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yuki-world · 8 months

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那维莱特 | NEUVILLETTE ; WORK

summary | a man like neuvillette has so many responsibilities placed upon him, its impossible to not be thinking of work 24/7… until his assistant proposes something that might help him relief some of that stress.

tags | nsfw (smut), fem!reader, clothed sex, cockwarming, belly bulge, creampie, 1.9k words

a/n : everyone probably already wrote about cockwarming neuvi in his office but its soooo him

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“sorryー you want to what?”

neuvillette almost chokes on his own saliva at your request, as he tries to contain himself. he clears his throat, once, twice, staring at you with raised eyebrows.

“apologies, neuvillette. i only come with good intentions,” you reply, slightly bowing. that innocent smile on your face is a crime in itself; as if you didn’t just suggest such an inappropriate idea to the iudex of fontaine.

his eyes widen as he tries to give a reply, but nothing comes to mind. he’s never like thisー always a calm, collected man. someone who always knew what to say. yet at this moment, no words come out.

“just… repeat your suggestion,” he tries to clarify, because he’s had to have heard you wrongly.

“of course, neuvillette,” you say, lifting your head up from your prior bowing position. “i suggested to cockwarm you while you do your work.��

so he didn’t hear it wrong. never would he expect such dirty words coming out from you, so direct as if it were a normal thing to do, someone who he placed full faith on as his assistant of years to always be professional andー

“neuvillette, you always look so stressed, even now…” you trailed off, slowly making your way closer to his desk. your eyes glanced at his hand, where he gripped his ink pen a little too tightly. it looked like it might snap in two. “i figured i could be of more help as your assistant.”

his eyes follow you as you place both hands on his desk. he just couldn’t help it when his gaze falls from your face to your chest.

neuvillette sighs, closing his eyes. this is so unlike you, so unlike him. “that is… highly inappropriate and very vulgar of you, y/n,” he scolds, conflicted. it was certainly unexpected of you to bring up something like that. i mean, couldn’t you have suggested something else to relieve his stress? something more appropriate? but then again…

“is that so, neuvillette? then, why aren’t you rejecting it?” you ask, your boldness taking the both of you by surprise.

no matter how strict he sounded, or tried to sound, he couldn’t reject itー didn’t want to reject it. a part of him knows how good it would feel, just to have the warmth of your cunt squeezing around his cock as he goes through stacks upon stacks of paperwork, mind occupied with how your walls tighten around him and milk his cock instead of how many cases he has to deal with for the next couple of days. you’d probably whine and squirm around him like the impatient brat you’d be, begging for him to fuck you on the desk.

even as his expression remains stern, the strain in his pants tell a different story.

neuvillette brings himself back to reality, releasing the pen that he didn’t notice he had such a tight grip on. fuck, he thinks. relief from stress sounds so good right now, he doesn’t think about asking you again. he deserves a break every once in a while; he reasons with himself. “come here, y/n.”

you had to stop yourself from smiling as you practically skipped over to him. of course he would take up that offer, especially when it came from you. who could blame him, when his pretty little assistant was so eager to sit on his cock?

he pulls you onto his lap, your back facing him. his own thighs spread yours apart. you feel his bulge instantly, trying to grind on it to relieve yourself. his hands reach up to your hips immediately, holding you down to stop you from moving. how naughty, he thinks. aren’t you just so eager to have his cock inside you? you must’ve been fantasizing about this for a long time.

he lowers his pants just enough for his cock to spring out, tapping it a few times on your panties. “you still have a chance to revoke your offer,” he states, and you scoff.

“oh please neuvillette, you really think i’m going to go back on my suggestioー ahh…”

you get cut off with your own moan as he uses his cock to nudge your panties aside, slipping in with no resistance at all from how wet you were. it squelches as he enters; not even a second in and his cock was already dripping with your juices. he throws his head back against the chair, letting out a deep groan. he has to hold himself back from thrusting up into you, remembering the original offer was to cockwarm, nothing else.

he felt so big inside of you, almost like you could feel it in your throat. neuvillette, unaware as he shifts to find the ideal position to do his work, nudges his cock further into you, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. “nghー neuvillette!” you cry out, but he doesn’t say anything, just shushes you and tightens the grip that his fingers have on your waist anytime you try to bounce on his cock. he reaches for the same pen, trying his absolute best in maintaining his composure while he continues his work.

