Tumgik
#hanging out in the corridors
tsubaki94 · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
Hangout
2K notes · View notes
rivscribbles · 13 days
Text
Tumblr media
Every time I see this name I’m like, is this Jackstos hangout spot or what. Why are there so many Bombs partying in there. What’s the elemental weakness tutorial corridor deeplore.
Tumblr media
17 notes · View notes
yz · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
At Saloon 6 in Webster, MA.
7 notes · View notes
urrvw · 3 months
Text
I couldn't sleep
4 notes · View notes
39fuwas · 10 months
Text
i hope my brain is not planning to replace the hospital dreams with home invasion ones because that kinda sucks </3
3 notes · View notes
mumintroll · 10 months
Text
i turned off all the radiators on the landings in our flat a while ago bc its so hot its been 20 degrees or close to it for a few weeks now but someones gone and turned them all back up to max???? literally so needless its so hot in the flat already
4 notes · View notes
the-lazy-traveller · 1 year
Text
One of the reasons I love this hellsite (affectionate) so much, is the unparalleled sense of community. Like, every time I log on and go through my notes to block the pornbots, I think of all the little sketches and doodles people have done, personifying that action. Like, we’re all experiencing this minor inconvenience together, and that turns it from an irritating into a nice communal moment.
3 notes · View notes
slytherinslut0 · 4 months
Text
jealousy. | slytherin boy headcanons
Tumblr media
author’s note: im completely unhinged, as always. no surprise there. love me some angry snake men🥵 please enjoy.
Tumblr media
-your boyfriend sees another guy flirting with you in the hall.
Draco Malfoy.
Sees you from down the hall as he’s walking with his friends.
“You know what, guys, I’ll catch up with you after.”
Would literally ditch his friends to make his way over, collecting himself as saunters up to you and mystery man.
Would instantly grab your ass, no hesitation, grip firm enough to bruise. When you gasp, caught off guard, he’d shift his arm up and around your shoulder, pulling you against him.
“What’re we talking about?” He’d sneer.
His voice would be laced with feign interest, smirking down at you with blaring eyes before shooting daggers at the boy.
He’d simply chuckle at you when you tell him nothing, just school stuff, leaning down to place a possessive kiss on your cheek as he grabbed your hand.
“Wonderful. let’s head to class, yeah?”
He’d pull you away from that dude, shooting him another look meant to kill, a silent warning not to fuck with him.
Finally gets you alone in an empty corridor or bathroom; would waste literally no time at all before pushing you against the wall and grabbing your neck/jaw.
“Who the fuck was that, hm?”, “he was practically eye-fucking you…give me five good reasons why i shouldn’t have him expelled or hexed into bloody Azkaban.”
He’d be furious, but he’d also know that you’d never choose some other guy over him, so he’d soften once he hears the innocence in your tone.
“You’re mine, princess,” he’d loosen his grip, kissing you softly. “Say it.”
Blaise Zabini.
Was listening to music while walking down the hall, instantly rips out his headphones the second he sees you laughing a little too hard with some dude he doesn’t know.
He doesn’t necessarily stop walking, but he’d definitely slow his pace, kind of just watching, not wanting to interfere but also not wanting to look creepy stalking you from a distance.
When the guy doesn’t leave, he’d tired of waiting, saying “fuck it”, before marching over naturally.
This man is so fucking cool calm and collected he’d just saunter right up and join in, making himself at home.
He’d practically take over the conversation because he’s literally just that chill in every situation, seamlessly fitting right in, so fucking charming and loved by everyone.
You’d kind of just end up staring at him, smiling in silent awe, knowing that this was his way of asserting his place, letting the guy know what the fuck was up.
After the dude leaves he’d just causally look at you, smirking that charming smirk, wetting his lips as he hooked an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, leaning down for a kiss.
“Ain’t no one getting you without getting me too, babygirl.” He’d murmur against your lips. “let that be known, right now, forever, always.”
Lorenzo Berkshire.
Would literally stop everything. The second he’d see you laughing and smiling he’d be completely unable to focus on anything else and would completely zone out of any conversations with his friends.
Would get like super anxious and flustered pretty much immediately.
Wouldn’t want to intrude so he’d just kind of hang back, wait for you against the wall and try not to stare too much.
His adorable little cheeks would flush, and he’d know he seemed utterly ridiculous so he’d try to busy himself with his shoelace or something while he waits.
You’d quickly cut off the conversation and move over to him, instantly being able to tell that he’s overthinking.
He’d smile at you, though you could still see the concern on his features.
“Who was that guy, darling?”
You’d tell him he was just a friend from class, no one special at all, pulling him in for a hug and giving him a quick smoochie on the cheek.
“Don’t worry enz, no one could ever take your place.”
He’d blush, trying to play it off. “Sorry love, I know you’re my girl.”
You’d take his hand, squeezing him hard, never wanting him to doubt that for a second. “Only yours baby, forever.”
Mattheo Riddle.
“Who the fuck-“
Would literally whip his bag at Theo, hastily shoving through the crowded hallway with blazing eyes, tunnel visioned as he tried to figure out where the fuck this dude found the audacity.
You wouldn’t even have to turn around to know he’s there, you’d be able to literally feel the anger radiating off of him.
You’d already know exactly where this was heading, but you’d also know there was no attempting to stop him because it’s pointless. Everyone in the school knows that.
Matty does what Matty wants, and right now, he wants to fuck up this guys face for even thinking about flirting with you.
You’d simply look up at him, noting his tensed jaw and his dark eyes as he glances between you and the dude, before fixing back on you, wetting his lips before he says,
“Is this fucker bothering you?”
Unable to help it, you’d smirk, shaking your head as you calmly attempted to talk him down.
“No Matty, he just asked if he could borrow my study notes-“
He’d heard more than enough.
“Study notes? Yeah, I don’t fucking think so,”
Without giving the guy a chance to react, he’d reach for his collar, shoving his back against the wall, teeth barred and face contorted in a snarl as he’d hiss:
“Bother my fucking girlfriend again and the only study notes you’ll need are the ones on how to drink out of a fucking straw, understand?”
Not interested in the response, he’d shove the guy away, eyes softening instantly as he moved back over to you, thrusting a hand through your hair as he kissed you like it’d been a hundred years, right in the middle of the hall for everyone to see.
And judging by the intensity in his grip, you’d already know, later that night, he’d be extra fucking sure to ask you who the fuck you belong to while he’s fucking you.
When he finally pulled back, he’d smirk at you. “Some bloody nerve on that guy, huh?”
You’d just shake your head and laugh, taking his hand as the two of you headed for class.
Theodore Nott.
He’d spot you from down the hall, his eyes instantly narrowing, gaze darting around as though he was missing something, as though this was some sort of sick joke.
Surely, this dude is mentally unwell, right? There’s no fucking way that he’s-
Doesn’t bother to think about it for even another fucking second, instantly shoving through the crowd to make his way over.
Proceeds to wrap his arm around your waist, other hand finding your jaw and pulling your lips to his before you could even process it.
Would proceed to full-on make out with you in front of the dude, and I mean tongue and all, his grip on your jaw so tight you’d know exactly what he was trying to do.
His hand around your waist might even slip lower, grazing over your ass, and then that’s when you’d attempt to gather yourself and push him back, completely embarrassed.
He’d just shrug, smirking down at you before he’d finally acknowledge the guys’ presence with literally nothing more than a glare meant to kill.
“Move along,” he’d say to the guy while pulling you away, grip tighter than ever. “This one’s fucking taken.”
As soon as he got you alone he’d be damn sure to remind you that you’re his, and only his, making you beg and whine his name before he fucked you like you deserved the pain.
Tom Riddle.
“AVADA KEDA-“
Lowkey kidding but not really.
No one would even dare because that man would make it clear as fucking day what would happen if they tried.
Tumblr media
20K notes · View notes
animeismyhappyplace · 2 months
Text
My Deerest Darling
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Synopsis: When Alastor's rut hits he needs someone he can truly trust to help him out, luckily for him Y/N just arrived at the Hazbin Hotel.
Set around episode 1 of Hazbin Hotel and may contain some spoilers for the series.
Word Count: 5K (5,045)
Trigger Warnings: 18+!!!
Platonic friends who share a close bond and care for each other, tiny pinch of angst at the start, possessive behavior, swearing, a deal is made, pet names (dear, darling), his demon form is here, marking and love bites, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, rough sex, porn with some plot, ambiguous ending I suppose 😜
Authors Note: I know that Alastor is AroAce canonically so I wanted to write this like he's in a stressful situation, one he can't really control, and chooses to experience it with a close friend.
I've never written an Ace character before so I hope I do him at least some justice ☺️.
I've taken the route, after a little bit of research, that over time he could form a sexual attraction if it was the right circumstances and he'd known the person for a very long time but it'd still be something that rarely happens.
Tumblr media
Y/N walks down through the streets of Pentagram City frowning as she walks past more fires and explosions than she could count, she'd even had to side step past a bird looking sinner screaming about being doomed come the next Externation Day.
She was making her way to the Hazbin Hotel to see an old friend. She walks up the large wooden doors somewhat hesitant, it's been a long time since she last spoke to Alastor but more information was needed about Pride Ring's next steps given the recent news.
Giving herself a moment to calm the nerves drumming across her veins she takes a moment to smooth out her outfit and tuck any flyaway hairs back into place before giving the door a few sharp knocks.
She waits for a few moments with seemingly no activity inside the large hotel until she hears a gruff voice complain “... Why the fuck do I have to answer the door? Not enough that I'm already the fuckin' bartender…”
Her eyes widen as she instantly recognises the voice, almost laughing as a rather grumpy looking cat reluctantly answers the door “What the fuck do you wa...Y/N?”
Husk's wide yellow eyes stare at her his jaw basically hanging on the floor, the awkwardness of the situation making her rock on the balls of her feet nervously “Hey Husker, long time no see”
Y/N swallows the lump forming in her throat as she notices his body is still somewhat stiff “uhh didn't realise you were back in the Pride Ring”
The woman simply nods at his statement “came back when I heard the announcement ‘bout the angelic fuckers dropping on us faster than usual”
“Right…” he answers guardedly, his eyes looking her up and down, making her own drop to the concrete leading up to the hotel's entrance “is Alastor here?”
