make you snicker. If you opened an Oxford Dictionary to ‘adorable’, it’d have his picture.

“Who am I kidding, you could absolutely humiliate me and I’d still say ‘thank you’.”

“Oh, this’ll make some good blackmail.” you finally turn around to tauntingly wave your index finger at his amused expression.

“Oye, Final exam grades aren’t due ‘til next month, so I’d be careful if I were you.” his brow perks when he says ‘you’, and your only response is a sarcastic ‘Oooooo’ before you’re muffled by the millionth kiss of the day, but who’s counting?

“There. Secured. Anything else, princesa?”

You take a deep breath, getting in one last overall look in the mirror before facing him, “Okay, yeah, I’m ready. Just need my chauffeur.” You look over at Miguel, who looks back at you confused, then looks around knowing fully well there’s no one else except the two of you.

“Oh, yeah? Who?”

Ha ha ha. Very Funny. If expressions could talk, this is what yours would’ve said.

Miguel smiles, taking your hand to kiss the back of it, and rubs your knuckles with his thumb as an apology. “Your chariot awaits, your majesty.”

Wait, where is he going?

“Mig, stadium’s that way.” your thumb points toward the window next to you, the street that leads to the graduation growing farther and farther.

Despite that a mistake has obviously been made, Miguel looks indifferent, eyes aimed straight at the road before them with no sign of a doubt. He huffs from his nose before responding, “I know,” his thumb runs across the back of your hand, “I have something for you, though.” He takes your hand up to his lips, a smile creeping up on your features.

“At your office?”

“Accidentally left it there.”

What is he up to?

His crooked smile tells you a different story. Miguel can feel you questioning him. You can see him physically gather his words in the driver's seat.

“Remember when… we were in the library one of those first nights and we exchanged books?”

You nod. How could you forget?

“And I told you about Gabriella?”

You nod again. He’s asking obvious questions here, it’s sort of scaring you.

“That was my first time talking about her with someone. In years.” His chest and belly deflate as if releasing a weight he’s held onto, “And you’re also the first person who’s said her name out loud. Someone other than me. In a very long time.”

You listen intently, everything that has happened up until now making more sense with this piece of information. You always knew the painful fact that Miguel has been by himself mostly since starting teaching, but it stings even more knowing that he’s never opened up to anyone about this. No one to turn to. No one to be soft with. Sure, he had his friends, from what you remember him telling you about his hero, multi-dimension, whatever-it-was days, but to your understanding, they all left him alone. By means of Miguel’s requests. He wanted those days to be over completely.

“She was beginning to feel like- I don’t know. Like a figment of my imagination. Photos and videos that I rewatch and stare at every single day were starting to… go stale,” this admission makes him wince in shame, “I replay them over and over again… and nothing new. I know what happens in each and every single one of them. And it ends up hurting every single time. I didn’t know how much more I could’ve taken before stopping altogether.” His lips purse, the guilt seeping from every inch of him. “Well, at some point, I even became afraid. Terrified that I was starting to forget the little things about her, or worse, that I’d move on,”

You didn’t even notice, but the car had been parked minutes ago, it’s only when he turns his face to look at you, eyes beginning to gloss, when you realize the car had stopped.

“Until that night.” His narrow gaze softens.

“The night at the library… I told you things that I hadn’t even thought about until that night. Like, for example, how she liked to match the color of her hair ties to her shirt,” Miguel allows himself to softly beam with this memory, “or whenever I’d fall asleep on the couch, she’d always, always, place a blanket on my feet so that ‘the monsters don’t get me’,” you both giggle at this, “Like those things? They had just come back to me in that moment.”

You both had entered campus grounds and turned to his office door, and he whipped out his keys, the metal hitting against the doorknob. The halls are quiet and hollow. It feels like the end of an academic year.

“I just never thought I could possibly let those things slip.” His voice lowers, an air of disbelief in his words.

“Will you ever stop loving her?”

“Of course not. Never.”

“Then she will live on forever. You’ve proven to yourself that you’ll never let the small things leave. They’ll always come back to you.”

Miguel smiles to himself, thinking about this.

He heads toward his bookshelf, reaching for something, but you can’t see given that he himself blocks the entire view of it. “When I hear you say her name,” you see his head bow down at something in his hand, “You sound so… lively... If that makes sense? Like… as if she were still here, as if you knew her. It meant a lot to me. Even in the way you talked about her. Maybe it explains why I was able to recall so much.”

He turns around to you, and you can only make out something small in his hand; something blue?

“I figured that, if she were still here, she’d want you to have this.”

He unfurls his hand and out blossoms a satin blue ribbon formed in a rosette; the words ‘first place’ are displayed in the center. “Wear it today?” He stands before you, the dwarfed ribbon sitting in his hand. His request sounds more like a plea.

“Her teammates gave it to her when she scored their winning goal. She was so happy. It was her last game before she-” Both gazes leave the ribbon and land on each other, glossed and daring to well.

He clears his throat, “She used to- used to show it off any chance she could,” His eyes well up, but regardless of presuming tears, he looks down at the ribbon with a soft smile.

“Miguel,” Your head slowly shakes from side to side, “I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” he persists, “Take it, it’s yours.” He insists through choked words. He places the ribbon in your hand, folding your fingers in, hoping that you’ll accept his gift.

Here stands a man you’ve been falling so hard for for the past year, who is not only giving you a piece of his late daughter’s life, but insisting you take it. You haven’t been around enough to know what love is, but with what Miguel is doing right now, you’re starting to think maybe this is what it might look like. When you started seeing Miguel, who was your professor, you didn’t think all those thoughts of him being yours would ever have come true. You knew it was silly, childish, and most importantly, out of the question. Yet here he is, giving you a piece of himself. This isn’t casual anymore. So he did really mean those three sacred words said last night and this morning.

After letting the ribbon sit there for just seconds but what feels like minutes, you take his hand back, but the ribbon is now pressed between you and Miguel’s palms. You give it a tight squeeze, taking in a deep breath. “It’s ours.”

You look up at him, a trail of a tear down your cheek. “Because I’m yours, if you’ll have me,” a bright smile grows behind your wet eyes. “And I’m really hoping it’s forever, or else this’ll be extremely embarrassing.” You actually laugh, and so does he, pooling eyes and all.

“You’re stuck with me. I love you.”

With those words, it was like the past five years of being alone became all worth it. All the lonely nights, all the predictive mornings, and the dune of a civilian life he was leading came crashing down on him because he knew a new one was dawning. Still civilian, but now, he has someone to put all the love he has to offer into. All his fears, all his insecurities, it all dissolved. The label of your relationship was blurry, uncertain if this was the kind of thing you entertained for only a bit and never spoke of again or something worthwhile. If last night wasn’t a confirmation of the answer, then this moment was, marking it as the official beginning of a romantic, exclusive, official relationship.

“I love you. I love you. Te amo. Te quiero. I love you. I love you… I love you…” his soft declarations are muffled in kisses on any spot he could get to. All those fantasies he’s conjured in his mind where you two live together, share a life, make a life… or two… or three… or however many you’re willing to carry, he doesn’t care, all of those scenarios now seem like promises. Like a nearby reality. Solitary nights dreaming about you in ways that leave him hot and bothered will finally come to an end. On a more suggestive note, He’ll finally be able to get through class without raging hard-ons again.

“I love you.” You manage to breathe out between kisses. Arms wrap around the back, hands wrap around the neck, fingers rake through tussles of hair, and legs begin to lose balance and find their way to the edge of Miguel’s desk. Visions become blurred, ears begin to grow hot, and heart rates quicken with beats large enough to feel on each other’s chests. You two are much too deep in it that you don’t hear the creaking of the wood underneath you. “Yes. Please.” Miguel hears your whisper, moving his head to look you in the eye. “You mean…?” He asks gently, to which you nod, repeating your plea. Without much thinking, Miguel taps your thigh. This was it. Miguel didn’t hear you say the exact words, but he knew. He knew what you were saying yes to. You, much less thinking, instinctively raise your leg, allowing Miguel to prop you onto the desk. “I love you. So much, it’s crazy, Miguel. God, I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” You mewl in his ear, and in return, Miguel, with softly knitted brows, lets out a pathetic groan. Miguel may be quiet in everyday life, but when it came to the two of you, alone, he wasn’t afraid of being vocal about what he liked, and right now, with what you’re saying plus your legs wrapping securely around his waist seemed to have both an audible and physical effect on him. A big physical effect.

Is this the right spot to do this right now? Couldn’t y’all get in trouble? Was this even a good time?

These are questions that a sane person would probably think of, but with the current circumstances, you simply couldn’t give a damn, let alone Miguel. Even if you tried, you don’t think you would’ve even had enough brain wattage to string a single thought with Miguel touching you like this. However, if you had the luxury of logic, you’d know that:

1. Getting in trouble isn’t of concern since faculty are either at home starting the Summer they’ve been so impatiently waiting for, and students are at home doing the same or at the stadium.

2. Given that the ceremony won’t start until another 2 hours from now, it’ll give you both plenty of time. The traffic would’ve been dreadful anyway, so might as well just show up at the last minute.

3. What better place than here… where you two met.

You breathe heavily along with Miguel, “Remember… the first meeting… I sat right in front of this desk,” Miguel makes an effort to listen, but he’s currently too occupied with straining his hard-on against your heat, “Mm-oh…now look at us.” your breathless voice and coquettish smirk goes straight to Miguel’s cock, the feeling of his pants shrinking in size making him hot all over. Trapping your lips between his over and over again. You're pretty much without oxygen at this point, but you don’t care, it feels amazing. His teeth on your lips, his hands squeezing the flesh of your ass deeper against his length. Your fingers tugged onto his now disheveled curls and he whined. He whined.

“Mama, you don’t wanna know how many times I’ve imagined this moment. Fuck, am I dreaming again?” His words hit your skin like the thick air after a calm rain.

You cup his face in your hands, pulling him from your neck, and you’re met with a lust-drunken, devoted worshipper; a big man that’s been stricken of sex for far too long. In doing so, you notice the ribbon still in your hand, which knocks a bit of sobriety back into you. It’s almost like Miguel read your mind because the same alarm goes off in his head. With that, the two of you are quick to mend one tiny problem.

Miguel, still between your legs, reaches over to lower any pictures he has of Gabriella, faced down on the shelf. As for you, you stash the ribbon safely in a drawer right behind you. Gabriella shouldn’t be present for this.

Capturing you in a kiss again, your hand ends up untucking his shirt, resting on his stomach, your fingers caressing his skin. He huffs, slightly tickled by your soft touch along his belly. The corner of his lip curves into a dorky smirk as you sneak your hand into the waistband of his slacks and boxers, pushing past his dark happy trail. “Oh fuck. Haven’t been touched like this in so long,” The clank of his belt buckle rings in your ears, making you pulsate, “I need you. So fucking badly.”

“Keep talking. Please.” You murmur, unbuttoning his shirt, unveiling a plethora of chest hair covering a body fit to raise your future children.

“So lonely, honey… miss you every night when I come home. Miss you so much in the mornings, it hurts.”

Once his shirt is on the floor, with hands and eyes, you revel in all his glory: six feet and nine inches of caramel deliciousness, coated in equal parts of muscle and fluff. You could come undone just from this sight.

His hand holds your chin with a soft caress of his thumb, “I used to look a lot better back then. I’ll work on it.”

You pull him down by his neck to eye level in protest. “Don’t you dare change a single thing on this body. You’re perfect. You’re beautiful. Finest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Oh, that made his dick twitch. Your free hand wraps around his broad shoulders while the other is in his hair, smashing faces. Miguel, with no hesitation, swipes everything off the desk and instantly pushes you onto your back, his soft husky exterior pressing you against the cold wood. Tongues are down throats. He stutters as his dick twitches, “Tell me I can eat you out.” The question and tone of voice alone make your back arch. You kiss even deeper, tongues intertwining as he moans in your mouth.

“God, yes, please, Mig, please-”

He gives a vicious squeeze to your ass, reminding you of his pure strength, “That’s not what I want. Usa tus palabras, mamita.” Your begging makes his cock ache, but he needs to hear the words. He needs to know you want this as much as he does. He needs your permission.

Your top lip curls before you speak again through hooded eyes, “Professor,” the name catches him off guard, “please… fuck me with your mouth.”

You were playing a dangerous game. Before you was a sexually deprived middle-aged man who’d been silently pining for you since day one, and you were begging him to treat your cunt like a 5-star meal. Having a gorgeous girl like you pleading for him to tongue fuck you like you deserved, it was driving him crazy. He wasted no time going down to the most sacred corner of this divine body.

“Funny… I zipped this up not even half an hour ago.”

“Hey, hey, careful, I still have a ceremony to wear this to.”

You had a point. And as if you were a gift, he bunches the fabric high enough to reveal some panties he’d recently given you. If it wasn’t for him wanting to last for both hours until the ceremony, he would’ve came right then and there. He looks at you with darkened eyes, a gaze intense enough to strip the cockiness from you, your cheeks growing hot from the act, “What? I assumed this was gonna happen later-”

Miguel cuts your sentence short with a French kiss to your clit through the thin lace, the combination of his nose, tongue, and breath on your heat making your thighs shake. “ So wet… you always this wet during class? Fuck.” With how Miguel was moaning and groaning against your sensitive skin, you’d assume he got more pleasure in giving you head than you did receiving it. Your hand darts for his scalp, the other holding onto the edge of the desk for dear life once he hooks the panty with his finger to move it out of the way, pursuing even more thirstily now. The wood creaks with each buck of your hips, but with the way Miguel’s arms hold your weight on his wide shoulders effortlessly, it doesn’t phase you. Breathless prayers of his name left your lips, panting softly as your head fell back against the table. You can feel the bundle in your core form as your whimpers turn to wails.

“Mig, s’good, feels so good. I’m close, pleasepleaseplease-”

Meanwhile, his eyes were practically to the back of his head, hips pathetically bucking to the matching rhythm of your hips as he took turns treating your clit like a lollipop and your entrance like a fleshlight. “M’gonna- aw fuck… voy a cuidarte, mamita, don’t you worry your pretty little head.” you hear through a whine before his tongue is back at it again. His hands take turns squeezing your thighs tighter around his head and occasionally using his forefingers to stimulate your sensitive bud. His glasses start to fog, and his eyes are covered by humid lenses. This was starting to obscure his perfect view of you and your euphoric expressions, and he just couldn’t have that. So, he pulled away for only a millisecond just to basically rip them off and he was right back to devouring your weeping cunt. There’s no way he was missing this.