…

time passes so slowly. it seemed like forever as neuvillette sorted out his work like you weren’t even there. he would let out a couple sighs every once in a while, but that was about it.

you on the other hand, continue to writhe around on his lap, finding any way to stimulate yourself. even though you were the one who suggested this, it felt like torture for his cock to just sit inside of you without any movement. “neuvillette…” you whine again, hoping he would give in.

but oh, the self-restraint that neuvillette has right now to not lift you onto the desk and fuck your brains out while you’re sprawled out all over his paperwork, is worthy of an applause. how he does it? he doesn’t know. what he does know is that each time you squeeze around his cock, it’s definitely on purpose. “stop that immediately, you’re distracting me,” he reprimands, but his words hold no weight as you continue doing it anyway. at some point, he was halfway done with his work, not a single hint of stress creeping up on him at all. quite productive he must say; your cunt works wonders.

you don’t stop squeezing, trying to bring him to his limit. he has to be close, right? he can stop you from moving, but tightening around him like that was something out of his control.

he groans as you continue your adminstrations around him, grinding onto the base of his cock as his grip slowly released from you. “don’t think i don’t know what you’re doing, hm? just a little more work, be patient.” neuvillette buries his face into the back of your neck, picking up the scent of the perfume you always use. you smelt so good, he could just eat you up.

as you start slipping off his lap, he adjusts his position with an arm around your waist, bringing you closer to himー and then he feels it. his hand was at where your tummy was protruding slightly, cock nestling right where it belonged. was this there the entire time? “y/n, is that..?” he questions, and you nod, letting out a gasp when he applies pressure onto that spot. that was his breaking point.

neuvillette couldn’t take it anymore. the sight of your tummy bulging ever so slightly, taking the shape of his cock, was too much for him. he lifts you onto his desk, some papers getting crumpled and falling off his table, but he could honestly care less. you gasp when he spreads your legs, tapping his glistening cock a few times on your pussy, before entering in one thrust, just as easily as before. “neuvillette! whaー”

he doesn’t even give you time to adjust. his hips move against yours almost immediately as he continuously pounds into you, he’s absolutely ruthless. truly the chief of justice; making you feel so good like that. he leans down, elbows beside your head as he pushes his cock so much deeper into you, he hits your cervix. “neuvilletteー pleaseー you’re so deepー nngh!” he clicks his tongue at your volume, kissing you to silence you, for someone might actually hear. hell, he didn’t even know if the door was locked.

your moans getting louder each time he thrusts has his cock twitching and his hips stuttering. he couldn’t believe it, after all these years of being so formal with you, only to end up being the one fucking your brains out. not very professional of him, but he’ll deal with the consequences later.

your fingers grip the edge of his wooden desk as he slams into you over, and over, and over again. almost like he was letting out all his pent out stress onto you, which… was your original intention anyway. his speed doesn’t falter, not even a little.

“was this what youー mmhー wanted? is that why you brought up that suggestion? you knew it would end up like this, isn’t thatー ahー right?” he accuses, and you let out a moan in response. he saw right through you.

neuvillette was so close, he could cum at any moment right now. but of course, he’s a gentleman, so he’ll let you have your orgasm. it was well-deserved; his thanks to you for bringing up such a suggestion. he bites the tip of his glove, pulling it off his hand and throwing it aside. his thumb reaches for your clit, rough circular movements bringing you closer to your orgasm.

“i’m so close, neuvillette, please i begー ahh,” you pleaded. with how his name rolls off your tongue, seems like he has no choice but to give you what he wants. after all, you asked so nicely.

your walls tighten around him as your orgasm washes over you, fingers tangled in his hair, gripping onto him for dear life but he doesn’t stop thrusting. you were so sensitive, your thighs tried to close around him to stop him from moving, but he pushes them wider and fucks harder into you.

“you’re so wetー ah fuck,” he curses as he starts to lose his consistent pace. he was so close, he could feel himself cumming as his balls tighten up, cock throbbing inside you.

“can you take it, y/n? can you take my cum?” neuvillette asks, pinning your hands above your head.