Husk clears his throat gesturing for her to come in while stepping aside, she gives him a tight lipped smile entering cautiously.
Her eyes flit around the room as she takes in her surroundings, her soft gaze settling on some portraits of Lucifer and his family. She gets so lost in thought she almost doesn't realise a certain demon is watching her with intrigue.
Static fills the air making her blood run cold as her eyes snap to the radio demon himself, Alastor.
“Well well well, you're certainly the last person I'd have expected to see here, my dear”
Nervously she wrings her hands together, unable to look at him as his red eyes bore into her face “can we talk?”
A wide smile spreads across Alastor's face as he stares at his old friend. His head tilts slightly as he looks her up and down with curiosity, his piercing red eyes glowing ominously as he nods.
"Why of course my dear~ come, let's find a quiet place to talk"
He turns his back on her as he gestures for her to follow him with a simple point of his long finger.
Y/N nods following silently, passing through a few vacant corridors before stopping at a room Alastor finally seems happy with.
He again gestures for her to walk in, letting her go first like the gentleman he is with a large smile on his face as he shuts the door behind them.
Turning to face her, he tilts his head expectantly waiting for her to speak but when nothing but silence fills the air he clears his throat "so to what do we owe this rare pleasure?"
A frown sets deep in across her forehead as she sighs "you needn't be so formal with me Alastor, we've known each other a long time..."
Rolling his eyes he clicks his tongue at her "yes, until you suddenly disappeared"
His eyes narrow as he spits out "how fun that was"
She visibly winches as his words cut at her heart, her head hanging in shame "I know... I'm sorry…”
Alastor's eyebrow raises as she explains herself. His eyes narrow slightly, a look of distrust glittering across his large orbs but it quickly fades as he watches her body language.
She's clearly uncomfortable at having to face him returning from an absence just as long as his own. He steps a bit closer to her, his movements are slow and deliberate as he meets her eyes curiosity getting the better of him.
"Hmm yes well I must ask..."
The corner of his mouth curls up into a predatory smile as his voice lowers with an air of menace in his words. "Where have you been hiding my dear?" He says in a low tone, hand grabbing at his mic.
She goes to speak but then notices his shadows beginning to move around the room, almost touching her legs as they surround her, raising her eyebrow at him she finally gives him the answer he's been looking for.
"Wrath, a friend of mine told me something very interesting. I'd be happy to tell you what they said, you know since we're so close" she smiles almost wickedly.
A hint of laughter escapes his lips at her words before he raises his eyebrows at her with genuine curiosity.
"Please do go on my dear~ don't leave me in such suspense" Alastor leans forwards resting on his mic.
A small chuckle leaves her lips at his rapid mood swing but she concedes nodding "while scavenging for weapons they found a body, a rather holy looking body wouldn't you say?"
She walks close to him, handing over a picture of a headless exterminator.
The Radio Demon stares down at the picture, his eyes widen as his smile broadens. His lips curl into a menacing grin as he slowly nods his head.
"Yes...I would indeed"
His eyes light up with interest as he raises his eyebrow, a curious glint sparkling in his cherry red eyes.
"Tell me my dear, how did the creature meet its gruesome end?”
A deep sigh of disappointment leaves her lips at his question, her arms folding in front of her stomach "ah that I don't know, my dear Alastor"
A wide smile stretches over her lips pulling tightly at her rosy cheeks "though I figure if anyone could find out what happened, it'd be you"
A small chuckle escapes his lips as he considers her words.
"Hmmm..."
He paces around the room, his long legs striding effortlessly with a soft hiss of static sounding with each step.
"Yes. That's quite possible indeed"
He walks over to her stopping just in front of her body and smiles, the glint in his eyes becoming more intense as his voice drops into a lower tone.
"I suppose could do a bit of investigating, for the right price of course~"
His long fingers curl over her hair patting gently as his hand settles on her head.
She turns her head to look up at him humming softly at his words "a deal? What'd you have in mind?"
A smug grin crosses his lips as he raises an eyebrow. In this moment, his presence is intense, his aura of power and danger surrounding her like a heavy blanket of shadows.
"Simple enough~"
He pauses before continuing in the same suave voice, his eyes narrowing as he leans down towards her face.
"I'll get all the information I can on the dead angel and you... will owe me one small favour to be cashed in any time of my choosing”
"Simple enough until I know what it is you want from me" a small pout settles across her lips as she thinks over his proposition and in the end she holds her hand out to him.
The aura in the room drastically changes. Green stitches appear along Alastor's mouth covering his sharp teeth, his eye colour changing to bright green, his pupils shifting to radio dials and his dark antlers growing in size curving around his head.
"Is it done?”
His demonic form disappears as quickly as it appeared. A chuckle escaped his lips as he reached out to gently stroke her hair humming almost softly.
"Good girl~ we have ourselves a deal"
His voice becomes more even as the quiet of the room returns.
"I don't suppose you could do me a favour? work your magic and convince that little princess you're helping to let me stay here?" she chuckles under her breath.
A sly grin spreads across the handsome demon's face as he chuckles softly. His eyes light up with mischief and he taps his mic as his voice softens.
"Why yes I believe I could. Come with me my dear and let's go see Charlie”
She smiles at the taller demon appreciatively as they begin walking to the door.
"Would it be strange for me to say I've missed you and your mysterious ways?" She asks with a small giggle falling from her lips.
A low chuckle escapes the demon as he teases her "how sentimental of you"
"Not at all my dear"
His eyes soften for a very brief moment and he's clearing his throat.
"Please. Follow me”
Tumblr media
Charlie had accepted Y/N’s presence quicker than she'd expected but it worked in her favour so she hadn't questioned it much simply looking towards Alastor who shrugged his shoulders with his ever present smile spread across his face.
She worked hard to dodge Husk's probing questions during breakfast, anxiety rising until he'd finally dropped the subject after multiple prompts from Charlie and Vaggie.
Her worries now shifted to Alastor who'd been strangely quiet since they made their deal, his eyes darting around the room rapidly almost as if he was waiting for something.
She had decided to corner him in the afternoon after realising he'd spoken only twice so far all day, it was concerning to say the least.
She steadily ascends the winding stairs leading up to his radio tower, finding him hunched over the console, his back rising and falling rapidly as his breathing looked laboured.
“Alastor?” She asks with a soft tone.
As she speaks, his body jerks up with a sharp intake of breath. He straightens himself, and his breathing becomes more controlled as he turns to face her. Alastor's expression remains neutral but his eyes narrow as he stares at her.
"Yes my dear? What is it?"
His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his long claws digging into his skin as he continued to stare at her, still not quite meeting her eyes.
She stares at him for a moment brows knitting together in a small frown as she watches beads of sweat trail down his cheeks from his forehead "just wanted to check on you, you've been awfully quiet today"
Questioning eyes wander down until they stop at his clenched fists "you seem out of sorts"
He looks down at his hands as his breathing becomes slightly more erratic. His body seems to tense up as he realises she's watching him intently.
"No no I'm fine, probably just... the time of year"
His eyes narrow in annoyance glancing over her shoulder towards the large red door.
She doesn't seem convinced as she slowly moves closer "you sure? Cause you really do seem-"
She teaches her hand out to touch his forehead wanting to check his temperature 'can demons even get sick?' she wonders as his body reacts quickly, reaching out to grab onto her arm stopping her as his hand tightens its grip.
His skin feels hot to the touch, almost burning her skin as he holds her hand firmly, gripping it so tightly it almost hurts.
His breathing grows sharper as his eyes bore into her own, his ears flattening against his head.
"S-sorry Alastor, too close?" She whispers as she tries to pull away, fearing she's made him uncomfortable.
The demon seems to snap back to reality, eyes wide and blinking rapidly before letting go of her hand looking at her with a slightly irritated expression.
He doesn't reply, just shakes his head, pushing past her to grab his mic before storming away back to the hotel.
Y/N stands in the silent radio tower frozen in pure confusion at his actions.
She looks down at her skin wondering if there'd be a burn mark left behind from his touch but of course there wasn't, shaking her head she sighs before leaving the tower herself.
Tumblr media
✨ Later That Day ✨
The next time she sees Alastor his behaviour is even more strange. She had been having a few drinks at the bar with Husk and Angel Dust, telling the friendly spider demon all about her early days as a sinner and how she'd managed to slowly befriend the standoffish overlord.
Alastor had entered the large space calm as ever, his eyes finding the trio quickly, red eyes narrowing at Husk as he handed Y/N a new drink, his hand momentarily brushing against her fingers but it's enough.
A loud and low growl rumbles in Alastor's chest as he storms over to the group, startling Y/N so much she jumps dropping the glass.
His long slender fingers wrap around her wrist as he pulls her off the bar stool and into his chest, his left arm winding around her waist in an almost protective manner making her yelp as her face is thrust into his chest.
Red eyes narrow at the two men as his pupils transform into radio dials, large antlers growing as his chest shakes with anger “ĐØ₦'₮ ₮ØɄ₵Ⱨ ⱧɆⱤ” black shadowy tentacles shoot out and grab onto Husk's red bowtie pulling him into the edge of the bar as the radio demons smile widens in demonic glee.
Y/N's hands grip onto Alastor's shirt tugging harshly “Alastor! Alastor STOP” she shouts trying to push him backwards to get his attention.
His body stiffens as the shadows recede dropping Husk onto the floor, his pupils changing back to their regular shape as his gaze shifts down to her body still pressed tightly against his own.
A look of panic crosses the demon's face as he pushes Y/N away from his body. His eyebrows furrow for a moment before he's stalking out of the room, slamming the door as leaves. Y/N's breaths are shallow as her heart thunders in her chest.
“Uh what in the fuck was that?” Angel asks incredulously while helping Husk to his feet, his eyes flicking between her and his friend.
“I-I don't know… I've never…” her mind is racing as she tries to think back to their many years of friendship but she'd never seen him act that way before and it scared her.
Without realising her feet are moving to follow in his footsteps, she needs to find out what was going on.
She searches all around the hotel but doesn't find a single trace of her friend. Giving up and finally trudging back to her bedroom for a much needed rest, she kicks the door open, not even bothering to shut it before flopping face first onto her bed.
