#do you know how many times i googled that word to make sure i had the right one?

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! I wanted to make a character who wears an eyepatch, but I don't know how to make it, exactly? And I thought you may know

I've read that the most common reasons to wear eyepatches are generally temporary, wich it's not what I wanted. I thought maybe he was really sensitive to light in one eye and chose to wear an eyepatch rather than sunglasses, but I've also read that may deteriorate the vision in that eye? (Maybe he's blind in that eye too and he's not worried about it?)

If not that I've read that they are used to hide a missing eye, a lazy eye or something else, but that it was more used in the past bc medicine wasn't as good, and nowadays most of that can be changed with surgery or a prosthetic eye, wich... I don't know why he wouldn't have?

Also, all of this was found via google, and I couldn't find any first-person experience (?) Like - I've found a lot of youtube videos, reddit forums and tumblr users from blind people to ask and learn about my other blind characters, but I couldn't for this? Maybe they're not really used anymore??

I'm not sure if you know but I had to ask - Maybe you know of somewhere I could read more about it?

(Also sorry fot any mistakes or confusing wording, english isn't my first language)

Hi! Your ask is very clear, don't worry :-)

Eyepatches can be used long-term to treat amblyopia, help someone who has unilateral photophobia, or be used by those who have double vision to help with visual tasks (I do that with my "DIY eyepatch", aka closing the one eye I have actual eyelid control over). Photophobia could be a result of a bunch of things, my bilateral one happened as a side effect of nerve surgery. There's too many ocular conditions to list, probably. Permanent double vision is usually caused by brain or nerve damage, like in my case, or an autoimmune condition like myasthenia gravis. With that said, eyepatches among all of the above are still a rarity. For all the time I spent in eye clinics since I was a baby, I have never personally met anyone who would wear one permanently into adulthood - many wore it only as children, or only around the time of surgery (like I also did), etc. Modern medicine simply has better options.

They are rarely used for missing eyes as well, other solutions (prosthetic eyes, conformers) are more common. An empty eye socket isn't ideal a lot of the time.

It's rather hard to find first-person resources for eyepatch usage because it's simply rare. I looked through some of our resources and while we had multiple for prosthetic eyes or similar, nothing for eyepatches, so I can't help with that, unfortunately.

Important thing about eyepatches is that they're not used 24/7! People take them off sometimes. Depending on why he uses it, you might be interested in this (if he's blind) or this (if he has a facial difference) post. Also think of the reason he wears it outside of just the eyepatch; does he need medication, eye drops, does he get headaches, etc.? Remember that it shouldn't just be an aesthetic and it should cause other symptoms too.

I hope this helps!

mod Sasza

#mod sasza #creativeghost #disabled character ideas

[simplepotatofarmer]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Dream & Technoblade - Desert

mirage

The map was useless; never ending brown stretching out to the edges of the cream paper it was printed on. Dream would have thrown it away but there was some comfort in looking at it, trying to piece together the location he was currently and where he was supposed to be going. A security blanket that probably would've been more helpful if it had been an actual blanket.

He wiped his hand across his brow, careful not to get sweat or the tiny grains of sand that clung to him in his eyes.

"This is so stupid," he said and the desert swallowed his words in silence. For a brief moment, Dream shivered, cold.

Hours ago, he had removed his armor. It was heavy and dark and trapped heat and he would have more of a chance against an opponent without armor than he would against the beating sun. He trudged on.

And he trudged on, only stopping when the sun was high in the sky and there was a small mound of sandstone to press his back against. There was terracotta mixed in and Dream checked the map once more, looking for any landmark that could match up to whatever this had once been. Nothing. He should head back, he knew that, but somewhere out in this desert was an old village and in it was a library and, possibly, a book.

If it's still there, thought Dream, not wanting to speak out loud again.

Using his overshirt as paltry shade, Dream closed his eyes, the cold bones of the sandstone lulling him to sleep.

He woke when a shadow fell over him.

He stared up, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, wondering sluggishly if he had died or gone crazy from the heat. Either was possible and more plausible.

"You alive there, man?" asked Techno.

Blinking, Dream pushed himself upright, hands slipping on the sand covered stone. The tiny granules digging into his palms felt real. He pulled his shirt down and wiped his face with the hem.

"What the fuck?"

Techno crouched down, the brim of his wide, floppy hat almost hitting Dream. He wore no armor, no bright red cloak like usual, but a loose white shirt and baggy tan pants.

"Hullo to you, too, Dream."

"What-- What are you doing here?" His brain felt like it was slowly beginning to move but in the wrong direction, the question not the one he really wanted an answer to.

"I can't make sure a friend doesn't die of heatstroke?"

Techno shifted where he was crouching, hooves leaving marks in the sand. He glanced out across the desert, away from the rocky mound. Dream frowned. Confusion and relief and a little bit of fear all swirled around in his chest.

"What- Wait. How did-- How did you find me?" he asked, closer to the question he really wanted to ask but not quite. Maybe he was afraid of that question and the answer.

"Ah." Techno sat next to Dream, his back also against the sandstone. "I have my ways, I have my ways... Also it wasn't that hard when Tommy wouldn't shut up about seeing you head out this way."

"Heh."

It made sense. It was even funny and Dream grinned. Next to him, Techno was watching him with concern but chuckled when Dream let out his quiet huff of laughter.

"Yeah, he thinks you're up to something but apparently the only thing you're up to is gettin' lost and dyin' of dehydration," Techno said.

"I'm not dying," said Dream and rolled his eyes, ignoring how dry they felt.

"Oh, sure, sure. You just normally look like a corpse."

Dream tilted his head.

"Well, to be fair, after the prison..."

The laugh Techno gave was choking, surprised, and he shook his head. Strands of pink hair stuck out from his braid and he flicked one of his ears.

"Alright, you got me there, man."

"Yeah."

Dream leaned his head against the rock. The sun was lower in the sky now, waves of heat visible off the sand. There was silence but it didn't feel as ominous now.

"D'you find what you were lookin' for?"

With a sigh, Dream brushed some sand off his pants.

"No. You- You could help me."

"I dunno." Techno frowned, looking over at Dream. "I only brought enough water to get across this stretch of desert then back. Speakin' of, you look like you could use a drink."

"Right," said Dream, as he pulled out his canteen and took a sip, the first one he had had in hours. It made sense; from Techno's perspective this was a rescue mission and nothing more. Or it was Dream's subconscious telling him what he already knew. Both scenarios led to the same conclusion. He took a deep breath. "Are... Are you real?"

"Heh? I'm real." Techno held out his arm in front of Dream. "You wanna pinch me and make sure?"

"No." Once more there were two answers that led to the same outcome and either Dream could make the trek back alone or with company, real or imagined. "Alright. Let's go."

@sixteenth-day-event

#technoblade #dreamwastaken #dream smp #dsmp fanfic #sixteenthdayevent #rivals duo #rivalsblr #dreblr #do you know how many times i googled that word to make sure i had the right one? #absolutely terrified of my dyslexic ass mixing up desert and dessert

[cookinguptales]

You know... I had an experience about two months ago that I didn't talk about publicly, but I've been turning it over and over in my mind lately and I guess I'm finally able to put my unease into words.

So there's a podcast I'd been enjoying and right after I got caught up, they announced that they were planning on doing a live show. It's gonna be near me and on the day before my birthday and I thought -- hey, it's fate.

But... as many of you know, I'm disabled. For me, getting to a show like that has a lot of steps. One of those steps involved emailing the podcasters to ask about accessibility for the venue.

The response I got back was very quick and very brief. Essentially, it told me to contact the venue because they had no idea if it was accessible or not.

It was a bucket of cold water, and I had a hard time articulating at the time quite why it was so disheartening, but... I think I get it a little more now.

This is a podcast that has loudly spoken about inclusivity and diversity and all that jazz, but... I mean, it's easy to say that, isn't it? But just talking the talk without walking the walk isn't enough. That's like saying "sure, we will happily welcome you in our house -- if you can figure out how to unlock the door."

And friends, my lock-picking set is pretty good by this point. I've been scouting out locations for decades. I've had to research every goddamn classroom, field trip, and assigned bookstore that I've ever had in an academic setting. I've had to research every movie theater, theme park, and menu for every outing with friends or dates. I spend a long time painstakingly charting out accessible public transportation and potential places to sit down every time I leave the house.

Because when I was in college, my professors never made sure their lesson plans were accessible. (And I often had to argue with them to get the subpar accommodations I got.) Because my friends don't always know to get movie tickets for the accessible rows. Because my dates sometimes leave me on fucking read when I ask if we can go to a restaurant that doesn't keep its restrooms down a flight of stairs.

I had one professor who ever did research to see if I could do all the coursework she had planned, and who came up with alternate plans when she realized that I could not. Only one. It was a medical history and ethics class, and my professor sounded bewildered as she realized how difficult it is to plan your life when you're disabled.

This woman was straight-up one of the most thoughtful, philosophical, and ethical professors I've ever had, one who was incredibly devoted to diversity and inclusion -- and she'd never thought about it before, that the hospital archives she wanted us to visit were up a flight of stairs. That the medical museum full of disabled bodies she wanted us to visit only had a code-locked back entrance and an old freight elevator for their disabled guests who were still breathing.

And that's the crux of it, isn't it? It's easy to theoretically accept the existence of people who aren't like you. It's a lot harder to actively create a space in which they can exist by your side.

Because here's what I did before I contacted the podcasters. I googled the venue. I researched the neighborhood and contacted a friend who lives in the area to help me figure out if there were any accessible public transportation routes near there. (There aren't.) I planned for over an hour to figure out how close I could get before I had to shell out for an uber for the last leg of the trip.

Then I read through the venue's website. I looked through their main pages, through their FAQs to see if there was any mention of accessibility. No dice. I download their packet for clients and find out that, while the base building is accessible, the way that chairs/tables are set up for individual functions can make it inaccessible. So it's really up to who's hosting the show there.

So then and only then I contacted the podcasters. I asked if the floor plan was accessible. I asked if all the seats were accessible, or only some, and whether it was open seating or not. Would I need to show up early to get an accessible seat, or maybe make a reservation?

And... well, I got the one-sentence reply back that I described above. And that... god, it was really disheartening. I realized that they never even asked if their venues were accessible when they were booking the shows. I realized that they were unwilling to put in the work to learn the answers to questions that disabled attendees might have. I realized that they didn't care to find out if the building was accessible.

They didn't know and they didn't care. That, I think, is what took the wind out of my sails when they emailed me back. It's what made me decide that... yeah, I didn't really want to go through the trouble of finding an accessible route to the venue. I didn't want to have to pay an arm and a leg to hire a car to take me the last part of the journey. I didn't want to make myself frantic trying to figure out if I could do all that and still make the last train home.

If they didn't care, I guess I didn't either.

If they'd apologized and said that the only venue they could get was inaccessible, I actually would have understood. I know that small shows don't always get their pick of venues. I get it. I even would have understood if they'd been like "oh dang, I actually don't know -- but I'll find out."

But to be told that they didn't know and didn't intend to find out... oof. That one stung.

Because.... this is the thing. This is the thing. I may be good at it by now, but I'm so tired of picking locks. I'm tired of doing all the legwork because no one ever thinks to help me. I'm tired of feeling like an afterthought at best, or at worst utterly unwelcome.

If you truly want to be inclusive, you need to stop telling people that you're happy to have them -- if they can manage to unlock the door. You need to fucking open it yourself and welcome them in.

What brought all this back to me now, you may be asking? Well... I guess it's just what I was thinking to myself as I was tidying up my phone.

Today I'm deleting podcasts.

#I guess it did save me a lot of money #I'll still probably go up to nyc to visit with friends for my bday but I won't go all the way out to brooklyn for the show #and I probably won't need to get the hotel room #and I DEFINITELY won't be supporting their patreon like I was planning lmao #I'll buy myself a new tarot deck for my birthday instead #cw: #disability #ableism

[mydemimonde]

'Cherry Bomb' | Michael Gavey x Reader (Part 1)

a/n: this will have two parts, most likely! english is not my first language and i have no idea how oxford university works lol i just googled some things, also i suck at maths so any explanation here is just me googling shit. no beta reader. hope you enjoy!

Summary: You wake up with a pounding headache, the worst hangover you ever had. You don't even remember how you managed to get to your dorm, until you see a small note on your bedside table, signed by... Michael Gavey.

Words: 4490

Warnings: +18 (minors do not interact!), female reader, no use of y/n, not specific physical description, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, fingering, loss of virginity, masturbation (and more to come in the second part)

You wake up on a Saturday morning with a pounding headache, your mascara all smudged under your eyes. The sunlight coming from the blinds makes you squint your eyes. You bring a hand to your forehead, sighing. This was the worst hangover you had in a while.

The sound of the door opening and a sudden gasp make you groan and close your eyes shut.

“Oh, here you are!” a particularly high-pitched voice says, making your headache even worse.

“Fuck, Leigh” your voice comes out as croaky and hoarse. “Lower your voice” you ask as she mutters a ‘sorry’ and closes the door carefully. You manage to sit, your back resting against the headboard as Leigh approaches you.

“Next time, be sure to drink water as well. Too many tequilas and shots do this to you” it’s like she’s scolding you, which is fair because she’s two years older than you, she’s like your sister sometimes.

You rub your eyes, smearing more mascara and making you look like a raccoon. On the corner of your eye you notice a glass full of water and some aspirins. You frown.

“How did you get that so fast?” It’s Leigh’s turn to look at you completely puzzled. You point to the glass next to you.

“Uhm, it wasn’t me” she chuckles as you take some aspirins in your hand and drown them with water. Your brows lift in surprise and confusion, your eyes glancing towards a small note next to your lamp. You grab it and read the message in a rushed handwriting.

“What the fuck was Michael Gavey doing in my dorm?” you nearly scream with wide eyes as Leigh takes the note from your hands to read it. She throws her head back and cackles.

“Michael Gavey brought you here last night. You don’t remember?” she looks at your dumbfounded expression trying not to laugh again. “Jeez, you were so drunk you don’t even remember what happened…” she mutters and sits cross-legged in front of you. “Last night at the pub, we were chatting with Felix and his group and you wanted to go to the loo, so you left but on your way you bumped into Bradley and Sam” she wiggles her brows and you scoff.

You dated Bradley during half the second term, then you dated his friend Sam for a brief period of two weeks. You found them too boring, so you rejected any other advance on their part ever since.

“Anyways, I couldn’t see much but I think something nasty happened, because on the other side of the pub was Michael fucking Gavey looking at you. Babe, he was fuming” her lips curve into a devilish smile. “He strode towards you and grabbed your arm, telling them to fuck off. Which they surprisingly did, which is odd because, well… you know… he’s a scrawny awkward nerd and Bradley and Sam are pretty much tall like beasts” she shakes her head while you’re still confused, trying so hard to remember what happened. 

“Why the hell would he even approach me? He hates me” your brows lift and she places a manicured hand on your knee.

“Hmm, maybe they were annoying you. It seems Michael’s your knight in shining armour. I think it was hot, wet my panties a little bit not gonna lie” she sighs and fans her face with her hand, pretending to melt.

Now it is your turn to cackle. “You’ve always said you pictured him like one of those guys who compulsively jerks off to hentai every night in the dark of his room.” You look at her with a knowing look, pouting your lips.

Leigh shrugs. “Maybe I changed my mind. Maybe I like nerds like Michael Gavey now. He looked really good with that shirt” she narrows her eyes and twirls her hair, making you laugh again. She grins and looks at you. “You should talk to him. Ask him what happened, and then you might want to thank him…” she wiggles her eyebrows and you roll your eyes, she slaps your shoulder in response. “You know you want to! I mean, I’ve seen the way you look at him sometimes, and a guy like him will never resist a bomb like you. Who knows, maybe he’s jerking off to the thought of you…”

“Leigh!” you slap her leg and she jumps. You shake your head. “Babe, she hates me. I know it. I’m pretty sure he’s part of that group of guys that slut-shames me in the hallways” Leigh presses her lips, knowing you might be right. Might.

Still, you want to know what really happened last night, so you sigh and get out of bed, Leigh following your movements in the dimly lit dorm. “I’ll take a shower and think about how to talk to him, ask him what happened” your friend gets on her stomach on your bed, her feet up and her chin resting on her palm as you grab your towel, feeling the headache go away, but your empty stomach grumbled.

“Mind if I take a nap here? Kev fucked my brains out last night and I don’t feel like going to my dorm” she sounded quite tired, and you hum in response. She groans as she gets into the covers and you enter the small bathroom, closing the door slowly and undressing to get into the warm shower, letting the water fall all over your body. You close your eyes enjoying the feeling, and you start wondering how to talk to Michael.

You never saw him anywhere else rather than in the great hall of college, as he spent most of the time in the library. Besides, you know deep in your gut he hates you. Every time you walk into the library, he leaves, avoiding looking at you.

One time, you tried to talk to him. It was the beginning of the academic year, you were dating a history student named David, and you saw Michael all alone during lunch, too focused on his books and his crunchies. Feeling bad for him, you grabbed your purse and walked towards him, a smile across your face.

“Hi there” you introduce yourself, extending your hand. He looks up from his book, looking at you with a frown, sneering. He looks at your hand and then back at you. Awkwardly, you move that hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, pressing your lips. “What’s your name?”

“Michael Gavey” he says sharply, clearly annoyed. You stand there, feeling heat creeping on your cheeks as he turns his attention to his book. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out so you leave, returning to your friends.

That was the first and last time you tried to talk to him, but he refused. You didn’t know why, but you assumed it was because of your reputation there. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying your sexuality, and it’s definitely not your fault that most of the guys are horny douchebags who aren’t capable of being in a serious relationship. Plus, they’re too shallow for you, and you get bored easily. You don’t want them to get too attached.

But Michael’s different. He avoids interacting with people when he can, he doesn’t do parties -maybe you saw him once or twice at Felix’s-, he’s very vocal about what he thinks about popular people: he hates them. Vapid cunts, you heard him mutter once. And that’s why you feel attracted to him.

He’s nothing like Bradley, Sam or David. Or Luke. Or Peter. Or even Felix.

You finish showering and drying off your hair, Leigh sleeping soundly on your bed. You are careful not to make any loud noise as you try to dress. You put on a lace tank top and a pair of jeans, your favourite flats and the note he left on your bedside table and head out to the library, hoping to find him.

Bingo. You see Michael sitting on the other side of the library, fully immersed in his studies. Your flats make the slightest of noises against the floor, you feel your heartbeat get faster as you approach him. You pull the chair in front of him and take a seat, leaning over as you smile and say hi. Michael looks up and nearly chokes at the sight of your tits nearly spilling from your top.

“H-hi” he simply responds in a low voice. He clears his throat and frowns. “Why are you here?”

Ouch. Rude. “I was looking for you.”

“You were?” Silly old me?

“Yes, dummy. I woke up with the worst hangover of my life, and I found this on my bedside table.” You hand him the small note he left. Drink these with water. Hope you feel better. Michael Gavey. He presses his lips and nods, acknowledging the note he wrote.

“You were pretty hammered” he chuckles and you smile, showing your perfect teeth.

“I was. I can’t remember a thing, Michael. Would you help me to fill in the blanks?” you ask sweetly and bat your lashes at him, making him squirm. Michael Gavey squirms.

“Sure, uhm…” he puts the book aside, scratches the back of his neck and clears his throat once again. “You were heading towards the toilet at the pub and I heard you laugh when you bumped into those assholes” he sneers, remembering the events from last night. “The blonde one landed a hand on your ass and you tried to pull him away. You were clearly uncomfortable so just told them to fuck off” he shrugs.

Your heart flutters, he sounds so honest and worried about you. You extend your hand to place it on top of his, and he meets your eyes. “Thank you.”

He nods, looking at your hands. He slithers them away, making you frown. “No worries. Next time though, try not to throw up on my sneakers” your eyes widen in surprise and embarrassment.

“Oh fuck, did I do that?” He nods trying to hide a smirk. You cover your face with your hands, mortified. “Shit, I’m so sorry!” You move your hands away from your flushed face when you hear him chuckle.

“You had too many drinks, you could barely stand on your feet” he reassures you, his sudden kindness taking you by surprise. “I left you in your dorm and just when I was about to leave, you said you felt like throwing up, but you didn’t make it to the toilet and threw up on my sneakers. I washed the stain off the floor and helped you get off your shoes to lie down. I see you took the aspirins I left there.”

“I did, thank you again.” You don’t know how to thank him properly, so you start thinking. You take a moment to study his features. The glasses he wears frame his face and hide his blue eyes. His aquiline nose —oh God, his aquiline nose—, the pronounced cupid bow of his lips, his sharp jaw. You feel the need to run your fingers through his tousled blonde hair. You press your legs together. “How can I thank you?”

“No, it’s ok. No worries” he makes a gesture with his hands and sighs. “Uhm, I really need to study, so…” he trails off, subtly telling you to leave. You blink and nod, standing up.

“Sure, ok, I’ll leave you to it…” you accommodate the chair back and wave at him. “See you around?” He just nods and opens his book again. As you leave, a great idea crosses your mind, but before you open your mouth a pack of students enter the library. You curse internally and leave.

9:15 AM.

You fix your hair in the mirror, brushing it before going to the calculus lecture. You’re not studying anything related to maths actually, you’re a psychology student and according to the university program you can take a course to complement your studies, so you chose that one.

As you walk down the corridors, you see Michael carrying his notebook and entering the classroom. Your lips curve into a smile and speed up the pace to catch up.

“Michael!” You call him as you finally reach him. You swear you hear him mutter something under his breath, and you follow him as more students fill the room. He smiles at you with pressed lips, greeting you back.

“I didn’t know you were taking calculus” he sounds genuinely surprised. You decide to take a seat next to him, placing your bag on the floor as he opens his notebook and clicks his pen, everything ready to take notes.

“Yeah, I have to take an optional course to complement my studies” you lean down, giving him a clear view of your cleavage as you reach for your notebook and pencil case. You hear him gulp.

“How… dedicated” he replies, to which you smile, taking the end of your pencil in between your teeth.

Michael looks away, his eyes focusing on the board as the professor greets everyone and starts writing.

Half an hour later the lecture comes to an end. You sigh in relief, your brain has melted from all the numbers and formulas the professor explained. Honestly, you paid more attention to Michael’s large hands and long fingers gripping his pen as he took notes, thinking about how they would feel on your body.

You watch as he stands up quickly, nodding at you as a way to say goodbye. “See ya”

“Michael, wait!” You quickly put your notebook into your bag and rush after him. “Shall we study together? We can do the assignment due by next week together” you offer him your signature smile, tilting your head and thinking he wouldn’t say no. Most guys melted when you smiled at them like that.

However, your confidence vanishes when he grimaces and scratches his neck. “Actually, I… I don’t study in groups. Doesn’t work for me”.

Why are you surprised, it is obvious. You always see him alone in the libraries. You curse yourself internally. “Oh, well…”

“I’m sure you will do great though, you seem like a clever girl” the praise coming from his lips make you silently gasp.

“Yeah, you’re right…” Just as he’s about to leave, an idea pops in your head. “Actually, Michael… I’m struggling with this subject.”

Lies. You aren’t a genius like he is, but you can manage. You don’t like maths but you don’t suck at it either, you do good. Enough to pass the subject.

“I was wondering if you could help me” you do your best to sound helpless, knitting your brows and all. “Everyone says you’re a fucking genius, please, Mike?” He swallows hard at the way you practically beg him for help, placing a hand on his elbow.