“yes! inside, cum inside,” you begged, and he does just that. his cock plunges into your pussy for the last time as he cums inside you, an immediate warm feeling coating your lower half. “fuckー!” he hisses as he stills inside you, what feels like never-ending spurts of cum being pumped inside you. his white seed leaks out of your entrance, dripping down your ass and onto the desk… probably on a few documents as well.

he makes the smart decision to not pull out immediately. his cum would definitely gush out and stain everything.

he releases the grip on your wrists, soothing the red marks gently with a kiss. “y/n, you have my thanksー for relieving my stress.”

you sigh, exhausted, but contented. “i’ll be here the next time you’re stressed,” you offer, adding a quick winkー and then you feel him harden again inside you.

“i think i’m still stressed now, actually.”

ー @yuki-world

#雪| 那维莱特 neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette smut #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader smut

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pigeonpeach · 5 months

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Mother and Father moments.

Aka more mommy reader x Arlecchino! This time with comfort!

Perhaps you sometimes forget your husband is a harbinger. She’s just so kind to the chikdren at times. Your presence has helped her become more patient and gentle with them. You had been with her for awhile now. Lynette and Lyney had grown up into full on adults, going on missions leaving you to worry. But they came back each time. As your original set of kids grew so did the dangers. You knew they were raised for this yet your heart still hurts at the thought. Unfortunately some didn’t make it. Some may think its hard to care for so many children emotionally but it didn’t matter to you, you felt hurt when they were. Each and every one of them you raised and cared for became your child in their eyes. Lucky your husband despite not being the most emotional vulnerable still let you cry over each. Her gentle whispers reassuring that it was not your fault.

She knows your heart, she knows its that empathy and vulnerability that strengthens your bond with the children, sometimes she envies that. But she still tries to make up for it to the best she can.

So when The twins and Freminet were imprisoned you became worrisome. She with held that it was for a mission because she knew you would demand to join them. Still she held you.

“Could I send tea bags to Lynette? Letters? Oh god poor Freminet he always loves diving! He can’t dive anywhere!” You paced as you were planning a gift to be sent. She watched you with a smile.

“I assure you they will be fine. They’re barely serving a few months for a petty crime that likely won’t end up on their record. They have each other afterall. You know Lyney, he will not let any of them get hurt.” She said calmly,

“Still he’s my boy and I worry about him!” You say panicked.

“And the prophecy! Oh god they’re so far down underwater they wouldn’t have a way out!” You paced even more as her smile faded.

“My love,” she held you in her arms making you still, “I assure you, everything will be okay. They’ll be back when their sentence is over, and they’ll have all sorts of stories to tell. Freminet can handle himself, and Lyney is a good protector of the two. They will be fine. As for the prophecy, I have my own methods ready.” She said kissing the back of your neck. You sighed as you finally calmed down.

“You’re right. I need to relax..” you say melting into her touch. “I just… oh I can’t help it. Lyney was the first to call me mom.” Arlecchino smiled as you looked at one of the baby pictures of the twins.

“You’re always their mother. With you waiting here I’m sure they’ll strive to make it back.” She says calmly.

“They better.” You huff. “That Wriothesley better be kind to my kids otherwise-“

“Relax dear. Don’t think anymore about the impossible. Besides, I’m sure they’ll be treated as any other prisoner is. Afterall, Fontaine is currently under alot of pressure, I’m sure he wouldn’t be confident enough to pull a stunt like that.” She says. “And if he did, then I’ll handle it.” You sigh in relief as she holds you closer to herself.

“You’re right I know I know.”

“If you would like you can send them a letter. Of course you can’t send any gifts but you’re more than welcome to wri-“ Arlecchino stopped as she watched you pick up a pen and looked for a piece of paper. “Here.” She handed you a piece. Quickly you started to write down your thoughts as she smiled behind you. “You should slow down. They might not be able to read your writing otherwise.”

“You’re sure i can’t send gifts? Not even a blanket? Oh Lynette hates being cold! That place must be so cold too, so far down under the sea.. oh my poor baby.” You moped.

“I’m certain there’s accomdations for such. I doubt they’d let their staff down their freeze. Besides I hear it can actually get too hot down there.”

“But what about Freminet then! He isn’t good handling intense heat. He burnt his hand on the kettle once and he’s never trusted them since. He always uses a oven mitt or glove even when its not necessary.” Your fingers tapped worriedly.