Her temples are pulsing wildly with pain at the headache she's given herself trying to figure out Alastor's strange actions, her fingers rub deep circles against her head making her groan until the sound of her door slamming shut makes her jump up so quickly she almost falls off her bed.
The door slams with a rather loud bang showing Alastor walking further into the room, a small smirk playing on his lips as he steps toward her.
"Đīđ Ī ꞩȼⱥɍē ɏꝋᵾ đēⱥɍ? You should really be more careful leaving your door open like that anyone could walk in"
His eyes darted over her body as sweat drops from his fringe to the floor, his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of red matching his hair.
"Alastor? What's going on? You're not acting like yourself" she shifts backwards on the bed until her back hits the headboard, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
Alastor continues to walk towards her with an unsettling grin plastered across his face.
"Ah...You're quite right about that my dear, it's that time of the year for me unfortunately."
In a sudden move, he's leaning over her, placing a hand underneath her chin gripping it tightly.
He is so close to her now she can feel his warm breath on her cheeks.
"That time of year?" She asks confused, her eyes looking up to watch his facial expressions.
Alastor leans in closer resting his forehead against hers as their breathing synchronises.
"Mating season my dear, I'm in rut"
Shock paints across her face as she starts to stutter ‘rut? As in…’
"I-I thought you didn't usually like se-”
His voice is low, breathing laboured as his breath tickles her skin causing her cheeks to heat up at the close contact.
"you're right I don't usually enjoy... physical touch... but my instincts are becoming too difficult to control"
His body almost trembles as his claws grip her bed sheets "you're one of oldest and closest friends my dear if it's going to happen... I want it to be you"
She shakes her head slightly as he rests his nose against her own "don't want to make you feel uncomfortable or make you do something you'll regret"
"I'm slowly losing my mind here dear"
The demon pushes her back as his voice drops to a whisper.
"I've managed to resist as much as possible but it physically hurts"
He raises his hands slowly to brush her fringe away revealing her forehead as he almost nuzzles against the soft skin.
"please..." he pleads as his voice cracks.
Her eyebrows furrow unsure if this is something he actually wants.
"Only if you're sure Alastor, I don't want..." she whispers slowly, lifting her hand to push the soaked hair away from his eyes.
Alastor shakes his head, growing frustrated and desperate.
"I want this. I need this"
His voice trembles with desperation as his body shakes, the heat coming from his body almost burning her own as she attempts to soothe him.
"Be a doll darling and help me…”
"Okay" she whispers, hands trailing down his cheeks to rest on his jaw as she tugs his face down ever so slightly to brush her lips against his in a feather light kiss.
Alastor tries to hold back, tries to be gentle with her but he's feeling so needy his body has a mind of its own, his fingers grasping at her arms pulling her body close to his own
A whine leaves her lips as his body dwarfs her own, pushing her down onto her back. Her hair is splayed out over her pillows as his large body leans over her own.
His breath becomes ragged as his body reacts to their close proximity. His hips rock forward, the growing tent in his pants pressing against her body and causing her cheeks to flush brightly.
"You're body is so soft my dear"
His voice breaks as he trails kisses along her neck, his large sharp teeth nipping at her throat moving down to her collarbone.
Alastor can't help but groan as his heated body touches hers, need drumming through his veins as he rocks his hips into her body showing her how desperate he is for release.
His long fingers have her hands pinned down so he has full control.
His tongue slips out to softly lick the underside of her collarbone, his breath hot against her skin as he moves one hand to grip her own, his claws sinking into her flesh.
His mouth leaves her neck as he trails kisses along the side of her nose, neck and cheeks before finally settling back on her lips, his breathing growing heavy.
Once satisfied he pulls back, tearing off his red blazer jacket throwing it somewhere to the side before starting on his bow tie and shirt letting them land beside his jacket.
With his heated chest exposed Y/N uses the opportunity to let her fingers explore, they trail over his pecs to his sides before travelling upwards to his neck pulling his body back to her own.
Alastor lets out a low groan as his body reacts to her hands, his breath growing deeper as she moves her hands over his body.
His claws bite into the bed sheets causing small rivets to appear in the fabric.
"Dear" He mutters as his voice breaks
"I don't think I can resist much longer…”
Her slender fingers move quickly, lifting her shirt over her head and throwing it off to the side. Next she unclips her bra sighing in relief as cold air hits her nipples.
She gives Alastor a small smirk as she sees his eyes raking over her bare body.
Alastor's pupils contract as she removes her clothing, he takes in every inch of her exposed body as he watches her movements with an intense gaze.
His eyes trace her curves, looking her up and down with a look of approval before he opens his mouth to compliment her, his voice cracking.
"You've got to be one of the most beautiful creatures I've ever seen"
A low possessive growl leaves his throat as he uses his clawed fingers to shred her skirt, throwing the pieces on the floor.
"Mine”
She nods whimpering softly, trailing her hands down her body rubbing over her nipples then moving down to her panties.
She pulls them down and throws them off to the side, spreading her legs for Alastor to see how soaked she is, her small fingers rub small circles against her clit as Alastor's hungry eyes watch every moment.
A growl leaves his chest again as he watches her fingers move over herself spreading the wetness over her folds, his breathing rapidly increasing as she toys with herself.
"So adorable..."
His words leave his lips as low rumbles as he stares at her body, his jaw growing tighter and the muscles in his body tensing as he watches her with such a hungry look.
Alastor moves his hands to her thighs spreading them impossibly wide so he can slide between them and better watch her movements, tongue peaking out to lick over his lips.
Having Alastor's dark eyes watching her makes her heart thud rapidly in her chest, tilting her head back as she enters two fingers into her dripping pussy.
With her head tilted back Alastor can see every mark he's left across her neck making his hands clench down on her thighs possessively.
Alastor's eyes flicker between the marks he's left on her skin and her wet heat.
His fingers are digging into her thighs as he watches her with hunger, Alastor's breath catches in his throat as he watches her movements, his teeth gritting with each thrust of her fingers.
"Need a taste…”
Wrapping his fingers around her wrist he pulls removing her fingers from her body, groaning as he watches her slick dripping from her fingers.
He moves quickly, pulling her fingers forward and into his waiting mouth, his tongue lapping at the digits with a moan as he tastes her juices.
Alastor grunts in approval as his tongue laps at her fingers, his chest heaving as his body reacts to her taste.
"More..." he grumbles greedily before his teeth drag along the soft skin of her hand as his tongue continues to lick away at her juices.
His body is growing more desperate for release, his breath becoming more shaky.
Watching the demon almost devour her fingers sends fresh need throbbing through her body as she whines "need you Alastor"
His lips curl into a cruel smirk as he lets her hand drop to the bed.
"So eager~"
He grins leaning down over her body making sure his growing length is pressed against her bare body, his eyes growing hot as he meets her gaze.
"I'm going to make you scream darling"
His voice is heavy with desire as he starts to lean in for a kiss.
Y/N reciprocates his kiss greedily as her own need grows, her hands drop to his pants tugging them down along with his boxers, finally releasing his length as a long moan leaves his lips.
Her fingers wrap around his dick, moving her hand down his length feeling it throb in her hand.
The demon's eyes roll back in his head as he feels her warm hands wrap around his length, a groan rumbling deep in his throat. He arches his back into her touch, his hips bucking slightly as she begins to stroke him “don't be a tease now dear”
Alastor growls low in his throat, thrusting his hips forward as he feels the tight heat engulf him causing them both to moan loudly as he fills her to the brim.
His fingers curl around her legs wrapping them around his hips as he starts to thrust into her.
Y/N's eyes roll back as Alastor sets an almost bruising pace, her arms looping around his head to keep her steady.
Her breaths come out as little hiccups as Alastor's thrusts push her further up the bed.
The demon's thrusts grow harder and faster, his hips slamming against hers as he takes her with a feral growl. His monocle slips from his eye, clattering to the floor as he loses himself in the primal need to claim and breed.
His hands reach out to grip onto the bed, his claws sinking into the mattress as the pleasure overwhelms his body.
Sharp nails nip into the skin of Alastor's neck as he pounds into her, her head tipping back burying into the pillows as all thoughts fly out of her head.
"A-A... Al..." her soft moans are muffled as his head dips to press needy kisses to her lips.
His growl vibrates throughout his body as he feels her nails dig into his skin, her voice sending shivers down his spine.
He bites down on her lip, his tongue flicking over the wound, licking up the blood he's drawn as hunger claws at his chest.
Alastor's rough and fast pace starts to rock the bed against the wall, every thrust causing the bed to shake. Her moans and whines increase in volume.
His hips slam into hers over and over again, his cock buried deep inside her as he takes what he wants.
“Look at my good girl, taking me so well…”
With a feral growl, Alastor picks up the pace even more, his hips slamming into hers in a primal rhythm. His eyes wild with lust and possession as he takes her, his body trembling as he tries to control his demonic strength.
"QɄłɆ₮ ĐɆ₳Ɽ, your sweet sounds are for my ears Ø₦ⱠɎ”
Alastor's deer-like ears twitching madly as they react to each sound that leaves her throat.
Y/N's so lost in the pleasure the demon is giving her that she doesn't realise the long dark antlers that have started to sprout from his red locks.
Her eyes squeezed shut with her hand slapped over her mouth as she attempted to quieten down her noises.
Y/N's muffled whines pitch in volume as pleasure courses through her veins.
"A-Al... 'm c-close" she whimpers, pulling his body down to hers, pulling him so close his chest is slotted against her own.
Her fingers slip between their bodies to rub tight circles against her swollen clit, her walls clenching down on Alastor's cock as her thighs shake against his bucking hips.
Alastor feels the pleasure building within him, his body tensing as he reaches his climax. His eyes squeezed shut as he thrust harder into her one last time, his hot seed filling her up with each thrust.
Feeling Alastor come undone and throb against her walls sendings her over the edge, her body stiffening as she cums hard with Alastor's cock bullying her sweet spot.