He doubts only for a few seconds before agreeing. “Ok. I will help you” he yelps as you wrap your arms around him, your tits flash against his chest making him dizzy.

“Oh, thank you Michael!” you pull back, teeth biting down on your lower lip as you smile. “Can we start today? I would tell you to come to my dorm, but my friend Leigh is currently staying there because they found a rat clogging her toilet.” Another big lie.

Michael just nods, he doesn’t really have too many options. “Fine. Uhm, my dorm is on the second floor, 219. I’ll be there at 4pm, bring your notes and a calculator.”

You playfully salute him, like a good soldier. “Yes, Sir” he chuckles softly and shakes his head, turning on his heels to leave.

You can barely contain your joy as you walk towards your dorm, almost singing.

3:40 PM.

You try on different outfits, grunting when you look at yourself in the mirror for the fifth time. You don’t like any fit, and you continue rummaging through the pile of clothes on your bed. You lift your brow as a red fabric catches your attention. It’s the mini skirt Leigh gave you a few weeks ago. You quickly put it on and look at yourself in the mirror once again, happy with the result. Your white baby tee with ‘cherry bomb’ in red letters written on it makes the perfect match.

You grab your notebook and head towards his dorm.

“Coming” you hear Michael’s voice behind the door. He will surely be coming today. He opens the door, breath hitching at the sight of you in that top, your nipples peeking through the fabric. Suddenly he feels his pants are too tight. “Please, come in” he gives you enough space to enter his dorm, which you do. As you walk past him the smell of your perfume fills his nostrils. Fuck.

You smile at him and as he closes the door behind you, you look around the room. It was just what you expected. Everything was perfectly neat, books organised in two bookshelves, more textbooks and notes scattered over the white desk.

“Take a seat over there” he points at the bed, and you gladly do it. “Do you want something to drink? Eat? I have some crunchies.”

“No, thanks, I’m fine.” You flash him a sweet smile as you open your bag, looking for your notes and your pen.

Michael sits next to you, keeping a safe distance of course, but close enough you can hear his hard breathing. “Ok, we can start with the basics, and then I’ll help you with the exercises, sounds good?” When you nod, he continues. “Cool. So, think of limits as a way to understand what happens to a function as it gets closer and closer to a certain point without actually reaching it.”

“That sounds paradoxical” you cut him off, and he suppresses a smile.

“It does seem counterintuitive, but it's about observing the behaviour of a function as it gets infinitely close to a specific value.” He continues explaining, and you pay attention to every word that comes out from those beautiful lips.

Michael’s brows lift in surprise as you finish another task quickly, and he’s even more surprised when he checks it and there are no mistakes. He didn’t find any mistakes in the previous 5 exercises he provided for you either. You just look up at him, waiting for his correction.

He looks back at you. “You did perfectly well. Again.” You squeak and he takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t get it. Most students get the first ten exercises horribly wrong, but you solved all of them perfectly. H-how?”

You lean back on your arms, legs crossed. You tilt your head. “Maybe I’m just a quick study, learning from the best” you start moving your feet up his leg, slowly and carefully. He shakes his head as he puts on his glasses again, sighing.

“No. You’re just wasting my time.”

“What?” It’s actually the truth. You are wasting his time, you weren’t having any issues with the subject, you just wanted an excuse. “Ok, yes, I admit it” you lift your hands in defeat, and he curses.

“Why the fuck would you ask for my help if you don’t need it? Fuck, I have many important things to do and you’re here bothering me, leave please.”

You get on your feet quickly as he’s about to turn the doorknob, and you stop him. “No, Michael, please hear me out.” He glares at you, nostrils flaring as you take his wrist and guide him towards his bed, making him sit on the edge. He looks confused, you sit next to him, your knees touching.

“Look, I just wanted to thank you for what you did the other day. For being my knight in shining armour.” He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off by placing your index finger there. “No, listen. I know it’s not a big deal for you, but it is for me. Michael, I want you.”

Michael’s eyes widen at your confession. “W-what?”

There’s no way you wanted him. You, out of all the people on the campus. Slowly, you lean in, wetting your lips with your tongue to press them against his mouth. You give him a soft peck before truly kissing him, your hands finding their way towards his tense shoulders. He doesn’t respond yet, but when you bite gently on his lower lip he whimpers, he fucking whimpers, and moves his lips against yours, trying to follow your rhythm. Your lips taste like cherries, and he loves it.

Kissing him feels good. You tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss, feeling how he squirmed under your touch and kisses. You wonder how he would react when you have his cock in your mouth.

You slither your tongue inside his mouth, exploring it as he gets more excited, his hands finally touching you, placed on either side of your waist.

You pull back to catch your breath and he chases your lips. You giggle. “Easy there, lover boy. We have plenty of time.”

“Fuck, I- I… I’ve never done this” you frown, and he sighs. “I’ve never kissed anyone. Ever. That felt really good” he chuckles, and you smile.

“You liked it?” He just nods, and you start placing open mouthed kisses across his jaw, down his neck until you reach his ear and whisper. “Wait until I put my mouth on your cock.”

Michael gulps. “W-what?”

“You think I came here just because I wanted to kiss you? No, Michael” his eyes follow your movements, how you rise from his bed to kneel in front of him, hands undoing his jeans, looking for any sign of discomfort. When you find none, you continue, pulling down his jeans and boxers down to his knees, freeing his cock. “I came here because I really, really want this” you purr and lower your gaze to his weeping length, your cunt clenching around nothing already.

Michael’s big. At least, bigger than the ones you had. Curved upward with a protruding vein on the side. You bite your lip as you start stroking him, Michael closes his eyes shut and whimpers. You never heard someone whimper so beautifully. You study every reaction, every microexpression as you continue stroking him at a tantalising pace, as if you are torturing him.

“P-please…” he begs through bated breath, moving his hips as he tries to get some friction, anything.

“You look so beautiful begging, Michael. You’re making me so wet, baby” he cries out your name again, and you smirk. “Michael, open your eyes” you demand, and he does so, breath catching in his throat as he finds you there on your knees, looking at him like you were his predator. It was so fucking sexy.

“I want you to watch as I suck your cock. And you better last more than five minutes. I want you to enjoy it” he nods and swallows hard as you lick your lips before taking him into your mouth.

“Oh fuck” he curses, gripping the sheets beneath him until his knuckles are white. You lick the vein, going from the base upwards, and you hear him sigh. You lick him like you lick a lollipop, and then you take him into your mouth again, hollowing your cheeks as your right hand works its way around the base. He’s so big he doesn’t fit completely into your mouth.

You hum around his cock, your eyes closing as you bob your head up and down his shaft, making Michael squirm. He doesn’t know what to do, he just keeps looking at you, unable to tear his gaze from you.

The soft moans that escape his lips, the way he whimpers your name and bucks his hips ever so slightly, careful not to hurt you but eager to get more are enough to make you wet. Hell, you are sure your panties are soaked by now, leaking through the fabric.

His eyes widen as he catches the movement of your left hand that was on his inner thigh going in between your legs, under the skirt. Were you touching yourself?

You bob your head faster and moan around his cock as you tease your wet folds with your fingers. You push two fingers inside your pussy, the room filling with the most obscene sounds you ever heard.

“Are you… are you touching y-yourself?” asks Michael in a strangled moan, watching you intently. You release his cock from your mouth with a wet pop, your saliva coating it.

“Of course I am, Michael. I’m fucking wet. Here” you take off your fingers from your pussy to grab his hand, and guide it towards your entrance.

Michael almost passes out. You are, in fact, dripping wet on his fingers. You let him touch you for a moment, grinding your hips against his hand, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit so deliciously. “S-shit, Michael” you bite your lip and he grins, happy to earn that reaction from you. You feel him twitch in your hand, the tell tale sign that he was very close to cumming. You remove your hands from your cunt and he frowns.

“Did-did I hurt you?”

“No, baby. But tonight’s about you, ok? I can teach you how to eat my pussy later, yeah? Right now, I want you to cum in my mouth. Whenever you’re ready” you wink at him and he chokes on a sob as you take him into your mouth again, slowly until you feel him in the back of your throat. Some tears well up in your eyes, you moan around his cock and that pushes him.

He bucks his hips and shoots his load deep down your throat, you look at him through your lashes and see how hard he grips the sheets, his chest heaving as he moans your name. He stays still for a while, panting as you swallow his salty cum, wiping the corner of your mouth with your hand.

“Holy fuck” he mutters, still trying to catch his breath. You get on your feet and plant a kiss on his lips, letting him taste himself on your tongue. “Now… shall I… well, uhm” he’s unsure about what to ask.

“Eat my pussy?” you finish for him and he nods eagerly, you giggle. “Another day, baby.”

“But you… you were touching yourself and didn’t get to cum, right? I have to return the favour—”

“No, Michael. Don’t worry” you reassure him with a kind smile, stroking his cheek. You lean in to kiss him again, and then, you whisper in his ear: “I’ll just finger myself until I cum in my bedroom to the thought of you.”

You smirk as he looks at you with his jaw dropped. You blow him a kiss, open the door and leave.

let me know what you think! and if you'd like to be tagged as well 🫶🏻

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x you #michael gavey fic #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn #saltburn movie #ewanverse #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell smut #ewan mitchell fic #mydemimondewrites

[pennymart]

ovipositor neuvi and his pretty lil gf *dreamy sigh*

CW: afab! Reader, female genitalia, pregnancy/impregnating (I think that’s I what I can tag) ovipositor/oviposition, breeding, egg transfer? 😭 use of eggs? Idk the word for sex Infront of a mirror is

I don’t actually know how it works and Google did not help me so yippie

Straight to the point

Sweet, gentle, and emotional husband Neuvillete who just wants a family with poor you, who unfortunately isn’t all to familiar with how dragons work.

In his defense he did try and explain to you that it’s not gonna be the Normal way that humans create a baby. I mean.. sure, you two connect at the end but it’s just… different…

Sweet dragon Neuvillete who made sure to prep you and get you as stretched and comfortable before he got to work. Eating you out and going for several rounds in different positions. So he’s sure you at least some what ready, well, the bigger the dragon the bigger the stretch, at least he thinks.

“Just try and relax, it’ll hurt but I’m sure you can take it,” he muttered as he nuzzled into your neck. Your legs spread wide, both his and your body facing the mirror, one of his pretty cocks buried deep in your pussy, a faint glow pulsed at the veins. He was ready, he just needed to make sure you were before he started. He takes his hands under your legs to create a wider opening as he trusted a few extra times, a few moans leaving your dry throat.

“Just go slow…” your voice trembled, eyes now focused on his cock in the mirror, While he can’t exactly slow the process, he can keep it from overwhelming you, so he nods, one of his hands going to hold yours as support. It took a mere second before a large swell at his base was visible that went upwards and pressing at your entrance, you took a shaky breath watching carefully as it squeezed its way into your opening. “Oh god—“ you shuddered, smaller hand squeezing his larger one, “You’ll feel a stretch,” he said in a comforting way, his other hand that had been holding your leg wide, now moving to play with your clit to relax you into the stretch.

The swell slowly slipped in, moving through your walls and into its place. One egg in, now how many left? Neuvillete’s hand held you head as he kissed at your forehead and hair to comfort you and silently praise you for taking the first egg so well. Unfortunately, to make this process much easier, he’s gonna need to get deeper, as gently as he could he positioned you in a full nelson, body on full display in-front of the mirror, allowing himself to fit deeper into your stretched pussy. Tip smushing against your open cervix (???). The second swell at his base now pushing through, easily passing through his cock and smoothly into your opening, as did the third, forth, and fifth.

Five full eggs that left a bump on your tummy, Neuvillete lowered your legs and rubbed at your hips with his thumbs, soothing the spots that will grow sore within a few hours. “You did so well my love, wonderfully done..” he kissed at your sweaty and flushed face, calming down your racing heart and achy body.

To be parents soon, but what a process… on the bright side, you know what to expect if he ever gets baby fever, good thing he’s not sure what that is.

This is probably so ooc, I haven’t played genshin for a few days and forgot how my baby girl acts ☹️

Once again I’m not great at writing and my research in this ovipositor stuff was not successful. Pls don’t judge me idk what I am doing

#genshin x reader #pennymart🍁🐋 #neuvilette x reader #neuvillette #neuvillete smut #genshin smut #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin x pregnant reader

[dixons-sunshine]

Breathe With Me | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

Summary: With you and Daryl being in a good place, kissing coming naturally to you both and cuddling no longer awkward, it was inevitable that your make out sessions would start to heat up into something else. However, in the heat of what should've been a hot moment, Daryl's mind started to wander to it's usual self deprecating depths. Luckily, you were there to help him through it.

Genre: Kinda angsty but mainly fluff

Era: Pre outbreak.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams universe.

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive themes, self deprecating thoughts, hyperventilation/panic attack.

Word count: 1.2k

A/n: Another young!Daryl fic in a span of not even two days? Who would've thought it was possible? It's mainly because I've been enjoying writing for young!Daryl recently, and I'd be happy to get any requests for this au. Also, I've never personally experienced a panic attack myself and this is all based off of what Google told me, so if any of it is inaccurate, please let me know so I can fix it. Other than that, I hope you enjoy!

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.

—

“Oh, fuck.”

“Shit, girl. Yer gon' be the death of me.”

You giggled against his lips, allowing him to push you down onto the bed. He followed soon after, moving to hover over you before reattaching his lips to yours hungrily. He used one of his hands to hold his weight up, the other one wandering over your exposed stomach. Your shirt was already disposed of and long forgotten, leaving you clad in only your shorts and bra.

To your surprise, when your hands wandered under Daryl's shirt, he only hesitated for a quick moment before withdrawing from the kiss and tugging his shirt over his head. Old and new scars were on display for you, leaving Daryl completely vulnerable under your gaze.

You smiled at him and pulled him down for another kiss, a silent way of thanking him for trusting you. It wasn't the first time that you had seen his scars—you had helped him with his wounds too many times too count, leaving you familiar with all of his scars—but you always tried to make sure that he knew you didn't judge him. You loved every part of him, scars and all.

You gasped against his lips when he let his hand trail down, his fingers lightly tracing over your clothed cunt. His tongue entered your mouth and he groaned at the taste. He pulled back momentarily to look at you, his pupils blown with lust.

“Fuck, yer so perfect,” he whispered, leaning down to leave a trail of kisses from your jaw to your neck.

You moaned when he kissed a particularly sensitive spot, leaning your head back to grant him better access. Your mind was starting to get cloudy, the only thought on your mind being how good Daryl was making you feel. Admittedly, you were also nervous, since this would be your first time doing something like this, but you trusted Daryl. He wouldn't ever hurt you.

In an unexpected move, you managed to roll you both over. Daryl's eyes slightly widened in wonder, before smiling and leaning up for another kiss. His hands settled on your waist, allowing you to take the reigns for the moment.

Daryl was thoroughly enjoying himself. However, when he felt you subconsciously grind your hips against his, his mind zoomed in and focused on one thing—you would regret this. You would regret giving your first time to someone like him. He would be terrible at this and you'd finally kick him to the curb after figuring it out. He didn't deserve to have you in this way, in your most vulnerable state.

You would regret him.

Daryl's breathing started becoming erratic. Although you could've easily misinterpreted it as him simply getting more turned on, something told you it wasn't that. You pulled back from the kiss and looked at him, noticing the slightly pained expression on his face. His breathing was quick and choked off, and he seemed to be in some sort of daze. You instantly knew something was wrong.

“Daryl, hey, look at me,” you whispered, cupping his cheek and gently urging him to look at you. When his blue eyes met yours, you could very clearly see the panic in them.

Instantly, all previous lustful thoughts left your mind, concern for your boyfriend taking root in their place. You knew exactly what was happening; Daryl was busy having a panic attack. You helped him into a sitting position, still straddling his lap. You grabbed his hand and placed it on your chest right above your heart, hoping to divert his attention away from whatever negative thoughts were plaguing his mind.

Still looking deeply into his eyes, you gently caressed his cheek with the hand that wasn't holding his over your heart. “Try to breathe with me, okay?” you whispered, starting to breathe in a controlled rhythm.

Daryl nodded and began to copy your breathing, his sounding more choked up than yours. He tightened his grip on your waist with his hand that was still resting there, desperately trying to ground himself back to reality. It took a while, with you soothingly rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone and breathing with him in a controlled rhythm, but soon he was calming down.

Daryl felt ashamed of himself. There the two of you were, half naked and sharing what should've been a blissful, enjoyable experience, and he let himself get into his own head. He let his own insecurities get in the way. He should've just sucked it up, but instead he just had to ruin the moment.

“M'sorry,” he muttered, looking down to avoid what he thought would've been a disappointed stare.

You frowned slightly and gently grabbed his face with both hands, urging him to look at you. “Hey, it's okay,” you assured him. When he shook his head in denial, your grip became more firm. “It is okay. Don't blame yourself for something that was out of your control, alright? Do you wanna talk about it?”

Daryl hesitated for a moment, but nodded slowly. “I jus' got into my own head. I was nervous and convinced myself ya would regret givin' yer virginity to me. Started feelin' overwhelmed. M'sorry.”

You pressed a kiss against his forehead, giving him a reassuring smile. “Don't be sorry. I get it. I was nervous too, you know? But I wouldn't have regretted anything. I trust you. There's no one I'd rather do this with. But it's okay if that doesn't happen right now. I'm ready whenever you are.”

Daryl gave you a small smile before leaning forward to rest his forehead against your shoulder. “M'still sorry. I was lookin' forward to this.”

“Me too, but it can wait. Let's get you taken care of, okay? And I don't wanna hear any buts, mister.”

Daryl nodded. “Alrigh',” he agreed, but made no effort to lift you off his lap. Instead, he pulled you closer to him, hugging you tightly. “Thank you fer understandin'.”

“Of course.”

There was a lot of things going through Daryl's mind at that moment. Despite your reassuring words, he still felt awful for what happened, his mind continuing to shame him. However, with your hands now gently threading through his hair to bring him some comfort, not giving a damn that you were still half naked and straddling him, he forced his mind to shut up.

And in that moment, it was confirmed in his mind—Daryl Dixon knew that he was never letting you go.

#krys writes .ೃ࿐ #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x reader #twd daryl #young!daryl dixon #young daryl dixon #young!daryl #shopping spree hangout dreams #the walking dead #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader

[mvybanks]

you drew stars around my scars

summary: when your boyfriend leaves you after finding out about your pregnancy, your best friend is not scared to take his place and show you how you and your baby deserve to be loved. (bestfriend!jj x pregnant!reader)

a/n: SHES HERE!!! i know that technically it wasn’t requested but by all of the asks i’ve gotten on this particular storyline, i had to! you guys have no idea how many times i had to do a research about pregnancy, i had to delete my google history😫 anyway, there’s a quote from friends from when rachel was pregnant AND the whole birth scene is just rachel giving birth because i have no idea how that works and friends was my only solution. i hope you guys like it!!! feedback is really appreciated <33

warnings: toxic and abusive ex, unwanted pregnancy, ANGST, mentions of sex (sfw), making out, reader goes into labour and gives birth (natural)

word count: 9.9k (i’m dead help)

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add yourself to my taglist <3

“i’m pregnant,” the conversation keeps replaying in your head, mocking you.

his voice is still clear in your mind, his laugh, so full of venom, “you can’t be pregnant.”

“i am, nathan. i took like ten tests, they’re all positive.”

and that look he gave you, as if you were scum, “that’s not my problem. you should’ve been more careful!” he yelled, starting to scare you.

“i didn’t mean this to happen. listen, we can-“

“there’s no we, no us!” the glass he had in his hand shattered on the wall beside you, for he had thrown it with force; had he tried to hit you?

“you’re not gonna trap me with a kid.”

“trap you? nathan, this is also your kid! it takes two people to-“ your words were cut off by the sound of a plate being thrown on the wall behind you, and that time you were sure you had been his target. when you looked at him, he was not the man you had thought he was. although you didn’t show it, you were terrified, and you still are, because you didn’t know where and when he would’ve stopped. you walked to your bedroom and started gathering the things he used to leave at your apartment.

“y/n, wait. i didn’t mean to do that. just-“ you began throwing his clothes at him, interrupting the empty promises he was about to made.

“you don’t want this kid? then leave!” you scream.

“i always knew you were just a bitch! should’ve left you months ago!”

“leave!” you shouted, taking the framed picture of the two of you from the coffee table and throwing it at the door as he closed it behind him.

your empty chest squeezes every time you catch a glimpse of the mess littering your floor and the reminder of what he was about to do because of his unjustified anger.

you fall on the ground, your back pressed against the wall behind you as loud sobs escape from your lips. tears are now falling down to your neck, drenching your eyelashes and your face. your hand shakily reaches for the phone that rests in your front pocket, pressing the contact for the only person you want to see right now.

“hey, y/n,” the melody of jj’s voice already brings you comfort, “what’s up?”

“j…” your trembling tone and the sound of your crying is now clear to him as he becomes scared of your well-being, which makes him interrupt you before you can continue.

“y/n? baby? what’s going on? where are you?”

as usual, the nickname makes butterfly erupt in your stomach, even in the state you’re in right now. however, what really warms your heart is the jingling of keys, already working his way outside his house just to get to you.

“i-i’m home. p-p-please, come h-here.”

“i’ll be there in five seconds, baby, okay?”

you hang up, too exhausted to answer as the last bit of strength you have left is currently being used to dehydrate your body since your tears seem to never stop.

when you hear the rumbling of his bike from outside, you finally take a deep breath, although it’s still hard to breathe between your sobs. you thank yourself for always having a spare key, which only jj knows about and where it’s hidden.

as soon as he enters the home, nervously looking for you, his face drops, horror is written all over his features as he looks at the sight before him: broken pieces of glass and ceramic are littering the ground, clothes are thrown on the couch and right on the front door, a picture on the floor that shows both you and your boyfriend. ex-boyfriend, but to jj that wasn’t a given yet.

his eyes finally found your shaking figure and he runs to you, anger and concern are the only emotions on his face as he crouches down in front of you.

“tell me he didn’t hurt you. tell me he didn’t throw this stuff at you because i swear to god i’m gonna kill him,” and you believe him.

perhaps you wouldn’t have if it was a different situation, but the look in his eyes clearly tells you that he’s about to commit murder if you don’t stop him.

“baby, please, talk to me. i just need to know that you’re okay, i need to know you’re not hurt,” he pleads, but your breathing gets harder the more you think about the bomb you’re about to drop.

“he didn’t hurt me,” you whisper softly, your crying finally calms down for a second.

“what happened?”

you look into his beautiful eyes, the same ones that never judged you and only ever gazed at you with so much affection and admiration, “i’m pregnant.”

even saying the words brings you to tears again as jj tries to calm himself down from the shock. his best friend, the woman he has loved for as long as he can remember, is pregnant…with another man’s child. he’s hurting, but he knows that it’s not about him and his stupid feelings right now.

“wha-whe- is it nathan’s?” he’s so shaken up by your confession he can barely make out a coherent sentence, but his question is a genuine one.

the annoyed look in your eyes tells him that it was a stupid question on his part, ‘whose would it be?’ your expression says.

“he left, j. he left me. he-” you stop yourself before you can tell him what he did, “he didn’t want us,” you simply say.

now he understands. he wants to kill him. he can’t believe he would do this to you, he knew he was a douchebag who didn’t deserve you, but this? this is low even for him.

jj wraps his arms tightly around your body, sitting on the floor next to you as he shifts in order to let you rest your head against his chest. he gently shushes your sobs as he rocks your body, bending his neck to press his lips on your forehead.