“Darling please try to not assume the worst. Our children are not hostages right now. They simply are being disciplined for a small amount of time. Their sentences are only two or so months.” She repeated trying to soothe you. You pouted even more.

“Still I’ll miss them. I even bought a new dessert book to try and make some for Lynette. She always comes by to visit when I even imply there’s new desserts. She’s become my little taste tester.” You smile. “She doesn’t smile but her tail wags impatiently when she sees me preparing a new sweet.”

“You know them so well.” She smiles and brushes your hair, helping to alleviate some tension held within your shoulders. “I’m sure they miss you too. You know they wouldn’t want you to worry so much about them.”

“I’m aware. Still I love them all so much.. it hurts that I cannot protect them all from everything in life.” You lift your head to look at her as her arm rests on your waist.

“I know my dear. Its why you’re the finest choice for me.” She kisses you. “Now just relax and I’ll write the letter for you.”

#genshin imagines #genshin x y/n #domestic fluff #comfort #slight death but not of named characters #arlecchino is so hot please step on me #arlecchino x y/n #alrecchino #arlecchino x you #arlecchino x reader #pls come home now arlecchino #arlechinno genshin #wlw x reader

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iluvies · 4 months

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ONLY FOR YOU, PRINCESS ft. gojo satoru

summary: it’s valentine’s day! what kind of a boyfriend would he be to let you pay for anything?

warnings — f!reader, pet names (baby, cutie. . . etc.), heart clenching fluff ♡

“don’t worry about it, baby.”

his eyes watched you intently, a wide smile on his face. satoru took you to the mall after he had given you a large bouquet of roses and an unnecessary amount of plushies (and kisses) to make sure you get everything you wanted for valentine’s. he’d told you he would pay for anything you wanted, whether you glanced at a gold necklace, mentioned a pretty pink pen a stationary store was selling, or saw a rosey red lipstick he thought would look good on you. “but ‘toru—“ a hand came up to pinch your cheek, stopping you from talking and causing you to whine instead.

“i said don’t worry about it. this day is all about you.” satoru repeated with a tiny pout, his arm draped over your shoulder whilst he walked beside you proudly. “it isn’t just about me though—“ he captured your lips in a quick kiss to cut you off, pulling away a moment later to see your face a bright shade of red. “let me spoil you, cutie.”

“cutie?” “you heard what i said, cutie.” “stop calling me that.” “i just say it as i see it. . . cutie.”

“you’re impossible, satoru.” he chuckled and squeezed you against him, sending you a playful glare in retaliation. “you love it.”

you sighed and lean your head against him, lacing your fingers together absentmindedly. you felt guilty for the amount of money satoru spends on you, even if he tells you over and over how much he loves to. “i feel bad.” you murmured, letting your thumb gently caress the back of his hand. he practically melted into your touch the second you did that, because only you know how much he loves your warmth. “you shouldn’t. i only want to show you how much i love you.”

“and you’ve already proved it so many times, ‘toru. i love you, so much. you don’t need to use thousands of dollars on me.” you said earnestly, glancing down at your feet as you both walked alongside the other. “but that’s exactly why i want to. because it’s you,” he muttered, looking over to you with a softened gaze.

satoru slowly came to a stop, turning you towards him by your waist. “i would buy you the world if that’s what you wanted.”

you hold his gaze steadily, his shifting between your eyes and your lips before he leaned in slowly as you did so too. his hands moved to hold your warm cheeks, grinning slightly when your own were placed over his. you closed your eyes, preparing for his lips to touch yours except. . . it never came.

“satoru?”

your eyes peeked open curiously, trying to see what he was doing. instead of finding him looking at you—or in this case—leaning in to kiss you, you find him eyeing a dress. you knew that look all too well. “‘toru, don’t. you’ve already spent a lot today.” you warned, before feeling his hand slip back into yours, dragging you towards the clothing store much to your displeasure.

“y’know i can’t help it, baby.” satoru said with a large grin, leading you into the store. “you’ll look beautiful in that dress,” his hand wandered down to your lower back, “stunning even.” he looked back at you, bringing your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles sweetly.

“happy valentine’s day.” “that’s the fifth time you’ve said it today.”