You’re choked whines signify the peak, your body trembling uncontrollably. This will be the first of many, and he’s only getting started. When the man promises to take care of you, he’s gonna take care of you.

He spends the remainder of your climax lovingly rubbing his fingers up and down your pussy, making sure you ride it out all the way to the very end.

“Good, baby? You okay?” he purs back into your ear, tenderly caressing your thighs and planting gentle kisses of reassurance on your face. You nod with half-lidded eyes, catching your breath before replying ‘yes’.

“Tell me what you want, mama.”

“Fuck me, professor. Please?”

“Say that again.”

You look at him above you, your legs pulling his waist closer so that his aching length meets your pulsing core, “Please, I want you to fuck me, professor.” Whilst maintaining eye contact, Miguel reaches down to put your hand on the bulge. “Look what you do to me.” Your theory of his size is confirmed.

“This what you wanted?”

“Need it.”

“C��mere.”

Miguel sits you up, telling you to relax since ‘he’ll do all the work’. He carries you to his office couch. He plops onto the cushions with you straddled on his lap. While he has your tongue entwined with his, he releases his cock from the restraints of his boxers, the base erects against his lower belly. Not wanting to waste another second, although the view of it was mesmerizing, you sit up on your knees to line yourself up with him, but Miguel sits you back down, “No hay prisa, mamita, need to get you ready, but first,” His hand snakes to the back of the zipper, and the dress unveils, “Need to see all of you, beautiful.” you seem to knock the air out of him as he lets his hands explore you, your breasts the perfect hand full. “You’re so fucking hot.” He even looks up for a moment and thanks God for blessing him with someone like you, making you look down at the endearing gesture.

Your body goes limp once he laps at your chest, sucking and pulling like it was his first meal in ages. The feeling of his tongue circulating your hardened buds made you clench around nothing. He has you in a bear hug, front sides pressed against each other. The small room seems to disappear around the two of you, totally forgetting where you are, in both space and time. It’s just you, Miguel, and the beautiful sounds of pure, raw pleasure.

“Mig, wanna make you feel good, too.”

Miguel unwillingly pulls away, only half-hearing what you said, and not given even a chance to process. You’ve already positioned yourself on your hands and knees next to him on the couch. Kitten licks and tender sucks to the tip send Miguel’s head falling against the back of the couch. You know he’s needing more when his hips buck upward, and you’re more than willing to give it to him. Occasionally, you’d rest your head against his stomach chub to give him a few rewarding strokes, admiring his size, just to let it sink back into your hollowed mouth. You managed to get Miguel growling, hoarse moans spilling from his bitten lips as you tend to his stiffened cock that you’ve daydreamed of tasting.

“Baby, please, slow down, not gonna last long.” But it was no use. You were relentless on his aching manhood. The only way to get you to go easy on him was to reach over your ass and pump his fingers into you, so that’s exactly what he did. You whine with his tip in the back of your throat, but you’re able to still keep him in. To Miguel’s hopes, you do slow down, the mutual pleasure putting both of you in sync.

“Let’s come together, mamita, hm? Can I put another one in, baby?”

He takes your eye contact as a cue to put in a third, thick finger, eliciting a high-pitched moan against his veiny shaft. Having both ends of you completely filled was, in all honesty, a bit overwhelming, but it’s the best feeling you’ve ever felt. There’s no one else you would’ve rathered have you like this than your Mig.

His fingers get faster, and your strength to keep his cock inside is dwindling, but for him, you try, nonetheless.

“That’s it, mamita, that’s it…” His fingers are unbelievably fast at the point, droplets sent flying and falling onto the fabric of the couch. That’s something he’ll worry about later, but right now, his goal was to get you absolutely fucked out and coming all over his hand. Unable to hold it anymore, you free him from your mouth, letting yourself cry and whine freely as he finger fucks your second orgasm out of you. Still determined to have him come with you, you pump him with your hand as you ride off your high on his hand. Miguel wants to praise you, but his panting and mewling get in the way. You had this gentle giant making what would be considered embarrassing noises, but symphonic music to your ears. At the first sign of his juices, you place him back into your mouth, but this time, he holds your hair and fucks up into your mouth in short, fast, desperate thrusts until he’s finished.

You don’t even let him have a moment to breathe once you start kissing up his happy trail and to his stomach; what once was a pack of abs has given way to pudge. You kiss a little higher, giving his pec a gentle lick where it’s most sensitive, making him sharply inhale as a result. They proceed to the valley of his pecs, up his neck, to his jaw, and cheek. If Miguel still had doubts in the back of his mind about your love for his body, they’ve vanished now.

Your lips meet now, and various soft ‘I love you��s’ are exchanged.

“Just want you to sit back n’ relax now, mami. Wanna see that gorgeous face,” Holding onto your head and lower back, he carefully lays you on the couch, “Can I?” The gentle dominance this man radiated was good enough to make you already contemplate marriage. The expression on his face reflected utter devotion and praise. You thought his kind were only written in books.

“Of course, professor. Gotta repay you for all those private sessions.” Even after two orgasms, you still had to keep the cliche going. Miguel was unable to help a small chuckle. He had no problem playing right along, though. “You made it so hard to focus in class, you know that?” His voice is dark and low, a stark contrast to the noises he was making just a minute ago. He speaks while spreading your legs like precious artifacts, lining himself up. Finally.

“Sitting there all gorgeous n’ smart. Drove me insane.” He whispers into your ear, his leaking tip making a connection to your entrance. “And then having the audacity to help your classmates? How dare you have a heart just as beautiful.” He kisses you while sliding inside, muffling your gasp.

He tuts against your mouth, “Yo se, bebita, me too…mmnnshit,” His hand caresses your hair in an effort to soothe at least some tension, “I’ll go slow, mama, m’kay? Gonna take care of y- oh fuck,” His forehead presses against yours, his free hand holding onto yours as he slowly slides in and out, gauging how deep you can take him. The stretch induces a euphoric pain, causing you to squeeze his hand, but he squeezes right back, your cunt sucking him in all too well.

Miguel starts to go stupid once he’s halfway in. The sensation has him beginning to babble, choked words coming out in a gentle lull.“Que rico…Feel good, mamita? It’s okay mama, let me hear you. Please, let me hear you.” He talks delicately as he continues to go in and slowly draw out with only half of himself, just to be sure you're warmed up enough for all of him. Your eyes are closed, trying to focus on breathing, but it only makes it more difficult. It worries Miguel. “Too much, baby? I’ll stop.” And just as he’s about to pull out, you use your other hand that was clinging onto the arm of the chair to stop him, “Nonono, please,” He lowers himself, still connected, “Need you, Mig. Please, keep going, don’t stop.” You beg, the undeniable need in your voice making Miguel go weak. He puts all his weight on you, cautiously going all the way inside. When he gets as deep as he possibly can, his tip kissing you right in the perfect spot, he pecks your forehead before telling you, “You look so pretty taking it, beba.”

Miguel’s words are slurred as he begins fucking you, thick fingers playing at your clit as he does. He can’t help but prop himself on his elbow just to get a look of himself going in and out of you, the slick sounds and what looks like a bulge of his cock sending him into insanity, driving him to go desperately faster. He gets lost in the way every time he pumps in, he creates a hill in your stomach. You look down, too, seeing what he’s seeing, and it only makes his name fall from your mouth embarrassingly loud, as well as telling him how good he feels and how much you love him, every syllable coming out with pure verity.

Not now since you’re too busy getting amazingly fucked, but later on, you’ll surely think about how good of stamina Miguel has for his age. He should’ve been tired by now, but the man was rutting and there was no sign of him slowing down anytime soon. When his mouth wasn’t latched onto yours, he’d speak nonsense to you. He’d let out long, exasperated ‘Yes’s’ into your ear, unafraid to let his unfiltered noises fill the room. When he knew he was being too rough, he’d slow his thrusts until he was dragging his dick in and out of you, pumping ever so slowly and lovingly. It was then he’d be able to coherently form sweet words of nothings, “I’m obsessed with you. Wanna keep you like this forever.”

Whether he was going rabid or making sweet love, Miguel still made sure to hold your hand through it all.

He can feel himself coming soon. As if he needed to be deeper into you, he only stops for a nanosecond to bring your knees over you, pressing you even deeper into the couch, so as to better ram your already abused pussy. Your panting heightens in pitch. “Right there, sweetheart? Aww Fuck, there it is.” His big, strong hands hold your knees in place where they frame your head. Your bodies are sweaty, only enhancing the lewd sounds of his hips smacking your ass with each thrust. When your pussy flutters around him, it makes his eyes roll back. He’s already made you orgasm twice by now, getting his juices all over you, but he needs more. “I can’t stop.” He stammers through a slack jaw.

“Mig…dunno if I c-can… going-”

He slows down his rhythm, hands cupping your face to make eye contact, “Baby, please, gimme one more, just one more. Promise.”

With a nod of your head, he buries you in his arms, his face in your neck, body on body, leaving no space between you, and he rams into you like no tomorrow, luring one last orgasm from you. The way the curve of his belly and muscles rubbed against you was the icing on the cake. You feel Miguel getting closer with the way he moans into the crook of your neck. You are, too.

The dam breaks loose with an outcry of his name, to which Miguel lifts his head to kiss your tears as you peak, his own following right behind. Once it starts to descend, a rain of butterfly kisses fall on your face, “I’ve got you, sweetie,” he coos, “I love you so much… mamita,” he gently calls to get your attention, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You at least accomplish a weak smile, requiting the love with a kiss to his swollen lips.

There was no need to rush, so the two of you just lay there, embracing each other.

“Miguel,”

“Hm?” He hums against your skin.

“I feel like I’m in a fairytale.”

“Me too.”

6:49 PM.

You don’t know how, but in one hour, Miguel and you were able to go back to your place, shower (separately. You two knew a joint shower would’ve most definitely led to other things.), redo your makeup, fix your and Miguel’s hair, and leave to the stadium with moderate traffic. You look in the passenger seat mirror for the last touch-ups.

“Praying I don’t trip on that stage. If I do, it’s your fault.”

“I’ll happily take the blame.” He gives your thigh a small squeeze, in which you glare at him in return. The shit-eating grin on his face still made you smile, though.

You sit in your assigned seat among a sea of students, dawning the traditional cap and gown, with numerous achieved stoles and ropes around your neck, but only one stands out from them all, and one that you consider your best achievement: Gabriella’s Blue Ribbon.

You look down at it, giving it a little tug to straighten it out. You look up to search for Miguel in the enormous mass of seats, but it isn’t too hard. All you had to do was find the freakishly tall man with glasses, and when you do, you smile at him. As subtly as possible, he mouths ‘I love you’, and you do it back. You think to blow him a kiss, but given the situation, you also think it better not to in public. You still don’t have that degree in your hand, and you can’t risk anything, especially not when you’re so close. But trust, the second that piece of paper is in your hand, Miguel is all yours, no shame attached.

You’re on the edge of your seat the entirety of waiting for your name to be called, and once it is, you feel you could cry. You walk across the stage, a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment filling you to the brim. Miguel watches on, a prideful expression on his face. You shake hands with a few faculty members, some you grew to love and will cherish, some you secretly wished would accidentally fall through a manhole, before you get to the dean, who currently holds your degree in their hand. You’re congratulated once it’s in your hand, the feeling of two very difficult years weighing down on your hand. It feels good. Smiling ear-to-ear, you look out into the audience as you walk across, degree facing outward for the whole stadium to see because one thing for sure is that everyone in the establishment will know that you did that. Your smile shines like a thousand stars, at least to Miguel. His heart could explode with how much love and awe he feels for you. Heaven knows he tried to make a new life for himself by putting the Spider-Man title to rest, and though he was successful, he was still missing a piece of himself. In this moment, he’s thanking you for taking a chance on him; for letting a different man, a happy man, come out for a while, and hopefully, for the rest of his life.

And that’s where he sits now, in the car, waiting for you in the parking lot. Prior to the ceremony, it was agreed that Miguel would slip away just a couple of minutes early (basically skip the dean’s farewell speech) so that you and Miguel could beat the crowds and go celebrate wherever he had planned for you. Hoards of crying mothers and cheering students catch his attention. It must’ve ended. It only takes a moment for him to pick you out from the crowd, immediately exiting the car to open the passenger door for you.

“Congratulations, mi vida.” He calls out, leaning against the car.

Elated, you crash into him, arms around his neck, legs lifted in the air, and you kiss him. You pull away with a joyous mwah.

You both retreat into the car. “You helped, my cute lil geneticist.” Giddiness beams from your voice. You reach over the center console to cup his chin and squeeze it, puckering his lips to kiss him again and again. This makes him chuckle. He may be older and bigger in every sense of the word, but at the end of the day, he is and always will be your dork. Your teddy bear.

“I just taught you a few formulas. This was all you, mama,” he starts the car but glances at you for a second. “What?” You tilt your head.

“I wanna thank you.”

“For what?” Every time Miguel opens his mouth, you’re reminded of what a lottery win you’ve made. You grab his hand to hold it up to your heart; the same spot where Gabriella’s ribbon is pinned.

“For loving me. The way you do.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me.”

His brows furrowed, his lips curled into a soft smile. He notices the blue ribbon. He caresses one of its tails, and a few of his heartstrings pull at the sight. He knows that if Gabriella were there, she would’ve been the loudest in the stands. “Wish she could’ve been here.”

You press his hand against your heart.

“She is.”

Miguel has told you so much about her that at this point, she feels like yours, and you feel that she’s there. You know with your whole heart that she is.

You both share one more tender kiss before Miguel pulls out of the lot.

“Well, it’s official. I am no longer your student. How do you feel about that?” you smirk, relaxed in your assigned seat; your rightful throne as passenger princess.

“Speaking of which, I hope you know that that degree is for decoration purposes from this day forward.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re quite the comedian today, huh?”

“You think I’m kidding? I want you home 24/7, you hear me? In the kitchen, an apron and all. I’m dead serious.” The sarcastic tone in his voice sends you chuckling through the nose.

“I’ll stay home and be your housewife if you give me a perfect score, how about that?”

“Deal.”

“Ok, no, but seriously, baby, please score my paper accurately.”

“Of course, beba. Just jokes. I’m kidding about the staying-home thing, too. You can do whatever you want,” He looks over at you at a red light, “Just as long as you always come back home to me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You two snuggle in Miguel’s bed after a nice dinner celebrating you. The sheets are warm and soft, but it doesn’t compare to the warmth and softness of Miguel’s body on yours; skin to skin. You’re both entangled and nude, having just had another (or a few) rounds of passionate love. Sleep looms over both you and Miguel, a little heavier on you. You’re quickly learning that Miguel does not have the endurance of an average man.