“it’s okay, everything’s gonna be okay, sunshine. i got you. we’ll figure this out, ” he whispers, reassuring and reminding you of his presence.

the name he used to call you when you were just two teenagers brings a whole different sentiment grow in your chest as you finally feel safe.

you hold onto his t-shirt for dear life while your sobs finally seem to die down.

“don’t go, please,” you murmur against the cotton of his shirt and he swears his heart breaks.

jj cradles your face in his hands, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs as they get rid of your tears, and he stares into your eyes, an intense and strange look in his, “never. i’ll never leave you, you understand? i’m right here.”

the rawness and honesty in his voice makes you let out another soft sob and he kisses your head again.

“listen to me,” he says once his eyes are fixed on yours, “i’ll be here for everything, okay? i won’t let you go through all of this alone. it’s you and me.”

you nod slowly, your head still in his hands, “you and me.”

jj has been your rock since you were just a couple of kids, of troublemakers running around the cut hand in hand. you don’t remember one time in your life where he wasn’t there, protecting you from everything that’s wrong in the world and holding you when things got tough.

and even in this new and complicated situation, one neither of you have ever been in, he doesn’t hesitate to step up and do what he does best: taking care of you.

once you don’t have any tears left in you, he watches as you relax against him, your arms around him as he keeps rocking you. jj lifts your body from the ground and brings you to bed, laying you on the mattress. he gently throws a blanket on your sleeping body before bending down to kiss your forehead.

when he goes to leave the room, the sound of your voice stops him, “where you going?”

“i’ll stay here, don’t worry. i was going to sleep on the couch,” he smiles, reassuring you that he’ll be here for you in the morning.

“can you stay…here?” your voice is weak and sleepy, and he can’t say no to you.

“of course, sunshine.”

he lies next to you and you immediately go to rest your head on his chest, while his arms wrap around you, protecting you for as long as he can. one hand starts smoothing your hair out of your face, while the other is firmly hugging your waist.

“j,” you call him, so softly he almost doesn’t hear you, “i’m scared.”

he tightly shuts his eyes and kisses your head again, his lips lingering on your skin a little too long, “i know; i know, sunshine, but i’m not going anywhere, okay? you’re gonna have to kick me out if you want me to stay away.”

you chuckle and nuzzle your head further in his neck, inhaling the perfume of cheap cologne that brings you so much comfort, “thank you.”

the next morning, you find yourself in an empty bed, no sign of jj. the thought of him leaving you too begins to crawl inside you, mixed with fear and disappointment. you can hear the soft sound of your old tv playing in the living room, you didn’t leave it on, did you?

you slowly walk to your kitchen, an open space with the living room, and there he is, your favorite person in the whole world standing in front of a cooking pan while humming a song to himself.

“g’morning,” you mumble, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you walk closer to him.

“good morning, sunshine,” he smiles at you, “i was making you breakfast.”

you grin at him; how stupid of you to think he would ever leave you.

your eyes scan the room as a frown starts to form on your face, “did you clean the mess from last night?”

he turns to you and nervously rubs the back of his head, “oh - uhm, yeah. there was glass everywhere, didn’t want you to get hurt, y’know.”

your feet take you to where he’s standing and your arms circle around his torso, resting your head against his chest. at first he’s startled by the sudden affection, but he recovers quickly, holding you close to him. you’re enjoying the comforting feeling of being in his arms when the smell of the eggs he’s cooking hits you, making you scrunch your nose.

suddenly, you feel an upsetting sensation in your stomach and you soon realize that your baby doesn’t agree with eggs.

“oh shit,” you say as you unwrap yourself from him and all but run to the bathroom, leaving a very confused jj behind you.

however, the sound of you being sick makes him move to the bathroom’s open door. you’re kneeling in front of the toilet, throwing up as you try to hold your hair back. jj immediately kneels behind you and wraps his hand around your hair while his other hand strokes your back.

when you’re done, you let yourself fall with your back against the bathtub while he follows you, putting an arm around your shoulders.

“what was that about?” he asks softly, “did you eat something bad last night?”

you chuckle, “morning sickness, j. gonna have to do this for a while.”

“you’re telling me you’re gonna throw up every morning?”

your hand plays with his shirt as your head finds a comfortable position against his chest, “i started having it a week ago and i did some research, it should last at least two months,” you sigh, “anyway, i’m going to the doctor this afternoon and i’ll ask her about it, just to make sure.”

“i’m coming with you,” he says, holding you tighter.

“j, you don’t have to,” although the smile on your face says otherwise.

his lips press against your forehead, “i told you, i won’t let you go through this alone.”

he keeps his promise, like always. that same afternoon he picks you up and brings you to the doctor’s office. when you’re ready for your exam, the doctor tells him that he can come into the room as your private parts are covered.

jj sits next to you as the gynecologist squeezes a cold substance on your stomach, prepping you for your sonogram.

“so,” she starts, eyeing the man beside you, “you are…?”

“i’m her best friend; jj, ma’am,” jj says, showing her a polite grin.

“well, nice to meet you. are you ready, y/n?”

you nervously smile at her, “yeah, i am.”

the gynecologist begins the sonogram and the sound of a pulse starts filling the room, “this is your baby’s heartbeat,” she smiles and you unconsciously grab jj’s hand, his fingers intertwining with yours immediately, “and this,” she points to a bunch of black and white lines, “this is your baby.”

a laugh full of disbelief escapes your lips and jj’s eyes fall on your face, admiring you.

“i’ll leave you alone for a couple of minutes, okay?” the doctor says before leaving the room.

he brings your joined hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles, “you okay, sunshine?”

your eyes are full of tears when you answer him, “thank you for coming with me.”

“i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

jj maybank isn’t known for being responsible, for owning up to his mistakes, or for making the smartest decisions, but when it comes to you? he’d give up everything just to get you to show him that beautiful smile of yours that makes his insides churn up and his heart flutter in his chest.

therefore, when he finds out you’re going to tell your parents about the pregnancy, he doesn’t leave your side, just like he promised. he might be unreliable to anyone else that knows him, but to you he’s always been the only person you can count on.

his hand is squeezing yours as you both look at your parents’ reaction after finding out about your situation.

“is it his?” your father asks, pointing at jj.

“no, it’s nathan’s. he - uhm,” jj rubs his thumb on the back of your hand, comforting you, “he left.”

“oh, come here,” your mom walks to you, taking you in her arms and your dad does the same not long after.

“jj, don’t take this wrong way, son, but what are you doing here?” your father asks, confusion written all over his face.

your parents have known jj since forever, just like you, and they both know how much you care for each other. it’s not a secret they’ve been waiting for you and him to get together, but no one dares to say it out loud.

“she’s a strong woman, sir, i know she could do this alone but i don’t want her to. so i’ll be by her side as long as she’ll have me.”

your dad nods at him while your mom goes to give him a hug too, taking him by surprise.

after spending the rest of the day at your parents’, jj takes you home. it’s been a couple of days since your boyfriend left you and although you’re still hurt by what he’s done, every time you walk into your house and remember that he’s not there, a sense of relief washes over you.

before jj can go back to his apartment, he stops at the front door, the question eating him alive for days. he calls your name, bringing your attention to him, “listen, i don’t want you to talk about it if you aren’t ready but…what happened the other night? i - i keep thinking about the mess on the floor and it’s haunting me.”

you walk to him, resting your hands on his chest, “promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

his eyes look into yours, “i can’t promise you that,” his low and raspy voice makes your stomach flip.

“j…i don’t want you to get hurt.”

“what did he do?”

you lick your lips, slowly gnawing on the bottom one, “he threw some things,” you swallow thickly.

“at you?”

“jj, please-“

“just answer the question,” his eyes are full of rage and you don’t know what he’s going to do once he gets to know the truth, but you’re too far into the story to lie now.

“yes. he missed…twice. i - i think he was drunk, that’s the only explanation i have. he had never done something like this before.”

the look in his eyes is scaring you, not because you fear him, but because you fear what he might do. he protects you; that’s what he’s always done for you and knowing that he couldn’t do that when nathan was with you is killing him.

“j?” you ask as he still hasn’t said anything.

“i’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

your arm wraps around his bicep, stopping him, “you don’t have to do this. i’m okay.”

“because his aim is shit! that’s why you’re okay!” he all but shouts, “i’m just going to make sure he doesn’t have the chance to do it again.”

you place the hand that isn’t stopping him on his cheek, cradling his face and forcing his gaze on you, “i don’t like this,” you whisper, your faces closer than you had realized before.

his eyes finally soften; he slowly wraps his fingers around your wrist, that was brushing against his chin, and gently places a kiss on it, then on your palm, “he’ll get what he deserves,” he rasps as his forehead falls on yours, your noses brushing against each other.

“just -“ you sigh, your breath hitting his mouth, and he swears his heart skips a beat at the feeling, “be careful.”

he uses all of his self-control to not kiss your mouth until you can’t breathe anymore, but he can’t help himself from kissing the tip of your nose and then your forehead, “i will,” he reassures you.

when he shows up at your door the morning after, you don’t ask questions. the split lip, the purple bruise around his eye and the bandages around his hand are everything you need to know. he doesn’t tell you what happened and if you want to be honest, you don’t really want to know, so luckily, that was the last time either of you brought the subject up.

everyday, jj is there for you, holding your hair up when you’re sick and bringing you all the weird foods you start craving. when he said he wasn’t going to leave you, he meant it. he picks up all your calls immediately, even if it’s in the middle of the night.

“hey, sunshine,” he answers his phone, one night. he checks the time on the clock sitting on his bedside table: 3 a.m.

you’re already in your third month of pregnancy, so it’s been roughly a month since you found out. it has now become almost a habit for you to call him when you have a craving, therefore he doesn’t worry anymore when you call him so late at night.

“hey…this is going to sound weird,” you say, clearly nervous.

“what’s up?”

“i really, really want cookie dough ice cream…and popcorn.”

a moment passes before he answers, the sound of him moving some things around does not go unnoticed by you, “okay, i’ve got popcorn at my place. i can see if i can find an open gas station? for the ice cream, i mean.”

you smile, “you’re the best, you know that?”

“i know, but i love it when you say it.”

your cheeks turn cherry red, “text me when you’re coming, ‘kay?”

“sure, sunshine. don’t worry ‘bout me.”

the thing that still takes you aback is the lack of hesitation whenever you ask something; no one has ever treated you like this, except him but something feels different this time.

“my hero!” you say in a theatrical manner when jj enters your bedroom, a bag of popcorn in one hand and a small tub of ice cream in the other.

“gotta save the princess in distress,” he smirks before handing you the goods and leaving the room again, “i’ll get you a spoon.”

he holds you close to his chest for the rest of the night, almost lying to himself that this could be a habit for the rest of your lives.

you can’t deny how much you want this too, and your pregnancy hormones are making it even harder to resist him.

“oh, c’mon! it’s impossible nothing’s happened between you two yet!”

your friend, mar, is currently trying to make you talk about your ‘secret affair’ with jj, which doesn’t exist, but she keeps insisting it does.

you’ve been hanging out with her a lot more these past few months since she also has a baby, and you’re desperate for advices from someone who has already been through this.

“i swear, mar! why would something happen?”

“because he’s hot and he’s been head over heels for you since forever?”

you chuckle, before taking a sip of the water in front of you. you’re sitting at a café, hoping no one is listening to your conversation, “yeah, sure.”

she looks at you, cocking an eyebrow, “don’t tell me you don’t know. you really think he’s not in love with you?”

you shrug, “yeah, ‘cause he’s not. he’s my best friend, that’s it.”

“you’re telling me you’ve never, even once, looked at him in a different way? not even in a i-want-to-jump-his-bones kind of way?”

you’re sure your cheeks are turning red now, “maybe…but that doesn’t count!”

“what doesn’t?”

“i mean, i’ve always thought he was hot, but lately things have felt different - i have been feeling differently,” you correct yourself.

you don’t tell her that you’ve been admiring him from afar all those years of friendship, how watching him with someone else makes a sick feeling in your stomach grow, or how your heart seems to jump out of your chest whenever he touches you.

she leans closer to you, her elbows sitting on the small table between you, “different how?” she smirks.

“the jump-his-bones thing…” you mumble, “but i think there’s something different with me! i don’t know, maybe it’s the pregnancy.”

she seems to think about your words for a moment, “wait, this is about your fourth month, right?” you nod, “that’s totally normal! your hormones start going crazy around the fourth month of pregnancy. i couldn’t keep my hands off mike during that time,” she says, referring to her husband.

“is that what this is? i thought i was turning into a horny teenager.”

you both laugh before you continue, “i guess i can call my gynecologist and see if she can give me a pill or something.”

“oh yeah, that’s what you need: a good…pill.”

you playfully roll your eyes at her, “shut up.”

“i bet jj would be happy to help you with that by the way.”

“mar!”

she throws her hands in the air, “just saying.”

as you drive back home, your friend’s words keep replaying in your head.

could he really be in love with you? and even if he were, why wouldn’t he tell you, especially right now?

you mindlessly walk through the front door, still deep in your thoughts, when you hear a strange sound coming from the corridor. you automatically place your hand on your phone, ready to call ‘someone’, before your head turns to the window, your eyes searching for jj’s truck. when you see it right outside your house, you sigh in relief.

“jj?” you call his name, walking towards the sound.

“in here!” he yells, his voice now clearly coming from the empty room in your apartment.

when you find yourself outside the room, you have to stop yourself from actually drooling at the sight; he’s kneeling on the ground, shirtless and sweating, as he’s working with some pieces of wood. you’re not really sure what he’s doing but you’re sure as hell enjoying the view.

“j, what are you doing?” you ask as you enter what’s supposed to be a spare room, confusion and amusement written all over your face.

“i’m building a crib,” he says nonchalantly while your lips slightly part at his words.

your hand automatically travels to your growing belly, “what?”

“i thought i would get ahead of things, before everything becomes crazy and shit, i don’t know. wanted to surprise you,” he shrugs, although it’s obvious he cares about your reaction.

“is this going to be the baby’s room?”

he finally rises rom his kneeling position and walks to you, standing at the door to look at the room in front of you, “you don’t like it?”

tears start to form in your eyes and you don’t even know why, “it’s just - it’s so boring and plain! i-“ you take a deep breath and look at jj, “i love what you’re doing, j. it’s the sweetest thing someone has ever done for me but…this room is so ugly.”

you almost start to cry when he wraps an arm around your shoulders, bringing your body flush against his, and kisses your head, “i’m sorry,” you whisper against his naked chest, your insides turning at the feeling of his skin.

“hey, it’s okay. did you really think i wanted to keep those beige walls in a baby’s room?”

you crane your neck to look up at him, “you don’t?”

he chuckles, “of course not, baby. i wanted to paint the walls a different color, that’s for sure. i was thinking green. would you like that?”

you nod and wrap your arms around his neck, jumping slightly to rest your head right where his neck meets his shoulder, “yes, yes! that’s so pretty!”

he’s completely taken aback by your sudden burst of happiness, not that he minds, he would do absolutely anything to make you happy. jj wraps his arms tightly around your torso and spins you a little as you giggle, the sound like a sweet melody he never wants to stop listening to.

when your feet hit the ground again, you place your hands on his reddened cheeks and kiss one of them sweetly, “thank you.”

“anything for you, you know that.”

you smile up at him, showing him your sweetest smile, one that’s always been his. his arms are still circling around your torso, keeping you close to him and you swear you see his eyes flicker to your lips for a second, but that’s it; only a second, before he goes back to what he was doing previous to your arrival.

the next day, jj shows up at your house with full buckets of green paint, brushes and rollers in plastic bags and that grin on his face you love so much, “put on some old clothes, baby, because we’re painting a room today.”

you look at him incredulous, “are you serious right now?”

“uhhh, yeah?”

he walks to what will be the baby’s room while you run to your closet, excited to do this for your child. you wear a big, worn, white t-shirt, which you’re sure is actually jj’s, and a pair of denim overalls your mom gave to you when she found out about your pregnancy, since they’re bigger than your usual size.

jj swears his heart skips a beat when he sees you, the look suits you so much he wishes he could kiss you right then and there.

“so, are we doing this?” you ask, walking to him as he tries to stop staring and gawking at you.

he hands you a paint roller, already covered in the light pastel green tint, and you take it with a determined smile on your face, which he returns.

“where do i start?”

“just paint the center and i’ll do the edges and hard spots,” he says as he also picks his own roller.

“you think i can’t handle the ‘hard spots’, maybank?” you grin in a teasing manner, making fun of the way he spoke to you and doing air quotes with your free hand.

“i think i don’t want you to climb a ladder. i won’t help you if you fall on your ass.”

you push his shoulder jokingly, “shut up, you would carry me around for weeks if i ever fall,” you add, laughing at the image you have in your head of a very tired jj giving you piggyback rides.

“yeah, i would,” and the smile on his face is a genuine one this time.

you and jj fall in a comfortable silence as you paint the walls of your baby’s room, illuminated by the soft afternoon light coming from the window. everything has always been easy with him, you never once felt judged or self-conscious around him, because you know that no matter what happens, he’ll always take your side.

you glance at him from time to time, his thin, white cotton shirt giving you a full view of his abs. you can’t help yourself from feeling warmer only by looking at him, and at this point you’re not sure you can blame it all on your pregnancy hormones.

“wanna listen to some music?” he asks after a while.

“sure.”

jj takes his phone out of the back pocket of his ripped jeans, and after scrolling his screen for a while, he sets it down on the floor as ‘i’m walking on sunshine’ by katrina and the waves starts playing.

“seriously?” you laugh at him as he starts moving his hips to the music and bopping his head.

“what?”

he keeps painting, enjoying the giggles leaving your lips as you look at him.

“you’re ridiculous!”

“oh yeah?”

he takes your free hand and starts spinning you around which leads the acrylic covering the roll in your other hand to splatter on him and yourself.

“jj!” you act mad, although you can’t keep the laughter inside you.

“you know, green hair suits you,” he teases.

“oh, you’re dead!”

suddenly, your roller is sliding down his shirt as a gasp leaves his lips.

“you didn’t!”

in the blink of an eye, you’re both splattering paint on each other, your clothes ruined and your smiles so big your cheeks hurt.

you turn around as you squeal from the amount of paint you’re throwing at each other, but it’s so fun you don’t even care. when you ‘accidentally’ cover his face in green, it’s over.

your mouth is agape and a choked laugh escapes you at the sight. jj lets his roller fall down on the ground as he uses both of his hands to get rid of the paint, so slowly that it’s now become comical.

“that’s it. come here!”

he runs after you, making you scream in amusement, but the chase doesn’t last long as he wraps his arms around your torso from behind, slightly lifting you from the ground while you bend your legs and then he puts you immediately back with your feet on the floor, never letting you go. he smothers his face on your shoulder and cheek while you keep laughing, your stomach almost hurting from how much fun you’re having.

“stop, stop!” you try to say between choked gasps.

you manage to turn around in his arms and face him, stupid grins on both your faces and as you both realize how close you are to each other, your chuckles die down. you reach his green cheek with your hand, trying to get rid of the paint.

“green suits you, maybank,” you say, mocking him.

“i hate you,” his voice is hoarse as he looks down at you, wrapped in his arms and completely happy.

your hand travels down to his jaw, until your palm touches his chin; his breath hitches at your soft touch.

“you don’t,” you whisper.

your eyes flicker from his to his lips while your thumb brushes against his bottom lip, removing the residual green on them. you can’t help yourself from staring at them, biting your own bottom lip unconsciously.

“yeah, i don’t,” he mumbles, slowly leaning down as your mouths get dangerously close to each other and you can feel his breath fanning out on your parted lips.

his eyes stare into yours, a thousand words left unsaid. your other hand is resting on his hard chest and the loud thumping of his heart against your touch makes you flutter your eyes close.

“do you want me to stop?” he breathes out, with his lips already brushing against yours.

you open your eyes, and when you’re about to tell him to just kiss you - the sound of your doorbell wakes you up from your trance.

as your heart tries to get back to a normal rate, you unwrap yourself from his arms with an apologetic smile; you clear your throat, “i - i have to - uhm, the door-“

to say he made you a flustered mess is an understatement. he chuckles lightly, “right.”

when you open the front door, annoyed at whoever ruined the moment you were having with jj, the last person on earth you would’ve expected stands outside.

“nathan,” you gasp.

you look down at your clothes, green paint all over you, and then back up at him. is this really happening?

“is this a bad time?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“hey, who was at the-“

‘this is bad’ you think to yourself, horror clear on your face.

jj speed walks to you, an arm is thrown protectively in front of you as he gives the man the most intense death stare you’ve ever seen.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” jj asks with so much venom in his voice.

“i need to talk to you. what the fuck is he doing here?” nathan looks at you, completely ignoring the blond beside you.

“no. you’re going to stay outside and talk to me.”

shit.

“j, calm down, please. don’t do anything stupid,” you turn to the blond beside you, placing a hand on his chest, but it’s useless; he’s already walking outside, with you hot on his heels.

“get back inside,” he tells you, his eyes never leaving the man in front of him.

“hey, look at me,” you force his head to turn to you by placing your hands on his cheeks, and his gaze finally softens, “you’ve already done enough. stop it.”

“i don’t want you to be alone with him.”

“but i need to do this alone, please.”

you can see his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he looks between you and nathan, “whatever happens, i’m inside.”

you give him a reassuring smile, “i know.”

you watch as he walks back into your apartment, and you turn back to your ex boyfriend.

“what are you doing here, nathan?” you ask annoyed.

“you’re my girl and that’s my baby,” he says pointing to your prominent belly, “what is he doing here?”

“your girl? what are you talking about? you left us months ago!”

“no, you kicked me out-“

“because you didn’t want us! you tried to hit me, nathan! what the hell do you want from me?”

he walks closer to you, but you instinctively take a step back, showing him how much you fear him, and that makes a sick smile appear on his face, “that’s still my baby. you hate it, don’t you?”

what you don’t realize is that he’s not smiling at you, but at the blond man standing outside your door with his arms across his chest. the thought of leaving you alone with nathan was making him sick to his stomach and he couldn’t stay inside any longer.

“i don’t hate my baby. i’m their mother and i’ll love them until my last breath, and i know other people will too. they’re just unlucky to have a sick and piece of shit of a father-“

your breath is knocked out of your lungs when a hand almost hits you in the face; the blow is stopped by someone else’s fingers wrapped around nathan’s wrist.

“you think i don’t know why you came here?” jj spits at him, “did you really think i didn’t know you were here for revenge? you want nothing to do with this baby, you never did.”

nathan looks at you and then back at jj, “oh yeah? then why are you here? i know you’re just waiting for her to give it up like the sl-“ before he could end his sentence, jj’s hand wraps around his throat, throwing him on the wall beside your door.

“c’mon, what were you saying, huh? let’s see if you’ve got the balls to say it!” he yells in his face.

“get off me!”

nathan tries to get rid of jj’s assault, pushing at him as he can feel his fingers tighten around his throat, choking him.

“JJ! STOP IT!” you scream as you can see the brown haired’s face start to get redder, fighting for air.