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theguyinthemathexamples · 2 months

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Opportunity Awaits None

— sahsrau/sahsr fic based on my pookie aventurine for good luck (⁠＠⁠°⁠▽⁠°⁠＠⁠)⁠ᕗ ♡

— C/W : 2.1 trailblazer quest spoilers, sillies stealing the show first, ooc pookies, VERY self indulgent, new fic style?, slight aventio/raturine??, a lil angsty in some parts?? (tell me if i missed anything 💝)

Claiming oneself to be adored by an Aeon would be a bold, and otherwise egotistical way of getting attention. But with his friend even being heard mumbling to himself for being discarded as of late, not to mention the light whispers he's been hearing lately... the Doctor might not blame Aventurine for describing himself as going nuts.

While he was investigating things about that Emanator, and a few strings pulled later... he accidentally came across a lovely piece of information that she felt her own strings being pulled long before he made his grandest performance yet in Penacony.

It was taught, then loosened, and then forcefully yanked in a never ending cycle, she said. There were long periods of time that she began to wonder whether or not this feeling finally disappeared, only to be hit by another harsh pull. As of late, however, these harsh tugs haven't been felt after she finally remembered to pen a letter to the Astral Express's Conductor that both refused their offer to arrive at the Express, as well as making someone else bite the bullet.

As for who this was was insignificant to him— he'll find it out himself eventually. But the whispers? The tugging? The feeling of being watched? That letter? Aventurine knew all too well what these meant. The Aeon of Creation's manifestations in the mortal realm.

This wasn't all new news, though, as such a phenomenon had already happened to others before. But for him to hear them? That was certainly a surprise.

To be fair, he's heard them a bit before. The whispers arrived just a bit after he stepped foot in the Planet of Festivities, and he initially mistook them for crowds outside being too loud as they were more quiet back then.

Though, these whispers have been getting louder and louder the past few days. He's almost embarrassed to confess that this was worrying him. They varied from promises vowing to make him "come home" to them, to absolute hysterical laughter akin to the Aeon of Elation's ones. Who knows what that Aeon was thinking. Not him, surely.

And a few too many deep dives into rabbit holes led him to a reasonable conclusion of that Aeon taking an interest in him. ... By the Amber Lord, no, Veritas, he swears he's not succumbing to insanity.

Aventurine had asked the Doctor about this, knowing he had a good amount of experience with this sort of thing for a good while now. Unfortunately for him all of the answers he got were "You'll know in due time." and "Perhaps if you willingly offered yourself to the Aeon maybe those whispers would disappear faster than you bothering me about them."

Rarely does he get more cryptic responses like, "A reach too far shall become an embrace at a moments notice for you, gambler," Veritas mumbles beside him, getting up not too long after saying such without so much as another word. Not before giving him water when he complained about getting too overwhelmed by them and sought someone more familiar, one who bore experience and knowledge of such things firsthand.

Sometimes, Aventurine wondered if it was all some sort of joke that even the highest of the divine beings of this universe were playing on him, but some of the voices were almost quick to reassure him. Often he heard of music playing, words he seemed to partially understand ringing in his ears as he signed one document after the other.

Maybe he'll finally get the freedom he's yearned for so long if he devoted his whole being to THEM instead of the Amber Lord. ... Maybe he'll consider such an act of heresy at a later date.

Note : Try Not To Froth At The Mouth Looking At Aventurine Challenge (IMPOSSIBLE ‼️‼️) (I BROKE MY KNEE‼️‼️‼️)

On a lighter note, tho: my interpretation will unfortunately be published later in the month and im just speedrunning this for good luck on my pookie wookie patootie gookie nookie bear aventurine pulls 🫶

Am i sane for this man? Have i been delulu about him for the past few days?? Mmm,,,, who knows :3

#sparkling wheat ♪#silver lined strawberries ♪#spoiled milk °#aventurine honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #honkai sahsrau #sahsrau #sahsr #aventurine sahsrau #i cant believe i did this smh #welp it is what it is #i aint mad for my pookie wookie taking up 65% of my brain every day

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cottonlemonade · 2 months

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Hi there! could i get a medium to large mango with boba for tsukishima! i really love your work