Knowing how much you loved his speaking voice, he decided to finish and read aloud to you Pride and Prejudice, a book you recommended to him and has become a new favorite of his. A king of aftercare. How more perfect can he be?

Miguel, seeing your eyes grow heavy, kisses your temple and smiles before starting again, “ ‘I love you. You have bewitched me, mind, body, and soul. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.’” He recites the notorious line written by Austen, but not for the sake of reading aloud anymore, no. This line was directed to you. And only for you.

“And I love you.” You whisper back.

And for the first time in much more than just 5 years, Miguel didn’t have to go to bed alone. And he won’t have to ever again.

Miguel hasn’t thought about the canon theory in a very, very long time, but a fleeting thought went through his mind before drifting away:

If going through everything that he had to, may it be the day his genetic makeup was altered, the spider-verse, Gabriella, trading in the suit for a life of solitude, everything; Despite the pain, if it all had to happen in order to have met you.

Then it’ll all have been worth it.

<3 Tags <3

@mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @hyjionie @maomaimao @pomakori @pinkhelados @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow @safixiovi

@hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @cl3stevu

@mintssanctuary @ghost-lantern @snails-doodles22 @tinythebunni @shaquilles-0atmeal @nina-from-317 @exoticb-utters @sugurusyndrome @aphinthestars

A/N: Fav chapter I've ever written. It was made with love <3 Really hoped you guys enjoyed it <3 n thnx sm for sticking around even if I made y'all wait so long 😭 love youuuuuuuu‼️ MWAH!!!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Birthday II

Hardersson x Baby!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: It's your first birthday

Morsa is living in the phone again.

She's a lot smaller when she lives in the phone than when she lives with you and Momma. You think that's kind of weird but there's some cake sitting in front of you so you don't dwell on it for too long.

Today is a special day apparently.

Today is the day that Morsa is supposed to be visiting. It's your birthday too but you're more focused on the first thing rather than the fact that you're getting older now.

Morsa is meant to be coming today but she isn't here yet and now she's stuck in the phone again.

"And here's the birthday girl," Momma says to her," She's about to enjoy her cake."

You look down at your slice of cake. You don't get given cake a lot, especially not fancy cake that has writing and pictures on the top. You don't really care about the stuff on top but you know the cake is fancy because it's there.

You grab a chunk of cake in your fist and raised it to your mouth.

It tastes really nice and you grab more.

"Birthday girl looks very happy," Morsa comments," Is that right? Are you enjoying your cake, princesse?"

You grunt as you shove cake into your mouth.

"She's very much enjoying it," Momma agrees," Birthday girl got spoiled a lot today."

"I'm glad. I'm sorry I couldn't be there."

A match late last evening had Magda unable to fly out yesterday night. She'd booked an early morning flight today, hoping that it meant she could still spend your first birthday with you without missing much.

But she'd gotten to the airport and found her plane delayed. There was no eta and it kept getting pushed back further and further to the point where Magda has to spend your birthday on the phone rather than in person.

The presents in her carry-on feel like weights as she watches you shovel more and more cake into your mouth until your plate is empty.

You're sitting up in your high chair with a beaming smile in a tiny Wolfsburg kit that Magda knows was given as a present to you. A big birthday badge is clipped to the jersey and a discarded birthday hat is sat on the tray next to your now empty cake plate.

It makes her heart ache thinking about how much of this she's missing.

It's just not the same seeing it all through a phone screen.

"My flight should be taking off in a few hours," She tells Pernille as you entertain yourself by picking up the birthday hat and shaking it," I'll probably get to yours around midnight."

She can't see Pernille with the camera on you but Magda's sure she's frowning.

"We can pick you up from the airport," She says," You don't need to get here on your own."

"It'll be too late for Princesse. She still needs sleep."

"Are you sure? I don't mind. She'll fall asleep in the car anyway."

"I'm sure," Magda insists," It's fine. I've got keys. I'll let myself in."

You drop the birthday hat and pout.

"Oh," Pernille chuckles," What's with the long face, princesse? Did you drop your hat?"

You kick your legs impatiently and point at it, whining. You look like you're about to whine more but Pernille places another slice of cake in front of you and suddenly you're distracted again.

You cram as much cake possible into your mouth, smearing your face with crumbs.

The cake is nice but you do feel a little bit cheated. Momma woke you up this morning saying that Morsa would be here to celebrate with you both but it's rapidly approaching bath and bedtime and she's nowhere to be seen.

That's a little mean of her.

It's even meaner of Momma to put you down in your crib and make you sleep before Morsa got here. They're both quite mean today even though it's your birthday and people should be nice to you when it's your birthday.

You wake up the next day ready to let your displeasure at being lied to known to Momma when she comes to grab you.

You don't get the chance to though because someone lifts you out of your crib with a smile and a soft voice.

"What's with the pouty face?" Morsa coos," Is being a one year old really that bad?"

For a moment, in your sleepy haze, you don't recognise her, a big pout and a grumpy look upon your features. Slowly, you blink awake fully and your pout morphs into a big happy smile.

"There she is," Morsa says," There's my happy baby! Look at you, my happy little one year old."

Your legs kick out as Morsa presses soft, ticklish kisses all over your face.

"I'm sorry I missed your birthday, princesse but I brought presents!"

You know that word. After yesterday, you've decided that you really like presents.

You hope Morsa's brought you some good ones.

You giggle.

"Yeah?" Morsa says," You like that? I've got lots of presents for you to open!"

[demonic0angel]

Dan being forced to go to anger management therapy hosted by Harley Quinn.

(I refuse to believe that Dan would be forced into anything, so this is a Dan in Arkham AU lmao)

Wraith huffed angrily. “And that’s why he deserves pain and suffering.”

Harley stared at him in fascination, tapping a finger on her lips. It had been weeks after their breakout from Arkham, and Wraith was quickly becoming a good friend of the Sirens. It had reached a point where now, he was spilling his secrets over a glass of wine (stolen from a Bruce Wayne-endorsed party), about a boy he used to be and the timeline he came from.

It wasn’t the weirdest thing ever, since this was Gotham after all, but it was still both disturbing and thralling.

Harley could not help but stare as Wraith grumbled to himself, blue eyes flashing crimson and sharp fangs being bared in a snarl. Then she asked, “Did your sister ever say anything about this?”

Wraith huffed and swirled his wine lightly. “She said it’s a form of self-hatred. Because I blame myself for our family’s deaths, I blame Danny too. But I don’t care. We are the same person but we are not the same. He is still human, while I have transcended past mankind to be something greater.” His fingers clenched on the stem of the wine glass. “It’s not fair how he gets to be happy, but I can’t.”

A god complex, a superiority complex, and an inferiority complex, all born from the loss of family and self-identity. His psyche was absolutely damaged by his previous experiences, and trauma had made him into something very, very twisted. It was probably true that he was not human anymore, but it was so interesting how he had abandoned his humanity so thoroughly and thrown it aside.

“You can’t?” Harley asked. “Or you won’t?”

Wraith’s expression twisted. “I can’t.”

That didn’t seem right.

He was happy when eating red meat and drinking expensive wine. He was rather happy when they went shopping and included him in their jokes and games. He was plenty happy when he talked about his sisters. He was very happy when interacting with Nightwing, who seemed to effortlessly peel away his layers to reveal a playful, gentle personality that did not seem to be a facade.

“You seem happy around Nightwing,” Harley said. “And us. What do you think of that?”

Wraith glared at her lightly, but he didn’t seem angry, not like how he was when he talked about his little brother, his other self. The venom in his voice and eyes when he talked about his younger self would’ve been better deserved if he was talking about the Anti-Christ, but Harley didn’t voice this.

“Nightwing has the purest soul in this world. It’s strong and beautiful because of how kind it is. It should be a crime to be cruel to it, not when he’s so… good.” His expression gentled and he swirled his wine again before taking a sip. “And you and the others are… nice to me. I don’t want to spoil your fun.”

Harley beamed. “Aww, we like you too, Wraith-y poo!”

Wraith rolled his eyes and took another sip. Harley poured him some more without him asking, and they drank their wine in silence.

Eventually, Harley said, “It’s not healthy to hate yourself so much, y’know? Maybe you don’t want advice, but I think your sister would agree with me. You should let go of the past and live in the present. That timeline doesn’t exist anymore, does it?”

Wraith scowled. “It may not exist anymore, but I came from that timeline. I am who I am because of my family’s deaths and because of Danny.” The hatred in his voice was deep and potent, making Harley shiver. “It can never let me go and I can never let it go either. The past shaped me in ways that cannot be undone.”

Harley took a sip of wine to think. Then she said, “Well. No matter what, me and the girls are here for you. And I think Nightwing really likes you too! Really!”

Wraith hummed, eyes half lidded before he turned and looked at her with a quirk to his lips like a small, genuine smile. “Yes, I know. Thank you, Harley.”

She grinned. “No problem!”

They continued drinking together in companionable silence.

[mediumgayitalian]

Will knows who it is at the first light brush on his shoulders.

He tips his head back back, bumping his boyfriend’s hip, leaning into the hand on his trapezius, his scapula, the base of his neck.

“Hi,” he says, grinning.

“Hi,” Nico says, leaning down to press his smile onto Will’s forehead. His hair tickles his cheeks, and he smells like woodsmoke and citrus, and Will slides his hand across his jaw and tugs him closer.

“Errand done?”

“Yep.”

“Lord Hades pleased?”

“As much as he ever is.” Nico shifts, kissing the corner of his mouth, the curve of his chin, the shape of his jaw. “My ears are ringing from five days of quiet. Even the echoing sound of lost souls cannot compete with your constant blabbing; I hardly knew what to do with myself.”

“Oh, shut up. You love my chatterin’.” He smacks the side of Nico’s head, but it’s hard to play mad when he’s smiling, shameless, wide enough that his teeth nick Will’s cheekbones, that his snickers are muffled into his skin.

“If I wanted to be stuck with someone who yaps nonstop I would’ve stayed down with Cerebus. In fact he might shed less, and he doesn’t drool when he sleeps.”

“…I do not shed.”

Nico plants both hands next to Will’s head, heaving himself up, and scans his camp shirt. Within three seconds, he locates a strand of hair, pinches it off, and flicks it at Will’s face.

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, for the love of — get over here,” Will demands. Laughing, Nico goes where Will tugs him, curling up next to him on the bench. “You’re such a shit. Normal people are much kinder to the significant annoyances they leave behind for five days, you know.”

“Are they.”

Nico lifts his arm in offering and Will accepts with relish, tucking himself under it and making certain to drag his curls down Nico’s face in the process.

“Yep. In fact I was expecting hand-written letters by day two, honestly, telling me how much you missed me and how the distance was physically painful, et cetera, et cetera. Maybe a sonnet or two. Italian, preferably, Elizabethan are not my favourite.”

“You’re very picky.”

Will sniffs haughtily. “Well, I’m a catch. You have lots of competition, you know. I was fighting them off while you were away but now that you come back and insult me upon reunion, I shall reevaluate my options.”

He feels more than hears the quiet laughter Nico presses in his hair, thumb brushing his collar, dipping onto bare skin.

“Is that so.”

“Indeed. My suitors have even offered a dowry quite handsome. I’m worth twenty-seven goats, didn’t you know.”

“Oh, well then. I might as well return what I brought for you, since I’m not sure I can outshine two dozen goats.”

The cool thing about being a son of Apollo is that Will has range. His dad is the god of arts, generally, up to and especially the dramatic ones. Will knows how to school his face into the perfect mask, how to smile on command and cry as desired, how to deliver a line and bow with a flourish. Playing a part comes as naturally as breathing, as naturally as healing.

“A present?” he asks, checking his nails as if the mere thought bores him. “That’s interesting, I guess.”

Nico doesn’t even bother to indulge him.

“Here, you massive dweeb,” he snorts. He hands over a small paper box, hand-folded and thin. “I can practically feel you vibrating.”

There is only one thing in this world, quite possibly, that Will likes more than proving Nico wrong, and that is letting his boyfriend spoil him. In all honesty it’s a real challenge sometimes, because Nico is really very good at being everything Will has ever wanted even if he has wrong opinions on most movies. Truly Will’s life is a joke at which the gods must howl with laughter.

Eagerly taking the box, he holds it up to his face, carefully inspecting every corner. The paper is regular printer paper, slightly waterlogged (from the Big House printer, then, ‘cause Will was carrying a giant bag of saline in from storage when he was eleven years old and tripped on the shipment of office supplies that someone had left, for some reason, in the middle of the fucking hallway, and the bag had exploded on impact all over four boxes of printer paper holding one thousand pages each) and carefully bent into shape. He recognises Nico’s handiwork from the dozens of origami paper sculptures he’s been gifted over the past few months.

“Open it.”

“What is it?”

Nico rolls his eyes. “What did I just say.”

“No, I mean — it’s not my birthday or anything.”

“So?”

“So you’ve wrapped me up a present! I want to know why before I open it.”

“Just because,” Nico mumbles, pressing a kiss to his temples. “Not everything needs a reason, nosey.”

“If nothing had reason then we would still be premordial soup,” Will mutters, but pops open the lid anyway.

He gasps.

“Oh my gods, Nico, you —”

Nico’s smiling smugly, but Will barely notices. Inside the box is a black chain darker than shadow, so dark it doesn’t even glint in the heavy sun, and dozens of little charms, from polished obsidian to a ball of slowly flickering flame.

“You like?”

“It’s gorgeous!”

He makes a triumphant nose, pumping his fist, and says, “Fuck those suitors, I fucking win,” and the funniest part is that he’s damn serious. There’s a glint in his eye identical to when he wins a sword fight, to when Connor loses a bet to him, to when twenty-odd bets are stacked against him and he’s got a full house. Something dangerous and wild and superior and Will is not an enabler, okay, he is not, but he is only so strong and there is only so much he can do when pretty boys wrap their arms around him and smirk at him and bring him bracelets they made in the Underworld. He’d like to meet someone who wouldn’t fold, actually.

“There were no suitors, you loser,” he says, but he’s flushed, pleased smile stretched wide across his face, and Nico’s grinning that too-wide grin and tilting Will’s face closer with the edge of his thumb, like he barely had to try. And there’s always a little bit of shadow leeching off him when he comes back from a quest, an aura surrounding him like he’s squaring off to the sun, and of course the wild churning in Will’s stomach has nothing to do with that but what’s he to do, really? What is a warm-blooded person with eyes that can see to do when faced with such a look?