“stay the fuck away from my girl, you got it?” jj all but growls.

he finally lets go of nathan, pushing his head back on the wall violently as he does so, emitting a groan of pain from him. nathan starts coughing violently, trying to regain his breath, when jj speaks again, “and if i see you near her again, if i hear you talking about her, i swear i won’t stop until you’re dead.”

he walks over to you, placing one hand on your back as he gently pushes you inside the house. when he closes the door behind him, he spins you around and his eyes are immediately scanning over your face, checking for injuries, “he didn’t touch you, right?”

“j,” you gulp, “you could’ve killed him.”

he licks his lips and then avoids your eyes, “should’ve done it the moment i found out what he did to you. he’s lucky i haven’t done it yet.”

you put some distance between you two, causing him to look at you with hurt written all over his features, “you could’ve gone to jail, jj. what the hell were you thinking?”

“i was thinking he was about to hit you! did you want me to give him a pat on the back for almost slapping you in the face?”

you rub your hands on your face, confusion and frustration hitting you all at once, “i don’t want you to get hurt or get in such serious trouble because of me. that’s all i’m saying.”

he takes a step closer to you, “you do realize i would go to jail for you? i don’t care. there’s no way i would’ve let him get away for hurting you and the baby. and yes, y/n, i would kill for the both of you.”

you inhale sharply, closing your eyes for a second. when you reopen them, you take the last steps that separate you and throw your arms around his neck, hugging him close to you. he’s quick to catch you, one arm wrapped tightly around your torso and the other resting on your head.

“just because you would go to jail for me doesn’t mean i want you to,” you whisper, your lips on his neck, “i need you to stay here…with us. i want the baby to know the wonderful man that you are, okay?”

his arm tighten, if that’s possible, around you, “okay, baby. i’m right here; not going anywhere.”

it’s been almost two months since the last time you saw your ex boyfriend now. nothing has changed between you and jj, although the air is different; there’s a tension every time you look at each other and neither of you knows how to deal with it.

lingering touches and stolen glances are part of your day to day life and you don’t know how long you can keep this facade up before one of you decides to do something about it.

it’s currently five in the morning and you’re lying on your bed as one hand rests on your belly, rubbing the naked skin lovingly. you were awoken by a weird sensation in your stomach but now everything feels normal and you’re trying to fall asleep again, when the feeling comes back.

“oh my god,” you whisper to yourself, “you’re kicking. oh my god!”

you reach for your phone immediately, giggling at the feeling of little feet kicking in your stomach.

you don’t even give him the time to say something, “j, you have to come here right now!”

well, that got his attention instantly and he’s already putting his shoes on as he asks: “what’s going on? are you okay? is the baby okay?”

“they’re kicking! they’re kicking for the first time, j. you have to feel this! oh my god, it’s so weird!”

jj is already getting in his car when he smiles widely at your voice, your happiness so clear in your words that his heart clenches at the sound, “yeah? good weird or bad weird?”

“good weird,” you say, sighing happily, “definitely good weird.”

“stay right there, love. i’ll be there before you know it, okay?”

you hear the sound of the motor of the car, already moving and ready to get to you, “m’kay. we’ll wait for you.”

when he arrives, he almost runs into your room and launches himself on the bed, letting a big laugh erupt from your lips; his favorite music.

“come here, come here. they started kicking like crazy when i talked to you!” you tell him as he climbs up higher on the bed to kiss your forehead, making you smile even wider.

you take his hand and place it on your stomach, although the movements have stopped at least five minutes ago.

“is it happening?” he whispers, his eyes fixed on your face, admiring your beauty slightly illuminated by the moonlight coming from the window.

“not anymore,” your hand guides his around on your belly, hoping the contact will make the baby move again, “i can’t believe you missed it.”

“hey,” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, turning your attention to him, “it’s okay. i wish i was here for the first time, but i don’t want you to be upset about it. they kicked! we should be happy about this, sunshine.”

you smile at each other and you lean into his touch, “i know,” you sigh, “they’re already growing so fast, i can’t-“

the feeling of something moving inside you, interrupts you, “they’re doing it again, j!”

his hand is still resting on your stomach and he chuckles in disbelief when he can feel the movement too, “oh my god, this is amazing!”

you look at him, your eyes shining from the joy of sharing this moment with him, and when he turns to you again and notices that your eyes were already on him, he kisses your cheek, so slowly and with so much affection that it takes you by surprise.

“i wish i could be here for everything,” he confesses, almost to himself, “every little thing, i want to be here; for you and for them.”

“then stay,” the words escape your lips unconsciously, but there’s no turning back now, “i mean, if you want. you can move in.”

his eyes widen while a big grin plays on his face, “are you serious?”

you nervously bite your bottom lip, scared that he might think that you’re crossing too many lines, “yeah, if you want. you said you want to be here for everything and if you lived here, you could. it was just a thought, if you don’t want this, i-“

his arms wrap around you in a swift motion, startling you but you recover quickly by returning the hug, “i’ll take this as a yes?”

he looks at you, lying on his side as one arm is still resting on your waist, “of course! i care about you, both of you. i don’t want to miss anything.”

you smile at him and scoot closer to feel his comforting touch, “go back to sleep, sunshine,” he whispers, “i’ll be here when you wake up.”

jj spends hours watching you sleep, the sound of your soft breaths, the peacefulness on your features, the way you try to get closer to him, even in your sleep; he’s so in love with you, it hurts sometimes. he wants nothing but to spend the rest of his life like this, sleeping in the same bed and holding each other until morning comes.

and that’s how you spend your nights from now on. when you asked him to move in with you, you both agreed he would have to sleep on the pullout couch, because that’s what made sense, right?

but how can you sleep so far away from him when he’s so close? he’s your safe haven, always have been and always will. therefore, you end up sleeping on the pullout couch more often than you’d like to admit, and he ends up in bed with you, because he can’t stay away from you either.

‘i had a nightmare’

‘i can’t sleep’

‘do you feel like watching a movie?’

bad excuses to spend the night together, that’s what they are.

you’re currently lying on the pullout couch, jj’s head on your chest as you’re both trying to sleep. when he thinks you have drift off, his hand falls on your belly, gently stroking it as a thousand mental pictures of your future together fill his head. he unwraps himself from you and positions himself in order to place his head on your stomach. maybe it’s silly, but the book that lays on your bedside table said that babies can hear you even when they’re in the womb; so it’s worth a try, he thinks.

“hi, baby,” he mumbles against your skin, “i know we don’t know each other yet, but i love you very much, and so does your mom. you’re very lucky, y’know? she’s the best mom you could’ve asked for,” he softly kisses the skin, “and i swear i’ll try to be enough for both you and her. i wish i could give you everything in the world, but for now i hope my heart is enough.”

jj sighs, slowly rubbing the skin with his thumb, completely unaware that his movements woke you up a while ago, “you know, your mom already had my heart before, she always did, but sssh, this is a secret between you and me, mh?” he chuckles softly, “but you? well, you and your mom have been sharing my heart since the moment i found out about you. i know it’ll be yours forever, i don’t want it to be anyone else’s.”

a moment passes before he can get the next words out, “i love you both so much, you have no idea,” he says, his voice breaking as he does so.

“j?” you inhale sharply, too scared of making a sound. your heart is beating so fast and tears are welling up in your eyes as you look down at the man who’s been taking care of you for as long as you can remember.

“i - i thought you were asleep…” he says, his eyes full of fear as he gets up from his position to lay next to you.

“what was that about?” your voice is barely a whisper. did he just confess that he loves you? what did he mean?

“i read that babies can hear you even when they’re not born yet…thought maybe it would be nice to talk to them i guess,” his eyes avoid yours at all costs, hoping that you didn’t hear everything he said. the situation is already complicated as it is, he doesn’t want to make your life harder than it is right now.

“not that. the things you said…j, did you mean them?” your hand cradles his face, forcing him to finally look at you as a thousand emotions are written in his eyes.

“y/n, i-“

“yes or no. did you mean them?”

you don’t want to play childish games, not anymore. you can’t keep acting like you don’t know what’s going on between you.

“yes.”

the breath you let out is shaky and you can barely keep your composure with the amount of feelings you have right now. you’ve always known he loves you, but not like this. this is a different kind of love that you thought he would never have for you, and it scares you.

your hand falls from his cheek, but he’s quick to hold it in his, bringing it to his chest as you can feel his thumping heart beneath your touch; or maybe it’s yours, you’re not even sure at this point.

“nothing has to change, please,” his eyes search for yours, full of panic, “don’t push me away; not now. i have to take care of you and the baby, i can’t imagine a life without you. i can move out, if that makes you more comfortable-“

“yes. you should move out,” you don’t want to do this, and that’s clear by the way your voice breaks, but it’s what’s best for everyone involved, “you can come over whenever you want, but i don’t think you should keep living here.”

he drops your hand, putting some space between you two, as rejection is written all over his features. he slowly nods his head, keeping his tears at bay, “whatever you think is right for you.”

you avoid his eyes, sitting up, and you start to get up from the bed. for the umpteenth time, he’s putting your happiness before his. your eyes water as you stand in front of the couch, showing him your back before you turn around to face him, his body still laying on the mattress.

“this isn’t what i want, j,” you whisper.

he finally looks up at you, “then what do you want, y/n?” he raises from the bed, towering over you, “because i’ll do it. whatever you want, but you have to say it. you know what i want, what i’ve always wanted,” his face is so close to yours that you don’t know how long you’ll be able to hold yourself back, “now look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want the same things.”

you close your eyes for a second before looking up at him, “i want you to be happy and free. i don’t want you to feel trapped, with a baby and everything, i-“ you sigh in frustration, “i don’t want to be a burden, not anymore.”

“you were never a burden,” his hands are placed on your arms as if to beg you to stay, “and you never trapped me. i stayed because i wanted to. what do i have to do to make you understand that this is what i want? i’m not messing around, y/n.”

you swallow thickly, the intense look in his eyes making your legs feel weak, “j, i-“

“just tell me.”

“what if you regret-“

“please,” he whispers as he lets his forehead touch yours, your heaving chests almost brushing against each other from the closeness.

“kiss me,” and he does, instantly.

his lips move gently against yours at first, tasting you, until the kiss becomes more urgent and rough. his tongue thrusts inside your mouth, claiming it and exploring it for the first time. years and years of pining and sexual frustration all in one long and breathless kiss.

one of his hands rests on your hip, almost brushing against your naked skin, while the other is placed on the back of your head, before it starts to trail down along your spine. you can’t help yourself from moaning against his mouth, tugging on his hair as you do so, which makes a low groan slip from his throat. he slowly makes you walk backwards and pushes you against the kitchen counter, without ever breaking the kiss.

his hands wrap around your naked thighs, slowly reaching for your behind and helping you sit on the counter. your legs rest on either side of him as his hands touch the exposed skin of your legs.

you lightly push him away, your foreheads still touching as you try to regain your breath, “oh my god,” you breathe out, emitting a chuckle from him.

“i second that.”

your noses brush against each other as you take deep breaths, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do this,” he mumbles on your lips.

“me too, j,” you say with your hands still tangled in his hair.

he pecks your lips once, then twice, before his mouth starts leaving a trail of wet kisses from your jaw down to your neck, sucking and lightly biting on the spot below your ear, making you gasp at the feeling; the sound going right into his pants.

“fuck - the things you do to me, sunshine…” he rasps, his lips still nipping and kissing your exposed skin.

“wait,” you say and he raises his head to look at you.

“you want me to stop? we don’t have to do anything.”

he rubs your thigh with his thumb, comforting you, “i want this; i really do, but…” you look down, too embarrassed to face him, “my body is…different now.”

“oh, baby. your body is perfect. you really don’t know how hard you make me, do you? you’re sexy as hell, baby. so fucking gorgeous.”

your let your eyes fall to the prominent bulge in his pants before looking up at him, your cheeks flushed, “hey, if you want to wait, i’ll do it. i’ll wait for you as long as you need. waited my whole life, i can do it a little longer,” he whispers, seeing your hesitation.

“you can’t say things like that and expect me to not want you to take my clothes off.”

he chuckles lightly, before you slowly jump down the counter and take his hand, intertwining your fingers together.

you begin walking towards your room, your back to the door and your front to jj’s. your lips press against his jaw, leaving sweet kisses, until they reach his ear, “i want you to make love to me,” you murmur, your lips on his earlobe, gently biting it as a growl leaves his mouth, “then i want you to fuck me.”

and let’s just say he doesn’t hesitate for one second. he worships your body all night, showing you exactly how you should be treated, how all of the other guys you’ve been with were nothing compared to what he’s able to make you feel. you’ve never felt more comfortable with someone in bed, and even in your situation, he still manages to make you feel beautiful and sexy.

you fall asleep in his arms, naked and finally happy.

week 34 of pregnancy

“JJ I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T DRIVE FASTER I’LL KILL YOU!” you yell as your boyfriend is driving you to the hospital.

his foot hits the gas a little bit more, his arm wrapped in front of you, as if the seatbelt isn’t enough.

“breathe, baby, just breathe,” he keeps telling you and you’re really close to strangling him.

another contraction hits you and you grab his arm, tightly shutting your eyes from the pain. jj quickly checks the time on the watch on the hand that’s gripping the steering wheel.

“shit,” he whispers to himself, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“what?”

“the last one was four minutes ago. the baby is coming and soon.”

“it hurts, j!”

“hold on, baby, we need to get to the hospital NOW.”

by the time a nurse is pushing you on a wheelchair down the hospital halls, the contractions are three minutes apart. once they bring you to your room, jj sits next to you, holding your hand in his.

“we’re here! we’re here!” your mom says as she enters the room, followed by your dad and mar.

“i need everyone to leave the room for a second,” your doctor says and everyone follows her orders.

she examines you, checking to see if the baby is ready, “okay, y/n. it’s time. two minutes and we’re going to start, okay?”

you nod, fear obvious in your eyes, “can they come in for a second?” you ask, referring to the people outside.

“of course, but just for a second,” she calls them in.

jj runs to your side, kissing your forehead sweetly and holding your hand again, “everything okay?”

“she said two minutes and we’re starting.”

he sees the panic in your eyes and brushes some hair out of your face, in order to comfort you, “it’s okay. everything’s going to be okay, mh? and i’ll be right here, baby, i’m not leaving you.”

after hearing your parents’ and your friend’s reassuring words, the doctor comes back, “okay, i need everyone, except the father, out.”

they all leave, jj still sitting by your side. the gynecologist raises one eyebrow at him, “are you the father?”

“yes,” you answer, without thinking twice.

he doesn’t say anything; one of his arms is resting on the pillow behind your back, for you’re in a sitting position, while his other hand is still tightly holding yours.

“okay, then. ready to push?”

you nod. as the whole process goes on, jj and your doctor’s words are the only thing that are helping you through this. one of jj’s arms is now under your knee, keeping your legs open, as you start crying.

the doctor gives you a five seconds break, waiting for the next contraction while your back hits the pillow behind you, giving up the fight.

“i can’t push anymore,” you cry, jj’s hand pushing your hair out of your face, sticked to your forehead due to the sweat, and yet he thinks you look like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

“i know, sunshine, i know. a little bit more, you can do it,” he kisses the side of your head.

“i can’t, i can’t. can you do it for me?”

he looks down at you, smiling sweetly, “i wish i could, but you’re gonna have to do this one.”

“c’mon. again, y/n,” your doctor says, resuming your previous actions.

when you finally hear the sound of a baby crying, your whole body relaxes against the pillow.

“did so good, baby. you did so good,” jj praises you, pressing his lips to your forehead.

his eyes look for the baby, resting in the gynecologist’s hands, “oh my god. oh my god, it’s a girl,” he tells you.

you look for your baby and when you see her, tears start streaming down your face again, “oh my god. she’s so tiny,” you watch as the nurses bring her away from you, “where are they taking her? j, where is she?”

“it’s okay, baby. they’re just washing her.”

“oh, okay, but be careful, she’s really tiny!”

jj chuckles wetly, tears also running down his face. a nurse hands you your baby and you instantly hold her to your chest.

“she’s so beautiful,” you whisper.

“she looks like you.”

you look up at him, “how can you say that? she was just born!”

“she’s beautiful, so she must look like you.”

your lips lightly touch her forehead, admiring her as jj does the same. when your eyes search for him again, you find him completely in awe with the baby, rubbing her small, blanket-covered arm with his thumb.

“maybank, if you don’t kiss me right now, i swear to go-“

his mouth is on yours before you can end your sentence, gently kissing your lips.

“i love you so much, sunshine.”

“i love you, j. so, so much.”

taglist:

@jjmaybankisbae @rosie-cameron @idli-dosa @notslay-norcleor @ry1ssa @jjgirl4eva @poppet05 @jjsmads @solargazes @cindersnightmare @fairlymax @chaostudee @Isabellaheulwen @fictionlife4ever @alinag11 @neteyamo @goldenroutledge @tenaciousperfectionunknown @drewsgarfieid @urrtranny @highl1lac

#jj maybank #obx #outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank fanfiction #dad!jj maybank #jj maybank x you #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank smut

[sunnymoonxx]

red eyes, fangs and talons | miguel o'hara × fem!reader

summary: After another session with Miles, you're left with Miguel filled with anger and frustration. And only you know how to ease him up.

warnings; this is just pure filth, read at your own risk, degradation, unprotected p in v, oral (m receive), vulgar language, kinda voyeurism? if you close your eyes, praise, fangs, talons, talking about being "used," mentions of blood, bondage, angry sex

author's note: I'm not a native English speaker, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes. Also, the Spanish xd. I studied Spanish for a while, but it's no better than google translate, I tried my best xd.

m.list

"No puedo más, no puedo más," you heard a voice mumbling after the room cleared out, leaving only you, Jess, and Miguel. For the past two hours, you and Miguel have been trying to explain to the new recruit, Miles Morales, how the canons work and how they can not be changed. It obviously took a number in Miguel. He covered his face in his hands, back crouched, holding himself back to not break another innocent machine. You and Jess stood silently, glaring at each other, too scared to say anything. At moments like this, even Jess questioned her choices in life.

You decided to risk it and step forward towards Miguel, who still kept whispering something to himself. You were just a few steps behind him when he turned around, his eyes glowing red, facing you.

"Jess, don't take your eyes off Morales," he demanded, not taking his eyes off you. He towered over you, his hair a mess, eyes dark red, and fangs visible over his lips. He was animalistic. And it wasn't the first time you saw him like this. "Make sure he stays here."

"Copy that," Jess responded without hesitation. The next thing you hear is her motorcycle starting, leaving you alone with Miguel. Miguel's talons grew bigger, caused by uncontrollable anger and desire to destroy things. He ripped a machine in half, not even a few minutes ago, and even tho you've known him for years, you couldn't help but be a little scared. You stood there, not daring to say anything, not even knowing what to say, as Miguel moved towards you, scanning you with his vampire-looking eyes.

"You help him one more time," he started, his voice deep and steady, his accent more visible now. "You're out." The thought of being kicked out of the Spider Society made your heart skip a beat. This was all you had. You couldn't go back home. You had nothing there. But you knew Miguel or Jess wouldn't hesitate to send you back if it meant protecting the Multiverse. So you nodded without letting out a word. You understood, even tho you couldn't help but feel pity for him. For Miles. He's still just a kid. But if it meant the multiverse stayed safe, you would do anything to protect it. Even letting Miles' dad die.

"I understand," You kept your head low, not daring to look him in the eyes. You wanted to go and disappear into your room before you felt Miguel's hands grab your face, his talons touching your cheeks, lifting your head up.

"It's the right thing to do." He whispered, his voice a tad softer, but you could still hear the anger filling him. And you've been through this many times to know how this always ends. You didn't fight it. You actually enjoyed it, although you'd never admit it to yourself.

"Yeah, I know." You smiled at him, staring into his bloody eyes. His fangs pierced his lips, causing a drop of blood to drip down his chin. Without thinking, you lifted your hand to brush it off, Miguel carefully watching you. He didn't flinch or move. He let you caress his lips to wash away the blood on his full lips. You didn't even notice you were backed up against a table, Miguel's hand on your waist while the other still held your chin. You dropped your arms, fingers sliding down his torso, not breaking eye contact.

"I made a mistake, I know." You whispered, Miguel tilting his head, his talons carefully caressing your cheek and moving down to your neck. "I've made you angry." He nodded, approving of what you were saying, his eyes following the talons outlining the lines of your collarbones. His claws were so sharp. If he wasn't careful, he could rip your skin apart. And even though he was mad at you, at Lyla, and Miles at everyone, he didn't want to hurt you. There were always other ways to show you his anger and disappointment with you.

"I'm sorry for that, Miguel." You let out, his talons stopping where your heart would be. It was beating fast, blood rushing through your veins. He could feel it all. Hear your inconsistent breath. Feel you tremble beneath him. He could smell the heat between your legs.

"Está bien," his lips formed a little smile, you were sure you were imagining it. His hand moved to your chin again, grabbing you harder, forcing you to look at him. "Just don't obey my orders ever again. Is that clear?" He said out loud, making sure you heard him.

He grabbed your cheeks so hard you couldn't even open your mouth in response. But he knew you understood. And while you were focusing on his one hand grasping your cheeks, you gasped when you felt his other hand rip your suit in half, letting it fall to the floor. The number of torn suits of yours and the number of the new ones that Lyla has made for you, because of this reason. You lost count after seven.

You didn't wear anything under your suit, as it would ruin the lines of your figure, you were fully exposed to him now, his talons moving up and down your stomach. They were cold to the touch, making you hold your breath every time they touched your skin. But they still managed to make your panties wet with arousal. You loved it when he took you like this. Like you were his. Like you belonged to him. You exist just for him. You fucking loved it. Being taken from behind while pulling your hair. His fingers fucking your cunt because you wouldn't stop annoying him. You choking on his cock after he's had enough of your teasing. Being in the Spider Society had its pros and cons. This was one of the pros.

"Eres tan hermosa, arañita". he let out a breath, his talons circling your nipples. If he was so gentle with you, it made your walls clench around nothing. His hands stopped at your ribs, his eyes again scanning your face, head tilted. Like he was thinking about what he wanted to do. What he's gonna do with you tonight. It didn't take him a long time to figure out.

You watched as he placed his strong hands on your shoulders, slightly pushing down. You understood what he wanted. You kneeled in front of him, no questions asked. You've done this so many times, you knew his thoughts by memory. For a few seconds, he just stared at you, naked kneeling in front of him, looking at the massive bulge in his suit. Fuck, he almost came just by looking at you. So desperate for his cock.

You moved your hair out of your face, right before his suit opened, right at his crotch revealing his cock, already covered in precum. He was thick and big, spreading you every time he fucked you. It was a mix of pain and pleasure, making tears fall from your eyes, and orgasm take over your body. He never failed to satisfy you. Never failed to make you beg for more.

"You know what to do," he said, looking down at you, grasping your hair, pulling it slightly. You smiled to yourself, lifting your hands still on your knees and bringing them to his cock. As you grabbed him, your whole hand couldn't fit around him. Made you wetter than before. You decided to tease him a little bit, leaving just slight strokes, not fully touching him, your lips so close to him, he could feel your breath. You regretted it a few minutes after he lost his patience, pushing your head forward, his cock deep inside your mouth.

"Take it, you whore." His hands held your head in place while his hips thrust into your mouth. His cock in your mouth, leaving bruises, your eyes filling with tears. You loved being used like this. You loved being fucked like a slut. You enjoyed it when he called you derogatory names. Sometimes, he mixed it with praise. Fucking you hard, telling you how good of a slut you are for him. He could fuck you with his words without even touching you.