Just A Dream

word count: 806 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: post-time skip husband Tsukishima x chubby!Reader

genre: this has it all - for some reason, fluff, a pinch of angst and a dash of spice

warnings: mdni, nsfw

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Kei woke with a start. Fumbling fingers reached for the glasses on his nightstand. It was absurd, of course you‘d lay next to him when he turned around. Right? He swallowed and looked over to the other side of the bed. Sure enough, in the dark he could just make out your soft curves under the blanket, gently rising and falling in a deep peaceful sleep. He let out a sigh. It was just a dream. You hadn‘t really fought, he hadn‘t made you cry, you hadn‘t been disappointed in him. You hadn‘t left. But nevertheless, the panic in his chest felt real. He should make sure to prevent his nightmare from ever becoming reality. What an absurd thought. Or was it?

He leaned over and, his eyes now accustomed to the night, admired your features. The cute chubby cheeks all smooshed together, making you look impossibly adorable. How he ever got you to fall in love with him he‘d never know. He felt like going down that road of thought was not exactly safe for him. Your husband brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and with a touch light as a feather kissed your temple before getting out of bed.

First things first.

He headed to the kitchen to grab some water, emptying the cup in deep gulps, feeling his pulse settling down.

Quietly, he reached into the cupboards to set the table for breakfast the next morning and once he was satisfied with his work, grabbed his phone. He had used this service many times before but it had probably been months since the last time he even got you flowers. He bit his lips, scolding himself, as he selected a bouquet of your favorites to be sent to your office some time next week as a surprise. Then he stood in the dimly lit living room, looking around for inspiration. What else could he do? What would Tadashi or Akiteru do?

Didn‘t his friend just tell him last weekend that he always included a little love note in his wife‘s lunch box?

Now, Kei, as gifted of a man as he was, didn‘t cook that well. He was decent with ramen and could fry a mean egg but his skills were definitely not enough for a bento. Plus, technically it was Sunday tomorrow and it wouldn‘t make sense for the lunch box to sit around a whole day. But… he could do the love note. How cheesy. Would you even like it if he did? He sighed again. Only one way to find out. He rummaged around in his desk and found a little note pad you had gifted him as a joke last Valentine‘s day - two brachiosauruses forming a heart with their long necks. He cringed when he reached for a pen. But it had to be done. No stone should remain unturned in his endeavor to prove his love for you. With gritted teeth he wrote one note after another, but they all sounded too out there, too much, insincere.

So in the end after several crumpled dino post-its he wrote I love you, x K and, before he could change his mind, quickly stuck it into your day planner for you to find on Monday.

After another thorough check on the kitchen table to make sure he didn‘t forget any dishes, he made his way back to the bedroom. His feet, cold from the wooden floor, slipped underneath the blanket and he pulled you close to wipe away the very last remnants of panic clinging to his heart. You were right here in his arms, still asleep, still unbearably gorgeous. Kei buried his face in your hair and took a deep calming breath.

He supposed there was one more way he could show you his love tonight…

Kisses pressed to your shoulder and neck made you stir against him.

“Kei?“

You turned around, sleepily rubbing your eyes. He brought his hand from your hips up to your breasts and squeezed them gently, just the way you liked, ghosting his fingertips over your hardening nipples.

“Mmh… Kei… what?“

“I need you, sweetheart.“, he muttered. You couldn‘t know that he meant it in more ways than one.

You let out a tiny sleepy giggle. “Is that so? Well, no complaints here.“

He kissed you, elated when you immediately opened your mouth for him to deepen his affection.

“Can I … ah, y/n… can I be inside you?“

“As if I could ever say no to you…“

He raised your nightgown above your head, relishing in the sight before him - his beautiful naked wife smiling up at him.

When he entered you slowly a few moments later he felt beyond relieved. It had all just been a dream and yet, he still couldn‘t believe his luck.