Almost instinctively as he's climaxing Alastor buries his face in the crook of Y/N’s neck, licking a long stripe up the sweaty skin before his long sharp teeth sink into the soft supple skin. He keeps his teeth in place until she's finished cumming on his cock, finally pulling away he licks up the blood that slowly weeps out of the holes. He's smirking proudly while looking at the marks that are scattered across her upper body.
She's panting hard, her fingers trailing up to her neck to feel the marks Alastor has left behind as she's held close to Alastor's body, they stay slotted together until both of their breathing starts to settle down.
As their breathing slows, Alastor opens his eyes to look down at Y/N, a satisfied smirk on his face. He leans in to place a gentle kiss on her forehead before pulling out of her with a soft pop, flopping down on the bed beside her.
Y/N turns to lay on her side, head propped up on her hand as she watches his face.
"Feeling better?" she can't help but giggle as his head turns to look at her.
"Much," he replies with a chuckle, humming as he runs his fingers through his hair, smoothing it down. He glances back at her and smirks "for now”
He chuckles softly, enjoying her wide eyed reaction to his words. His long arms reach out cradling her to his body as he strokes her hair "come rest for now dear, you're going to need it”
She gulps as he smiles at her deviously.
Tumblr media
Back in the main seating area of the lobby the group sat together looking thoroughly traumatised at hearing the pairs… activities.
Sir Pentious is covering the ears of his little egg boys, Angel has a knowing smirk on his face watching as Husk shakes his head muttering curses under his breath, Nifty thankfully is nowhere to be seen and Vaggie is holding Charlie close as Charlie's eyes are wide, her mouth dropped open in shock.
The room is eerily quiet, no one daring to break the uncomfortable silence until Charlie clears her throat “at least they're done now, right?…” She looks to Vaggie for moral support as Angel Dust bursts out laughing "who knew tall, dark and creepy could fuck" He's holding his stomach and shaking his head as he walks to the bar.
Tumblr media
Banner by @/saradika 🫶🏻
Tumblr media
7K notes · View notes
astraystayyh · 2 months
Text
pieces of you
single dad!chan. x fem!reader
genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc
summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.
a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!
winter falls masterlist.
Tumblr media
i. 
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”
“Shh, daddy smile.”
Soft murmurs linger just beyond your door, elusive words that could easily be dismissed as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks, jolting you from your momentary contemplation. 
A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever's behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground in a soft descent.
“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She's clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand. 
“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor's muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you. 
“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure. 
“Your dad?”
“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth. 
“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head. 
“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh. 
She isn't shy because she feels protected.
You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.  
He’s beautiful. 
Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.
“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.
“I'm your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually  don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips. 
“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice. 
“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.
“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly. 
“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support. 
“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”
“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.” 
“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display. 
“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.
“Yn. And you?”
“Chris.”
“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within. 
Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.” 
Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you. 
“See I'm not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants. 
Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being. 
“She gets a pass, she's still young, right Sowon?”
“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back. 
“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers. 
“Touché.” 
A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed. 
“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you. 
“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”
“You don’t know how to make them?” 
“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you. 
“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.” 
“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you. 
“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move. 
Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.
“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”
“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”
“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around. 
An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen. 
One hour later 
You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight. 
“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back. 
“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind. 
“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips. 
“You made them?” 
“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief. 
“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears. 
“I know. I wanted to. and I'm a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don't worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before. 
“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth. 
“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head. 
“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It's just them two. 
“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both. 
“I'm a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.” 
“I'm sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.
“I…. I'll get going.”
“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”
“I'll see you around.” 
“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it. 
ii. 
“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you. 
You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.
You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention. 
“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago. 
“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours. 
“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.” 
“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.” 
The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.
“I can text you the address?” you propose. 
“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.
“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly. 
“She insists on trying her makeup on me.” 
“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek. 
“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.
“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying. 
“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”
“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her. 
“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten. 
“She can be very scary for such a little girl.” 
“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror. 
“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door. 
“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch? 
“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.” 
“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend. 
“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.” 
And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.
“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well. 
“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.” 
☃︎⋆꙳•❅
“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements. 
“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair. 
“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth. 
“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”
“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”
You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.
“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours. 
Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest. 
Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you've ever wanted slip from your grasp?
“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.
“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows. 
“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly. 
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.” 
“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”
“Will you watch a movie later with me?”
“Of course, baby.”
“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue. 
“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”
“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. 
“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him. 
“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it? 
Your facade cracks. His voice wins. 
“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.” 
iii.
You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.
“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years. 
“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him. 
“Just with salt?”
“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly. 
Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.
It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris. 
“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.
“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture. 
“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp. 
“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours. 
He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?” 
“We? You were behind my back all the time.”
 “I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”
 “I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”
 “You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”
 “I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”
 “Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him. 
And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night. 
“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly. 
“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.
“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”
“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm naturally draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.
It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.
“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter. 
“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head. 
“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.” 
“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not. 
“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly. 
“The company.”
“I do find Sowon entertaining.”
“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back. 
“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”
“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”
“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.” 
“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near. 
“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly. 
He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 
He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near. 
Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay. 
One week later. 
You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat. 
"What’s wrong?" you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.
“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead dipped in alarm. 
"Sowon?" you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.
"Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—" He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.  
“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”
“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair. 
“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”
“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.
“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.
“Hey, Rapunzel," you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.
“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.
“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”
“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing. 
“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.
"Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?" you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.
"Sure. Sure," he repeats, scurrying out of the room.
Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.
"Thank you," you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Someone's knee gently.
“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face. 
“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess. 
“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm. 
The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems. 
“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling. 
You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.
“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter. 
“Will she be okay?” 
“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.” 
“Okay, thank you.” 
“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?” 
“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks. 
"She looks just like you," you softly smile.
"I know," he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.
“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up. 
“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode. 
You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.
A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’s hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.
You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.
The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.
Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak. 
"Chris," you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on. 
“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.
“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze. 
“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”
“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”
“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps,  despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.” 
“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears. 
“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.” 
“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away. 
“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”
You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.
“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 
“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.” 
Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.
“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek. 
“Why are you apologizing?” 
“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before. 
Five days later.
chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?
yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years
chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs
chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ 
chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired 
yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help? 
chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring 
You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock. 
“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide. 
“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”
“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.” 
“Can I read what you wrote?” 
“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”
May these words be the first to find your ears
The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here
I'll give you everything I have
I'll teach you everything I know
I promise I'll do better
I will soften every edge
I'll hold the world to its best
And I'll do better
Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart. 
“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago. 
Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?” 
“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.” 
His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.
“Talk to me?” 
“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.” 
Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes. 
“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.” 
Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away? 
“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own. 
“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”
You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch. 
“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.” 
He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin. 
“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”
“Is that what she told you that movie night?”
“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close. 
“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.
You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.
“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?” 
“There are small lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.” 
“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.
“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.
“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.
connected.mp3 starts playing. 
Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you. 
You wished to be the only one Chris liked. 
“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out. 
So, you put on your best taunting smirk.
“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”
He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.
“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.
“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair. 
“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”
"Who is she?" you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of anger.
“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.
“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.
“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold. 
“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper. 
“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.
To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it. 
You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could. 
You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.” 
Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date. 
iv. 
You’re avoiding him. 
Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks. 
Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh. 
He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory. 
He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.
He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you. 
He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.
How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?
“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.
“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.
“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.
“I don't know, baby.”
“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question. 
“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”
“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.
“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!” 
“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?” 
“Okay!” 
In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.
So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner. 
“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.
“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.
“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.
"Look at me, hm?" he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. "Yn, please, I want to look at you."
Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him. 
And then you speak.
“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”
“Of course, always.”
“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“
“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.
He’s as scared as you are.
“Chris…”
“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”
“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm. 
“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”
He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins. 
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I'm staying.”
“You are?”
“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile. 
“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.
“Thank you for asking me to stay.”
“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”
“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly. 
“What happened to connected Chris?” 
“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”
Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place. 
“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”
“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”
“Good night, yn.”
You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again. 
you win. 
“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck. 
Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”
He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.
bonus (one year later). 
“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face. 
“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.
“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly. 
“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”
“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.
“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both. 
It's her first time calling you mom. 
You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"
“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”
“What happened to being a stylist?”
“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently. 
“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. 
In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.
He’ll propose to you tomorrow.
4K notes · View notes
cosmik-homo · 9 months
Text
Me and my ID the same. She has a buster Keaton tattoo and just hot Charlie Chaplin present; that is me in dizzingoff making theistake of uttering doctor who as my current hyperfixationqnd getting offered soon much new while things when all I want to do is talk about jon pertwees Roman coin scuba ring
1 note · View note
tojipie · 5 months
Text
welcome home <3
he’s unboxed ! who cheered. by far one of my most requested fics of all time. started this series 6 months ago and it remains one of my favs :,) this is by no means the end though ! i haven’t been writing any of the additions to this series in “order” and i am still 100% open to writing about his life inside/after prison lol. thank u to all the lovely ppl that have been showing love to these since april mwah mwah mwah mwah
as always, prison bf toji series linked here <3
content: (incarceration, fem reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, p in v smut, pining, road head, swallowing, creampie, dirty talk, multiple rounds)
Tumblr media
“just step through here and—yep,” the guard waves his security want across your outstretched arms, clearing you to take your belongings from the conveyor belt.
you’d done this dance a hundred times over the past seven years, driving up to the district penitentiary twice a week to see your boyfriend—now fiancé.
toji told you he didn’t have it in him to wait, popping the question during a conjugal visit a month ago. 
the man had known he’d wanted to marry you even before he got locked up. the feeling was mutual, but unspoken, always hanging in the air between the two of you.
you on the other hand had known you wanted to marry toji the moment he whispered his first “i love you,” said to you through the crackly speaker of a burner phone on a night when neither of you knew if he’d be coming home or not.
you make a beeline for the release wing, breaking into a subtle jog without drawing too much attention to yourself. the bouquet of green flowers you’d bought at the grocery store jostles in your purse, leaving a breadcrumb trail of stray petals.
there, around a bend and down the corridor stands the man of your dreams, flanked by officers and personnel at the front desk. 
metal cuffs clack together as the man reaches to accept a clipboard from the release agent, skillfully uncapping the pen with his teeth to fill out the means for his freedom.
he looks up a split second before you speak, dropping the clipboard with an audible clatter. toji tears down the corridor with a look that speaks of relief beyond words.