His hips started to move faster, his cock throbbing inside your mouth. He was close. And he was gonna cum on your tongue. Just how you liked it.

"Fuck," he growled, his hold on your head losing strength which confirmed he would finish in your mouth. "So good around my cock," he whispered to himself, fucking your mouth harder, making sure to leave bruises. To mark you as his.

"I'm-." Before he managed to finish the sentence, his cum started to fill your mouth, warming your tongue. He stayed there for a while, recovering before pulling out, breathing heavily. He watched you as you swallowed his load, licking your fingers after cleaning your lips. Fuck, you looked so good.

"You look so good when I fuck your mouth," he smiled at you, trying to push away the sweaty hair on your forehead. You looked so beautiful, kneeling in front of him, your tits out, your cheeks and eyes red, sweat dripping down your forehead. You were a mess already, and he had just begun.

"Stand up," he commanded. You had some trouble getting up after sitting for so long, Miguel noticed and helped you by lifting you up and sitting you down on the table in front of him. He was still so huge, your eyes facing his stomach. You both loved the size difference.

"I want you to be quiet," he said, his eye redder than before. "You're not gonna make a single sound, or I'll stop. Do you understand?" You nodded your head, understanding completely. You've already been through this. Many times, he left you all spread out in his bed because you couldn't keep quiet. Forcing you to deal with it on your own, but nothing ever felt good as his tongue or his cock.

"Good girl," he said, staring into your eyes, his talons digging into your thighs as he spreads me apart. Your cunt is so wet, the smell hits him in the nose. All he's done was fuck your throat and you were already soaking wet for him. He couldn't help but laugh to himself. He didn't break eye contact as his hand traveled down between your legs, making you bring your hand to your mouth to not make any noise as he touched your bare cunt. His fingers on your wet clit, gently moving up and down.

"No así, mi dulce." He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. It was too fast, you didn't have time to think as he turned you around fast, pushing you down, your tits touching the cold wood of the table. Ass up, and bend over. His favorite view. Just waiting to get fucked like a slut.

You should have known he wouldn't stop at this, as he also took your arms, forcing them apart and sticking them to the edge of the table with his web shooters. His feet kicked your legs, so they were more apart from each other.

"Joder, eres tan jodidamente hermosa." He whispered as he stepped back to take a better look at you. Bent down over the work table, legs apart, ass up, your tits pushed against the wood, and your arms tied up by his web shooters. So ready for him. Ready to get fucked in the ass by him. He loved the control he had over you. He cherished every second of it.

You felt his talons, going up and down your spine as you lay there, waiting for him to use you. He bent down to your ear, his fangs digging into your earlobe. "If you want me to stop, now is the time, sweetie," He whispered gently, awaiting your answer. You nodded your head.

"Good," he smiled, stepping back again as he took off his hologram suit, his brought shoulders and back visible to the world. You wish you could have seen him exposed, just like you, in the middle of an open office. Anyone could've walked in and seen you being fucked like a slut. But anyone with common sense knew not to bother Miguel now. So you were safe. And for Lyla? She's probably in here somewhere. But this was nothing she hadn't seen before.

Miguel's fingers brushed over your wet clit, testing you, if you make any noises. He was determined to break you tonight. When you stayed silent, he kneeled, attaching his fat tongue to you. That's when he heard a little whimper out of you. You could feel his cold fangs touching your lips, but you know he wouldn't use them like this. There were other places where he loved burying them inside of you. As your thoughts were occupied with his fangs, his tongue started to move faster, licking up and down your slit, his hands spreading your ass cheeks apart.

"Tastes so good," he growled against your cunt, sending shivers down your spine. His tongue and mouth were one of your favorite things about him. The way be devoured your cunt every single time. He could yell at you about how you're useless and only causing problems, but seconds later, he'd be on his knees, eating you out like he'd never eaten before. You could crumble on his tongue, and see stars and worlds just by the way he worked on your cunt.

You tried so hard to keep quiet as his tongue kept working on you, preparing you for his cock. His hands were still grabbing your ass you were sure he left a mark. He loved showing others you were his. That you loved being fucked and used by him.

You felt your orgasm approaching before you felt his tongue disappear and heard him get up, standing now behind you, staring at your cunt. The room was quiet, only his heavy breathing filling the silence. You weren't sure how you were gonna keep silent, and you were sure you were gonna fail.

"Tan bonito para mi," he smirked, grabbing his cock and stroking himself for a while before his tip touched your entrance. "No hagas un sonido." He said before slamming himself deep inside of you, spreading your cunt with his fat cock. You wanted to cry out, scream his name, but you didn't. Your walls surrounded him, his cock so deep inside of you, if you had free hands you could feel him by touching your lower belly.

"Mierda," you heard him whisper before he gently moved his hips back and slammed into you again. His thrusts slowly began to be harder and faster, making sure he didn't cause you any unnecessary pain. After he was sure and by your muffled moans, he started to pound into you like an animal holding your hips, his talons digging into your skin. His fat cock hitting all the spots in your cunt, your eyes rolling in the back of your head, making you see stars. You never wanted this moment to end. You kinda wished Miles Morales would stick around to piss off Miguel more often. You certainly liked the results of his anger.

"Miguel," you moaned, quickly regretting it and pressing your forehead against the table, hoping Miguel didn't hear it. You knew he did when he stopped his movements, his cock still deep inside of you. You felt him bend over, lips to your ears, fangs making an appearance again.

"¿Qué dijiste, querida?" he asked calmly, one hand on the table to stable himself and the other one caressing your back. You quickly shook your head, not daring to meet his gaze. You were so close, and he stopped. Fuck.

You wanted to apologize and beg him to continue, but he spoke first. "I'm not gonna stop." He whispered in your ear before slowly moving his lips down, his cold fangs touching your skin. "I'm gonna make it so much worse." His voice was calm, and you could hear him smirk in it. With his free hand, he ripped off the web shooters holding your arms before lifting you up and pressing you against his chest. He started to pound into you again, talons on your hips and his fangs piercing your skin. The overstimulation of it all made you cry out loud not holding your screams back anymore. You cried his name out before you knew it was gonna get even worse. His free hand moved down your belly to your clit, where he started to spread your lips with his fingers. Fuck.

You didn't know what to focus on first. His talons and fangs marking you as his, his fingers rubbing your clit, or his fat cock pounding into your cunt without mercy. You were tired, and your legs were giving up, but the pleasure taking over your body. You've never felt that ever before.

You were close, too close, and Miguel knew it. "Cum for me," he growled into your skin, taking out his fangs and sucking on the blood spilling from the wound. His fingers started to move faster in your clit, his cock not changing pace in fucking you. "Show me how much you love being my good little whore." He whispered into your ear and with the next thrust of his, you came hard on his cock, your walls almost crushing him. You wanted to fall down but Miguel's arms held you close to him, not stopping pounding into your already sensitive and overstimulated pussy. He was close himself, but you could feel another orgasm approaching as he kept fucking into you restlessly.

"Miguel, fuck." You moaned, his hand moving up to play with your bouncing tits. You could feel him coming closer, this time, same as you. With his last thrust, you came on his cock again and he followed you shortly after. His cum filling you up, marking you as his. You fell onto the table, trying to recover yourself, Miguel's cock still deep inside of you.

You felt his hands lean against your back as he himself tried to catch his breath. Both of you stayed like that for minutes before Miguel pulled out of you, turning you carefully against him and picking you up, bridal style. You didn't care where he was taking you, you were so fucked up you didn't pay attention to anything.

You realized he put you into a bath, filled with hot water that smelled like vanilla. Miguel followed you and sat behind you, pulling you on his lap.

"You did good," he whispered into your ear and started to wash your body from the mess you two made. "I'm proud of you," His lips met your cheek, and a smile spread across your face. You let him wash your sensitive body while you relaxed in his arms, slowly drifting to sleep.

#miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fic #miguel ohara #beyond the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #into the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #smut

[tlou-reid]

Hiii! I absolutely love your writing and I was wondering if you could write something about Spencer reid and reader who have just started dating and they get into their first ever argument and it’s a bit angsty but cute(?) cause he gets all worried while reader is more experienced in the relationship department so she (or gn!reader, your choice) doesn’t worry as much cause she knows it doesn’t mean they’re over? And then he gets all pouty and clingy when they make up cause he hated being far from her sm🫶 I know its very specific and idk weird so its totally okay if you don’t wanna write it but I’d really appreciate it!!!

as an insecure certified lover girl i love this request and i am so sorry it took me so long to get to <3

spencer was not expecting you to leave. to argue, to complain, even to berate, but to leave? the thought the didn’t even cross his mind.

the argument had started over something stupid, probably like a teasing remark that had gone too far, or the fact that he had been nagging you about doing the dishes. he wasn’t sure. all that filled his mind now was the fact that you walked out the door and slammed it behind you. he wasn’t sure where you went to, or if you were coming back.

yet, he was frozen in place. his knees had begun to shake as tears started to well up in his eyes. for a genius, you are really fucking stupid, he thought. he couldn’t believe he blew things with you, already.

you two hadn’t officially been together long. only around 3 months, but had spent much more time together prior to that. he was truly falling for you, something he wasn’t expecting to do. he loved the way you laughed and the way you listened to him. he loved that you were always there to greet him with a wide smile and a tight hug when you he came back from cases. he loved being around you and he loved the positive energy you put out.

and he just ruined all of that over some stupid argument.

spencer was rarely one to be unsure. after all, he is a genius, so there wasn’t many things he didn’t know. but, standing alone in front of his apartment door, he was clueless. should he run after you? should he wait it out? should he start packing up all of the things you’ve left at his apartment over these three months? he didn’t know.

so, like with most things he didn’t know, he was going to research. sure, to the common person googling “what to do after a fight with your girlfriend” would be corny, maybe even a little dumb, but not to spencer. when he couldn’t figure stuff out, he found other sources that could. so that’s what he was trying to do now.

much to spencer’s dismay, he was met with a whole bunch of editorials. not a single academic paper, dissertation, or research project had been conducted on the topic. so, he took what he could get and began reading over the newest People Magazine article titled “steps to making your girlfriend happy after being a bad boyfriend”.

he wasn’t sure how long he’d been reading, or how many different pop culture magazine websites he’d accidentally signed up for on his old desktop by the time his phone rang. it startled him, but he moved quickly to get it, assuming it was hotch calling him to come in for a case.

his heart sped up but his stomach dropped when he saw your first name, with the little otter emoji next to it. you had picked it, spencer didn’t even know there was an otter emoji.

his thumb slid over the answer button as quickly as he could move it, but once he brought the phone up to his ear, spencer couldn’t find any words.

the line was silent for a minute. you weren’t sure if he was even breathing on the other side. you wanted to give yourself time to cool off, separate from spencer. his little remark about your poor cooking skills had gotten to you, and you didn’t want it to become a massive argument. you didn’t know that spencer had spiraled after you left.

“are you going to come over or what?” you couldn’t help but let the residual anger you were holding slip out. despite this, spencer’s breath caught in his throat. you heard him take a deep exhale before saying, “you want me to come over?”

the desperation in his voice was so apparent, it broke your heart. any anger you were holding onto, or any bitterness about the comment he made completely wiped away when you heard spencer’s voice. you guessed that he had probably been crying. you softened your tone, and spoke slowly as you answered him, “of course i want you to come over, spence. we don’t get to have two sleepovers in a row very often.”

spencer’s hand was shaking as he listened to your words. he thought for sure you were going to break up with him. all he said was, “i’m on my way.” before hanging up.

you shouldn’t have been surprised at spencer throwing himself in your arms when you opened the door for him. he always craved physical touch, despite his fear of germs. he knew you and he cherished you, and all he wanted was to be close to you.

your hand snaked around his back as he buried his head in your shoulder. you tried to pretend you couldn’t feel the tears escaping from him. he wasn’t sobbing, there was just other way for him to have the emotional release he needed than to allow his tears to fall. your hand rubbed lovingly over his back, letting him adjust to being back with you.

“i’m so sorry,” he muttered against you. his hands were balled up between you two and you could feel him nervously squeezing his fists tighter. “spencer, it’s okay,” you assured.

you pulled away from him, only to wipe his tears away and move his hair out of his face. despite his height, he looked so tiny and vulnerable. “i didn’t mean to upset you,” he whined. “it’s okay,” you repeated, grabbing his hand to move him to the sofa.

you sat across from him, but he stared at the floor. “i thought you were breaking up with me,” he muttered. his voice was quiet and gentle. you couldn’t help but laugh at his statement. “why would i do that?” you moved closer to him, tucking his hair behind his ear to get him to look at you. “i-i don’t know! you just left and you were angry and i thought you weren’t coming back,” tears were filling up his eyes again as he finally met your gaze.

“spence,” you cooed, “couples fight and sometimes they need space. a little argument like that is nothing. we’re okay,” you promised him. he nodded, then reached out to pull you into his chest. “i don’t like when you storm out like that,” he said. “‘m sorry,” you mumbled against him. he just nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

#the visual of spencer reading teen vogue to navigate a fight with his partner was too good not to include #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds blurb #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #spencer x reader #spencer imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds smut #asked and answered

[miguelsslvt]

miguel o'hara x goth girl! spider! reader smut drabble

word count: 756

TW: nsfw, smut, overstimulation, y/n gets fucked dumb, creampie, fingering, spanish translated from google translate so it isn't very good i'm so sorry. and also it isn't exactly stated that y/n is 'goth', it's literally just heer style and i hate it sm that i write it like that i'm so sorry.

A/N: so basically i got requested to do a college au! goth girl x reader but i didn’t read the ‘college’ bit and i got a bit carried away so… here’s the shitty goth spider! reader whilst i try writing the college au!! anyways two posts in one night?? ahh! this is severely unedited and not even proofread, so i hope i did okay! i can always rewrite if you don't like it:). also i love doing requests so much, so pls give me more! welcome to the club! ^^

you were a smart girl. well, smart enough to notice the looks miguel gave you everytime you walked around spider society wearing your favourite black dress and fishnets. and you would be lying to yourself if you said the attention didn't make your legs tighten in anticipation.

you had your eyes on miguel since the first time you laid eyes on him when he recruited you. was it your everlasting hunger for male validation? maybe. was it the way his fingers flicked through tab to tab on his platform? most likely. was it the hunger you noticed in his eyes when he trailed his eyes along your figure? absolutely. that's why on the day you were supposed to come to miguel for 'monthly anomaly reports', you made sure to wear the short black skirt and fishnets you knew that would miguel drool. what? just because you were pretty didn't mean you were stupid.

after a beautiful walk around the graveyard near your home, placing some flowers on some empty graves, you decided to go back to the spider HQ, playing your favourite band, 'bauhaus'.

'spider goth. miguel would like you in his office.' your watch alarmed, as your smiled at lyla, nodding. before you walked into the office room, you made sure to fix your eyeliner so it didn't look too 'smoky' but smoky enough. you fixed your silver necklaces in place, as you walked in. 'yes miguel?'

fuck, that voice. miguel thought. he turned around slightly to take in your body. god, he could feel his dick twitch from just the sight of you. was it even normal to feel this way? 'sir? you seem a little.. distracted.' you said, tilting your head slightly. he smirked. if miguel was completely honest, he knew you knew how he felt about you. and the fact that you still continue to wear such provocative clothing around him, and the fact that you always give him that 'innocent' smile of yours was enough for him to know you enjoyed the attention.

'oh i think we both know why i'm distracted, spider goth-' 'y/n.' you cut him off. he seemed a bit taken aback. 'excuse me?' he asked. 'for you, it's y/n, sir.' you replied, walking up to his platform, your skirt riding up slightly as you sat on his desk.

god, he could take you right there. so he did.

✩★✩★✩★✩★✩★✩

'm-miguel!~' you moaned, eyes rolling back as he kept hitting that sweet spot inside you. your back was arched against the desk, as his hands held your hips roughly. your eyeliner and makeup was ruined, all over your cheeks as they were filled with tears. your fishnets were ruined, as your skirt was hitched up just above your ass, as miguel groaned in relief.

'god you don't know how long i've wanted this.. mi niña bonita~' he cooed, smirking as you gasped for air, holding onto the desk. (my pretty girl)

you had lost count on how many times miguel made you cum in just one hour, but right now you couldn't care. your legs were numb, mind was fuzzy and you could swear you were seeing stars. you fucked out dizzy expression urged miguel further, chasing both of your highs.

'g-god m-miguel g-gonna c-cum again..!' you moaned loudly, as miguel leaned closer to your ear, moving your jaw so he could see your dumb face.

you were drooling, crying, your hair and makeup was a mess. and mguel didn't think you could get any more prettier then this. god, and the way you clenched and gaped around him made him cum almost instantly. but he would wait. 'cum for me, that's it.. jodido tan tonto que ni siquiera puedes pensar, ¿verdad?' he teased, as he thrusts became sloppy once again. (fucked so dumb you can't even think, right?)

you reached you peak, letting out a loud gasp, as miguel held your jaw,his nose in your neck as he whispered to you. 'thaat's it.. that's my girl.. there you go..' he praised, prolonging your orgasm for as long as possible as he let his load in you.

it was alot, as you came down from your high, panting for air. miguel groaned as he pulled out, leaving a string of his cum and your juices out. he just let a deep breath, tutting. 'ay.. no.. mi dulce chica.. you're supposed you keep it inside. looks like i'm gonna have to plug it back in.' miguel said, sticking his finger inside you, making you squeal in overstimulation. (my sweet girl)

'let's take care of the mess you made, yeah?' he cooed, as you nodded mindlessly. there was one thing miguel will never admit, though.

and that's miguel likes it messy.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x reader #spiderman atsv #spiderman into the spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel smut #smut #female reader #drabble #fem reader #spiderverse x reader #spider verse #spider man 2099 #across the spiderverse #spiderman #into the spider verse #goth reader #gothic #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader

[lightwing-s]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐯 ; 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: you're pregnant. somehow, your baby daddy has to find out about it.

word count: 5,6k warnings: pregnancy, mentions of abortion.

a/n: i wrote and rewrote this a lot, and I don't think this is the best I could come up with, but here it is. a lot more angst that previous episodes and I do recommend reading it while listening to The Flame by Valerie Deniz and also Give me Love by Ed Sheeran because I love how emotional that song usually makes me feel. Hope you all enjoy it ♡♡♡

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

links: previous ; next ; series masterlist ; general masterlist

With a deep sigh, you tried to settle down your nerves. Your hands were sore. Sweaty. Tired of trying. The heaviness still lingered on your chest. The feeling of incoming doom. The air all around was thicker than you’d remembered it for, nearly making it impossible for you to breathe. And you swore to your reflection in the mirror, you were gonna make it through.

It had been three nights since the result. Two days of pain. And one single thought looming in your mind. Pregnant. You’re pregnant. You didn’t know what to do, nor what to think. Sinking into a pit of terror and despair. The idea frightened you, tore you apart. And just thinking of your future, of what was to come from now on, made your head spin.

Today, you forced yourself to forget. Pretend your life was normal, like it used to be. Not Much had changed since you had taken the test three days ago, but to you it felt like everything was different. 

You had skipped the gym the last couple of days, the first time doing it since you could remember, scared to face anybody and them finding out, but also too anxiety stricken to even leave your bed. You felt cramps, but also your stomach turning. You felt nauseous, but you weren’t sure if it was due to your newfound condition, or if it was the anxiety acting out.

Nessie had called, and you gave her some excuse that your boss needed you elsewhere. Another city. A quick work trip, you’d be back soon. At work, you told them you had caught some contagious disease you found on google, and they let you off for the entire week. Thankful for a relatively full pantry, you survived for two days on your own, but you sure couldn’t manage to eat much anyway.

You’ve never lived worst days. You were sure of that. Fear fills you to the brim. Sadness eats you up from the inside. And because of that, you felt even worse. There are so many people who dreamed of being where you were now, of getting a positive. So many have struggled for this. And here you were, ungrateful for yours. But you never wanted it in the first place. Not now, not like this. It didn’t follow your plan. It wasn’t perfect.

It wasn’t long ago that you were graduating college. And as of this moment, you were a mere assistant, not even a proper writer or a journalist yet like you’ve dreamed since you were little. An assistant. The bottom of the food chain, with still a lot to grow and harvest in your career. You neither had the finances, the stability, nor the time and mental capacity to be raising a baby on your own.

Because you would be raising it on your own, wouldn’t you? Your baby daddy would just disappear, like many others you’ve heard about. He would pack his things and disappear. He would live his life, continue with being young, having fun, while you were left to fend for yourself and your kid. All alone. 

Would you even tell him? Should you even tell him?

Three nights. Three nights of torture. Of overthinking the future and sulking in your bed, your pillow drenched with your tears. You knew you’d go crazy if you kept that going for too long. So, finding some bit of courage, some tiny little ounce of determination, you left your bed that morning ready to forget. Ready to clear your mind, to make it think straight. And then, you wished, you would know what to do.

You showered, ate, did your skincare and put on makeup, and went for a walk around the park. But you just had to step out of your apartment to find someone who made you think instantly of him. Running back inside and leaving your raven haired neighbor staring confused at you, you made a beeline to the bathroom, dropping your entire breakfast in the toilet. 

You had to tell him, hadn’t you? You had to tell Jason. It was the right thing to do, right?

So, here you were. Back at the gym you’d quit a month ago in favor of another. All because of your last encounter. You thought it was the best to be done, remove him entirely from your life so you could be free again. If only you had known then where you’d be a month later, you’d have laughed at the irony the world was throwing at you. You still remembered the times he’d come, praying he didn’t have them changed for some reason. Maybe he wanted to avoid you too. Maybe he had quit. Please, God. Be on my side, only for today.

It had been, perhaps, a full hour since you arrived. Roy had greeted you with a large smile, asking if you were back for good. You couldn’t match his enthusiasm, offering him a poor excuse of your own smile instead. All this time, you couldn’t complete a full set, never mind finish an entire exercise. Your body trembled, not answering you. Too exhausted. The heaviness on your chest helped in weighing you down and making every effort insufficient.

The weights you had tried to use now stood on your feet. Crooked, disordered, unorganized. Then, you found yourself looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were red and swollen. Your lips were dry and exposed some nervous bite marks you’d been taking off them. There were a few pimples on your forehead, and you had bags under your eyes. In the corner of the mirror, too stood the reflection of the one you’d been looking for.

He chatted with another man. It wasn’t Roy, by the darker hair color and shorter size. Yet it was a face you recognized, but failed to name. Jason looked happy, smiling as he spoke excitedly about something you did not know about. Were you really ready to tell him? Were you okay with ceasing his happiness?

Your eyes lingered on him for longer, and eventually, his eyes found yours. His smile was quickly replaced by a frown. An air of disgust and anger. His tongue poked his cheek, and he rolled his eyes at you. Turning around, he decided that facing the other direction was much better than facing you. Now, his broad back was all you were left to stare at.

You felt the nausea return. Leaving your things behind, you rushed to the restroom. He hated you. He hated you and he was fucking right for it. And what were you thinking? Telling him he was going to be a father, to your baby above all, at the fucking gym?

After dumping your stomach in the toilet once more, you wanted to get out of there. Collecting your things and shoving them inside your bag, you headed out. However, in good old fashion, you felt a body stop as it came in contact with someone else’s. You didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Eyeing you from above, Jason started to apologize before he could recognize who you were, proceeding to roll his eyes again. You excused yourself, still looking away from him, and his demeanor changed from anger to worry.