____________________________________________

a/n: this one got away from me - I’m so sorry for the added angst! I hope it’s still fine. Thank you so much for your request and your kind words and I love your writing, too!! 🌱

for requests see here

#sunnys lemonade stand #tsukishima x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima fluff #tsukki x chubby reader #tsukki smut #haikyuu tsukki #hq tsukki #tsukishima kei x chubby reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima smut #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukki x reader #tsukishima kei

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 4 months

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You know how small children, especially toddlers who just started walking and talking could be, so I'm curious how the turtles would handle their oldest kidd at this age especially since they never got to interact and take care of kids before this. From my personal experience, toddlers can be either innocent and cute little angels or annoying devils who bother everyone in public if they don't get what they want

First Steps or Words (Fluff)

Bayverse!Turtles x reader

A/N: I’m not fully sure what you mean with toddlers just having learned to walk and talk, as kids typically take their first step or say their first word during the infant stage, but it could very well be my limited English that is getting in the way here😅 Anyway, in my internship I work with kids in the age group of 3 - 5, so I agree and disagree. Kids have a limited knowledge, both of themselves and their surroundings. Oftentimes they don’t think of how their actions can affect others, which is then my job to help them understand, and at the same time help them verbalize their emotions in a better way. But boy, sometimes the last thing you need is 4 year old that’s crying over something so simple as a toy, even though to them it's their whole world at that moment😭 Enough of that, time for some cute stuff💙❤️💜🧡

Warnings: I already had baby fever before this, so I don’t know if you guys will get it too😭💚

Leonardo:

Never had Leo thought he would get to experience something like this. You and him in your shared bedroom, relaxing after a long day of working, with little baby Romeo smiling and giggling in the bed, kicking around in his little onesie. Your son had been a giggling delight all day, making all sorts of sounds from his play pen, almost distracting you, Leo and the first of the turtles in your work, building to extend the lair so that there would be space for your growing family.

Recently, Romeo had learned of a new sound to make, showing it off proudly with or without a crowd to watch or hear him. Pressing his lips together with his tongue poking out, Romeo would blow out air, creating what sounded like a fart noise, with bubbles of spit forming where the air came out.

This was nothing new to you, having seen many human babies do things like that, either on the internet or in real life. You didn’t find it any less cute however, you had just known that Romeo would start doing it at some point. Leo however, was totally mesmerized. He had never seen nor heard a baby make noises like that, even though he watched hundreds of baby videos after the day he learned you were pregnant. But nothing prepared Leo for how fast it was going. In less than a year, Romeo had gotten from this little emobile green bean with big staring eyes, to this little bundle of loud noises and kicking limbs. Leo’s heart swelled, and as he watched Romeo kick around on your shared bed as you and Leo was cleaning up for the night, Leo couldn’t stop himself from hovering over your son, nuzzling his beak against his little stomach, causing the young boy to let out a high pitch scream of laughter. Leo lifted his head from Romeo’s stomach, looking down at his smiling son as he pressed his lips together around his tongue, kicking his legs as he made the noise he had been making for the last few days.

“Bbrrrrrrr”, Romeo let out, small bubbles forming around his mouth, making it impossible for Leo not to smile.

“Bbbrrrrrrrr”, Leo said back to your son, the small child laughing at his mimicking, reaching out for him, his small hands touching Leo’s face.

“Is daddy being silly?”, you asked in a baby voice, smiling with a chuckle as Romeo continued his small sounds, only for Leo to say them back to him. Romeo let out a high pitched shriek with a big smile, holding on to Leo’s face as his bright small eyes started at him. You wouldn’t help but smile as you watched the two of them, feeling warm throughout your body. It was wonderful to see Leo be so calm and loose around his child. He was truly at peace. “I think daddy’s being silly”, you teased, causing Leo to poke his tongue out at you as Romeo rambled on.

“No, daddy is having fun”, he said, turning his attention back towards the rambling Romeo.

“Brrrr, ba, babababa, dadadadada”.

You and Leo stared at each other in shock. Did you hear right? Did Romeo just say what you thought he said? All of your questions were soon answered when Romeo reached out for Leo once more, continuing his newly learned word.

“Dadadada”.

“That’s right!”, Leo exclaimed, picking up the happily screaming Romeo. “I’m dada! I’m your dada! Did you hear that mama?! He said dada!”

Raphael:

There was nothing more entertaining than watching Joan crawl around the floor, trying to get from one place to another, closely following behind either you or Raph as you walked around the lair. With her small arms and legs and what you could only describe as a happy battle cry, she tried to keep you the best she could, soon gaining very strong leg muscles that could push her around the floor with ease. It was just a matter of time before she would start walking, and Raph was more than ready for that.