“toji!” you yell, sprinting to the inmate with outstretched arms. you nearly trip over your own feet with how quick you barrel towards him.
warm bodies clash together at last, squeezing, cradling, and caressing every inch of each other at last. his law enforcement entourage watches from afar, some smiling, others annoyed.
you’re lifted clean off the ground as strong, tattooed arms slip over your head and around your body. thick fingers work their way into your hair, cradling your head to his shoulder. 
actions speak louder than words, you know that much from how quickly he buckles, dropping to his knees with your body still wrapped around his. 
toji smells different every time you come to visit. there were days when the tang of blood stuck to his skin no matter how hard he scrubbed, a telling sign of his short temper. 
other days he’d smell like the earth, soil from the rec field permeating his already brown garments after his morning run.
once in a while, you’d catch hints of industrial paint and car exhaust, a smell built up from hours of making license plates for pocket change from the state. “pennies,” he’d tell you, “that’s all we fucking get in here.”
today, toji smells like himself. like the man you fell in love with 7 years ago in the passenger seat of a BMW, gazing into green eyes while gentle hands brushed the hair from your face. 
you almost think he’s laughing until warm tears trickle through the porous fabric of your shirt. 
strong shoulders quiver as quiet sobs rack his body, you rub his back in small circles, unable to pull away with how tight he’s holding you against his chest.
“i love you,” the inmate whimpers, wiping hot tears with his sleeve. he pulls back to press your lips together, mumbling nonsense in between kisses.
“pretty girl—m’ sorry— missed you,” his hands shake as they curl into the fabric at your waist.
you’d seen him cry exactly twice in his life. the first being the night he’d opened up to you in full for the first time, quietly relaying stories of neglect and abuse from his childhood while you kissed tears from his cheeks.
the second was well, the day he went away.
to see him break down like this so openly was devastating. he hated being emotional, told you it was humiliating. you’re sure he felt more than vulnerable, the leader of the city’s biggest drug ring, crumpled on the floor of a prison hallway 
“it’s okay baby,” you tell him, still rubbing circles into his skin.
to touch him like this, at last, was unlike anything the two of you had been allowed to experience for the past 7 years. this wasn’t your two legally allowed hugs at the beginning and end of your visits, or a quick fuck in a storage closet.
this was love. to hold and be held in front of law enforcement personnel without threat of being reprimanded. this was the first time you had been allowed to feel him under the tips of your fingers with an audience, publicly declaring your claim on each other without fear. 
you never blamed toji for what had happened, as angry as you were that first year. he blamed himself enough for the both of you really. 
you’d come to learn over the years that it had already been too late for him to get out of his line of work way before you’d found each other, a cycle he couldn’t break.
prison was always a possibility, inevitable even. that’s just how it was.
you slowly gather your purse off the ground, cellophane-wrapped flowers coming into view. 
“for me?” he laughs, slightly embarrassed. dark green carnations, just like his eyes. 
“who else?” you tease, watching the distress melt from his face.
you share a look briefly, yours saying you’re safe with me. his saying i know.
the soft clicks of black work boots pull you from your thoughts, a female officer in tow.
“you guys ready to get started?” she asks softly, shooting you a sympathetic look.
toji stands with a chuckle, not letting you respond. silver cuffs dig into the meat of your thighs as you’re carried back to the group.
 ˚ ✧ ───────────
half an hour of paperwork for his freedom. that’s what you give the prison in exchange for his belongings and dignity. 
the waiting room is quiet, sterile air filtering through dated vents. calloused fingers rub over your ankle, legs propped up in his lap.
“feels like a hospital in here,” he mumbles, trying to cut through the silence.
the cuffs are gone, thank god. though you’re more than unhappy with the marks they left on his wrists. toji doesn’t seem to mind, used to almost a decade of this treatment.
the release desk worker slides you two a yellow bag under the glass divider once you finish your task, pointing you in the direction of the bathrooms in case toji wanted to change. 
the inmate—no, ex-inmate you remind yourself— hands you the bag with a disinterested look. 
he doesn’t want to remember, you realize. too scared to wear the suit he had on the day the world took you from him. you quickly trash the old clothes and hold out your shoulder bag to him, fresh clothes neatly folded inside. 
“always prepared huh?” toji smiles, grateful at the gesture. “haven’t changed a bit.”
you wait a couple of minutes outside the single-stall bathroom, physically picking your jaw up off the floor when he emerges.
to say that his old shirt fit would be... egregiously wrong. blasphemous even.
toji’s shirt doesn’t just “not fit”, it’s bursting at the seams as it struggles to accommodate his hulking form, stretching over plains of corded muscle like a rubber band pulled too tight. 
seeing him so often had likely gotten your brain used to the change, preventing you from realizing how fucking big your fiancé had gotten. truly.
the black garment is so tight against his body that it’s practically a second skin. you make note of the way it molds into the dips and curves of his abs, mentally reminding yourself to get him to wear it for you later. 
you suppose the change makes sense. if toji wasn’t with you on a day visit he was always in his cell, sticking to a strict workout regimen to take his mind off things. still, you rack your brain trying to pinpoint how and when such a massive transformation slipped your mind.
a tattooed hand snaps you out of your trance, cradling your cheek.
“you focused?” your fiancé teases, rubbing circles into your jaw with his thumb.
“i think that thing’s gonna explode if you move,” you swat his hand away. 
“would you rather i take it off to be safe?” he asks, jutting a thumb behind him at the waiting room desk.
the workers make no attempt to hide their oggling, faces pressed against the glass barrier separating your party from theirs.
“no— god keep it on,” you mutter, shooting them a nasty look.
“you and your girlfriend ready to go fushiguro?” an officer says, holding the door open for the both of you. toji squats down momentarily to get a grip on your thighs, folding you over his shoulder to carry you fireman style.
“wife,” he corrects, shouldering past the guard and trudging down the corridor with calculated steps.
the coos that ring out from the help desk are humiliating.
waxed tile fades into worn concrete as the two of you pass the threshold into the prison parking lot, your soon-to-be-husband muttering a curt “go fuck yourselves” to the officers who’d wished him good luck on his way out the door.
you’re proud of him for holding his tongue, in a way. knowing toji and his temper there were a hundred more creative and undoubtedly gruesome things he could have said to the personnel who’d kept him locked up for the better half of a decade. 
the world flips right side up again as you’re gently placed on your feet in front of the car. 
toji raises his head to the sky, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun.
“s’ nice,” he mumbles, reaching to intertwine your hands. “felt the sun during rev time but.. not like this.”
you hum, rubbing your thumb over tattooed knuckles. 
“get ready to experience a lot more sun then,” you giggle. “wanna have a look at the car?” the question is more of a rhetorical one at this point considering he’s already running his hand over the hood with a whistle.
“haven’t seen this baby in a while,” he smiles, internally gushing at your choice to welcome him to the world in the car he used to drive you home the night you met. your fiancé doesn’t have to say thank you, you know how grateful he is from his smile alone.
he falters for a bit, looking like a newborn fawn with how careful his steps are as he circles the vehicle. you figure wearing proper shoes instead of rubber slides must feel at least a little abnormal after 7 long years. 
“alright,” toji states, rolling his shoulders in his too-tight top. “fuck are we waiting for, i wanna go home.”
 ˚ ✧ ───────────
you pay no mind to toji the first time he turns to look at you, opening his mouth to say something before slumping back into his seat with a frustrated sigh.
the fourth time it happens, you speak up.
“what are you doing?” you laugh, eyeing him from the driver's seat
“getting rubbed to death by my fucking zipper,” he mutters, repositioning his lower half to take the pressure off his cock. his frustration isn’t aimed at you in the slightest, all blame placed on his bottoms.
oh.. oh.
the whirlwind of emotions toji had gone through in the past 3 hours alone had taken a toll on his mind and body. but tasting the first morsels of freedom with you, alone in a car that smelled like you? you’d be worried if he wasn’t hard.
you had no problem helping his little problem go away, the question was how soon.
the idea that piques on you is absolutely shameful, you’re not even sure where it came from but you don’t have it in you to care. 
you know this road, you’ve used it a thousand times to make the trip up to the penitentiary. judging by how long you’d been driving you’d say there was about 10 minutes left before ruler-straight tar merged into the twists and turns of the suburbs.
“when did your license expire?” you ask, cautiously peering in the rearview mirror. good, no cars.
“3 years ago,” he laughs, “why?”
fuck it, you think.
“you still remember how to steer?” 
“course i d— oh.”
it finally dawns on him. you smile, shooting him a look that says “want to?”
you’re sure you have your answer judging by how quick he shucks his jeans and boxers down, freeing his cock from its confines.
“oh fuck,” he groans, struggling to keep his eyes open as your mouth presses against his base. 
your fiancé steers while your head bobs just beneath the dash, one hand on the wheel and the other placed firmly at the crown of your head, guiding you up and down the shaft.
your throat flexes around the intrusion, fighting the hulking feeling of his length mercilessly fucking into your mouth.
“fuck, perfect girl— my girl,” he shudders, hips moving to buck into your slick throat.
“gonna cum, gonna— shit,”
fingers kissed in dark ink massage your throat softly, urging you to swallow the hot load coating every inch of your mouth. you flutter around his length, pulling back to clean him off with your tongue.
“fucks gotten into you, pretty girl?” he whispers, so out of breath you barely hear him. 
 ˚ ✧ ───────────
you barely make it up the steps of the house before you’re shoved against the door, tattooed hands groping up and down your body with fervor.
“keys,” he says against your lips, “keys—fuck, now,” his voice is hoarser this time, desperation clear.
you whip around to jam the item into the lock, not unaware of the rock-hard dick grinding into your jean-clad ass from behind.
you’re being carried to the couch before you even step off the doormat, a stray throw blanket cushioning your fall as you’re pressed into squeaky leather. 
“won’t be gentle,” toji groans, ripping your jeans and panties down in one fluid motion.” can’t right now.”