“Yn, are you alright?” he inquired, reaching for your arm. You felt your eyes start to burn, the tears finding their way back, and the nausea only got worse. Running past him, all you managed to say was a quick “I’m fine,” before disappearing.

You arrived at his building straight away, using the faint memory of the directions that remained in your brain from the night he brought you here. You were still clad in your gym clothes, not caring to stop at home first, nor remembering to actually do it. But it was fine, because you didn’t sweat anyways. You couldn’t even finish one full exercise in the hour or so you were there. 

So you waited. You waited on the opposite sidewalk, thinking back to the first time you came here. It was almost two months ago, or maybe more, you don’t remember exactly. It seemed longer, though. It all seemed longer. Longer than two months. Longer than three days. It all seemed like an eternity.

The sun waved goodbye on the horizon, hiding between Gotham’s skyline. The weather started to shift, as the warmth of summer slowly gave place to the strong winds and the coolness of the autumn days. The breeze made you wish you had brought a coat or something to keep you warm, the thin gym clothes you wore doing nothing to help you. And so, your body shivered.

Shivered from the cold. Shivered from the fear. The agony you’d so desperately tried to keep away returning back to you. If you went up. If you knocked on his door. If you talked to him, there was no pretending anymore. There was no hiding facts you so wished you could. There was no fighting reality.

A lump formed in your throat, and you tried to swallow it away, to no avail. Your breath, your hands, your legs, your all trembled. Fighting to keep yourself up when all you wanted was to fall down, to curl up under your covers and hide from the world. From the truth.

You thought back to the days when things were easier. To your days at the park, playing around with your friends, the hem of your jeans always dirty from mud, dust or paint. You remembered the days all you had to do was study, your chores, and your drawings. Reading books from sunrise to sundown, or for the entire night. Of when responsibilities didn’t follow you everywhere, and the perspective of the future didn’t break you down.

You thought of your parents. Of how mad they would get. There was always a path to them, a way to follow. A way to live your entire life. Just like they had done theirs. Any step out of that line often led you to trouble. ‘You have to get married to a good and respectful husband. One that will care and provide for you. And then, when the time is right, God will give you children to raise, just like he did to me and your father,’ your mother would tell you. ‘There’s nothing more shameful than a single mother’, were once the words of your father. And the thought of what they’d do to you once they found out had your tears rolling down faster than you could hold them in.

An old lady passed by you, asked if you were okay. You lied, like you’d been doing for the past few days. You weren’t one for lying, never was, and suddenly it was all you did. “Oh dear,” she cooed, and embraced you in an unexpected hug, before her tiny pomsky pulled her away.

Grey took over your surroundings, like one of those movie filters that left everything somber. A single headlight of a motorcycle let you know he was finally here. That the time of truth was upon you. You watched him park his motorcycle like a creep. Hidden in a dark corner, away from his sight. He had showered at the gym, and now wore a different outfit. Sweatpants and a hoodie. 

He looked comfortable. You clearly weren’t. He looked happy. Opposite to you. Were you ready to take all that away from him? To curse him to the same pain and anxiety you were feeling now? 

But you couldn’t do it alone. You couldn’t. You needed him. You needed him. You needed him by your side. You need someone, something. Something to tell you everything would be okay. Gathering up all your courage, every bit you could find within yourself, you took one step out of the sidewalk.

A deep breath taken before entering the building, you walked in without ceasing to cry. Each step you took up the stairs was heavy. Heavier than when you were drunk, and heavier than the day you left. Each step was a gulp. Each gulp was a scream inside your brain telling you to turn around. About two or three times along the way you stopped to look down, and wondered what would be of you if you’d just ran away. 

In your mind, you counted each and every step. An attempt to clear it of thought. It obviously didn’t work. Your legs shook and your breathing faltered with the last steps you took to reach the sixth floor. The tears had dried, leaving your skin cold to the touch. You moved on automatic. Everything else you did a blank stain in your memory. 

It was the feeling of the hardwood under your knuckles that brought you back to reality. The hollow sound it made woke you up, showing you’d made it to his door. Your breath got stuck in your throat, and you felt like you could vomit.

He took his time to answer the door. And you wondered if it was a sign to turn around. To leave. But your feet wouldn’t move, even if you screamed at them to do so. The ruffling inside the apartment made your heart jump, beating hard in its place. Your breathing halted, trapped in your larynx, as the tears started rapidly falling down again.

When he opened the door, it was like time had stopped. He assessed you through narrow eyes, still angry at you. You didn’t blame him, not at all.

“They run from you twice and still come right back,” he hissed. His voice was hoarse and monotone, and his eyes found yours in a blank stare. The corners of your mouth fell. Your chin trembled. And had to avert your eyes from him otherwise you’d start sobbing all over again. “Yn,” he called, and his voice didn’t show the hate or disgust anymore. It was worried. It felt pain. Softer and watchfull. “What happened?”

You took a deep breath, swallowing down the tears. Trying so hard to keep them in, but the drops that fell beside your sneakers on the floor were a testament of how your body had stopped responding to you a long time ago. Your shoulders shook, and Jason went from worried to desperate. He didn’t know what was going on. But seeing you like this made him freak out.

And suddenly he wasn’t mad at you anymore. In retrospect, maybe he never truly was. But whatever anger, or frustration he had disappeared from his body. You felt his touch on your shoulder, and you imagined he had just put one hand there as a sign of support. You’d be thankful for just that. But then, you felt his arms drawing you close, wrapping around you, until you felt the soft cotton of his hoodie through your cheek.

The tears ran down faster, soaking a spot on the thick fabric. Your loud sobs only made Jason pull you closer, not knowing how, but still trying to call you down. Whatever happened was too bad that you’d run to him of all people, and he felt obligated to help you in any way he could. 

By this point, he was holding you up himself. Your body giving in to the tears. Jason tucked his nose in your hair, breathing in the sweet scent of your shampoo. He caressed your back, kissed you temple, spread warmth through your body with his own hands rubbing at your arms. However, your tears ceased to stop, making the stain under your eyes enlarge, second after second.

“Yn,” he whispered right into your ear. The air he let out hitting against your skin.

You pressed your eyes shut. The tears that still lingered there being forced out. You tightened your hold on him. He called you again, and forced his neck to get a glimpse of your puffy red eyes.

You didn’t want to let go, but forced yourself to push him away just so you could finally face him. You felt your throat dry, a weak cough trying to fix it up. Jason couldn’t help the quick thought of how pretty you looked when you cried, but he felt so much pain in his chest at the same time that he wished he would never see you like that again.

The first time you opened your mouth, nothing came out of it. Jason’s fingers drew figures on your back, both a distraction and an encouragement. You can do it, you can do it. With another deep, long breath, you slowly opened your eyes to meet his.

“I-I’m…” you started, breathless. A single tear late to fall from your eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

Jason’s mind went blank. His body was suddenly weightless. The moments past your announcement, a mere stain in his memory. You now sat beside him on his sofa, your hands covering your face as he heard continuous sobs coming out of you. Your knees tight against your chest, and it didn’t bother him you had your shoes on the sofa. Nothing bothered him. Nothing was on his mind. 

Your body quivered, nonstop. His own unresponsive. What the hell did he do?

Pregnant. Eight letters that had the power to change everything. Pregnant. You were pregnant. With his baby.

Jason felt his chest tighten, and breathing suddenly was harder. He tried swallowing the knot in his throat away, but it wouldn’t bulge. Resting his back on the sofa, a hand threading through his hair, he allowed a couple of tears out, rubbing his eyes off any others that dared to hang around.

“Are you sure?” he asked, breaking the prolonged silence with a raspy voice. Moving your head from it’s place buried on your knees, your eyes looked at him with a pain he’d have thought he’d put a knife on your back. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he told you softly. “I just want to be sure.”

Straightening beside him, you stared at the cat worriedly looking up at the two humans occupying the sofa. You fiddled with your fingers, pulling at the fabric of your leggings.

“I took a test,” you started to explain. “Three nights ago. And my period was late, and it’s never late. And it’s not like we were careful when we…”

“Not at all.” Jason shook his head. You weren’t careful at all.

The room fell into silence again, the only sounds coming from the cat, now playing between his legs, unaware of the turmoil you’d just caused in his life.

“I’m sorry,” you said, resuming your sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no,” Jason kept saying. He turned on the sofa, sitting in a position he could easily wrap his arms around you once again. “No, Yn. Don’t be sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he soothed.

“Jason,” you called him, your voice broken. “How there’s not? I’m fucking pregnant!”

Jason held you tighter. But the truth was, he might’ve been just as scared as you were. A baby meant a new life, responsibilities. And he was still getting used to being an adult and the responsibilities that came with that. It was all going to change. And he had plans…

The two of you stood there until your sobs had quieted down. You didn’t know how long, but you were grateful he was quiet for the entire time. You were thankful he was quiet instead of  telling you any of the things you’d thought he would. And you were also thankful he didn’t close his door on your face.

“Have you thought…” Jason tried to speak, but his voice kept on breaking. “Have you thought… of all possibilities?”

He hoped you understood what he meant, because he couldn’t bring himself to say it. It was a hard thing to ask, but he had to. He didn’t want you to think he was pushing you to it, but he needed to know if it was a possibility too. Jason remembered hearing some friends saying they had their girlfriends do it, that they basically forced them. But Jason would never.

He felt you moving on his chest, pushing yourself away from his body, and his breath halted. “It’s your call,” he whispered. “I’ll be there for any of them.”

You had sat back up, hands tugging at your leggings again while you thought. It took you long to answer. Too long for his liking. But he understood your pace, everything was happening way too fast. You needed to think things through. For some reason, his stomach took turns, making him feel sick as he waited.

“I don’t think I could do it,” you stated, staring blankly at your legs. “I don’t think I could end it.” Jason let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A lightness on his chest he could not name. He nodded, as words didn’t make it out of his lips.

Leaning back on the sofa, you felt his shoulders hit yours. He let out another breath, it was long and you found it hard to read his emotions through it. He was silent beside you, making it even harder for you to guess what was going through his mind.

That’s it, he’s gonna tell you he can’t do it either. He’s gonna leave you alone.

“You just took one test?” he asked after a while. You just nodded. “We should go to the hospital,” he suggested, head turned to watch you. “Get a proper test, just to make sure.”

His suggestion made you hurt. The fact that he doubted you, the fact he thought you’d go to him if you weren’t a hundred percent sure, caused you a pain you did not expect. However, on the other hand, you knew he was right. You had to be certain. False positives happen, right? You could be wrong.

 “Okay,” you agreed weakly, turning to face him after all. “I’ll do it.”

It might have been the uncomfortable chairs or the freezing air conditioning, but the time didn’t seem to pass. It was well over an hour since you’d arrived at the hospital, and you’d stopped counting how much you’ve waited for your test results to come out. They said between thirty minutes to an hour, but you were sure it had been longer than that.

While you remained seated for most of your wait, Jason was restless. He stood up and sat down more times than you remember, and he was seriously starting to piss you off with his pacing. Stopping in front of a snack machine, he put some dollar bills in it and took something with him before walking back to you.

Stretching his arm in front of you, he offered both a granola and a Snickers bar. In no mood to be healthy, even though your possible new condition sort of demanded that from you, you took the chocolate gladly.

Jason dropped down on a chair beside you with a huff, and took a bite of the granola bar with a certain annoyance. You were both tired of waiting, that was for sure. The agony you’d felt earlier had simmered down, but you too now sat restless, one of your legs shaking incessantly.

It was involuntary, but Jason’s hand on your knee made it stop. It lingered there for a while, fingertips gracing over the thin fabric and tugging at it just like you had been doing before. You saw his head move, and so did yours, catching his eyes. 

Your expressions had been everywhere tonight. The whirlwind of emotions you had gone through justifying each and everyone of them. But this time, his eyes bore into yours much softer, sweeter than they’d been before.

“Yn,” he called your name as if you hadn’t been staring down at him for what seemed like forever. “Whatever happens. Whatever the results say. I’ll be here, alright? I won’t leave you.”

The sincerity in his tone made your eyes tearful once more, but this time you managed to hold them in. You gave him a soft smile, and you were really glad he was here with you now. Putting a hand on top of his, he flipped it over so you could interlace your fingers, caressing its back with your thumb just like he was doing to you.

It was then that your name was called, both of your heads snapping in the reception desk’s direction. Jason stood up and walked over, grabbing a single piece of paper before walking back to you with even taking a glance at it.

When he sat back, he offered you his opened hand. You intertwined your fingers, and held his with both your hands, taking it closer to your heart this time. You couldn’t deny the tiny bit of hope lingering inside you that, just perhaps, you were actually wrong. You weren’t pregnant. But, over the hours, you’d also grown accustomed to the idea. He opened the results with between his thumb and pointer finger, and both your eyes fell on the big letters found on top of it. 

Positive. Again. It was positive. You were truly pregnant. 

You let out a sigh, closing your eyes to stop the tears from returning. Jason’s hold on you tightened, and you could sense the tension on him returning. He buffed some air out through his mouth, taking another deep breath before doing the same thing again.

“That’s it,” his voice was shaky. “You’re really pregnant.” He forced himself to smile, and you tried to do the same. To no avail. His eyebrows furrowed. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you replied honestly. “I just wanna go home. It’s been a long night.”

“Okay,” he said softly, standing up and walking with you hand in hand till you left the hospital.

The parking lot was almost empty, and you found Jason’s car sitting isolated far ahead. The silver Toyota Supra shone under the faint light of a lamp post, and you remembered how surprised you were to find him driving it. It finally occurred to you that other than his name and his gym membership, you knew nothing about the man you were about to have a baby with.

He didn’t know you either. Gosh, you didn’t know a thing at this point. About him, about pregnancy, about babies and having children. He asked you ‘what now?’ and you didn’t even have an answer. How the hell were you going to do it?

When he felt your fingers leaving his, Jason immediately turned to face you. Frozen in place and flooded eyes.

“I don’t think I can do it,” you said breathlessly. “Jason, I don't think I can do it. I never wanted kids. I mean, I’ve never really thought about it. I didn’t want it now. I wanted to do it all right. This is not it.” You cried once again, rambling the words that left your mouth. Jason had walked over to you, trying to calm you down and wipe the tears off your face. “I don’t know anything about babies. I’ve only babysat before, but they were much older. And even my nephew, I didn’t meet him until he was, like, six months old. And I don’t know shit about pregnancies. I hated biology. I slept a lot during classes.”

“How can we do it? I barely know you. Gosh I don’t even know your surname, Jason. You’re what, Jason fucking Linetti? How can we have a baby together without knowing each other? We’re supposed to build a family together. A family. My family… I-I never had a family. Not really. I didn’t want a family, Jason. Not now. I don’t think I can do it.”

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, stopping your rambling. He cupped your cheeks with both his hands, holding your face. His forehead rested on yours, forcing you to stare him in the eyes. “I also don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do. For fucks sake, Yn. But we have time. The baby is not gonna come tomorrow. We’ll figure things out. Together.  We have each other, alright? You have me. I’ll be here, with you, all along. You don’t have to worry. We’ll learn how to do this together, and with time. Okay?”

Jason’s dark eyes passed you enough confidence to have you thinking that, maybe, possibly, he was right. You could actually do it. The baby isn’t coming tomorrow, you have time. You’ll figure things out. With Jason. Together.

Slowly, you nodded. You could do it, right?

Jason sighed, relieved you actually believed him, because as of right now, he himself was struggling to do so. Giving your head a long kiss, he pulled you into a hug before pulling away to open his car door to you to enter. Dropping on the driver seat beside you, you desperately waited to get back home.

“I’m Jason Peter Todd. I’m 22 years old. A leo. I work as an exercise physiologist, but I want to be a doctor someday. So I’m working on getting into med school soon. I love motorcycles, they are fucking cool and driving them makes me feel free. I have probably over twenty tattoos and my favorite book is probably Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.”

“What was that for?” You gave him an amused smile.

“You said you didn’t know me or my surname. Now you do, and you can say you know a little. If you want my social security number too, it’s 108…”

“It’s okay,” you laughed, softly, for the first time in three days. “I guess knowing your surname is fine for now.”

He gave you a smile, but raised one eyebrow at you. Confused, you frowned, trying to understand what he meant until he pointed at you with his head, leading you to do the same as he did.

“Okay,” you started. “I’m Yn Sn. I work at Runaway Magazine as Sandra’s assistant, but I really want to be a journalist. I don’t have any tattoos because I’m afraid of needles, and I can’t choose a favorite book because I like too many.”

“Nice to meet you Yn Sn,” he greeted, extending his hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you too, Jason Todd. Now can you please take me home. I’m exhausted.”

“Alright,” he gave you a smirk. “Do you remember the address this time?”

He insisted on walking you to your door, wanting to make sure you actually got home safe. You didn’t know where he thought you could disappear to between the sidewalk and your apartment door, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t starting to enjoy his company. 

The elevator ride was silent, and neither of you spoke as you tried to unlock your front door.

“Thank god,” you said. Relief spread through you as the door opened and you got into your home. Immediately taking off your sneakers, you placed them by the door so they could keep it open for you. Looking back at Jason, who still didn’t dare step inside your apartment, you managed to give him a thankful smile. “And thank you too, Jason.”

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s not even the least I can do, it’s my responsibility now.”

“But still, thank you. There were many ways out for you, and you took none,” you explained, resting your shoulder on the door frame.

“Yn, you didn’t make this baby alone” he began. “I saw your state when you knocked on my door, and I also made you a promise. I don’t usually break them.”

For a brief minute, you two stood in silence again. Eyes lingering over each other. A recognizable tension in the air. You averted your eyes from him, as warmth engulfed your cheeks, the painted nails on your toes suddenly a lot more interesting to you.

“I’ll be going then. Call me if you need anything, alright?” he said, already halfway to the elevator.

“Jason,” you called and he turned back. Hopeful. “Do you even have my number?”

He stopped to think, and a dumb smile appeared on his face upon realizing he had never asked you for your number, nor did he ever give you his. Taking his phone out of his sweatpants pockets, he handed it to you. “If you don’t mind. I think I really should have your number.” He combed a hand through his hair.

You typed in your phone number, trying to think of what to write your name as, but concluding your name would be just fine. You gave yourself a call so you could save his too later, and returned him his cellphone.

He awkwardly waved you goodbye, and called the elevator that opened up instantly, not having left your floor since you had gotten home. You watched him as the door began to close, head hanging low and a tired demeanor. 

“Jason?” you called again, and he put his hand on the door just as it was about to fully close. It opened again, and he placed his hands on each side of the door frame. “Thank you,” you said softly.

“Stop thanking me,” he laughed and now allowed the door to close.

You stood there, dumbfoundedly watching the closed door as you swiftly repeated the entire night in your head. Every moment of pain, despair and torture morphing into nervous expectation of the future that was about to come.

You didn’t allow yourself to think too much about it. An entire day was already enough, you needed rest.

A rumbling beside you grabbed your attention, and your head turned to your friend’s door. Nessie poked her head out, clearly surprised to see you there.

“Weren’t you on a trip?” she asked, and you shook your head, leaving her a lot more confused.

“There’s so much we need to talk,” you sighed, allowing your weight to fall on her as you engulfed her in a tight hug.

.

.

tag list: @igotanidea ; @acornacreacure ; @erochuu ; @gone-batty-fics ; @jasontoddslover ; @jkvolgs ; @just-lost-inbetween-worlds ; @killxz ; @kysrion ; @loonymoonystuff ; @munimunni ; @novs9011 ; @spideytingley ; @starcrossedtrek ; @strawberryforks ; @sttrawberries ; @vanillaattack ; @veryfabday ; @vissavin @xxsweetnlowxx ; @willieoo ; @wordsfromshona

#jason todd au #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x yn #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagines #jason todd blurb #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x female!reader

[onewingeddove444]

★How the bachelors would react if they accidentally made you cry

word count: 1.1k

Alex:

-would probably not even notice you're crying at first

-his expression would change so quickly

-😀😦

-kind of knew he had it coming though, since a lot of the stuff that flies out of his mouth is....well😇

-would IMMEDIATELY start taking the blame, saying things like "nahhh i didn't actually mean that i lied haha no idea why i said that i'm so stupid" ((starts blaming it on his hormones being affected by working out or something😭😭))

-hesitates at first, but pulls you into the tightest embrace you've ever felt ngl probably hurts a little lol

-his way of apologising to you is saying "you can punch me as hard as you want, i deserve it!!!!"

-starts treating you like royalty for another month, to the point where it becomes annoying

-every time you bring it up, even as a joke, he basically drops to his knees and starts apologising all over again

Elliott:

-if you thought this man was already dramatic as it is....lord🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

-would try to be cool about it, while in his head he's already pressing a dagger to his neck, saying that he has now betrayed his heart and doesn't want to go on any longer

-the moment he sees tears flowing down your face, the only word able to come out of his mouth is a soft "no, no, no..."