“Of course there aren’t. They know I would reap their actual souls.”

“Possessive, much.”

“You’re literally going red.”

“Shut up.”

And he does, but only because Will makes him.

Although judging by the hand he shoves in his hair, he doesn’t seem to mind.

[mykoreanlove]

dummy, dummy, I love your tummy

„Binnie, let me go. I need to get ready!“, you whined for the tenth time in a row. Changbin had to attend his company’s Christmas dinner and had asked you to accompany him. This was actually a great deal to you, since the two of you hadn’t been dating for long.

His hands roamed your backside and hugged you tighter, pressing you onto him.

„But I wanna stay like this, with my baby girl on top of me.“ God, he was stubborn sometimes. Luckily, you knew how to play him.

„Binnie, listen. If you let me go now I’ll wear that red dress that you bought me.“

His eyes perked up, he was all ears now. „The red one that exposes your whole back or the other red one that accentuates your tits perfectly?“

Changbin loved gifting you presents, he was obsessed with spoiling you.

You chuckled and placed a quick kiss on his lips before getting up.

„The second one.“

You took your time and placed special effort into your look. You wanted him to be proud of you, you needed him to show you off.

„Baby girl, we’re going to be late. Hurry up please?“

He was shouting from the corridor, already waiting for you. You took a last glance in the mirror and evaluated your look. „Hmmm, something is missing.“ Quickly, you put on the last piece and went out.

The moment Changbin saw you, he was starstruck. Eyes wide open, jaw on the floor, drool coming out of his mouth - he was whipped.

„Fuck, you look gorgeous baby girl“, he stuttered. He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. „You kinda look like Jessica Rabbit.“

Laughter filled the apartment as you grabbed your coat.

„Wait“, you felt his hands on your body. He was looking at you intensely as his fingers explored every inch of your clothed corpse.

„Something’s not right“, he mumbled to himself.

„What do you mean?“, you asked in confusion.

Changbin grabbed the hem of the shapewear you were wearing. He eyed you cautiously. „Baby, are you wearing spanx?“

Your cheeks reddened and you looked down immediately. Your stomach had always been your insecurity, so naturally you hid it as best as you could. You grabbed his hands and pushed them off you, smiling sadly.

„Yeah, the dress looks better that way. Come on, we‘re already late.“

You proceeded to the door but your boyfriend grabbed your wrist and yanked you right back to him.

„We’re not going anywhere as long as you haven’t explained yourself. Why are you wearing this? Isn’t this uncomfortable? Can you even breathe properly?“

He was seriously concerned for you.

„It is tight yes and breathing is a bit harder now, yeah. But I have to wear it, Bin. Otherwise I look like a fat whale.“

Your words stung, you saw it in his flinch. „You think you look like a fat whale?“

Shit, how did this turn into a story about your insecurities? You couldn’t talk about it so you just nodded your head. Changbin let out a deep sigh and got on his knees.

„What are you doing?“

He pushed your dress up and stripped you out of your spanx. „I am taking this off.“

„What? No!“ Panic shot through you as you pushed his hands away. „I need them. My stomach is fat as fuck and everybody will see. I really need it.“

Tears streamed down your face. Changbin looked up at you, defeated and heartbroken.

„Why do you hate yourself so much?“

His question caught you off guard.

„I don’t hate myself“, you sniffed in response. „Yeah right“, he snarked. Now, you got angry. Who was he to judge you like that? You turned around and walked into the bedroom. „You know what? I think it’s better if you go on your own.“

For a brief moment you had hope that he would come in and get you but he didn’t. You heard the door lock and broke down on the bed.

Changbin was right - you hated yourself. And now you despised yourself even more for ruining this special night. You cried mercilessly as you sat on the bed thinking about your misery. If only your stupid pouch wasn’t there, if only you had a flat stomach like all the other girls - then you‘d be good. Then you’d be happy.

About an hour later you heard the door open again. Changbin barged in holding another pair of spanx in his hands.

„Let’s go“, he ushered you.

You looked at him confused. „What?“

„I said let’s go. I went out and got myself a pair of spanx, too. If you wanna hate yourself then fine, I’m with you on this one. Let’s wear this shit together.“

Was he kidding?

Changbin stripped down his pants and got into the shapewear, trying his best to hide the discomfort he felt. He grabbed your hand, wiped away the remaining tears and kissed you on your lips. „Let’s go, y/n.“

The Christmas party was lovely but you could hardly concentrate on anything. Your eyes wandered back to your boyfriend, especially to his waist to be precise. He looked uncomfortable and had trouble breathing but he still flashed you his brightest smile. He barely ate anything, he was feeling too nauseous for that. He didn’t say a word and suffered through it but you knew how it felt to wear the spanx.

He was a real soldier, that one. You chatted with his colleagues and his boss, received a lot of compliments for your dress and played some games before you called it a night. Changbin was too busy to properly talk to you, yet his eyes never left you.

As the two of you made it back home he sighed in relief, ripping the spanx off him. „Fuck, let me get rid of this shit. I feel like my organs shrank.“

His actions really made you think. You undressed yourself and looked at your body in the mirror, freeing yourself of everything, too. The spanx left red marks on your body, further proof of your self hatred.

Changbin hugged you from behind, his sad eyes had returned. You grabbed his arms and squeezed his biceps, a ritual you had invented for when you felt overwhelmed.

„Why do you hate your stomach so much?“ He calmly spoke to you through the mirror.

„Because it’s fat. It’s too thick. I want to be skinny like other girls. I want to have abs. But it stays like this no matter what I do.“

It took courage to confess but you were glad you did.

„Do you like my body, baby?“

You laughed. „Of course I do, look at you. You’re like a sexy beast.“

Changbin chuckled. „Well, I hated my body for a long time, baby. All the other guys were slender and skinny but I couldn’t be. I starved myself and tried to lose weight but my body refused. Until one day I finally understood that I don’t have to look like that. I don’t have to look like someone else. I have to look like me baby, and that’s more than enough.“

Tears started flowing again as you felt for him, too.

„You don’t have to look like other girls. And you don’t have to have their abs. Baby girl, all you gotta do is look like you. And you are so beautiful, can’t you really not see?“

Changbin placed his big hands on your stomach, softly, and held you for a while.

„I love your curves. I love your tummy the way it is. I think you are the most beautiful girl on the planet. I don’t want you to change. At all. I wanna buy you sexy clothes and dress you in them. I wanna parade you around and show everybody how fucking gorgeous you are.“

He got on his knees again and turned you around. Changbin left sweet kisses all over your stomach, each one accentuating his honest words. „You may not believe me now but someday you wil, y/n.“

[songbirdmunson]

“CALL ME, BAMBI.”

Rockstar!Eddie x Fem!Reader smut

this idea came about from a conversation that Mariah and I had @reidsbtch she also beta read for me for this one ((and helped me out so much I love you mar mar!)) I hope you all enjoy it I am so nervous about this, but have poured myself into it! Once again, only read if you’re 18+ please!

Warnings: basic dirty talk/name calling, mutual masturbation, mentions oral male receiving, degradation, if there’s anything I miss just let me know!

Summary: Eddie gives you the best gift you’ve ever gotten before heading out on tour.

word-count: 2.4K

“What’s this baby?�� You ask curiously, looking up at Eddie his smile was so big you didn’t know how his face wasn't hurting. “Your last present, had to get you one more Doll and this one is very special.” You squint at him, slightly nervous at the tone of voice he was using. You shake the box slightly, hearing something heavy thump around in it. “Go on Bambi, open it.” He says, sitting down next to you on the plush carpet of your bedroom floor, your cat rubbing up against his leg lovingly before walking away somewhere, seemingly uninterested in the gift exchange.

You slowly rip the paper off of the box in your lap, smiling fondly at your boyfriend, you had emphasized that you didn’t actually need anything for Christmas but Eddie couldn’t stomach not getting you something. He spoiled you instead, before taking you to your room for your ‘big surprise’ or at least that’s what he called it. Once the wrapping paper is scattered over your floor you gently pull the box top off, looking down inside of it as your mouth drops open. “Eddie….” You trail off slowly reaching inside the box and pulling out a silicone dildo, only it wasn’t a store bought one, this was custom made. It looked just like Eddie’s cock, same vein on the underside, it even had the piercing at the top. You slowly looked over at the devil sitting next to you known as your ‘boyfriend’, shaking your head. “Baby, how did you even make this?”

He smirks at you while launching into this story of how he had to order this special kit at the sex shop, and wait until he was hard so he could stick his dick into the material, creating an exact replica of himself. You can feel your cheeks getting hotter and hotter the more he talks, you put the box down next to you quickly before grabbing onto his shoulders, swinging your leg over him to straddle his lap. He stops his rambling to look at you, his eyes full of the mischief that you fell in love with the first time you saw him. “I love it so much, love everything you’ve given me, baby, but I have to ask why? I already have the real deal right here.” You say, giggling slightly as you grind your ass down against his lap. He groans quietly, grabbing onto your hips and digging his blunt nails into them.

“My tour is coming up soon, and I just didn’t want you to go without. Couldn’t leave my sweet little Bambi with nothing to play with now could I? That wouldn’t be very nice of me.” He said darkly, his eyes lighting up at the shiver that physically made its way through your body. “I want you to have fun with this baby, want you to ride it and think of me while you do, it’ll fill you up just like me, well I mean it is me, but it still won’t satisfy you enough. I want to leave you aching for more.” You slowly pull your face away from where it was resting against his chest, looking up at him and biting your lip, running your hands down his chest down to his belt, playing with it gently. “I promise I’ll think of you every second, there’s nothing else I could think of, baby, you’re all that’s in my head.” He kisses you softly, moving a piece of your hair behind your ear before you’re slowly getting up from his lap. The both of you were exhausted after getting up early to start your Christmas traditions together, there would be time later for intimacy for now you needed sleep, all you could think about was calling Eddie while he’s away, taunting him with the fact that your dildo is deep inside of you, this was possibly the best present ever.

“Have everything you need baby?” You ask, mentally going through the checklist you had created to make sure that your sweet metal head didn’t forget a single thing he needed for his tour. He nods, pouting slightly as he stands by your front door, shuffling his feet around nervously. “No I really don’t, I need you to come with me.” He says, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace, one that makes your heart skip a couple of beats. You sigh, feeling a lump in your throat. You wanted nothing more than to drop everything and go with corroded coffin on tour, but you needed to work and your job wasn’t accommodating for extended vacations. “I wish I could baby, but you know I have to stay here, besides who’s going to keep Steve in check with the kids, Robin’s at college so someone has to help out.” You chuckle as he rolls his eyes playfully. You wrap your arms tighter around him, leaning up to kiss him sweetly. “I’ll miss you so much, call me as soon as you get to your hotel so I know you’re safe.” You whisper as he lifts your chin gently, planting a firm and wanting kiss against your lips. “I’m gonna miss you too babydoll, don’t worry I’ll call as soon as I get there, we can fall asleep together on the phone just like we used to.” You smiled at the memory, when you first had met you spent a lot of time apart so long distance phone calls were all you could cling to. You feel yourself tear up as he kisses you a few more times , whispering goodbyes over and over before opening the door and slowly making his way over to the tour bus sitting in front of it, the rest of the band already on board and waiting for him. He turns around as he rests one of his hands on the bus door, smiling at you. “Bye, bye Bambi my love, don’t forget to call me.” He yells, blowing you a kiss. You giggle before blowing one back, he dramatically catches it and pretends to fall back against the bus as he holds his chest. “Bye, bye rockstar!” You yell, watching him get onto the bus, the door closing behind him. You sigh quietly, walking back inside and closing the door, slowly making your way to your room to make use of the gift Eddie just gave you on Christmas, you weren’t sure how you’d last months without him.

It’s been four weeks since Eddie left on tour, you haven’t used ‘the gift’ much to say the least, each time you look at it all you can think about is how you want Eddie here. You needed him, his touch, his kisses, his actual dick. You had made up your mind one night to call him and use it, he had been waiting this whole time for you to finally let him hear what you think about when you ride it, and if you were being honest you missed hearing how he talks to you when you were all worked up. You glance at yourself in your bedroom mirror, you look good, dressed in your best lingerie even though Eddie wouldn’t be able to see it. You ran your hands down your chest, teasing yourself before shuffling your way over to your bed, opening the drawer of your nightstand and pulling out the pink silicone toy, before you’re slowly laying back on your bed, grabbing the phone to punch in Eddie’s room number he had given you before their show tonight. You bite your lip nervously as your other hand that’s not holding the phone slowly makes its way into your panties, teasing your own clit as the line rings. Your breathing picks up every second, partly from touching yourself, but the anticipation of hearing Eddie speak to you like you’re some cheap whore also has you reeling.

The phone rings a few times as your heart pounds nervously, you aren’t sure why you are this worked up over phone sex with Eddie, but you needed him to pick up now. On the other side of the phone call, Eddie is rushing over to pick up, he knows it’s you and he can’t wait to tell you all about their show tonight. “Hey Bambi, I’ve been expecting your call.” He says into the phone, your breath hitches, his deep voice causing shockwaves throughout your body. He sounded slightly raspy from singing, and it was extremely hot. “H-hey Eddie.” You whimper out, trying to keep your moans at bay as you pull your panties off, throwing them across the room before you grab the dildo next to you. You run it up and down your slit a few times, teasing your clit before you’re sinking it into yourself slowly. You let out a quite ‘fuck.’ That doesn’t go unnoticed by your metal head. “What’s that sweetheart?” A knowing smirk breaks out over his face, he can hear you, the desperation, the way you’re trying to hold yourself back so he won’t catch on. He caught on very quickly, it wasn’t hard when all he could hear as soon as he picked up was your wet pussy and your breathy little moans that slipped past your lips without you realizing. “I- said fuck.” You mumble out, pushing the toy deeper inside of yourself as Eddie lets out a raspy laugh. “Oh baby, you’re finally using it huh? How does it feel, sweetheart? Are you all stretched out and ready for me?” He asks, you nod and realize he can’t see you before you let out a soft ‘yes’ as you buck your hips up, pulling the fake cock in and out of yourself as fast as you can go. “Need you.” You whisper, moaning as you hit the spot you’ve been searching for. Your legs shake as you try to keep moving your arm but it’s all becoming too much. “You sound so cute baby, all needy for me, it’s too bad I’m not there honey I would have my cock so far inside that cunt, fucking you so deep you’d feel it in your fucking stomach.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his words, you quickly pull the toy out of yourself before you’re sliding off of your bed, bringing the phone down with you as you push the dildo against the floor, suctioning it before you’re hovering over it. “Are you going to ride it for me like I asked you to?” He says, you can hear a slick sound from the other end of the call and you know his fist is wrapped around his cock right now, furiously stroking himself as he imagines exactly what you look like right now. “Yes-sir.” You say, sinking yourself down until you’re resting against the fake balls at the bottom of the dildo, you’re so full you can feel yourself throbbing harder and harder as the seconds go by, listening to your boyfriend tell you every dirty thought he’s had about you while you’ve been away. There’s one particularly naughty one that has you reeling, he’s telling you how he wants to fuck you on stage, in front of everyone to show them who you belong to, he asks if you’d like that and you can’t even get out words. You’re a babbling crying mess as you bounce yourself down onto the cock, over and over, tears rolling down your cheeks as Eddie taunts you. He loves it when you’re this way, he’s laughing at you as you whimper, and beg him to let you cum. “Hmmm, I dunno sweetheart, do you think you deserve to cum on a cock that’s not mine?” Your legs ache as you hold onto your nightstand with your other hand, going as fast as you can without falling over, your body is getting weaker by the second, you can hear Eddie trying not to moan, his breathing is ragged and all you can imagine is his sweaty chest heaving up and down as he tries to hold back from cumming for you.