“don’t be.” you say, rucking his shirt off his body surprisingly quick. “wouldn’t want you to.”
you needed him, needed toji to have his way with you. to christen your home round after round until you couldn’t feel where his body and yours ended.
when it came down to it, you suppose 
he smiles at the crude admission, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your drenched folds.
“filthy,” he mutters, said almost lovingly. toji grips his base and sinks to the hilt with a sharp groan, shuddering at the heat of your walls.
the stretch is delicious, filling you from every angle and pressing right against that special spot. you’re surprised at how easily he slams in, though you’re embarrassed to admit it was entirely because of how soaked you were. 
toji immediately pulls back with a flick of his hips, pistoning into you like his life depends on it. 
he hasn’t changed, you think. still so incredibly in tune with your body, skills that would put a pornstar to shame.
this was better than some quick closeted fuck under the cover of night after slipping a guard a rubber band of cash. this was primal, filthy. two bodies writhing against each other, the only goal being complete and utter pleasure. 
toji makes no effort to shush you like he would if you were sneaking around, basking in your sighs and whines like water from a stream.
“missed this,” he says, licking a long, wet stripe from your sternum to your pulse. “missed you, missed having you every day.”
“you’ll have me forever,” you moan, sucking a purple bruise into the tattooed skin of his throat.
thick fingers thread into your hair to hold you to his neck, silently commanding you to bite down.
and so you do. you bite down hard on the junction of his neck and shoulder, licking over pink teeth marks as his thrusts reach their maximum speed.
the pleasure you feel is blinding. stars explode behind your vision while the curve of his cock hits that heavenly spot in you just right. over, and over, and over.
your climax sneaks up on you before you can think, ripping a wail from the depths of your chest. toji’s thrusts falter to a halt as you lock down on him, pleasantly caught off guard by the vice grip you have around him.
“oh my g— holy shit,” he groans, mouth hanging open. dark brows furrow it to a look of pure pleasure, emerald eyes squeezing tight.
“keep going,” you mumble, scratching rivets down the skin of his back. “just keep fucking me please don’t stop please pl—”
“yeah? keep going?” he teases, groping at the swell of your breast. “greedy huh?”
you did want more, that was the thing. you just came the hardest you ever had in years but you’d be damned if he didn’t keep giving it to you.
brutal thrusts shake the frame of the couch. your bodies meld like they were made for each other, sharing pleasure in the comfort that came with the knowledge that the both of you intended to fuck until you physically couldn’t anymore.
“gonna come,” your fiancé pants, mouthing at the curve of one of your breasts. blunt teeth brush over the bud of your nipple, sending shockwaves down your spine
“inside, fuck—please,” you’re practically shaking.
“inside?” he repeats, the word rolling off his tongue like gold. “you want my seed? huh?” 
you nod, clutching to his naked back as he ruts into you, deeper than ever. strong hands grip the back of your thighs practically folding you in half, opening you up in ways you thought to be impossible.
hot release fills you up for the second time that day, shrouding your lower half in a blanket of warmth.
you sigh, low and satiated at the feeling inside of you, pulling toji to your chest when he collapses on top of you.
“we should probably..” toji trails off, completely out of breath. “should probably head upstairs.” he heaves, chest swelling with deep gulps of air.
“or we could go another round?” you mumble, throwing the question out there. 
“shit, yeah.. probably should right?” he chuckles
Tumblr media
taglist ! 🏷️
@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by @suguxo @namjoonsbuspass @tojis-luver @complexivelovely @dancingwithdeities @sunflwrsugar @catvader101 @ktsgrl @princessos-blog @4ut0p5y @swiftsongs-mp3 @mycocoapuffs @adrenepinephrine @na0koz @suguscape @jaswonder3 @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @getousrep @jeannieboys @darkstarlight82
4K notes · View notes
fangswbenefits · 9 months
Text
Side Effect
Summary: Miguel has been acting off lately and you find out why… the hard way.
Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader
18+. Feral Miguel. Rutting Miguel (side effect of the serum he takes). HEAVY breeding kink. Creampie. Fangs. Hormonal manipulation (mention of serums being injected).
You paced hurriedly through the long corridors of HQ determined to get an answer.
A proper one.
If Miguel O’Hara was growing tired of your casual relationship with him, he’d have to tell that to your face instead of avoiding you.
This had been going on for a couple of days, and you patience was now hanging by a thread. You had tried to reach him through your watch, but he’d either ignore you, or have Lyla come up with ridiculous excuses.
“Visiting Peter and MJ my ass,” you grumbled under you breath, your paces echoing loudly.
The moment you were met with the lab door shut, you stopped dead in your tracks.
That was weird.
“What?”
Approaching the scanner on the wall, you reached out your arm, allowing the sensor to read your dimensional travel watch.
<ACCESS DENIED>
That was really weird.
You flicked your wrist again, but were met with the same message.
This had to be Miguel’s poor idea of a joke, because it made no sense that he’d restrict your access to the very place you worked at.
Letting out a strained breath, you tapped on your watch, hoping to reach Miguel.
But it was Lyla’s orange hologram that emerged instead.
“What’s up, sugar?” she beamed happily, filing her nails.
You scowled. “I was calling Miguel.”
“He has redirected every contact to me,” she shrugged, checking each nail individually.
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Why can’t I get in?”
“That’s classified.”
“Classified?”
She nodded with an obnoxious smile that only served to grind your nerves. “I work here.”
“So does Miguel and he is working now,” she said with another shrug.
Anger flared inside you as your worst fears were confirmed.
He was avoiding you in particular.
“Can you just open the door?”
“No.”
“Please?”
Her eyes narrowed behind her heart-shapped glasses. “No.”
“I really need to talk to him.”
Adjusting her long coat, she clicked her tongue. “I can pass him a message.”
That wasn’t good enough and he would just ignore it as usual.
“Lyla…” you started, putting on your most convincing fake smile with an equally forced sweet voice to match. “You know I’ve always like you, right?”
The AI scoffed. “Nah, flattery doesn’t work on me, sugar. It wasn’t programmed into my coding,” she grinned deviously. “But you’re free to suggest that Miguel adds it in a future patch.”
You shot her a death glare. “Fine. Just… tell him I’m here and… yeah…” your voice trailed off.
She winked. “Gotcha!”
The hologram disappeared at once and you were left staring at the large metal door in front of you.
You waited for a couple of minutes, before realising she wasn’t coming back with an answer, as you had expected.
A random thought crossed your mind when your eyes landed on the scanner, reminding you that there was another way in.
Miguel would probably get really angry that you were about to activate the emergency protocol, but you couldn’t care less at this point.
Tapping the pattern onto the pad above the scanner, you couldn’t help but to feel victorious as the door swung open, alarms blaring and a mechanical voice echoing through the lab.
“Emergency protocol activated. Proceed with caution.”
You only made it a few steps past the door, before something — or rather someone — flung you across the room with the weight of their body keeping you pinned against a wall.
A muscled forearm was at your throat, effectively caging you in.
“What the fuck?”
“Emergency protocol activated. Proceed with caution.”
The red alarm lights rotated hurriedly on the ceiling, but you were able to identify Miguel, as his weight dug further into you.
“What are you doing here?” he growled, the eyes on his mask narrowing menacingly.
Something wasn’t right.
Your spider senses detected an alarming accelerated heart rate from him, as well as increased body temperature.
“Miguel, let go! It’s me,” you grunted, clawing at his arm to alleviate the pressure.
“I know it’s you,” he said lowly, the digital mask vanishing.
From the corner of your eyes you saw him baring his fangs, droplets of paralysing poison dripping.
His pupils were fully blown and you felt fear rise inside you. “What are you doing?!”
As if your voice had managed to snap him out of it, he eased the pressure on you and took a few steps back.
“Lyla, deactivate the emergency protocol and resume the serum synthesis.”
“Got it, Miguel!”
The alarm was turned off immediately and silence took place.
Your breath was coming out in shallow pants, as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.
Was he that angry that he had gone completely feral?
“Miguel… what…”
He turned his back on you and paced to a nearby centrifuge, the screen atop announcing: <DNA stabilising sequence at 24%>
What was he doing?
“Leave.”
“Can we just talk?” you said, still keeping your distance. “I don’t know why you’re avoiding me, but barring my access-“
Miguel turned around to face you, a deep scowl had settled on his face, twisting his lips.
The glare he gave you was enough to send shivers down your spine.
“I need you gone. Now.”
Fuck. Was he that over you that he couldn’t even stand your presence around?
He had shortened the distance between you two, crimson eyes never leaving yours.
“Why? If you don’t want to be with me just say that,” you groaned in frustration. “Don’t stare at me like you’re about to split me in half. It won’t work.”
Miguel had effectively managed to have your back hit the nearby wall once more, just from the weight of his stare alone.
“I told you to leave. I can’t have you around me.”
“Oh, great!” you scoffed. “Thanks for being so direct.”
Miguel didn’t stop moving until his face was only a few inches away from yours. “You don’t get it.”
“You’re right. I don’t. We’re both adults, so you could have just said this a couple of days ago instead of acting like I’m some nuisance.”
His hand came to grip your jaw and you widened your eyes. “You’re on birth control, right?”
“What…”
He took a deep breath, fangs grazing his lower lip. “Answer me.”
“Yes. Of course.”
Wait… was he scared that he might have knocked you up?
His fingers loosened and he pressed his forehead to the wall right beside your head, groaning out loud.
“Miguel… what is going on?”
You wanted to him a comfort squeeze on his arm, but were too frozen to move.
“Why… why do you have to be on birth control?”
Was he pulling your leg? Was this his twisted version of a joke?
This time, you frowned. “What do you mean why? I don’t want to get unexpectedly pregnant.”
Miguel punched the wall with such force it dented the material and making you jolt.
“I’m rutting.”
Your eyes darted to his face as he straightened up, pupils still dilated and beads of sweat rolling down his temples.
“What… rutting?” you asked, mouth dropping open in confusion.
He growled impatiently. “Side effect of my serum. I usually have an antidote at hand when this happens, but I ran out of one of the components…” he paused briefly as if struggling to breath properly. “I had to go to Peter B’s Earth to get more.”