-he'd probably start crying with you😭😭😭

-starts whispering the most loving and kind things about yourself into your ear

-literally compares you to the most breathtaking images you could ever envision

-alternative scenario, where he just drops to the floor and starts begging for your forgiveness, even though what he said wasn't really that bad

-after that, he checks up on you every 5 minutes, to make sure you're not upset with him

-would swear on his life and soul to never hurt you again ((mind you it was never that serious😭))

-writes you so many short poems...atp they just become a whole book

Harvey:

-man....😭

-probably hurts him more than it does you lmao

-you crying would be too much for him already...but crying because of him?? ouuu

-is ready to completely retract what he said, even if he's absolutely right, that just doesn't matter to him anymore

-he just stands there for a good amount of time, since he really doesn't know how to deal with these kinds of emotions

-this might just be the first time this man has made someone cry because...let's be fr☠️

-would do that thing where he cups your cheeks and wipes your tears with his thumbs ((after that he's kinda clueless though😭))

-this literally being his worst nightmare...in his eyes hurting you is the equivalent of failing as a partner...and he's not really allowed to fail too often🙁

-would wait 30 years until you're not upset with him ((it takes you exactly 1 minute btw)), and after that it's flowers delivered to your doorstep every day of the week

-even if it were to be a one-time occurrence, he would NEVER EVER forget it, and he would always justify spoiling you with it ((using the 4 cents he makes from the clinic👎))

Sam:

-he is not that smart when it comes to verbalising thoughts please forgive him

-says things like "aw man you're crying😔😔😔😭😭“

-if he's holding a drink or eating something, he offers it to you, even if there's a single bite/sip left of it

-refuses to smile until he's 100% sure you've forgiven him, otherwise he just looks like this: :--(

-low-key fighting for his life not to pull out his phone and google "how to comfort crying person wikihow"

-once you tell him that it's okay between you two bro gets jolly, running around in circles, giggling, twirling his hair and laying down kicking his feet up

-the thing he did that upset you could've been minor, but that still doesn't stop him from saying "man...😔🤦 i'm so glad this chapter is behind us now.." like okay???😭😭😭 ((bonus points if he describes this as a "rough patch" in your relationship))

-tries making something for you after, fails miserably, resorts to showing you cool skateboard tricks he learned off of youtube

-learns his lesson and actually thinks more before he says something ((to the best of his ability))

-promises to write a song about your love and go platinum ((shows it to sebastian and gets banned from writing lyrics for the band forever))

Sebastian:

-freezes immediately

-literally unable to get a single word out, what is he supposed to do in his situation😭

-manages to whisper "i didn't mean..." and proceeds to go quiet after that

-he's been living a sheltered life for a very long time, so he's really scared that whatever he says it will only hurt you even more

-you can definitely see his expression change...not only does it soften but he looks UPSET upset, mostly with himself

-pulls you into a hug, hoping that it'll help a little bit ((it does, bro seems like a good hugger))

-asks you if there's anything he can do to cheer you up, and let me tell you he'd really do anything

-does not let you go for the rest of the day, having his arm wrapped around you, holding your hand, even if it's just the pinky fingers touching

-you have to keep reassuring him that it's okay now, he literally hits you with the "are you sure you're not mad at me?" every 3 seconds just to make sure you guys are good🙏

-lets you touch whatever you want in his room, i'm talking elementary school pictures, old sketchbooks, it's all yours, no matter how humiliating

Shane:

-um...uh😭🙅‍♀️

-yeah he is PISSED he's made you cry, he might've been mean when he first saw you, but now??? that is just not allowed in his mind idc

-jumps to self-deprecation immediately, talking about how he's an asshole, how he always fucks things up (🙁)

-just takes the whole blame on himself, no problem with that

-kind of saw this happening in the nearest future, that man does not have a very good opinion of himself let's be honest😭

-you could tell him you forgive him and he'd be like "nah don't do that wtf i don't deserve it😔"

-doesn't try comforting you at first, since he just assumes that you might never want to see him again

-but after the dust settles he reassures you that he's going to do everything to make sure this doesn't happen again

-sends you musty frozen pizza in the mail in retaliation (sigh🙁)

-would love to pretend this never happened, but making you cry really took a hit on his self-esteem, however it also made him think about how to be the best partner you can have

#sdv #stardew valley #sdv imagines #sdv headcanons #sdv bachelors #sdv alex #sdv elliott #sdv harvey #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #sdv shane #i use so many emojis it’s actually sickening #sdv fanfic #sdv imagine #sdv headcanon #this is my first time writing on tumblr please forgive me if this looks like garbage🙏

[itsonlydana]

Heyy I just wanted to ask if you could write something for Thranduil x gn!reader just something really light and fluffy maybe like how he takes care of reader what they do in a day and just spending time together doing romantic things and reader really just enjoying life without a care in the world... (Deine Fanfictions sind soooo super ❤️Ich stecke grade sowas von in der Prüfungsphase es ist echt Gold wert wenn man deine Stories zu Lesen hat🤌🏻 )

Spoil Me, Pamper Me, Love Me | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x gn!reader 👑

a cozy day spent with Thranduil

warnings/tags: none, fluff!

words: 1,4k

an: such a lovely request; had such a fun time writing it :) take the elvish terms of endearment with a grain of salt.. i literally googled them lmao but i made sure to use gender neutral names. [Ich wünsche dir viel Erfolg bei deinen Prüfungen, anon! Ich hatte meine im Februar und hoffe du kommst da gut durch <3]

+ masterlist + rules +

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Being Thranduil's beloved comes with positives as well as negatives – he is a king, a leader after all, and most of his waking hours are dedicated to keeping up his political alliances.

This spanned from week-long travels to other kingdoms to meetings that could last long enough for most of the day to pass without seeing each other much.

Many of these affairs do not require personal attendance though and only expect Thranduil to correspond through letters; a convenience you both treasured admits all the dragging conferences at round tables that were more draining the less importance of the topic to be discussed – even a royal elitist like Thranduil, who took great pleasure in all things rich and extraordinary drew the line after twelve hours of staring at two types of wood to repair a bridge.

Paperwork days – as you called them – were the perfect opportunity for lazy mornings between you and Thranduil. Drowsily cuddling underneath silken sheets that caught the sunrise in their translucent fabric, shutting out the world for unhurried fooling around in each other's arms and with only your giggles and his huffed laughter carrying any indication you were awake at all.

Breakfast was served in your shared chambers and instead of getting up and dressed you took the small feast in bed, unbothered by the missed chit-chat and gossip that eating in the great hall brought forth for Thranduil's kisses are much sweeter than anything anyone could have done.

There is nothing the Elvenking wouldn't do for his significant other, including providing you with the ripest fruits to feed you only to lose himself in peppering kisses to your lips – chasing after the taste of the fruits that colored your lips red and pink.

"The sweetest," Thranduil mumbles, his lips moving from one upturned corner of your mouth over the bow of your lip to the other corner where he breathes another kiss into the crinkle of amusement that makes no effort of hiding across your whole face.

You are sprawled across the bed, still in an airy night robe that's pushed up to your thighs to leave room for Thranduil's hands to gently caress the skin.

The elf himself towers over you, the comfortable weight of his lean yet strong body pressing down on you as his hair falls over the both of you like a curtain of starlight. Your hands trail over his muscles as kisses the spot behind your ear that has you giggling and nudging your knee against his abdomen to push him away.

"Stop, my King–" you laughed, hands sprawled across his chest without any real strength behind them, "you know I can't stand this teasing!"

You feel the pull of his grin against your skin before you hear the rumble of his deep laugh. "I do, meleth e-guilen, I do," Thranduil says, and tipped his nose against yours, "but that makes it all the more tempting."

Your hands trail up to his shoulders and gather some of the light strands of hair, sweeping it over his back. His skin glows in the sun pouring through the window, thrumming under your touch, and with him draped over you, one warm leg between yours, the heat travels to you even if his broad back blocks out the golden light.

"Awful," you huff, "you are nothing but a dreadful lover, keeping me trapped here in bed." Like your hands on his chest, the words carry no harm behind them or any attempt to push him away from you.

If anything, you revel in the attention he peppers you with. The last weeks had dragged you apart and moments like this, where you had to think about nothing except for your lover's care toward you.

"Awful?" he repeats in a playful tone and makes a move to sit up. "Whatever did I do to deserve such harsh treatment?"

Instead, he quickly grabs you by your waist and before you can realize what's going on he has flipped you over, laughter bubbling up your lungs and spilling out while he falls back onto the mattress, pulling you with him and leaving you to topple over across him.

His fingers dig into your sides, holding you down onto him so you can't even escape the tickling that he dooms you with. "Awful, they say! I will show you dreadful, you minx."

Whenever you do make it out of bed eventually, hair all messed up by his hands, Thranduil insists on dressing you.

He treats you like you are made out of glass, warming up the milky creme in his hands before he massages it into your skin so that the chill doesn't bother you, and he sits behind you on the bed while he combs through your hair.

"Looks like thrush nested here," Thranduil chuckles. He barely evades the hand you swipe back at him as you snort indignantly. "Careful! You will scare the birds if you are not mindful of them"

The curse you throw at him instead has him gasping at the pure filth that leaves your mouth that, after hearing his reaction, curves into a smirk. "Get back to combing, Your Majesty. I do not have all day."

"Your word is my command, guren vell."

Thranduils lips kiss your neck, featherlight and then again, lingering. You sigh and let your head drop backward, falling to his shoulder, and blink up at him through lowered lashes, your eyes full of adoration.

His smile lights up a fire in your heart, the softness of it on marble features a reason to go to war just to see it again and for you to be the only recipient of this gentleness with which he wraps his arms around your middle, the hair comb long forgotten, that fuels the fire for all eternity.

On any other day, the duty to dress you would lay in the hands of your most trusted servants or your own, though nothing reached the level of wonderful that Thranduil made you feel right now, helping you to flowy robes.

For you, he even sinks to his knees, the only being alive that deserves this honor of the Elvenking kneeling in front of them, and you smile down at the crown in his hair, the silver circlet glittering just like his cerulean eyes in the midday sun, as he fixes your shoes for you but not without breathing more kisses on the inside of your calf which he carefully holds.

"Shall we walk through the gardens later?" Thranduils hand falls to your lower back on your way through the intricate floors of the underground palace, evoking a pleasant buzz in your stomach.

"We could go riding out," you muse, thinking back to the last time you and Thranduil had taken out the royal elk.

Thranduil steps closer, ignorant of the servants and elves rushing past you with lowered heads and bows, to nip at the curve of your pointed ear.

For everyone else, it looked like he had just kissed you, but his teeth grazed the delicate skin in a hidden manner.

That's how the public display of his utter devotion to you goes; loving kisses that – away from prying eyes – turn completely devoid of etiquette, as well as his hands that never seem to leave you, whether it's in the form of a simple pressure in your lower back or resting on your side to hold you close to him.

Thranduil did not need to put you on display for everyone to know you were his, the expression in his eyes told the story of a King completely in love in a way that didn't need flashy gems or luxuriant robes; not that those weren't gifts you regularly found yourself unpacking nevertheless.

"Whatever you wish for. My heart is your loyal servant," Thranduil vows, smiling at the bright-eyed expression you gift him at that.

The letters on his desk could wait for a day longer, he had all of eternity to manage his kingdom.

Thranduil spends the rest of the day tied to your side – or behind you on our royal moose, as you take him outside to the forest, Thranduils arms around your waist and his chin propped up on your head, as you let yourself fall into his chest. In these woods, with your beloved's sharp senses taking in all of your surroundings even while he busies himself with twirling the fabric of your robes between his fingers or drops kisses to your shoulder and neck, you are completely safe.

©itsonlydana 2024, character art by MiracleAna on Devianart

#📁files: thranduil fanfics #thranduil x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #thranduil oropherion #king thranduil #thranduil #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit fanfiction

[uglycryinglawyer]

heyyy tumblr,

class of 2024 law student here. no offense but you know things are bad when i take it to tumblr. law school really does something to your psyche and i hate to say it but despite this whole movement on social media to be more transparent, i don't believe anyone will be completely honest about their experience when their words can be traced back to them. being believable as 100% genuine & honest while being anything less than to followers that cling to every syllable of yours does more damage than good imo.

ill start this page with some honesty that i would label as a 6/10 on the "how embarrassed would i be if someone from my post-grad job were to see this" scale i just made up.

my first semester i felt like the smartest version of myself i had ever been because i got 1 online award from a fake company (seriously what business does this "computer-assisted legal education" company have hosting awards for schools around the country & why are they receiving our grades to begin with) for having the highest grade in my class. mind you, this company/award is not at ALL affiliated with my school, its literally made up. but its something that is made PUBLIC (as in if you knew my name you could google me and this stupid award shows up), and so many schools still acknowledge it to, idk, create further divisions between students that i guess the whole system of making everyones grades 100% based on their finals and curved (not in a good way) doesn't do enough for?

now here i am, having finished my 6th semester & walked the commencement stage a few days ago ugly crying over a grade because i might have just lost my honors status. when in actuality .... ~ kim, there are people that are dying ~ why does any of this matter?? this is what 6 semesters of slowly having your confidence in your own intelligence chipped away at does to a person.

its not over yet though - bar prep starts last week :). actually it starts on may 20th officially, but no ones being honest about the fact that they really started studying the day after their finals ended, if not earlier.

so i've decided to document my experience for you all here. with bar prep & my foray into big law (you know this field was meant for babies because that's what we unsarcastically call a career at a top law firm) on the horizon, & 6 semesters of pure chaos behind me, i have a lot to say!

im not sure who this is going to reach because, again no offense tumblr, but i doubt this site has the reach it once did. maybe this will just end up being a time capsule for myself, which i would love. or maybe this will help 1 person cope, which i would love even more.

regardless, if you read this far, thank you & tttys. going to throw some random hashtags in now don't mind me.

#bar exam #law school #legal #attorney #grad school #california bar #ube #grad student #law student #student life #class of 2024 #graduation #commencement #honors #lawyer #law firm #anxiety #student mental health #student #studying #study motivation #study blog #studyblr #studyblr community

[mystra-midnight]

Language of Lust

summary: a botched hunt means that you need a refresher in latin thankfully sam is there to help.

warnings: mentions of a panic attack. forced orgasm. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. anal sex. unprotected sex. squirting. creampie.

words: 3.2k

notes: so a while ago i saw a post about being dommed in another language. and honestly it unlocked a kink i never knew i had. that post spawned this idea. please ignore the latin translations if they aren’t correct as i used google to translate. :)

In the days following the botched demon hunt, the atmosphere within the base had become tense, and that meant the three of you had been at each other's throats. It hadn’t mattered how many times you’d apologized or promised to do better next time, how much pie you’d bought for Dean, or that you’d cooked Sam's favorite meal twice; nothing had fixed it.

In truth, you all needed some space.

You most of all.

That panic attack came out of nowhere and left you completely shaken. Even a week later, you were hyperfocused on the details of it—the way the walls of the room had shuddered and groaned as you spoke the ritual words, making dust and old cobwebs fall around you. When you thought about it, your heart would race so fast and slam against your breastbone so hard that you could have sworn it started to crack.

The ringing in your ears had been a deafening crescendo, and your eyes had been a waterfall of tears even when Sam had knelt in front of you and pulled you into his chest. You remembered the sound of his voice and the beating of his heart as he whispered to you soothingly until the tears finally stopped.

You still didn't remember much about what had actually happened, but you knew that the demon had gotten away, and you knew that Dean was pissed and Sam was disappointed. Neither of them needed to say it out loud.

So for the past few days, you've busied yourself with whatever task you could find to take your mind off the entire situation. Dean had very much done the same; you hadn’t seen him since this morning, when he’d come back to grab a few things and then left again.

You knew that Sam was somewhere in the base; you’d seen him in passing a few times, but the two of you hadn’t spoken more than a few words to each other.

Normally, that would have upset you. You hated fighting with the boys, but you were feeling better and in a relatively good mood today.

You sigh as you step into the kitchen after showering to wash the sweat and anxiety from your skin. Your hair is still damp, and you're dressed in one of Dean's old shirts and a tight pair of bicycle shorts. Sam entered soon after, dressed just as casually. He looked entirely undisturbed by the events of the past few days.

"Hey," you say in passing, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Hey yourself," he answers with a smile. For a moment, there was silence between you, but even that was short-lived. "You got the words wrong, you know," Sam says, leaning a hip against the door frame while he stares at you with arms crossed. He didn't sound angry, but it wasn't like he needed to say it; you knew you'd gotten them wrong.

Your head snaps around to stare at him, eyes narrowing at the fucking audacity he spoke with. Was that really what he wanted to say? "Yeah," you answer, your expression souring and your mouth in a tight-lipped scowl. "I figured that out from the silent treatment." You shrug your shoulders, trying not to let the hurt bleed into your voice as you turn away and busy yourself straightening a piece of paper on the table.

"Silent treatment?" He asks, pushing off the wall to come towards you. "No one is giving you the silent treatment."

"Sure you’re not," you scoff in response.

"We’re not."

"Then where is Dean? He’s running off doing his own thing because he’s pissed off at me for ruining the hunt, and it’s been two days since you said this much to me, Sam." You huff, clearly annoyed, as you cross your arms and glare at him. "No one learns from the silent treatment, Sam. Sure, I messed up. I know I did, and I’ll learn from that. The two of you don’t need to be assholes about it. But whatever, live and let live."

He walks briskly towards you, and you step back, not in fear but because the raw emotions in his eyes stun you—lust and dominance mingling beautifully in the depths of his iridescent orbs. Sam doesn't stop when you back away; instead, he walks until the small of your back is pressed against the edge of the table, and then he cages you between his arms, palms pressed flat against the table top.

"S - Sam?" You stutter when his lips pull into a smooth smirk. One of his hands grabs you by the hip, his fingertips biting into your skin just a little bit too much, and he pulls you against him, painting his body firmly against yours.

And then he’s kissing you, and you kiss him, and whatever anger was on your tongue dies.

Sam does not waste time and pushes his hand into your bicycle shorts, the material so tight that it fits you like a second skin. He wants desperately to rip it down your legs and feast on your pussy, but he shows remarkable restraint.

"If you wanted more lessons," he says between heated kisses that muffle your little gasps when he starts to rub his fingers against your clit. "You just needed to ask, sweetheart." His other hand grasps your jaw hard with his thumb and forefinger, pushing into your cheeks so that you were pouting when he kissed you again, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

You have the notion to argue with him but are silenced when he pushes a finger through your folds, which are slick with desire and anticipation. You grab at his arm when he prods your entrance, making your knees weak. "Sam, I—" you start but are silenced by the stare in his eyes.

"In Latin." 

"Sam?"

"In Latin." He says it again, this time with more force, his words accompanied by a second finger being pushed into your tight hole, drawing a wanton moan from your lips. You’re not sure where this behaviour is coming from. Sam had never so much as hinted at liking you, but in truth, you weren’t one to complain—not when he was knuckles deep in your cunt.

Your fingers curl tightly around the edge of the table, nails scratching at the underside, knuckles white under the pressure. You tilt your head back beneath his wandering mouth, enjoying the warmth of his body hovering over yours and how he pulls your shirt up to expose your tits.

Sam trails hot, wet kisses down your neck, his teeth scraping over your racing pulse. He sucks a hickey on your collarbone until a purple-blue bruise forms beneath his lips. The entire time he’s pumping his fingers into your cunt. Lewd, wet squelching fills the room because you’re that fucking wet.

He forces your legs further apart with his knee so that you're perched on the edge of the table, feet dangling in the air. His mouth moves to your chest, his lips closing around your nipple and sucking hard so that it pops from his mouth with an obscene sound and stands hard atop your tit. And then he takes the other one into his mouth, flicking and twirling his tongue so that you had to fist a hand in his hair.

He whispers something that you can’t make out. His mouth is like fire on your skin, leaving little flames of arousal licking through your veins. And then his fingers hit that spongy part of your pussy that has you hurtling towards a climax instead of slowly building to it.

You can’t help the way your nails dig into his shoulders when you cling to him when your thighs tremble. You cling to him when the storm comes out of nowhere, sweeping you away on a cloud of bliss that has you throwing your head back. He feels your walls tighten around his fingers, fresh waves of arousal against the tips, and then he’s kissing you again, rubbing his thumb in circles around your clit to keep the aftershocks of climax trembling through you.

His mouth is hot, stealing the air from your lungs until they are burning, but you don’t mind because you're still coming down from your high.

The next thing you know, it’s been an hour, and Sam has managed to make you cum three more times, twice with his fingers buried knuckle deep in your pussy, scissoring them to send you teetering over the edge of oblivion. And then once more, with his mouth on your pussy, lips encircling around your clit and sucking so hard that all you could do was repeat his name like a heaven’s prayer.

You’re done, but he wasn’t, not by a long shot.

Sam spread you out on your back, laying you out like a feast, your skin flushed and tits heaving with heavy breaths. You feel the rough pad of his thumb rubbing circles around your clit, which is slightly swollen and much too sensitive, and you claw at his wrist to push him away. Sam just smiles at you and pins both your wrists to the mattress with one of his large hands.

"It’s too much," you whine, trying to pull away and wiggle your hips away from his fingers, but you’re trapped. And you love it as much as you hate it. Sam growls softly between his teeth, his thumb prodding through your slick folds and getting nice and wet before drifting lower to push against your asshole. Your breath hitches at the sensation, and your mind spins as he pushes his thumb inside, giving a few shallow thrusts to tease you.

"Hic tam arctus es, infans," he says, his voice heavy with lust and muffled against your heaving tits. His breath is hot against your skin, his teeth scrape over your racing heartbeat, and his tongue leaves your skin inflamed and glistening. There is a knot twisting through your belly, slowly pulling tighter as his thumb pushes in and out of your tight hole.

"Ubi vis me?" His words are lost in the haze of euphoria he’s trapped you in, as meaningless as the world around you has become. You were a slave to the sensations he embodied, desperately moving your hips to take him deeper. "Hic?"

"Sam," you whine, your voice straining as you struggle in his grasp. You need him; you need to feel your pussy stretching around his big, hard cock. You need to feel him buried inside you, fucking you into oblivion.

"Hic?" He says it again, twisting his thumb in a way that has you throwing your head back and bucking your hips desperately. You can feel him smiling against your tit as he mouths it, his teeth tugging at your nipple until your back arches.

Your breath comes quicker, little pants, when he pulls his thumb from your clenching asshole, the feeling exquisite and leaving you desperate for more despite the live wires of overstimulation snaking through your veins. Sam lets go of your wrists long enough to pull one of your legs up, laying the back of your thigh up his torso so that your knee is bent over his shoulder, and then he shackles them again, trapping you beneath him.

You move restlessly when you feel his thumb against your asshole again, except this time it's not his thumb, and your eyes go wide, a whimper falling from your parted lips. You weren’t a virgin, not at all, but this would be the first time you’d ever taken something so big in your ass.

There was no mistaking that Sam Winchester was a behemoth of a man. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and strong—Hercules reborn. Everything about him is big. His hands, his feet, his thighs, and his cock. Everything about him is solid, cut from marble; he is beautiful. His cock makes your asshole sting beautifully as he pushes the mushroom head in.

Inch by glorious inch, he pushed forward, the prominent vein on the underside of his cock dragging along your stretched hole. "Jesus, tam stricta es," he breathes against your neck, but you still don’t understand. He’s slow, letting you get used to the feeling of his cock splitting you open with short, shallow thrusts, making you moan wantonly.

He loves the little things that you do, the simple things; the pleasure that sears through him as he stretches your tightest hole; the way you’re moaning like a whore, rocking your hips desperately against his, grinding against him. He starts moving with more urgency, drawing back so that only the head of his cock is fitted snugly inside, and then he’s thrusting back in with one stroke, hitting deep, leaving you throwing your head from side to side.

Your thighs quiver, and your toes curl. Sam fucks into you at a merciless pace, stretching you out and filling you completely, and the feeling of it is beyond words. It is beautiful and exquisite—pure euphoric bliss. It makes your pussy creamy with desire, so much so that your slick drips down your crack to mingle with his thrusts. That knot in your belly pulls tighter while your clit throbs and the muscles in your thighs ache. Your lungs burn because of how you’re panting, unable to catch your breath.

His fingers tighten around your wrists when you almost buck out of his grasp, the tips of them biting into your skin so that you can feel bruises starting to form, but you don’t care. You’re so close, so fucking close. His mouth is on your neck, his teeth scraping over your racing pulse, his lips leaving hickeys behind, and his tongue leaving your skin hot and wet.

You can feel the pressure building. Your pussy is clenching desperately around nothing, and you can feel your pulse beating in your toes, your clit, even in your fingertips—you’re that close to breaking. It feels so fucking good, but you’re fighting it because the pleasure is starting to border on pain and overstimulation.

And you’re lost in it, trapped as you are beneath him.

You crave that sweet release, the way fire will race through your blood, and the way your world will be scored with lightning. You need it as much as you need to breathe, but every part of you is alive. You can hear the blood rushing behind your ears; hear the beating of your heart as it slams into your breastbone; your eyes rolling back every time his hips snap forward, pushing every inch of him deep inside you.

"Venire," he growls against your neck, his breath literally burning against your sweat-slicked skin. You don’t know what he says, but the lust in his voice and the feral look in his eyes pull that coil painfully tight. You’re breaking—he’s breaking you. He’s got you on the verge of being fucked stupid, sobbing because of him and how good it feels, but he wants more from you.

"Sam! Sam, please, please," you plead, throwing your head from side to side, desperately trying to tug your hands free. You arch your back when he hits a spot that has dots decorating your vision, your tits thrusting into the air. You can’t figure out what you’re asking for. For him to stop or for him to keep going, it’s a blur.

Every movement of his hips has that knot pulling tighter—so tight that you might die. Your pussy is twitching, clenching around nothing, and you’re so wet that it’s shining on his skin every time he bottoms out.