“Yes! Fuck yes please sir, I can’t do it anymore let me cum on this dick Eddie please.” You whine, your own slick is running down your thighs, causing the floor to be a mess, your heart is pounding as you look up, catching a glimpse of yourself in your floor mirror, your pussy is stuffed full, clenching around your toy. You look like a complete whore, cheeks flushed, your hair is stuck to your face, drool is running out of the corner of your mouth that you didn’t even realize was there. “Fuck, you can cum Bambi, I know exactly what you look like right now and it’s delicious, I can’t wait until I come back home from tour baby, gonna fuck you on every surface of your house.” You almost drop the phone as you stop bouncing, your clit throbs as you begin to cum harder than you can remember cumming for a long time. “Thank you, Eddie oh-oh my god!” He laughs again on the other end, jerking himself a few more times before his jaw is clenching, his stomach tenses as he cums to the sounds of your pleasure. “That’s it baby give me all of your cum, little whore.” He moans, his fist now covered in his own release.

The only thing that can be heard is the both of you coming down from your highs, your heavy breathing in sync as you pull yourself up and off of your floor, the dildo slips out of you easily as you stand up on your wobbly knees, gripping the phone as if your life depends on it. You fall back onto your bed, shockwaves still running through your body as you curl yourself up with Eddie’s pillow. “I miss you so bad.” You say, closing your eyes and sighing. “I know baby, I miss you more, we only have two more months and then I’ll be home for a while, I don’t think we’ll leave the bedroom if I’m honest.” You both laugh, as you roll your eyes at him. “Okay horndog.” He snorts, “Says the one who just rode a replica of my dick so hard that she couldn’t speak.” You feel your face heat up as he laughs on the other end. “Okay Mr. Rockstar, no one asked you.” The both of you bicker playfully back and forth, talking for hours slowly slipping into a blissful sleep. You couldn’t wait for Eddie to come home, you knew his jaw would drop when you tell him that you want to ride your dildo and suck him off at the same time. Your little rockstar needed to hurry up and get back to you, so you could thank him for the best Christmas present you’ve ever had.

[winchesterwild78]

On the Fifth Day of Christmas

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Language, a little Angst, Fluff

A/N: Day 5 of my holiday fics. I hope you enjoy this short series. I’m really excited about it. All work is my own, please don’t take it. Reblogs and likes are welcomed. 

I do not own the rights to the characters I use, these will not follow the story lines of the series the character appeared in. This is a work of fiction.

Written fast and edited fast, please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

Dean was stringing the lights on the tree I had him and Sam pick up at the local store. It took some convincing to get the boys excited for the upcoming holiday, but I finally won them both over. 

Deep down Dean really wanted to celebrate Christmas. Since we started dating I had brought new traditions to the boys and the bunker. I had a normal childhood that included holidays, and of course the boys did not. 

“Sweetheart, we don’t have to celebrate anything. I wouldn’t even know where to begin with decorating or anything.” I placed my hand on Dean’s chest, “You just let me handle everything. I’ll give you and Sammy a list and you guys will be in charge of the shopping.” I chuckled and placed a kiss on his lips. 

He smirked and nodded. Sam and Dean drove to three different stores getting the things on my list. Bounding down the bunker’s metal stairs their arms were full of bags and holiday decorations. The smile on their faces was priceless.

“Looks like you boys had a great time.” I smiled as I grabbed a few bags. Placing a kiss on Dean’s lips, I smiled up at him. “Thank you, Dean.” He smiled, “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” 

A few hours later the bunker was decorated as holiday music filled the air. I was in the kitchen rolling out cookie dough as Sam and Dean got the cookie sheets and cookie cutters ready. 

“I forgot the frosting.” Sam said with a sigh. “We don’t need frosting from a can, Sam. I make the cookie frosting. His and Dean’s eyes went wide, “Is there nothing you can’t do, Y/N?” Sam asked with a chuckle. 

“Um, I can’t play chess.” Sam and Dean both whipped their heads towards me. I shrugged, “What? I never learned how.” 

Dean came up behind me, put his arms around my waist pulling me into his chest, “Guess I’ll have to teach you”. I smiled and nodded. 

Laughter filled the kitchen as Sam, Dean and I made cookies. Some of them looked liked blobs, and others were perfect. 

Dean and Sam kept stealing cookies. “Boys if you keep eating them there won’t be any left for Santa. I chuckled. 

“Oh come on, Y/N. Santa’s not real.” Dean said with a laugh. “What?! You mean to tell me you don’t believe in Santa? You know Dean, in order to receive you have to believe.” 

He playfully rolled his eyes as Sam laughed. 

A few hours later the cookies were done, Dean and Sam had spoiled their dinner and I was shopping online for the perfect Christmas gift for both of them. 

Sam was easy to shop for, he needed a new computer but would never spend money on himself, so I bought him one. Dean on the other hand was harder to shop for. Sure I could get him car stuff, but I wanted his gift to have meaning. 

So I decided something both meaningful and special for him. I wanted him to know how much I loved him and how much I knew him. 

Christmas morning came and I woke up early. Dean was still asleep, soft snores leaving his slightly opened mouth. His arms wrapped around me. 

I tried to move and I felt him pull me close. “Mmm, where are you going, sweetheart?” I smiled, “Dean, it’s Christmas. It’s time to get up.” 

He buried his face in the pillow, “No, it’s too early for this. Stay.” He pulled me closer. I giggled and kissed his head. “Come on Dean, you’ve got presents to open.” 

His green eyes opened and he grinned. “I figured that’d get you up.” I pulled myself out of bed and got ready, kissed him and made my way to the kitchen.

 I made coffee and started making breakfast. The smell of coffee and breakfast filled the bunker. Dean and Sam both walked into the kitchen, grins on their faces. “Breakfast is almost ready guys.” I said as I flipped the bacon. 

Both of them grabbed a cup of coffee and sat at the table. I smiled looking over at them. Both of them yawing, hair a mess and sipping coffee the exact same way. 

“Oh guys, Santa came.” I giggled. Sam and Dean looked at each other and then me. Dean chuckled, “Really, sweetheart. You’re still going through with that?” 

“With what?” I feigned innocence. “Santa? Come on, we’re a little old for that.” “You’re never too old for Santa, besides if you don’t believe in him, you don’t get to open presents.” I laughed. 

Sam chuckled, “Okay, Y/N, I’ll bite.” I touched his shoulder, “That’s the spirit Sammy.” 

Once we finished breakfast it was time to open gifts. Each of us had a stocking and I made sure Dean and Sam both had several gifts. 

They wouldn’t admit it, but the look on their faces told me they were excited about Christmas and the presents. 

Sam passed out the gifts. I carefully wrapped and labeled all the presents. All of them are from “Santa”. Sam and Dean chuckled when they saw who they were from. 

Sam and Dean had bought each other gifts too. Sam gave me a new bakeware set I had my eye on, and Dean bought me a beautiful charm bracelet that had several charms significant to us. One being an Impala. 

Sam opened his new laptop and was over the moon. “Y/N, this is perfect. I can’t believe you got this for me. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome Sam, but it was all Santa.” We laughed. Dean opened his first gift from me, well, Santa. It was stuff for the car. He loved it. “Thanks sweetheart. Something for my baby, from my baby.” 

“Dean, I have one more gift for you.” I smiled as I handed him an envelope. He looked a little confused. “So this is something for both of us. I know it’s something you’ve never done, and I want to experience your first time.” 

His confusion was more evident on his face as he opened the envelope. He pulled out the paper and read it. His eyes went wide when he realized what it was. 

“Are you serious, Y/N?” I smirked, “Yes, Dean. I’m serious. We leave the day after tomorrow.” Dean stood, pulled me up and flush to his chest. “I love you so much. I can’t believe you remembered.” 

I placed my hands on his chest, “Dean, I remember everything you tell me about yourself. I love you.” 

“Sammy, look! Y/N and I are going to the beach for two weeks. She booked us a vacation to the beach. Can you believe it?!” Sam smiled, “That’s awesome Dean. I know you’ve always wanted to go to the beach. Drink a fruity drink for me.” 

Dean nodded. “I need to get a swimsuit. I don’t have one.” Dean said almost in a panic. 

“Dean, I’ve already gotten you one. I have everything we’re going to need.”

He placed a soft kiss against my lips, “How did I get so lucky? Thank you sweetheart, I love you and Merry Christmas.”

“I love you too, Dean Winchester, and Merry Christmas to you too.” 

Tags are open, if you want to be added or removed, let me know.  

Tags: 

@nescaveckwriter @kr804573 

@k-slla @jackles010378 

@jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx 

@roseblue373 @cheynovak 

@jassackles  @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa 

@n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 

@smoothdogsgirl @hobby27 

@manicjk @stoneyggirl2 

@deans-spinster-witch @snowayumi 

@shadowqueen1318 @shanimallina87

@muhahaha303 @fitxgrld

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@cheekygirl2309 @oceean

@kindollss @foxyjwls007

@lmg14 @cevansbaby-dove

@spxideyver @reignsboy19

@deans-baby-momma @deansimpalababy

@ladykitana90 @quietgirll75 

@superrey @kamisobsessed

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@depressionbarbie2023 @livingdeadblondequeen

@mandee7 @barnes70stark

@spnaquakindgdom

[spidey-x-male-reader]

Could I ask for X-Men '97 Gambit with a reader who likes to steal stuff for him to wear? Like watches, gloves, etc?

Pairing: Remy LeBeau x male!reader

Warnings: light swearing??

Summary: A few small glimpses into your life with your boyfriend and your affinity to give him gifts

A/N: Look it's after midnight which basically means I'm too emotional for my own good but I forced myself to write this because I adore the person who requested this even if I barely interact with them. I have a very stong protective sense over them. So if you see this: love you, bro <3 (I also went a bit overkill with the prompt. oops)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

MASTERLIST

Since the two of you met, people have told you that you and Gambit were practically made for each other

And that's definitely not only because your first meeting literally consisted of you pickpocketing each other. As two people do when they're in love.

After joining the X-Men Remy has slowed down with the thiefing a little

Which basically meant that you had to steal enough for both of you. Which was good for him because he got lots of presents out of it but like…bad for everyone else

Remy had been alone in his room when you threw open the door, and immediately slammed it shut behind yourself, holding up a pair of gloves.

"Got you something!"

The next second he could already hear Logan's angry shouting

"...and where have you got them from, cher?"

"...store?"

"Uh huh."

"Glove store"

"Of course"

He just grins, walking towards you and giving you a peck on the cheek before taking your hand. 

"Now come on. Let's go before Wolverine finds us."

It wasn't unusual that Storm or Scott took you to the side and tried to have the "Stealing is bad" talk with you

But obviously you aren't stupid. You know it's not exactly right. But looking at Remy's eyes lighting up whenever you gift him something? That's worth it.

They do get used to it at some point

But you never get used to the way that he smiles at you like you just laid down the world at his feet.

You two just walked back to the jet after a quick mission, sneaking your hand into the pocket of his coat, dropping a watch inside.

"Shh." you wink at him, making sure the others haven't seen.

He feels the object in his pocket and just grins, pulling you a bit closer and putting an arm around your waist with a smirk.

"You spoil me too much" he whispers

"There's never too much with you" 

Now you were priding yourself on always being rather relaxed

Your hands always were steady and you never were nervous when sneaking your hand into a stranger's pocket

So who knew that the absolute scariest thing you'd ever give Remy was the one thing that you hadn't stolen for him

"Okay what's going on?" Remy looks at you, after you had asked him for a walk around the compound but then spent the time unusually silent.

For a moment you just look at him and then put your hand into your own pocket to grab the object inside. "I wanted to give something to you."

"Oh?" he smirks. "You're usually not that nervous when gifting me anything."

You take a deep breath and then pull out the small velvet box while sinking onto your knee simultaneously.

His eyes widen in shock. God, in any other situation you would relish in the realization that you had managed to surprise him.

"Remy LeBeau. You are…probably the best thing that ever happened to me." you fiddle around with the box in your hand. "And…god i've never been happier than just whenever i'm with you. And I know that this isn't…" you sigh and open the box, showing off the ring inside. "I know we can't officially do this. Not yet at least. But I want to…look at you and call you my husband."

He just stares at you.

"...This is the part where you say either yes or no but my knee is kinda getting sore."

He seems to awake from his trance, just nodding slowly. "...yes. Yes of course you bastard!" with a sudden burst of energy he throws himself into you for a hug, landing both of you on the ground. 

You try to stay cool, probably failing miserably as you grab his hand, putting the ring on his finger.

"I love you" you whisper

He leans his forehead against yours. "Not as much as I love you, cher."

[mmogurl]

Daddy Issues Part 2: Baseline

18+ | 2k | Homelander X Reader |  protective homelander, reader’s back story is a little dark, reader might be a bit of a nympho, mentions of suicide, rape, assault, alcoholism, emotional child abuse.

My Own Writing Prompt: What if Homelander became your Daddy and was really good at it? I'm really enjoying this story so far and found myself eager to write more the next day, even after proofing a 7k chapter for my Daemon story! If you haven't read the first part yet, it's here. Part 1: Savior | Part 2: Baseline | Part 3: Spoiled | Part 4: Comfort

The first thing that strikes you about Homelander’s penthouse in Vought Tower, is how impersonal it is. It has just about as much character as the sterile white walls of a hospital room. You might even confuse it for a museum given the sheer volume of aged paintings on the walls, but most exhibitions would have more color and identity than this drab space.