Oh. So that hadn’t been one of Lyla’s ridiculous lies.
You glanced over at the nearby screen:
<DNA stabilising sequence at 34%>
Oh.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” you asked, wanting to bring him some comfort somehow. “We’ve been together for a few months.”
“It was never necessary. I always had the neutraliser for my serum at hand.”
You bit your lip.
He let out a low dark chuckle. “You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to breed you.”
This definitely wasn’t something you were expecting to hear from Miguel O’hara himself, and it made your heart skip a beat.
His arms were caging you, his talons digging deep into the metal right next to your head.
“Is… huh… is there anything I can do?” you asked in a whisper. “I mean… in the lab.”
He pressed his lower half into you at once. “Let me breed you.”
You flinched as his hard cock dug into your crotch and you let out a gasp.
“Can’t you just wait for the synthesis to be over?”
The sound of the metal being shredded tore through your ears and his lips nearly brushed yours. “I told you to leave, but you’re too stubborn, aren’t you?”
His breath was hot and you felt goosebumps rise throughout your body.
“Always running that mouth,” he growled, eyes landing on your lips. “Always defying me… and now I really, really need to breed you.”
For some twisted reason, his words and cock twitching against you were slowly swallowing your mind, causing you to abandon reason.
Miguel was a very dedicated lover, but you had never witnessed such yearning from him.
That was a novelty and it was doing wonders to your ego.
Even if there was a scientific explanation, you could help but plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “You can’t breed me… I’m on birth control.”
His hand came to grip your chin again and you saw anger flicker in his eyes. “There’s ways around that.”
Your eyes widened.
He wasn’t being serious…
… was he?
“Miguel…”
The grip tightened and he rolled his hips. “Let me. Please.”
You knew exactly what he was talking about. He had developed a serum that would neutralise all hormonal manipulation as a way to reset your body in case a spider needed to be injected with a serum.
You had helped him develop it.
Its efficacy neared 90%.
You guessed this neutraliser wasn’t able to prevent the side effects from his very specific serum.
And now he wanted to use it on you, so he could successfully breed you.
“Are you sure?” you asked, not sure why agreeing to this in the first place was sending such an adrenaline rush through your veins.
Miguel moved away from you, bolting to one of the desks, rummaging through the drawers.
You swallowed hard, but remained glued to the wall, heart hammering fast in your chest.
<DNA stabilising sequence at 41%>
In a blink of an eye, he was on you again, holding the syringe in his trembling hand. “I’m desperate, but I need your words first.”
You clenched and felt wetness spilling from you.
How was this so arousing?
“What words?”
He moved to place a quivering kiss to your forehead and you saw the liquid wobble inside the container.
“That’s… not the compound we synthesised.”
“It’s more than that,” he said with another kiss. “It stimulates your ovaries.”
Oh… fuck.
He trailed kisses down your face, before pecking your lips. “I have to breed you. Successfully.”
Your legs nearly gave out at his confession and you nearly moaned as he ripped your suit to gain access to your bicep.
“Tell me I can do this.”
His cock was nudging you again as a reminder of his desire, and you nodded.
“No. Say it.”
He was rubbing your skin with his thumb right where he intended to inject the serum.
“Go ahead.”
“Gracias,” he whispered, planting another kiss to your forehead.
At this point, you were far too drunk in lust to think clearly and your lips parted in a pained moaned as you felt a sharp jab in your arm. He kept his lips on you as reassurance, as the liquid tore through your muscle.
Your heartbeat skyrocketed straight away.
You felt your knees buckle under you, but Miguel steadied you with both arms. “I got you.”
A gasp quickly turned into a moan as the effect of the serum consumed you with each passing second.
He trailed his hands down your body and gripped your hips.
“Turn around.”
You let him guide you, biting down hard on your lower lip, you panties sticking to your soaked folds.
More ripping sounds filled the air as Miguel tried to get rid of your suit, exposing your underwear to him.
You balled your fists and felt one hand on your lower back, adding light pressure. “Bend over.”
Doing as commanded, you felt more wetness spill from you as your body readied itself for Miguel.
The pressure increased. “More.”
Your panties were torn apart right away and you glanced over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of Miguel’s fangs peeking through his lips.
His thumb dragged along your folds, teasing your swollen clit and earning a whimper from you.
“Sorry, but I really need to be inside you,” he grumbled and you nodded.
Your heart skipped several beats, as you tried to control your breathing in anticipation.
The tip of his cock was soon pressed against your opening, and you squeezed your eyes shut.
“I’m sorry.”
Before you could inquire what he meant, your mouth fell open as he rammed inside you, bottoming out at once.
He didn’t wait for your to recover from the initial shock, and began pumping into you so ferociously, you had to grab a hold on the metal railing to your right to keep yourself from losing balance.
Miguel heaved a heavy sigh of relief as if he had been waiting a lifetime for this sensation.
Grunts and groans mixed with the wet sounds of your pussy engulfing his cock over and over again.
“Should have bred you sooner…” he managed to say in between snaps of his hips. “Developed that serum just for you…”
Miguel’s idea of dirty talk was effective. Too effective, because you couldn’t hold back from clenching hard around him, savoring the friction and feel of being stuffed full of him.
He picked up the pace and you thought you were going to die.
Not because it was uncomfortable, but because it was too overwhelming, and your body was responding to his in a way you had never experienced before.
You felt your lower abdomen coil at the sides and figured the serum had reached its target destination.
Miguel gripped both your arms and you let go of the railing, as he tugged hard to have your back smack against his hard chest.
“You’re so lucky this rut didn’t hit me harder,” he growled, hips never faltering. “I was barely able to control myself around you…”
Your eyes fluttered shut and you moaned loudly, feeling his pectoral muscles press into your back. This man was too hot and you found yourself thinking that not being bred by him would be a waste.
That genetic material deserved to be spread.
“Being on birth control with me…” he said through gritted teeth, and you felt his fangs nipping your ear lightly. “You. Deserve. To. Be. Bred.” he punctuated each word with a snap of his hips.
An intense wave of pleasure pulsated from your clit, and you recognised the familiar strings of an orgasm pulling you in and embracing you gentle with each stroke.
“Miguel…” you moaned, blinded by lust and desire.
The grip on your arms loosened briefly and he let your torso lean forward ever so slightly, angling your hips in a way that made him his cock hit you over and over again just where you needed the most.
“I want you full with my babies,” he gasped.
Your orgasm hit you with such force, you thought you were going to collapse and slide off his cock, but he wrapped one arm around you, not allowing you to part from him.
“You feel so good… tighter… tighter,” he urged, as your walls contracted around him rhythmically, faintly at first, but the next stronger than the one before.
You were far too gone to form any words and just let your lips part as an intense moan ripped through your throat.
Miguel was mumbling something behind you, but you couldn’t make out any words as you descended from your height.
Even through quivering legs and pulsing clit, you were able to feel it.
He was now pumping you full with broken snaps of his hips.
You glanced down and saw strings of cum dripping from where he was connected with you.
So much cum.
He wasn’t even slowing down, as he’d usually do at this stage.
Miguel kept on ramming into you from behind, sending more and more cum to drip from within you.
An animalistic growl left his mouth as he finally came to a halt, breathing hard.
He remained balls deep inside you, and you planted on hand on the wall to look in absolute awe at the cum dripping and dangling from your clit, a pool of it now at your feet.
“How did you cum so much?” you managed to say in between laboured breaths.
“I’m rutting, cariño. My body produces more,” he said, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.
You glanced to the screen nearby.
<DNA stabilising sequence at 100%>
“Maybe you can take the neutraliser now?
He slid his cock out of you halfway, before slamming it back, and you felt more cum spill out. “I don’t think so.”
Oh, you were utterly fucked.
In every sense of the word.
Tumblr media
Masterlist
6K notes · View notes
bettymylove · 7 months
Note
CAN U WRITE SOME MATTHEO RIDDLE SMUT?! I GOT AN IDEA!! The (fem) reader obsessed with mattheos abs arms viens hands- anyways- they’re making out in her dorm and she starts dry humping him and eventually c0ckw@arming Mattheo for litteraly hours on end and her skirt covers them up but they’re hanging out with their friends the whole time-
hey loveyy<3 hope you like it!!
Dormitory Activities
pairing: mattheo riddle x reader
content: read the ask
warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
she couldn't help it, the way his hands flipped the page of the book or when they tightened around his quill and you lost it when he ran it through his hair.
your homework was long forgotten, after all that you could only think about mattheo and him alone.
you decided to act on it and picked up his textbooks and placed them down with your own.
he only raised a eyebrow in question and you replied by pushing him so that he was sitting against the headboard.
"I want you" you said straddling his lap leaning down to kiss him.he kissed you back and you could melt in his lips and way he held the back of your head.
"why do we always end up making out?" he said with a chuckle. you didn't answer way too busy straddling him slightly moving back and forth so that his clothed dick can make contact with your cunt over and over.
"god, matty I'm gonna come" you were full on humping him now and he was watching the scene with just a hint of amusement on his face.
"but don't you want me inside of you"he said and you replied by unzipping his pants and taking off your panties leaving the skirt on. you sink down to him whining at his size.
"don't move stay like this,pretty"and you obliged, sitting there for what you were sure were a few hours.
"and that's when I told him- you and mattheo both looked up at the unwelcomed source of sound and found your friends. "look at it will you, mr. and mrs. riddle all cuddled up" theo said with a chuckle.
right, cuddling is what you were doing.
"don't you dare move, princess" you could only nod in response. you liked the thrill of getting caught you couldn't help clenching around him.
he carefully picked you up and dragged you out of the dorm to a random corridor.
"you just couldn't wait, could you baby?"he said kissing your neck.
5K notes · View notes
saturnsorbits · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Lessons in Serving your King
Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Prince!Bakugo, Suggestive. Word Count: 1.6k.
Summary: Closing in on his 20th name day, tradition dictates that Prince Bakugo choose his first concubines.
A/N: This might become a series, but don't hold your breath.
Tumblr media
'I don't want a fucking -.'
Grabbing her son by the cheeks, Mitsuki Bakugo fixes the young prince still with a cold stare. 'You will do as you're told.'