"Venire," he says again, this time against your ear. Your pleasure-addled brain, so drugged with pleasurable pain and desperate for the release he’s forcing from you, only comprehends what he's saying when two of his fingers are shoved through your slick folds and into your clenching hole, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing harsh circles.

You struggle to close your thighs, tears streaming down your face, tits bouncing as he fucks you harder. His cock is stretching your ass beyond belief while his fingers ram into that spongy spot that has your vision decorated with stars. "I - I - I - can’t!" You manage to stutter out, hips bucking against his, your pussy clenching so tight around his fingers.

Except you can because that dam breaks with so much pressure that you scream. It feels like lightning has hit your body, sizzling through your veins until you’re thrashing beneath him, your thighs quivering violently, and your toes curled so much that it hurts.  Sam doesn’t stop, not even when your ass tightens around his cock to the point of pain. He just presses his thumb against your clit, circling, rubbing, and making you scream for him.

You feel a gush between your thighs, your pussy convulsing around his fingers as you cum in a fountain spray. Sam curls his fingers into your g-spot, scissors them, and pulls them from you to draw out as much cum as possible. If you had any brains left, you might have been embarrassed by the way you came, squirting so hard that it hits his abdomen and drips from the nest of curls at the base of his shaft, how it drenches your thighs and pools on the mattress beneath you.

But you’re gone, lost, and fucked dumb, only able to grunt as he keeps fucking you.

"Tam pulchra, infans, tam formosa, tam mihi dura venit." His own voice is trembling, and his balls draw closer to his body as the muscles in his abdomen tighten. He buries himself deep so that your ass is full and your pussy tingles. And you feel it as he grunts against your neck—feel the white-hot ribbons of cum filling your ass.

Sam keeps thrusting until you've milked him dry, and then he pulls out, drawing a pathetic, desperate moan from your lips because of the sensation. Having let go of your wrists, he sits back on his haunches. You lay there, your thighs still trembling, your mind lost. Sam watches the way your pretty pussy twitches and the way your ass puckers, and his sticky cum drips from it in fat globs.

"What do pretty girls say after being filled with cum?" He asks, his voice soft, his fingers pushing his cum back into your stretched-out ass so that you were whimpering and shaking again. You manage to peel your eyes open to stare at him, tears in them, your chest heaving as he shoves two long fingers into your asshole.

He speaks English this time so that you understand, but you are still slow to react, straining to close your thighs. He kisses you without warning, his tongue in your mouth, licking yours until you're clawing at his shoulders to keep him there, desperate for his kiss.

"Gratias tibi." You managed with a weary smile, and that was enough for him for the moment.

the translations ::

Hic tam arctus es, infans. - You’re so tight here, baby.

Ubi vis me? - Where do you want me?

Hic? - Here?

Hic? - Here?

Jesus, tam stricta es. - Jesus, you’re so tight.

Venire - Come/cum.

Venire - Come/cum.

Tam pulchra, infans, tam formosa, tam mihi dura venit. - So pretty, baby, so beautiful, coming so hard for me.

Gratias tibi - Thank you.

#sam winchester #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester one shot #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #supernatural

[princesssmars]

practical magick

a stiles stilinski x witch!reader

plot : just when stiles thought he had gotten used to the dramatics of the supernatual, he happens across you performing magic in the forest. when you fail to wipe his memory, his thursday afternoon gets a whole lot weirder.

wc : 4.678

contains : sfw. kissing at the end. the picture for look inspo is fair-skinned but the reader's skin color is not described! reader has hair! google translated latin sorry ���i like my men loserish and obsessed sorry.

a/n : yasss a little halloween special. rewatching teen wolf for the third time bc idfk. is it obvious i love witch!reader's yet.

for the first time in over a decade, stiles stilinksi was bored out of his mind.

he had previously thought that given his adhd gave him a deep desire to be doing literally anything all the time that the word bored wouldn't enter his daily vocabulary until he died.

yet here he is, kicking his feet at the dead leaves on the ground as he searched for any hidden traces of wolfsbane. the only reasons this had even happened was because he had opened his big mouth too many times and was sent on a busy quest by deaton, to "make sure the surrounding areas were safe for werewolves."

just reminding himself of what led him here was enough to tick him off again. it wasn't like the past two years have been easy, being under the constant threat of werewolves, werewolf hunters, kanimas, etcetera etcetera. it was enough to stress out the most stable of adults, and stiles was the direct opposite of that, so of course he got nervous and started talking over people and pissing them off.

"stupid wolfsbane, stupid werewolves," he mumbles, kicking at more of the dead brown leaves on the forest floor, tearing a line of the familiar purple plant up from the ground and stuffing it into the brown sack in his other hand. once he was done it was likely it would either be tucked in jars in deaton's stash or burned. he wouldn't mind seeing the latter.

its another twenty moments of grumbling and scavenging before a sound in the distance stops him in his tracks. he stands still, making sure that he barely breathes before he relaxes, figuring his anger and memories are making him paranoid of the woods.

a minute later he wishes his mind was playing tricks on him, because he nears the noise again, but this this its louder.

"its closer," he thinks.

he barely even registers when his legs start running. he may have a bag full of wolfsbane, but there was no guarantee the threat was something the plant could harm. and he didn't feel like tempting fate today.

at this point he's slightly lost his direction, but when he passes the stunted redwood stump he and scott carved their names into during the fifth grade he starts to understand where he is, and as his heart beats in his hears he knows if he turns right here he'll come up onto the old willow tree-

in the span of ten seconds he smacks head on into a hard object, falling on his ass and gasping as the air is knocked from his lungs. he blinks quickly to try to rid of the black spots in his vision, and before he can comprehend it he's making eye contact with you.

he's slightly embarrassed that the first thought that races across his mind is how pretty you are. he knows he should be wary of you, but he can't help it. your hair is a rich (h/c), seeming to almost shine despite the sun being blocked by clouds. your skin is smooth and your eyes are gorgeous and big and still staring straight at him.

you both rush to stand up. he holds his hands out in a way that you would calm a wild animal, hoping it doesn't piss you off.

you continue to stare at him. which isn't helping calm down his racing pulse.

"uh, alright. look, i'm not gonna hurt you, alright? i'm just...looking for something..."

before he can finish his sentence, you raise your hands to cup the sides of his face. his words die in his mouth and he feels his cheeks warm up to the point he's surprised they haven't burned your palms. you look determined, and for a second he feels like he's gone to heaven

"convertere et perge quid agas. oblivisceris quid hic vidisti."

turn around and continue what you're doing. you will forget what you saw here.

his mouth opens and his brows scrunch in shock. he never thought those latin lessons he took online and with lydia would pay off, but he's really glad he did them now.

he considers doing what you said, just turning around and forgetting all about this encounter. but unfortunately his curiosity is getting the better of him, and if his suspicions are correct he needs to know more about you.

"i'm gonna guess you just tried to put a spell on me, right?"

your eyes widen so largely he's afraid they're going to pop out of your skull.

"i..i don't understand, that should have worked. are you a warlock? druid?"

"no, no. i'm just stiles." he tells. his guess that you were something supernatural is partially confirmed, since you know about druids and the whole tried to put a spell on him thing.

"well, stiles, unless you tell me why my spell didn't work on you i'm most likely going to have to kill you." you deadpan.

he thinks you're kidding so he eta out a strained laugh. you don't even twitch.

he wracks his brain for a good enough excuse that will save his life before his arm moves without command and thrusts the bag in your direction.

"well, i have a uh, a bag full of wolfsbane, if that matters at all. pretty sure it does since…yeah…wolfsbane”

yours eyes dart from him to the bag, most likely not trusting that their isn’t some insta-death powder that will pop out as soon as you open it, so he looses his thumbs grip and steps closer so you can see the purple herbs inside.

“hate to admit it but you’re right,” you sigh, pushing back some hair from your face. his eyes follow the movement before darting back to yours.“ that much wolfsbane would make most supernatural or magical doings wonky.”

"yes, yes! exactly. that makes sense. im sorry about that-"

"why would you even have that much wolfsbane anyway? are you a hunter?"

"what? no, no! im not, i swear to you im not a hunter. i can explain this, really i can." he nearly chokes on his words at the speed he speaks.

you stare at him for a few seconds more before crossing your arms over your chest, hopefully about to let him explain why he has a bag filled to the brim with a dangerous plant on a random afternoon.

when you start to walk directly past him into the forest he doesn’t think he’s ever been more confused.

"fine. you can explain it on the way back.”

he’s as still as a statue as he process your words. you just accused him of being a hunter and now you want him to follow you to whatever mysterious place your going? even for him this is weird, and he’s ten seconds from refusing-

“hurry up.”

he rushes to catch up behind you.

after around twenty minutes of stiles repeatedly asking where you were going followed by silence on your end, you finally reach a clearing in the woods filled by a large victorian-era house, fully black with large looming windows lit up by warm golden lighting coming from inside. there's a nearly fully glass sunroom/greenhouse on the right side, and he can see from here the varying flowers and plants that fill the room. he wants to ask how a house like this could be kept under wraps from the rest of the town, but then he remembers.

magic, duh.

you lead him through the threshold of the home and down a hallway until you arrive in what must be your living room, not giving him a chance to admire the room before you're pushing on his shoulders so he sits in a loveseat, taking your own seat across from him. your legs spread and you rest your elbows on your knees as you glare at him, causing him to shift in his seat.

"why are you carrying a bag full of wolfsbane?"

"my friend's boss, deaton. he asked me to pick up any wolfsbane in the woods to make it safer for them when they do the whole wolfing out thing."

"deaton's working with werewolves again? does he have a death wish?" your brow raises in confusion, he notes how the fingers on your right-hand scratch at the skin on your right.

"i'll be honest, you're kind of creeping me out."

"thank you. why is he doing it?"

"my friend, scott. he's a werewolf. and so are our friends erica and boyd. and derek and his weird uncle peter-"

"the fucking hale's are back? are you kidding?" a scoff leaves you and you get up out of your chair, starting to pace back and forth in front of his chair.

"yeah, it was this whole thing with peter being evil and killing his niece, and he turned scott but scott thought it was derek who turned him. it was a whole thing. not to mention how peter came back from the dead-"

you continue to walk around the room while occasionally pausing to pay attention as the boy details the events that have happened in the past year. despite you being a stranger it felt oddly cathartic to vent about everything that had happened to him. admitting to the countless times he felt scared out of his mind but had to stay strong lest his enemies take advantage of it.

"that's a lot for a normal human to go through in just a year with no prior knowledge of the supernatural. i'm surprised your brain didn't implode from the stress."

he blinks. "thanks. i guess."

"you're welcome. i'm going to make some tea. stay here," you say, moving from standing across from him to heading to a room near the side of the room, able to faintly see some dark counters and pots and herbs hanging from the ceiling, "not like you'd be able to leave anyway."

that's reassuring, stiles thinks to himself, bouncing his leg up and down where he sits. after a minute he figures you won’t kill him horrendously if hes looks around a bit, so he gets up and starts observing the countless pictures on the walls. some are old, like the people in them are wearing outfits from a few hundred years ago, while some are colored and recent. in most of the recent ones, you’re with three older women who look just as dark but ethereal as you do.

he continues looking at some pictures and hung-up trinkets when you come back into the room with two cups of tea, handing one with a smile to the wary boy with a halfhearted promise that it’s “totally not poisoned.”

“can i ask you a question?” he asks, sipping at his tea after he discovers it’s not poisoned and actually really good. he was never really fond of tea, always preferring coffee or energy drinks when he was in a low-energy period. he remembers his mom liked chamomile tea.

“you just did. but go ahead.”

“why would you let me in here? you could have just questioned me at the willow tree, you didn’t have to let me into your house. not that i don’t like your house. i like the whole victorian gothic vibe.”

you don’t answer for a solid minute, slowly drinking from your cup as you stare into the lite fireplace.

“witches pride ourselves on our knowledge. to be aware of our abilities and surroundings at all times to best stimulate our growth. and as much as i’d like to be this powerhouse who could take down any threat, i know i’m not. if you actually were powerful and i tried to take you on myself? who knows what would happen.”

“and i’m guessing that magical barrier around the house would protect you in case i really did try anything?” he gently asks, not wanting to talk too loudly to distract you from opening up to him.

“exactly. plus if you tried anything my aunts probably would have put a curse on you and your loved ones. something not too flashy to attract attention, but enough to cause great suffering.” he notices your soft sigh when you stop talking, almost like you’re disappointed you won’t get to see this suffering play out.

“plus it’s better to know where your talents excel,” you continue, setting your cup down on a skull patterned coaster on the coffee table in front of you. “i’ve always been better at using my magic to investigate my surroundings. helps to find materials or signs of psychos roaming around.”

something you two have in common. it makes his mouth quirk up.

“so, the werewolves and all the other things being back in town, that’s a problem for you and your aunts, right?”

“yup. if it was just werewolves it’d be normal for beacon hills, but kanimas and a whole pack of alphas? who knows how much that can disrupt the natural balance and what more they’ll bring.”

he thinks over his next words carefully. scott would likely be upset at first at him for trusting you, but he was also the nicest person stiles had ever met. if you could help them then it was worth the risk.

“then how about a trade. you help us with this alpha problem, and you get the experience you need to become a great and all powerful witch. pretty soon you'll be riding your broom to your heart's content."

you can’t help but scoff a laugh as you think it over. he starts to think you’re about to reject the offer as you stare him down before you get up and offer him a hand.

“you’ve got a deal.”

after shaking on it, you send the boy back with his bag of wolfsbane and a few more helpful weeds from your greenhouse, giving him a note to give to deaton so he won’t ask too many questions.

when he returns to the vets office he dumps the materials on the operating table, ignoring isaacs joke about how if he took any longer they’d all be alpha chow by now. he can tell deaton is concerned about where he got the vials of strange red and yellow herbs, but when he reads the note his eyes widen and he lets out a mix between a laugh and a sigh. scott asked insistently what was on the note but his boss refused to tell him what it said.

before he left to drive home, deaton pulled stiles to a corner and told him that he had been in close contact with one of your aunts before something happened a few years after the hale fire that caused them to go into hiding and cut contact with all supernaturals they had previously been helping, including him as the emissary of the hale family.

as he lay in bed that night staring up at his ceiling, all he could think about was you. you were a welcome distraction from the chaos of his current life, a pretty distraction at that. if not a bit scary. which he didn't mind all that much.

the both of you spent more time together in the following weeks. at first, it was just simple conversations by the willow tree talking about the werewolf situations and checking what materials deaton needed from your family. as time went on his curiosity got the best of him and he started to ask you more questions about your life.

"so hit me if this is stupid but did you have any family in salem? or can you like make a potion ina cauldron to see if I did because I could use that as massive bargaining power in fights with issac-ow! why'd you hit me?"

"you said i could."

"yeah but not so hard. jeez, ever thought of quitting this witch thing and trying boxing."

"never thought of it. maybe i should start now. with your face."

"really funny."

(your threats kind of reminded him of derek, but had less of an 'i'm about to rip your throat out and eat your esophagus vibe.' slightly.)

but as time went on it got deeper. as he told him more about himself you started to do the same, once even apologizing for "giving off psycho killer bitch vibes" and chalking it up to being so isolated from people for most of your life. he told you he didn't mind the vibes, assuring you he liked it maybe a little too excitedly.

he could really feel the shift when one day he came up to the willow tree and he saw you, standing with a frame photo in your hands and nearly on the brink of tears. he was so shocked at seeing you show such intense emotion he wasn't watching where he was going and stepped on a branch, alarming you as your head whipped to him like a deer in headlights.

"i...im sorry. i can leave if you want."

"no no, it's," you shook your head, looking down at the photo once again. "it's fine. it doesn't matter."

"well if it's enough to make you cry id say its world ending-"

"could you just shut up? for once in your life?"

it's quiet for a minute, the only sound in the air being the gentle breeze. even thought the comment stings stiles knows all too well you're just lashing out in anger and hurt.

"im sorry."

"don't apologize. i get it, i do." he moves closer until he's standing beside you, walking slowly so he doesn't make you lash out again.

he looks down at the photo and he gets it. its you, about six or seven with a bright smile on your face and standing with two people he can tell are your parents. he can see the resemblance. you have one of their smiles and hair color, the other's nose, and by their clothes, the same dark style.

"its been over ten years. since i lost them," you whisper, your voice sounding more weak than he's ever heard it. "itd be nice if I was staying with my aunts for some sabrina the teenage witch reason but no. i don't have a choice."

he gently puts a hand on your shoulder. "i get it, i do. i lost my mom. every day i remember things about her in things i do. it hurts but its better than forgetting."

you sniff and hes about to back up when you put your hand over his on your shoulder, gripping it tightly. it hurts a bit. he doesn't really care.

"its not fair."

"its not."

"...thank you."

"don't mention it."

you give him with the materials and he's about to leave when you stop him, your hand grasping his wrist. he wants to ask whats wrong but he stops. you're staring right at him, into his soul he thinks, and all he wants is to hold you and tell you any pain he's suffered the past few years is worth it because it led him to you, that even if you asked him to sacrifice himself on an alter for a spell that would make you happy for a minute he would do it-

"this bracelet. i want you to wear it and don't take it off no matter what, all right?"

hey, that works for him.

as soon as the bracelet was clasped around his wrist he felt different. like his nerves were tingling and his brain was warm. he felt like he was going to get the most powerful migraine in existence and reached to take it off when you took his hand again.

"please. just give it a minute."

and so he did.

only thirty seconds of dull pain later and he felt normal, if not better. like when you're a kid and have the best day of your life and return home to a good meal. a nice bath, and a great night's rest. he feels almost powerful.

"hey what is this thing? did you just give me powers? is this gonna make me your servant or something?"

"bye stiles."

he gives deaton the materials after telling scott where he was ignoring the weird look on his face before the boy goes back to examining an adorable beagle on the operating table.

deaton takes the bag and bottles with an appreciative smile, his eyebrows scrunching up when he notices the jewelry on stiles wrist.

"where'd you get that bracelet?"

"uhh, i found it. at a thrift shop. thought it looked cool. why?"

deaton clearly doesn't believe him but decides to entertain stiles anyway. "the band is a normal bracelet but the charms are what makes it special. they're pagan."

"could you explain them to me? just because you know."

the vet just shakes his head and laughs before pointing to each one.

"this one, the witchs knot. standard symbol for warding off evil. its mostly used as a protection charm."

stiles admires the charm, the metal silver with the symbol burned into it. it looks like a circle with a line roped in and out of four points of it.

"this, hecates wheel. a goddess of magic, as you probably already know. symbolizes the power of knowledge and life."

this charm is a bit heavier, the stone looking weathered with a scratched labyrinth engraved on it, a distinct 'x' in the middle of it.

"and this one is..." deaton starts before his words trail off. stiles looks at it. it looks like four combined circles, each with symbols inside them. the two across from each other on the side looking like two crescent moons, the one on the top holding a basic pentagram. but he doesn't recognize the one on the bottom-two perpendicular lines forming an 'x' with little swirly lines coming from the middle on the top and bottom.

"what? what does it mean? is it bad?"

"no, it's not bad at all, stiles. the crescents and pentagram are used in another basic protection spell. more protection for the user."

"and the one on the bottom?"

"well, i don't honestly know what it is. its most likely a personal sigil made by the person who made it. but by my guess, based on others I've seen before, it might mean whoever made it has a deep love and affection for whoever they gifted the bracelet to."

stiles thought he was keeping his cool, but scott made extra sure to remind him the following days and the dumbass look on his face when deaton explained the symbol to him.

he didnt know what to do. this had to mean you felt the same way he did about you, right? why else would you gift him a love sigil on a bracelet you insisted he wear? for a second he considered it was a love spell you tried to put on him, but he was feeling iffy about that. mostly about how he wouldn't care that much.

(he apparently admitted that in a sleepy haze when he was sleeping over at scotts, and he's never wanted to die more than when he woke up and realized issac of all people heard him.)

the next time he saw you he tried as hard as he could to act casual. you asked him about ten times if he was okay, and he eventually came up with a good enough 'just a slight stomach bug' lie and regretted it immensely when you invited him back to your house, telling him you'd been practicing making simple health remedies and you had the perfect thing to fix him.

the whole walk to your house he was on edge, his palms feeling sweaty for the first time in his life as he repeatedly wiped them off on his pants. just like the first meeting, you tell him to wait on the couch and he lets out a shaky breath when you leave into the kitchen.

what does he do? does he confess? does he need to? he was so scared that he was being too obvious and maybe that's why you put the sigil on the bracelet, to let him know you returned his affections. but what is he wasn't obvious? and he was basically telling you he only liked you because you liked him? what if-

"stop staring into space and drink this tea, dummy."

he laughs awkwardly and takes the ornate cup from your hand, sniffing the tea before he drinks it. it's sweet but savory, smelling like nutmeg and milk. he can see little flakes and leaves floating on the top. he takes a sip and hums at the taste.

"screw boxing, you should be a professional chef. i'm gonna need you to give me this recipe."

"yeah right. a witch never reveals her secrets." you scoff before sitting down next to him on the couch. you put your arm up on the back and rest your head on your wrist as you cross your legs, your foot brushing against his leg. he nearly spills the tea over his lap.

he can't help but admire you. he had given you a few magazines he'd gotten from stores and stuff to better show you how people were dressing these days, and while you'd hated most of it you took to some trends, wearing a pair of black ripped skinny jeans and a pair of combat boots. he tried to focus on the rips in your jeans as to not let his eyes wander up, where you were wearing a leather halter camisole with nothing underneath. he can't help but laugh in his head when he thinks of the word camisole. maybe he was spending too much time around lydia.

"stiles? seriously are you possessed or something? normally you'd be talking my ear off trying to guess exactly what ingredients i used for the tea."

he sets the cup down after taking another long sip and turns his body to you, your eyebrows raising in what he can tell is amusement. most people could easily get annoyed by his theatrics, but after your near trauma bonding at the willow tree, you had always made sure to welcome them with a smile.

"look, i have something to say. which you probably already know, but i need to say it to you anyway to make sure you really know, y'know?"

you blink. "go ahead."

he breathes in and out a few times, his previous confidence suddenly disappearing.

"let me guess, you saw the sigil and now you're going to confess your love to me?"

he goes into a near coughing fit.

"how, well thanks because now i dont have to actually say it, but if you had given me a minute-"

before he knows it you're scooting closer, your faces just a few inches apart. you're staring at him with that same look you had when you gave him the bracelet. his breath is picking up and he bites his bottom lip, your eyes darting to the motion.

"can i kiss you?"

"yes, god yes-"

your hand grips his chin and brings his lips to yours, the intensity and plushness of it nearly driving him insane. he doesn't really know what to do with his hands, settling to just keep them on his lap before your other hand brings them to your waist and squeezes them in place. at this point you're nearly on his lap and that combined with the kiss and the fact he swears he just felt your tongue poke his lip is going to be the death of him.

he pulls away from the kiss and kneads his hands on your hips, able to feel the softness of your skin on the places where the camisole lifts up.

"wow. i mean just...arent you a recluse? where'd you learn to kiss like that? have you like, conjured up clones to practice with or something."

"stiles?"

"yeah?"

"shut up and kiss me again."

"whatever you say, babe."

for the first time in his life, stiles stilinksi thinks everything is gonna work out.

ty for reading! had to tell myself to get up off my ass and write at 3am and wrote about half of this so sorry for any dialogue inconsistencies. love you bye bye.

#teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #stiles #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski x witch reader #stiles x reader #witch reader #witch!reader #deaton #scott mcall