You can’t help but wonder who Homelander is, because this environment certainly doesn’t tell you much. There are no pictures of him, save for the massive American flag that spans the wall behind you, and the only gaudy knick-knacks present are nonsensical shapes coated in gold. In fact, everything is gold, except for the milky white of the statues peppered throughout the floorplan, the dusky blue walls, and the brown leather couch you sit upon.

Homelander stands across from you next to the giant television screen, staring at you with an unease that you cannot place. In fact, just like his living space, he is quite difficult to read. The lingering effects of traumatic shock make this whole encounter feel even more surreal, your mind and body seeming almost disconnected from reality.

“Is this real life?” you blurt out, remembering that poor kid whose parents recorded him after he’d had dental surgery, still under the effects of anesthesia.

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” he spits back with an incredulous sneer.

You quickly realize that Homelander is one of the few men in this world that actually looks kind of hot when he’s being petulant. You tuck this fun fact to the side for now.

“It’s just…” you continue as he glares at you impatiently. “I’m sitting in your home… In Homelander’s home.” The similarity between your locale and his supe name makes you laugh pointedly, an inside joke you’re sure he won’t care for. “It’s kind of far fetched, isn’t it?” you finally state rhetorically, because really it is a stretch that you would ever find yourself here and under such circumstances.

“What? I’m the Homelander. Of course I save people. It’s kind of my fucking job,” he shrugs your observation off as his brow furls in reproach.

“Ok, sure,” you agree tentatively. “But, is it also your job to take the people you save home with you?” It seemed like a valid question, but he certainly doesn’t seem to agree.

“What did you expect me to do?” he marches towards you, holding his hands up to the ceiling. “Leave you there like that?”

“Well, no…” you consider in your slow state of comprehension. “But you could have taken me to the hospital I guess.”

He scoffs with a big huff of air through his lips as he stops in front of you, his arms now crossed against his chest.

“Fat chance. They would just let you out again the moment your physical health was cleared,” he replies in an almost gloating manner, his expression now softening slightly with condescension. “Oho, no,” he waggles a finger from side to side as if to enhance the denial further. “You need someone to save you from yourself. Someone to keep you from fucking up.”

“What?” you ask, quirking your brow and crinkling your nose at him.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he cocks his head to the side slightly, clasping his hands behind his back as he begins to pace to the side, keeping his deep ocean eyes glued to you. “You’re going to stay with me for awhile. Get your act together.”

“Get my- What!? What do you even know about my life? You literally just saved me off the street and you’re making assumptions?? Acting like you know me or something?” You can’t help but get emotional. After all, being judged always makes you feel defensive.

“Oh, I know plenty, doll… Plenty,” he stops for a moment, facing you before turning directions and walking back the way from which he came. “First you’re gonna stop the drinking. Maybe we’ll even get you into some fucking therapy or a Sexaholics Anonymous support group, because there’s obviously something going on up there that’s causing you to act like this.”

“Oh yes, while I’m there, I’ll tell them how I’m being held hostage by fucking Homelander! I’m sure they’ll get a kick out of that.” You can’t help but roll your eyes and shake your head.

However, you do not expect the swift retribution that comes as he closes the gap between you both and grabs your chin, your jaw in his hand. “Do not test my patience,” he sounds furious, his voice grating against his teeth as he speaks with his lips no farther than an inch away from your face. “I’m trying to help you, you ungrateful little shit.”

He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, abruptly releasing your chin so swiftly that your head lurches back from the motion. A whirlwind of thought floods your mind. How does he know so much about you? Are you really trapped here with him and how does he intend to keep you here? Will anybody even notice your gone or bother to come looking for you? All of these questions coupled with the feeling of being seen in your rawest form by a stranger is enough to make you want to fall apart. And you certainly try your best to never cry in front of anyone if you can help it.

“And why do you give a shit?” you ask, already feeling the telltale heat of tears forming in the corners of your eyes. God damnit! “Nobody else ever has.”

The hurt in your voice is evident and you're surprised when Homelander breaks away from you. He walks off down the hall until he’s out of sight and you can hear a drawer open and shut. He returns with a somber expression on his face and a couple of tissues in his hand that he holds out. You take them swiftly, resenting that he has seen you cry, but appreciating that he has given you a way to dispose of this irritating sign of weakness.

“And how could you possibly know that? Hm?” he asks finally breaking the silence, save for your sniffling. “That nobody gives a shit. Clearly I do.”

Something twists inside your gut at being brought so low. You do not like to dwell on these feelings. You don’t want to face them if you can avoid it. But, Homelander, America’s most powerful supe, is seeing you for who you are and despite that is still claiming to care about you. Oddly enough, the disturbing nature of his rationale and how he intends to force you to change against your own wishes does not seem to linger in your thoughts.

What does stay is that he cares. For you. You cannot help the flood of unwanted leaking that spills from your eyes.

“Shh, shh,” he is suddenly consoling you. “I know what’s good for you. You’re going to be alright.” His voice is reassuring as he pats you on the shoulder and rubs soothingly in small circles. You wonder if this line is rehearsed from one of his movies because it sounds familiar and so natural, unlike everything else about him.

Regardless, you can’t help but bury your face into his stomach, turning your head to the side as you wrap your arms around his waist. You have not felt a sense of comfort like this in a very long time and you almost forget that you are weeping like a baby.

“I don’t deserve it,” you find yourself whimpering against his torso, leaving wet tear stains on his suit. “Even my parents didn’t think I was good enough to love.”

He scoffs against his lips once more. It’s not a sign of annoyance this time, but disdain for the lack of kindness you’ve received in your life. “Fuck your parents,” he says with contempt. “I’ll take care of you. Hell, I’ll be your fucking Daddy, and show you what your father clearly failed to.”

You’re blown away by his proclamation. My Daddy? What the fuck is he talking about?

You pull back and look up at him, your eyes wide and wet from crying. He looks down at you without a hint of doubt in his expression. He is completely serious.

“What didn’t he show me?” you ask almost dumbstruck by the situation. It is the only thing you can think to utter.

“That you should stop selling yourself short.” His blue eyes were clear without insinuation as a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “That you’re worth more.”

Homelander’s gloved hand slid along the line of your jaw, softly, almost tenderly. And then, just like that, he snapped out of his sympathetic trance and gave you one of those camera ready grins.

“Whelp! First things first,” he said keeping that blithe expression with his cheekbones raised high as he gained some distance away from you. “I’m gonna have to get you a copy of the key card and get you some new clothes. And, I guess until I can get you your own bed, you can just sleep with me.”

He rattled all of this off as though it were perfectly normal. You know you should keep your mouth shut, but you can’t help but ask the obvious questions. “If I get a copy of the key, then what’s to stop me from leaving and going home?”

“Hah! Don’t even think about it, sweetheart,” he says with a deriding laugh. “I know where you live for one. And let’s face it! There’s nowhere you can hide from me. So taking off without permission would only serve to piss me off.” You listen as his tone mimics the ups and downs of a particularly peaked roller coaster ride, going from warning to jovial. “So, let’s not do that, alright?”

“Alright,” you agree because what else are you really going to say to the man who can laser you in half just like he did to your attempted rapist not long ago. Besides, he is being rather nice and you do hate your fucking job so much. “Do I still have to work?” you ask chaining off of that thought.

“God no,” he sneers as though the idea were outlandish. “No, you don’t have to work. In fact, I’d prefer you didn’t. You can sit around and do whatever you want. Go wherever you want. As long as you let me know and make time for me when I require it.”

You have to admit, this is sounding better and better. “What about my stuff? Can’t I just go and get it then?”

Homelander winces almost mockingly. “No can do,” he offers his feigned condolences. “I think it’s better to just start off fresh, hm? Besides, I can get you anything you want. Why bother holding onto any of that junk?” It sounds like a question, but once again is clearly more of a demand.

“What about pictures? My collectibles?” you ask, because in truth, the only things you really care about, your only good memories from your childhood, can’t easily be replaced.

He rolls his eyes as he crosses his arms, raising one hand to his chin in contemplation. “You really want to remember those assholes?”

You consider his words and begin to think he might be right. Maybe a fresh start would be best. It seemed looking back at old pictures of your mother only ever served to make you upset and bitter.

“Fine,” you acquiesce, “But I want my video games. I have a small fortune in vintage Playstation discs that I’m not letting go.”

Homelander gives you a torn little grimace, shaking his head until he’s nodding. “Fine,” he capitulates without anger.

And now it seems like you’re finally striking some kind of accord together. A baseline for how things will be between you both. It seems clear that he is a bit of a control freak and you understand that quite implicitly because you’re one as well. The only thing left to be discovered is whether or not the two of you will enjoy each other’s company or be driven crazy by it. Continue to Part 3

[luveline]

hiii!! i saw that you wanted some roan & eddie & reader requests sooo,, becuase barbie is trending so muchh i was wondering if you could write reader watching roan play with her barbies and instantly taken back to her childhood and getting very emotional ??

i mean its whats happening to me being reminded how much ive grown and how much effect those dolls had on me soo yeah 😭

tysm ♡ eddie and roan

A long, creaking squeal sounds from Roan when you come home. Eddie plugs his ears, knowing exactly what it is you have in the huge plastic bag at your waist —Roan's special treats, as previously discussed, for being such a lovely girl lately. 

It might be a silly thing to treat her for, but she deserves toys before any amazing behaviour, and you have the extra money to buy them. Why shouldn't she get them? You and Eddie chatted some while you were at work that morning, trying to choose what toys to get. 

"I haven't bought her toys by myself since we first met, what if I pick something crappy?" you'd worried. 

Eddie gave it a little bit of thought, hand twined in the curling wire of the telephone, slouched as he usually does against the back wall of the shop. "Hey, she hasn't had any new dolls since Christmas. They'd go over nicely. Or she always likes a new dress. I'm sure you'll find something when you're there. You can get me something fun at the same time if you want." 

You'd laughed at his joke and, if the light in your eyes now is anything to go off of, managed to find some presents you're happy with.

"Naddy's Toy Emporium!?" Roan shouts, rocketing off of the couch where she'd been standing waiting for you. 

You've a nightly routine, hugging her when you come home like your life depends on it, but clearly Roan has decided the hug can wait. For once, Eddie's finished dinner before you're return, so he has a good seat on the couch to watch everything unfold. 

You let her grab the bag's sides but lift it a touch when she tries to take it. "Hey, they're for you, I promise, but let's come inside and put them on the table!" 

Roan squeals and knocks into Eddie's knees. He sits up and grabs her gently by the waist, hoisting her onto his lap. You sit on the couch cushion trampled flat by Roan's feet, pulling the play table where she likes to eat her snacks closer. 

"Are you doing the speech?" you ask Eddie, putting down the bag. 

He grins. "Ro," he begins, turning skewiff, her back to the couch to allow you both a great view of her face, "you've been a really good girl, lately. Do you know that? You've been eating all your dinner, no tantrums before school, and now you're even starting to help clean up around the house. So me and Y/N just want you to know how proud we are and how awesome we think you are." 

"And we think all this awesome deserves some presents because we love you," you say. "Do you want the smallest or the biggest one first?" 

There's lots of nice presents. You've stayed within the confines of the agreed budget, which is a feat for you (as you love to spoil her). There's five new barbies, one of which comes with a car, and the other a puppy dog. They have clothes, accessories, and an abundance of plastic he needs to cut away with scissors. His hand is welted red by the time he's through. 

You also bought her a glittery lip gloss to replace the one she lost a few weeks ago. The proof of it sparkles on your cheek and Eddie's, twin thank yous. 

You go quiet as Roan retreats to her satin princess tent, driving the pink corvette back and forth as she makes the barbies talk to one another. 

"You okay?" he asks. You'd been wearing this huge smile for the last twenty minutes and now it's gone, he hates it. "I've been thinking maybe you deserve something nice, too." 

You smile weakly. Okay, so you're not wanting anything. 

"Dinner should be ready soon." 

"Thanks, Eddie." 

He gives up. He's about as subtle as a feather boa and you love him that way, drifting down toward your arm, his face smashing into your shoulder. "What's wrong?" 

You put your head atop his. "Well, I'm just thinking." 

"I may not look like it, but I think too, occasionally. Share with me." 

You push his arm until he sits up and sinks down into his side instead. Eddie supposes you're allowed, even if usually he'd call it sexist or selfish. "I had a lot of fun picking those out today, and I kept thinking about the look on her face…"

Eddie hums to show he's listening. Kisses the top of your head 'cos he can. "Yeah?" 

"I just remembered being her age. Do you remember wanting something really badly? There was something so nice about getting to grab a kart and– and to just stand there debating which ones to get." 

Eddie toys with your pinky finger. "That's not everything, is it?" 

Your smile presses against his arm, a deep emotion in your voice that's hard to pin. "Watching her makes me remember. Being a kid, playing make believe. I'll never be that young ever again, and there's no way to go back. But I," —you take in a steadying breath— "don't mind. I love seeing her so happy." 

He intertwines your fingers between his, shorter and a little bit softer than his. He soaks in your presence for a moment, the smell of you, your tiny sounds, the secret you've shared with him. You're a mixture of sad and happy. He's not sure which one overpowers which, only that they're hitting you hard. 

"There's lots of cool shit that comes with being a parent. You know the best one?" he asks you, raising his eyebrows at you with a fondness lining his lips. 

"No?" 

"You can play games without anyone judging you. I know it's not the same as being a kid again, but it's close." 

"Yeah?" you ask, sitting up. "You'll come play too, right?" 

Eddie casts his gaze to his daughter where she chit chats on the floor. "Hey, Roanie? Can we come play with you?" 

Roan is almost as pleased as when she first laid eyes on her treasure trove of dolls. 

[tossawary]

Brushing off some of our older gaming stuff to finally play "The Force Unleashed" (do not spoil it for me) and found myself immediately compelled by this presentation of what Luke Skywalker's life might have been like as "Darth Vader's son". (Or Leia's life, of course.)

Like, obviously, Darth Vader would not (and will not, I presume) have the same degree of attachment to his assassin here as he would/will to Luke, but the parallels are immediate and not subtle. Vader has killed a LOT of Jedi children by this point, but he sees a child powerful in the Force holding his own red lightsaber and something in him apparently snaps. And in the similar circumstances of 1) raised in secret away from the Emperor, and 2) trained to be a weapon against the Emperor, I suspect that Luke would actually have had a very similar quality of life to Starkiller (slightly better overall perhaps, but still similar), because I highly doubt that Sith Lord Darth Vader, who is held together by rage and spite, who is super traumatized by war and haaaaates being confronted by his own mistakes, would have ended up being even a half-decent parent if permitted to actually raise Luke as a Sith apprentice.