'But -'
'It is tradition, Katsuki. Not even your ego is large enough to put an end to that.' She smirks before releasing her hold and wipes a hand on the left hip of her dress. 'Now, come on... You're late.'
Huffing, Bakugo tugs at his shirt to smooth the wrinkles left by his mother, but follows on her heels obediently. Usually, he'd put up more of a fight, throw a proper tantrum, but the pit of curiosity growing in his stomach stops him making too much fuss. He's fucking human, after all. Of course, he's going to be at least a little interested in the collection of concubines that had been assembled specifically for his perusal.
That didn't mean he had any intention of choosing any of them, though.
The doors of the main hall seem more daunting than usual, but Bakugo hides his trepidation well.
Or so he thinks.
Mitsuki's hand touches softly on his shoulder, guiding him, not through the main hall, but down the corridor. She offers out her elbow, letting him cling to her as they continue to drift closer to a small, more intimate, service room.
The marble clicks under their shoes, the sound amplified endlessly as it rings behind them announcing their arrival. Large windows scatter light, bringing out the red in both Bakugo and his mother's eyes as they pass the selection of special guards already stationed outside the room. All seven of them, five sworn to his mother and two to him, are dressed from head to toe in royal finery with the lightest of chain mail glittering over their chests. Swords hang from their hips, but Bakugo knows there are much more deadly weapons hidden under their clothes and tucked away from prying eyes.
Captain Aizawa, one of Mitsuki's most trusted knights bows low when they reach the door.
Reaching out, Mitsuki presses a hand to his shoulder and pushes him straight again. 'Enough of that, you'll put your back out.'
Aizawa's mouth moves to argue, but Mitsuki doesn't allow his voice to summon a sound.
'Shouta, you have more than earned the right not to bow.' She chides in a way that makes goose-flesh break out on the other guards, but the Captain simply laughs.
'Is the prince ready, My Lady?'
Mitsuki's hand wraps around her son's bicep giving him a firm squeeze. 'Oh, you know him. Dragged here kicking and screaming.'
Bakugo scowls.
'But, I'm sure he'll manage.'
Another guard, tall and broad in the shoulders with a close crop of dark hair and a booming voice clears his throat. 'If I may speak out of turn, Captain?'
'You will not Yoarashi.'
Mitsuki waves him off. 'Oh, let the boy speak Shouta.'
The guard, Yoarashi, smiles. His teeth are too big for his mouth, but somehow there's still something strikingly handsome about him. Bakugo hates it. 'The consorts have outdone themselves this time, I've never seen a more stunning array of -.'
Captain Aizawa silences his guard with a raised hand. 'That's quiet enough, I think the Queen understands your sentiment.'
'Quite.' Mitsuki smiles, locking a chuckle behind her teeth. 'Speaking of the wonderful job my husbands consort has done, I think it's time to see what Inko has found for us, don't you, Katsuki?'
Bakugo nods, it's all he ca manage with the nerves threatening to make his knees wobble like some common whore. His jaw is tight, teeth clenched in his mouth, but it soon looses as he the doors are thrown wide and he's allowed to step into the room.
Inside the room is dark, the thick red curtains covering the windows putting an end to any natural light that should attempt to slink inside. Instead, the room is illuminated by a series of high torches that cast a godly glow about and perfectly highlighting the row of people stood across the centre of the room.
At once, Inko is upon them. She wraps chubby arms around Bakugo without a second thought and greets his mother with a warm kiss to her hand when offered. Following at her heel is Izuku, her darling son. 'Brother.' Izuku smiles.
'Half Brother.' Bakugo spits the former piece of his sentence, enjoying the way it feels between his lips – the distance it offers him from the man before him. They're the same age. Both Mitsuki and Inko had been pregnant at the same time and the boys born mere months apart, although Inko had done the chief portion of the nursing; especially when Mitsuki's milk had dried up. Something that had lead both women to an unlikely friendship.
'I heard you've outdone yourself this time.' Mitsuki pulls at Bakugo, steering him around to the front of the room.
Bakugo's eyes wonder. There's a conversation flowing in the air around him, but he pays no heed. How can he, when the most beautiful man he has ever laid eyes on is looking directly at him.
The man lifts his head. He is bare to the waist with only the smallest piece of cloth to cover his dignity. If Bakugo where to walk around him, which he just might, he'd bet he'd be able to see his ass in all it's glory.
He has red eyes, violent carnelian, that pierce right to Bakugo's soul and red hair that is tied neatly in a bun atop his head. Licking his lips when he catches the princes' eye, the man smiles, flashing a row of blade-like teeth that threaten to bring Bakugo to his knees.
'Did you hear?' Mitsuki pats Bakugo's lapel.
He didn't, but he nods anyway.
His eyes slip further down the line, silently comparing each concubine to the next, but no-one compares to the red-eyed man until his eyes are blessed by you.
You're near the end, stood beside two others that don't even come close to your beauty with your chin tilted to the floor and your hands clasped neatly before you. Like the others, you're dressed in almost nothing, but it's the bright red 'V' painted onto your skin across the top of your breast bone that has him pausing.
He's seen the mark before and a cursory glance back down the line tells him exactly where. The red head, amongst two or three others, also bare the mark.
Bakugo swallows.
Already he can feel his breeches tightening uncomfortably.
'How many?' He snaps, forcing his eyes from the line and onto Inko.
She blinks. 'Pardon?'
'How many... For my... For my harem?'
'Oh. Most choose at least six to begin with, but after that is custom to add another concubine for each year until you reach 29. Sometimes other kingdoms will offer then as gifts, but you're more than welcome to dismiss -.'
Bakugo raises his hand. 'I don't want a history lesson.'
'Oh, I -.' Inko blushes.
'Brat, watch your tongue...' Mitsuki raises her hand to crack him across the back of the head, but the prince side steps her assault easily.
'I want that one...' He points at you, eyes narrowed and hungry before he turns, pointing at the red haired man at the other end of the room. 'And him. That's all.'
Mitsuki's brow furrows. 'Two? Inko here scourers the kingdom for the finest it had to offer and you choose only two?'
Bakugo folds his arms. He can feel your eyes, the red-heads too, burning through his skin. It makes him hot, makes him wonder what it'll be like when your eyes grow heavy, when they're spotted with ears and your mouths are full of his tongue, his fingers, his cock.
Clearing his throat, he tries to readjust his breeches.
He won't have to imagine soon. No, soon, you'll be his.
'Have them brought to my rooms tomorrow.' Turning on his heel he shouts over his shoulder before storming from the room before his cock begins to soak into his breeches.
Tomorrow, he thinks as soon as the doors slam shit behind him.
That should give him enough time to fist himself stupid to the thought of red eyes and glittering skin.
Hopefully, that would stop him making a fool of himself at the first meeting.
Tumblr media
Bakugo already looks bored when you're brought into his rooms at noon the following day. The door closes behind you, a guard having performed the customary introductions, and all too quickly you're swallowed by the nerves that climb up your body and twist around your lungs.
Adjusting his seat, Bakugo pulls a foot up onto his chair and spreads his knees. A bark leaves his chest that he hopes is harsher than it feels. 'I don't fuck virgins...'
You hear the wet click of Kirishima's throat from beside you in the silence of the room. Even though the red ink is gone, the fact of your both being intact remains the same. 'Uhm, my lord... I mean – Prince Bakugo, I'm... I think there's been some mistake, we're – we're both -.'
'I know.' He waves his hand. Anticipation creates pins and needles in his thighs. Even if he wanted to fuck right now, he's not sure his body would hold out long enough. Maybe, five orgasms in the space of a day was too much.
'Well, you can see how this might be a problem then...' Twisting his knuckles around each other, Kirishima chews at his lip and forces a weak smile. It's strange how he makes six-foot of man look almost as small as you are, but he does it easily and blushes pretty to boot.
'How -.' He clears his throat. 'How are we supposed to serve you if -.'
'You're going to fuck each other, first.' He arches an eyebrow, drawling as if the solution to his little problem has been more than obvious. A smirk curls his lip. 'I'll watch.'
Tumblr media
-> Masterlist
1K notes · View notes
vanderilnde · 2 months
Note
so the neighborhood with butcher!simon is dangerous 🤔🤔
how would he react to reader’s apartment getting broken into while they’re both at home?
i think he would make good use of the meat grinder at the butcher shop if you uhhhh catch my drift
anon your mind!!
it would start as three soft rasps next door, which already stirs Simon’s intrigue. he hears a man’s voice sifting through the corridor, in front of your flat, and poises himself like a dog that’s about to attack.
it’s something about coming to fix leak, and fleetingly, a stint of envy lays hold of Simon. why didn’t you ask him? hasn’t he already made it clear it’s his duty to help you? you’re a woman alone in neglected Manchester. he doesn’t want you asking others for help.
your voice cuts a way through the wall. “I didn’t call for a plumber?” and if Simon’s hackles weren’t raised, if he wasn’t acutely aware, he would have cooed at the confusion distorting your voice.
the plumber presses, insisting you open the door. I’ve already driven all the way here, you called me a week ago—you just don’t remember.
a whisper of fear seizes you. and on the other side of the wall, Simon bares his teeth. he’s had his fair-share of shady shit. worked in dodgy places for dodgy people, so it clicks in his brain like violet light when the aforementioned plumber quietens, presentiment hanging in the air.
then, a crack. resounding, but not unbecoming for this area of town. the plumber is hurling his body against the fickle wood of your door, making a depression within the timber.
bang, bang, bang, and the splitting of wood is all you hear. your brain is too high-strung to recognise Simon’s door opening, or the sound of battering on your door ripening into the hollow sound of flesh against flesh. knuckles splitting against bone, a soft, snuffed-out holler that seems to get smothered under the bubbling of blood and fists.
your mind is reeling. your brain is delayed. belatedly, you catch up. you set your cheek to your door, your tears sticking to the wood. sniffling. “hello?”
“’m here, love, it’s me,” Simon replies. his voice is heavier than usual, caught on the angry chatter of his teeth. “don’t come out, okay? stay there.”
Simon stands in the middle of the corridor, huffing like a bull. there’s blood and salt crusted in the margins of his hands—more than he’s ever had at the butcher shop.
2K notes · View notes