I was reminded of these games because I saw someone talking about how Galen Marek (protagonist of "The Force Unleashed") and Mara Jade (Luke's love interest from the Extended Universe) have very similar backstories and arcs, though they felt Galen's was better executed. So, I started up this game wondering to myself, "How old is Galen compared to Luke? A romance between Luke and his father's assassin / apprentice seems compelling... At worst, I bet it's comparable to the age difference between Luke and Din..." And yep! It looks similar and could also be fewer years than that. Galen could be 19 in this game for all I know.

I'm already enjoying an AU premise where Darth Vader somehow finds and captures younger teenage Luke, but he's panicking because 1) his son already hates him for injuring or even killing Obi-Wan (let's say that Owen and Beru are spared somehow, and also already calling up the Rebellion to fight the Empire to get their nephew back), and 2) Vader reeeeeally doesn't want the Emperor to find out about his son. But he doesn't really have a convenient place to stash his secret son! Palpatine is already calling demanding to know why Vader hasn't already completed some urgent imperial business.

So, Vader has to call his Ventress-in-training, Agent Starkiller, who happens to be nearby, to temporarily take Luke into custody. Vader says that no harm is to befall Luke and if he dies, then so does Starkiller, before he has to run off to answer the suspicious Emperor. Galen is, like, maybe 18 or something. (Ahsoka was kicking ass and getting traumatized on the battlefield at 14ish, so I assume that Galen's childhood under Vader was demanding and terrible.) This Sith teenager wants to be doing cool shit to prove himself, not shoved into a Bodyguard AU with some whiny brat who bites and has way too much of Darth Vader's attention already.

Cue some adventure that causes Luke and Galen to bond somehow. I'm not thinking about anything romantic at this point, I'm mostly thinking about angst, as Darth Vader tries to train Luke as a Sith apprentice through brutally cruel methods. Which give both Luke and Galen a lot of intense and complicated feelings about their own and each other's situations. And probably culminates in Darth Vader being shocked and angry when his son and not-son have run off and unionized against him.

The earlier that Vader nabs Luke, the longer you can shove him and Galen together. I'm leaning more towards a "The Worst Summer Teenage Romance Ever (During Sith Apprentice Boot Camp)" setup, even if it means bending the ages around a little, but I think that a "Childhood Friendship Forged Through Trauma And Desperation For Affection While Being Raised By A Sith Lord Who Is Playing Favorites" setup has great potential as well.

I like the potential humor of Luke initially being utterly unfamiliar with the Force and being unable to do anything with it, he doesn't even know how to lift a rock, while Video Game Protagonist Galen is like, "Okay, this soothes some of my terror about being replaced, but seriously, how are you this helpless??? You are like a Tooka kitten to me, what the hell is this???"

I also like the potential angst of Luke and Galen being forcibly separated somehow, so that Luke can escape and meet up with the likes of Han Solo and Princess Leia somehow, and he's all sad because the guy he liked is probably dead or else hates him. And then I like the potential humor of Galen showing up again as a real freak of nature, a human hurricane, just throwing everything around with the Force, waving a red lightsaber around. Luke has hearts in his eyes, while Han is like, "So, uh, this is the dead boyfriend, huh? Yikes."

[yanfeisty]

— Voicelines about Creator!Reader (Inazuma) ♡ ！

⊹ [ characters ] — Ayaka, Ayato, Ei, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kazuha, Kokomi, Sara, Sayu, Shinobu, Thoma, Yae Miko & Yoimiya. ◞

⊹ [ synopsis ] — let's see what they think about you. ◞

⊹ [ cw ] — religious themes. ◞

⠀‣ Ayaka

About The Creator: Divine Presence

"It's always a pleasure to have Our God blessing the festivities we prepared with their presence, the sun and moon appear to shine brighter when they're here, and the people happier. It surely makes me happy to see them enjoying the festival..."

About The Creator: Consort

"As an Acolyte and a member of the Kamisato clan, it is a great honor to be Their Grace's consort... But if I may tell my more personal feelings, I feel at ease with Y/n, like I can be myself, I don't feel like people want to know more about us beyond our positions, but when we're together we don't have any titles separating us. Have you seen the beautiful scenery of the sun at dawn dazzling on Inazuma? Their smile are alike."

⠀

⠀‣ Ayato

About The Creator: Divine Ceremonies

"It is the duty of the Yashiro Commission to held festivities in Their Grace's name, such as welcoming parties, the day of their descent, and birthday of course, while trying to fit their taste. With all due respect, I have to say their opinions are quite interesting... You see, playing tcg wouldn't be the first idea I'd have for an official ceremony."

About The Creator: Consort

"Hm... So you wish to know more about our union? I suppose I can share with you a few things. We sadly don't have much time for each other as we're quite busy with our own matters, therefore I try to express my feelings in letters and presents. They did tell me it was useless to spoil them with such 'overexpensive' gifts, but... the sight of their lovely face trying to suppress a smile won't ever stop to amuse me... Besides, no price comes close to my love for Y/n."

⠀

⠀‣ Raiden Shogun

About The Creator: Remaining Soul

"Their body may have perished, but their creations never have once forgot about them. Now, they have been reincarnated into this fragile body, but they are slowly regaining their power as it has remained into the memory of the land. This is eternity at its purest form."

⠀‣ Ei

About The Creator: Consort

"Ah, my exceptional lover. In many ways they have changed my daily routine, I tried things I would never have done before, that I considered futile for my quest of pursuing eternity. But they made me realized even the smallest actions, no matter if they last for long or not, can bring an eternal feeling to one, for exemple the pleasure of eating a dessert is temporary, but the memory of its delicious taste will always be unchanging and bring happiness to the one remembering it. I accepted their proposal as a promise that by my side they shall remain joyful forevermore."

⠀

⠀‣ Gorou

About The Creator: Prayers

"I have heard few of my soldiers praying that none of their comrades or themselves would die before any serious battles or missions, I'm not really a religious person but I can't blame them, if this help them to have courage then why not?"

About The Creator: Consort

"They have brought a lot of help to Watatsumi Island, and that was even before we get together! What I love about them is that they're always so caring with whoever, they're so kind-hearted... They have lots of others qualities too, they're beautiful, funny, cunning, and the list goes on. They also must have some sort of magic in their hands, always finding my best spot to rub... H-hm, that st-stay between us, of cou-rse, I don't want them to tease me about it..."

⠀

⠀‣ Heizou

About The Creator: An interesting Case

"Quite the intriguing person, aren't they? I'm not really into godly affairs but I have to admit that them waking up with not only no memories of their past life but new ones from another world is quite...hm, intriguing."

About The Creator: Consort

"They truly have no shame for playing and stealing the heart of a member of the Tenryou Commission, they used my own tricks to make me fall over heels for them and now I don't think I can recover. Sadly their title make it impossible for me to arrest them and make them face justice, but that doesn't mean I can't teach them a lesson with my own ways..."

⠀

⠀‣ Itto

About The Creator: Ultimate Battle

"I didn't think much of them before they challenged me to a duel of tcg! Of course, I accepted it, I'm not the one to run away from a challenge and people from everywhere knows them, winning against them means that everyone will know the name of Arataki 'The Ultimate TCG Champion' Itto, ha! The one who defeated The Creator with no fear, people would never dare to fight me again, as the simple mention of my name strikes fear into my opponents, hehe... Huh? Did I actually beat them? Well... not yet, but it's only a matter of time before glory fall upon me!"

About The Creator: Consort

"The wha-? Oh yeah, sorry, I'm not used to call them that, I mostly use 'My ultimate bro', 'My one and oni', 'My onikaboo-boo', 'Cutie-sweetie-you-wish-you-had-them-ie-but-you-can't-because-this-lovely-is-the-lover-of-this-oni'. But yeah, they're fantastic, they help me to get out of jail, though sometimes they say I deserve it and leave me there... But besides that, they're an excellent cuddle buddy, always knowing how to brush my hair and horns not too delicately but not too rou-... Hey! What are you laughing at? Oh... So you think that's funny that the fierce leader of the Arataki gang have a cuddle buddy? Pff... I don't care what you think and I'm sure you're just jealous."

⠀

⠀‣ Kazuha

About The Creator: Independence

"Everywhere I go their name is on everyone's lips, I have heard they were kind and thoughtful, but what I recall best is their free spirit and wish to explore all of Teyvat, including the people but the responsibilities they have to shoulder prevent them from realizing their ambitions... Like a bird in a cage."

About The Creator: Consort

"To be truthful with you, I was hesitant of this offer, I love them with all my heart more than anything else, but what does being a consort means? I wanted to continue my life with the loving carefree spirit I fell in love with not The Creator, I was concerned that we would be tied by others' expectations and wouldn't be able to live our life freely. But... they know me best and reassured me that none of this would happen. I'll be forever grateful that our paths met, they know how to comfort me."

⠀

⠀‣ Kokomi

About The Creator

"It is difficult to know whom can you put your trust in, and if so how much amount. The Creator have proven we can trust them to help Watatsumi Island, and as its Divine Priestess I'm deeply thankful to what they have done for us. But I started to fully trust them when I discussed with them, their help didn't have any other intention than just being an act of kindness... I'm slightly concerned that others will abuse of their sympathy, but I'll be there in case that happens."

⠀

⠀‣ Sara

About The Creator

"The Raiden Shogun and myself are both Acolytes of The Creator, and since The Shogun worships them I shall give them my undying loyalty and forever assist them. Even if... their casual personality and peculiar behavior during official ceremonies is quite questionable for a God..."

⠀

⠀‣ Sayu

About The Creator

"I heard about them but only saw them once, I saw their hand going towards my head so I quickly avoided it, turned out they wanted to ruffle my hair, unlike head pats I don't think it will stop me from growing so I let them, but that made me feel even more sleepy."

⠀

⠀‣ Shinobu

About The Creator

"I have to thank them for saving us from difficult situations which even I couldn't do anything. The gang really love them especially the Boss, they're easy going and it's easy to forget they're the most superior being in all of Teyvat, they could have been one of us but of course their position doesn't allow them, but like the Boss said they're an official-but-not-really-member-of-The-Arataki-gang."

⠀

⠀‣ Thoma

About The Creator: Fun Activities

"They're very different from The Shogun, they don't really seek for an ideal like the Archons, they just simply want to enjoy life in Teyvat, haha... They've surprised me with asking if they could play the hotpot game, and I can tell you it was very fun, though I really need to pay attention to what ingredients I put... The others would probably kill me if Y/n even just has a small brain freeze, hehe..."

About The Creator: Consort

"Yes, I've heard people saying 'how can they marry a simple housekeeper?' and I have to say I wonder the same, ahaha... They're so lovely and a kind-hearted soul, I still can't believe they proposed to me, it feels like a dream when I'm with them. And we're partners in crimes when it comes to feeding and petting every stray animals in Inazuma, if you saw how easily they attract animals, it took me days to explain to every pet owners why did their pet suddenly disappeared..."

⠀

⠀‣ Yae Miko

About The Creator: Divine inspiration

"Ah yes, they're a great inspiration and pretty much all of our books related to them sell like hotcakes, we're currently on the 3rd volume of 'Divine Expressions for Dummies', we also do novels that are loosely based on them, 'Next thing I knew... I was a Deity', 'Me and My 100 Spouses' and one of my favorites is 'The Fake God' it is quite the tragedy and not the happiest book, but the end where the main character has their revenge is... satisfying."

About The Creator: Consort

"My, my, curious, aren't you? I can't really blame you, an individual like Y/n is quite the partner, a boring moment doesn't last long with them, they're just so fun to tease and their hands are very soft a perfect recommendation for everyone with fur. Hm? Everyone keeps telling you about how good they pet them? Oh well, I guess I can't blame those people, but I'll have to discuss this with Y/n when I see them..."

⠀

⠀‣ Yoimiya

About The Creator: A Shared Enthusiasm

"Y/n! Have you seen them? They're always so busy... Sometimes they come to buy me fireworks whenever if they want to keep it as a souvenir of Inazuma or asking me if we can use them together. Fireworks don't need to wait for festivals to be used, and what is cool is that with Y/n no one dares to contradict them and tell us when and where we can't do fireworks, ahh... I hope I'll see them again soon."

About The Creator: Consort

"Unbelievable, right? If we have told me I would marry a God one day I would've laugh at them. When I met Y/n I didn't even know about their true identity, but lemme tell you, them creating Teyvat and all is the least interesting part about them, they're sweet and fun, they always tell stories about their other world and the kids and I love them so much. And they share my passion for fireworks! We're planning to do the biggest fireworks show that can be seen in all of Teyvat at the same time, even if they're lots of things we didn't consider but the thought is beautiful, isn't it? Aha... Also when I told pops about me and Y/n he couldn't stop smiling for the whole week! Though, I'm not sure if he understood the part that I told it was 'The Creator'."

© ་ ׅ : pls don't translate or copy this | don't reblog with yand3r3/cult tags or if you’re a yand3r3 blog/reblog account.

@ ་ ׅ : @haileyo0ostuff

[intimidating-fettuccine]

How would Candy , Jason and LJ (separately) react if they did something nice for their SO (Complimenting them or giving them a gift) only to have them start crying before they explain to the creeps that it's the nicest thing a partner has ever done for them?

Ps. I hope you're having a good day and taking care of yourself!!!

I love that you picked the three biggest gift givers for this one. I'm taking good care of myself, and I hope you are too! Enjoy :)

Candy:

Candy is a man of many gifts and surprises, as his favorite thing to do in his incredibly long life is surprise people. Candy took his time, however, waiting to fully get to know you in your relationship with him so he could learn the best ways to surprise you, and today was the day he was finally going to enact his plan. He had prepared a lovely little date for you, a picnic in one of the most beautiful groves in the Underworld, comprised of your favorite food and freshly baked sweet treats. Without telling you where he was taking you, he'd whisked you off, picnic basket and blanket in hand, walking you to the beautiful area at the perfect time of day, with the sun bright in the sky so it could shine through all of the trees, making the area beautifully glow. You were so caught off guard by the picturesque surroundings that you hadn't noticed Candy laying out the blanket and placing your favorite food and all of the little treats he'd made onto the blanket until you accidentally bumped into him.

He simply chuckled at you, helping you sit as he dished out the meal for you, picking out the prettiest of desserts as well, handing them to you eagerly as he explained what they were. Overcome by the sweet gestures he was displaying, you couldn't help but begin to cry, something that immediately halted Candy in his tracks. He immediately asked if you were alright, pulling you into his lap so he could hug you and gently rock you back and forth. When you explained your reasoning for the tears, Candy could only frown and hold you tighter, eventually releasing you so he could pepper your face in kisses. He was quick to tell you to prepare yourself, because he was a man of many gifts and surprises, and this just means he's gonna have to surprise you twice as often, he said quite proudly as he puffed out his chest, getting a giggle out of you that softened him and had him nuzzling into your neck. Candy would do whatever he could to show you just how much he absolutely adored you, and he'd give you so many gifts and surprises that you'd get sick of them.

LJ:

If there's one thing Jack is the best at, it's either making plushies or making desserts, both of which he likes to spoil you with as the person he loves most. On this particular day, he had been sitting up in his room, crocheting away as he often did, working on a lovely little surprise for you. He'd already started making candy canes for the season, and it inspired him to make two candy cane colored bears, one for you and one for himself, that way the two of you could match. It didn't take long before he was fully satisfied with their plush, cute designs before he was bounding off to wherever you were, presenting them to you with a smile, and offering you your plush, extra stuffed bear, with freshly made candy canes resting on its arms. Jack hadn't noticed your tears yet, too caught up in his explanation of the different flavors of candy canes until you'd let out a loud hic as you tried to catch your breath. Jack's head snapped toward you in shock, his eyes widening as he quickly scooped you up so you were sitting on one of his arms, and he squeezed you to his chest with the other.

Jack, in his confusion, asked if it was a bad gift and if he had upset you, and in response, you quickly shook your head and told him that it was the nicest gift a partner had ever given you. Jack's mouth flew open and he squeezed you tighter, huffing and stating that he'd have to make you even better plushies then, because this wasn't even close to the best of his work, and he'd do his best to keep surprising you, which only brought more tears from your eyes as you clutched onto him. He told himself he'd have to make you more desserts tonight so he could fill you up with them and try and stop your tears, but for now, he'd take you upstairs to cuddle with your newly made plush. He'd hold himself to it, to make you the biggest and cutest plushes physically possible, because that was the bare minimum of what he thought you deserved, and he'd go above and beyond that for you in any way that he could.

Jason:

If Jason wasn't spoiling you, he wasn't living. This man lived and breathed to make you feel like royalty, and nothing in the world would stop him from doing so. One of Jason's favorite ways of doing so was tailoring you new clothes, clothes that always fit you perfectly and bring out the best of your features. Today was one of those days, as Jason was going to be attending another ball here soon, and he wanted to have you accompany him. He'd made the two of you matching outfits, Jason's being red and representing the sun, and yours being blue and representing the moon and the constellations. It was the most beautiful outfit you'd ever worn, and that already had you ready to cry, but Jason's praise had made you even more overwhelmed.

He couldn't stop gushing over how beautiful you looked, citing that you were more gorgeous than all the stars in the solar system, that nothing in the universe could compare to your beauty, and it had pushed you over the edge until you were covering your face as tears flowed out of you. Jason was quick to pull you to a chair, sitting you down and kneeling in front of you. He'd pulled your hands into his own, pressing smooches along your fingers as he asked you what was wrong, and when you explained, he nearly scoffed, saying it was ridiculous that this was the nicest thing ever done for you, that he could do better. He explained to you that in his eyes, you deserved all the riches in the world, that he believed nothing he could give you would ever be good enough to match how truly spectacular you are. He pulled you forward so he could soothe your cries with kisses, mentally planning 1,000 different ways he could give you something far better than this, far more fitting and wonderful for someone as perfect as you. Jason wouldn't stop until he'd given you the best gift physically possible, wholly unaware that in your eyes, he was the best gift you could ever be given, and you'd make sure he'd realize that someday, just as he'd make you realize that you deserved it.

[gffa]

Final verdict on Padawan's Pride? Feel free to spoil as I'm really curious about your thoughts on this!

I braced myself before listening (knowing how much anti jedi stuff bleeds into anything star wars these days...) but I'm about an hour in and surprisingly (tentatively) enjoying it! There have been a few moments that genuinely made me laugh out loud! Like Anakin straight up going "What would *you* know about intimidation?" to poor Obi-Wan sfghdjdkdlkl & Obi-Wan insisting to Yoda that they both deserve to be punished for Anakin sneaking off even after the council basically lets them off the hook and Anakin furiously shaking his head at him to shut!! up!!! & that mini Vader tease when Anakin's getting ready for the race!!

I'm enjoying Obi-Wan's characterization in this a lot so far, and I don't want to punt Anakin off a cliff like I usually do, which is nice.

Obi-Wan still grieving for Qui-Gon and spending his nights staying up to investigate his death got me right in the feels :( Him over thinking every single thing he does with Anakin while Anakin's thinking he's basically emotionless,,, but then when Obi-Wan's trying to awkwardly apologise/connect with him later and being vulnerable, Anakin is completely uncomfortable & internally going OBI-WAN??? HAS?? FEELINGS??? ABORT!! ABORT!!! DO NOT WANT!!!

I can't give a final verdict yet--I got about an hour and a half into it, realized, okay, no, there's just too much I wanted to quote and clip out for liveblogging and Jedi Citations, so I started over and am converting to text as I go, so now I'm back up to about an hour in.

And so far I love this book! Yeah, there's a couple of moments that made me wary, like I didn't know where this was going, but honestly I think the book is doing a really, really good job of presenting the characters as having the space to actually be characters.

What I mean is, for example, Anakin saying that the Jedi Temple is a prison and he hates it--Obi-Wan's response cuts through that, (Oh, well, perhaps we should take a trip to see the younglings with the laser swords, a thing prisons are famous for.) but not at the expense of Anakin's understandable frustration. He's a bored kid who craves excitement and the rush of adventure, which is understandable! It's something he's trying to work on, he's not evil for it, it's totally reasonable and understandable, just as it's totally reasonable and understandable for Obi-Wan to point out the flaw in that statement.

But what really made me love the book is when that comment comes up later and Obi-Wan makes a joke about it, and Anakin grumbles, "I wondered when you were going to throw that in my face." and Obi-Wan smiles and says he did, too. They were bantering about it! They made a joke about it! They found it kinda funny! This is what's delightful about the book, that the feelings they both went through earlier are genuine, but they're not Direly Serious in this moment in time.

They're allowed breathing room to not be mouthpieces for a meta essay, but instead characters in a story going through things.

It's the same for Anakin being all ABORT!! ABORT!!! ABORT!!!! when Obi-Wan is having feelings at him, it's the same when Obi-Wan insists that, no, they should be punished for Anakin's mischief (when the Jedi Council basically said, okay, what we're going to do is send you on a mission, instead of any kind of punishment for either of them), it's the same when Anakin misses his mom and Tatooine.

The moments are allowed genuine emotional weight, I have such affection and heart-wrenching feelings for both Obi-Wan and Anakin here, but it's characters being given space to be characters with their own personal motivations and reasons, to have conflict between them, but both doing their best to reach out to the other, and you can see the foundations being laid for their future incredible friendship.

I'm also utterly delighted by just how many times these two are psychically connected, like they are CONSTANTLY sensing each other--Anakin sensing Obi-Wan scratching at his incoming beard is HILARIOUS, no wonder Anakin hates Obi-Wan's beard, I'd hate it, too, if it was in my mind making me itchy!

But also that they know each other, they don't have to even be looking at each other to feel what the other feels, because that's what a Force bond is--knowing someone so well that they're connected to your soul, even when you're cranky af at them.

I still have three hours of the book left to go but I've enjoyed so much already and I apologize in advance to those who are exhausted by the two hundred screenshots I'm going to be yelling about. :D

[bite-the-bloody-hand]

Setting aside the knee-jerk 'eeeeew you're in love with your cousin' reaction to Daeran's illusion in Areelu's Lab, I need to talk a second about what a profoundly telling character moment that is for both Daeran and Galfrey.

Daeran refers to Galfrey as the 'Queen of his dreams' and mentions it being twisted by demon logic when questioned. It makes sense that demons would immediately latch on to a psychosexual implication, but it's not about having a crush on her.

The desire to have Galfrey 'out of her armor' is the desire to reconnect with the last member of his family.

He mentions when you ask about his Mother that she was a 'real' mother as opposed to a 'Countess' mother, implying that she was less interested in raising him to be a Proper Noble and more interested in just being present as his only parent. This is indicated in the glimpses we see of his younger self at the party, and in his often-stated resentment towards the necessities of 'proper comportment.'

Galfrey also mentions how close she was to Silaena, referring to her as a 'real' family member, the only person she was truly close to. From the way both of them speak about her, Silaena Arendae was a central, stabilizing part of both of their lives. Galfrey also mentions what a sweet boy Daeran was as a small child, implying a much closer relationship than the current mutual polite revulsion. @thedosianexplorer surmised to me that it's likely Galfrey was once a beloved, comforting figure in young Daeran's life, and I agree. How could she be anything else to the son of someone she so loved? And how awful must it have been to both of them to have that taken away?

Losing the rest of their noble family was certainly a blow, but neither of them even mention their names. The moment Silaena died, however, that was when they were both orphaned. What makes it all the more tragic is the grief that could have brought them closer only served to completely sever their familial connection.

Galfrey has no clue about the true reason Daeran clings so desperately to enjoying life; all she knows is that he may have physically survived but the child she loved was very much dead with the rest of them - in its place an irresponsible, flippant, spoiled brat unwilling to fill the space Silaena left behind. Daeran has no way of communicating the truth to Galfrey, and acts resentfully towards who or whatever else she puts her attention towards, while flaunting his lifestyle at every opportunity.

His lifestyle, as such, is an Emperor's Wardrobe of red flags, but it's hard to see those flags through tunnel vision stained with demon blood. Neither of them are allowed to mourn, but at least Daeran can try to be happy. But as for Galfrey, thedosianexplorer put it best in this hypothetical line:

'How dare you let yourself be happy, I haven't let myself be happy since your mother died.'

The tragedy is that Daeran's need for secrecy and Galfrey's state- and self- imposed martyrdom has created an impenetrable armor between them, and I think is at the heart of the loneliness they both feel. The cruelty of that moment, where the dream of connection is twisted into a mean joke, still sits with me.

[wint5r]

Even the Stars Need the Dark

Pairing: Darkprince!Han x Lightprincess!Reader

Genre: Smut? More suggestive than anything, there will be eventual smut in later parts, pwp, angst if you squint

Warnings!: THIS IS A SERIES! Author switches between Han and Jisung throughout, Enemies (one sided) to lovers, Han pining over Y/N, princess being used as a pet name, and slight cursing. (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: In which Prince Han Jisung of Lunaris meets Princess Y/N of Sola, and is determined to change her mind about both his kingdom and himself.

This is Part 2! Part 1 will be listed HERE.

You were sitting on a chair on your bedroom balcony, reading. 'Damn royal duties,' you thought to yourself as you were studying the origins of Latin.

You looked up from your book and over the balcony stone railing. It had a perfect view of the kingdom, everything the sun touched was visible to you.

You basked in the view, letting the sounds of your subjects, the birds, and the crickets fill your senses. It was quite tranquil.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

As soon as you heard the foreign voice you leapt up from your chair and turned to see who was behind you. Lo and behold, there he was. His hair neatly combed while his crown nestled comfortably on top, his usual smirk on his face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You picked up your book and raised it.

"Relax, Your majesty." Han laughed. "Wouldn't want you to go and paper cut me now."

You groaned in frustration. "How'd you even get up here?" You kept the book raised.

"Just some upper body strength." He shrugged it off nonchalantly

'Did he really just climb up the side of the castle while I wasn't aware?' You wondered, glaring daggers at him. Though you definitely wouldn't be surprised.

Even through his attire you could see how well defined his arms were, and if you stared just a bit harder his peck muscles would be available for your eyes too.

Han took a couple steps towards you, grabbing your hand, bringing it to his lips, and gently kissed your knuckles. You felt repulsed, but did not retreat your hand.

"I'm going to ask you one last time. Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you Princess. Is there anything so wrong with that?"

"Everything is wrong with that." You spat back.

"Still the disdain? Still the hatred? You know, you never exactly told me why you hate me so much."

"You wanna know why? Because you're a selfish, spoiled, ridiculously unaware boy who does everything for himself and nothing for his kingdom."

You pushed past him and into your bed room.

"What a sharp tongue you have, your majesty. I wonder how it would feel for that same tongue to be roaming around my body as you scream my name." He followed you in, and stood right in front of you.

"You're so crude." You hissed at him, ears going red. "And you wonder why I can't stand you"

"If that's true than why haven't you called for your guards? I know there are two outside your door this very moment. You could kick and scream and yell, and yet you stay here listen to me speak. If you can't stand me so much, then why does that point stand?" For once, he didn't have a grin or a smirk on his face, no amused or cocky expression was present.

You collected yourself before answering, knowing he had a point. "Because unlike you, I think about others besides myself-"

"Is this your way of saying you think about me?" And there it was, Jisung's original personality was back.

"Don't you dare put words in my mouth."

"All I can do is assume Princess," he reached his hand out to your cheek, lightly caressing it. The way he said *Princess* was different this time. As if it weren't just a title.

You huffed, yet tried your best to pull yourself away from his touch, no matter how...nice? It felt.

"Listen," you looked down then back up. "I can sneak you out, that way your kingdom doesn't go ape shit and mine doesn't behead me. I mean worst case scenario, you go out the way you came."

Upon hearing this, Jisung smiled. A kind, soft, genuine smile. "a and you say you despise me."

" I'm getting you out my room, aren't I?" You crossed your arms. And without another argument, Jisung went towards the balcony and swung one leg over the other. He turned to look back at you.

"Don't I get a goodbye kiss?" He smirked, sticking his cheek out towards you.

"Not in your wildest dreams." You replied, and with that Jisung began to climb down the many stones that led up to your room, a quiet yet still audible "you're no fun" was heard before he disappeared entirely from view.

You shut the balcony doors and replayed over the events that had just happened. All the while, his scent filled your room. To any other person walking in it wouldn't have stood out to them. But to you? It was a pungent scent of brandy and Lunaris Roses, a smell that filled your nose and would continue to do so; no matter how many times you'd open a window or light a candle.

Damn Han.

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

A/N:

This was so fun and exhausting to do! Sorry it's a bit short, but I wanted to get this out before I forgot, Plua its 4:39 a.m.! Love y'all!

-Wynter

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