Everyday, Raph watched Joan intently, waiting for the moment she would start walking around on her small legs. He was fully intended to see her first steps, especially after having heard Leo complain more than once that he wasn’t home to watch his own son’s first steps. Raph wouldn’t make the same mistake. He would be there with a front row view when his first born started walking. But so far, she had only been crawling or sitting on her but, screaming loudly before following people around.

But Raph never once gave up hope, continuing to watch Joan each and every day, for the moment she would start carrying herself around on only two limbs. Which was one of the many reasons why he now sat on your shared bedroom floor on Joan’s playmate, with the young child between his legs, hoping that she would support herself on him and start walking. You sat on the bed, watching them with a smile, feeling your heart swell as Raph baby talked with your daughter.

You could have stayed there and watched them for hours, had your parents not called, asking about the next time they could come and visit you and Raph, and see their adorable little granddaughter. Therefore you stood up with your mother on the phone, heading towards the living area, in order to hear the other turtles and their partners, if they were okay with your parents coming over that following weekend.

And just like any other time, when either you or Raph stood up around little Joan, she looked in your direction, let out a high pitch sound before following you, supporting herself on Raph’s legs. Raph held his breath, waiting for the moment Joan would let go, and follow without anything supporting her. But as soon as she let go of Raph, she fell to her knees and started crawling for the door.

Raph chuckled, only slightly disappointed that Joan didn’t walk, but highly amused by her determination. “Don’t worry sweetpea”, he said. “Mommy will be back in just a moment”.

Joan sat back on her butt, looking at Raph for a moment with her fingers in her mouth, before she let out another sound, crawling back towards him. Or that was what Raph thought she was going to do. As she placed her hands on the ground, just like she usually did when she crawled, she did not start to move forward. Instead she used them to push herself off the ground, before wopling on her own two feet.

Raph let out the biggest shriek you had never heard, making you stop and turn in the living area, your mother still on the phone. Flailing around on the ground with his arms open, as if to tell her to come to him, Raph called out for you. “Babe! She’s walking! (Y/N)! She’s walking!”

You almost fell back into the room at the sound of Raph’s shriek, almost forgetting about your mother on the phone, not hearing her concerned questions, fearing that the roof was falling down on top of Raph and Joan. So did you for a moment, not registering the words Raph had yelled, but the sight of Joan taking small hesitant steps towards Raph was almost enough to make you fall to your knees with your arms open as well.

“Mom!”, you yelled into the phone, turning on the camera so she could follow along. “She’s walking! Joan’s walking!”, you continued to yell, capturing the moment Joan walked straight into Raph’s arms with a bright smile.

Donatello:

Have you ever seen a baby get mad, when they can’t do the things people around them can? Well, that was Galileo when it came to walking. Watching his parents, uncles, ants, grandparents and cousins walk, while he was stuck on the floor was enough to make him angry, supporting himself on everything, trying his best to walk on his own. But it was the same story every time. As soon as Gali let go of whatever he was holding onto, he fell to the ground with a sad and angry expression. He wanted to walk!

You and Donnie did your best, lending him a helping hand whenever he wanted to walk, feeling pure happiness when you saw the big smile upon his face and heard his loud happy noises. But there were times where you couldn’t help him, or walk him in circles around the living area for hours. But Gali wanted that. He wanted to walk so bad, almost to the point where he got hysterical when he was tired. So you and Donnie did what you could do and helped him practice, enjoying his laughter and smile and how it brightened your world up.

One day, you and Donnie found yourselves sitting in the middle of the living area, sitting on the floor in front of each other with your legs out scratched. You held Gali’s hands in yours, his infectious laughter making both you and Donnie break out in bright smiles as you watched your son stand on his wobbly legs, holding onto you in order to stay up.

“Come on, Gali”, you said, fighting not to break into another fit of laughter. “Go over to daddy”.

You slowly guided Gali forward with the help of your arms, Gali laughing all the way, even as Donnie took his hands from yours, helping him all the way into his embrace.

“Hey, big boy!”, Donnie smiled, causing Gali to throw his head back in further laughter. It was adorable. Donnie held Gali close in a hug, looking at his hysterically laughing son, taking off his own glasses in order to rub his eyes, that had glossed over in tears due to his own laughter. “I’ll never get enough of this!”

“Imagine how much he will laugh when he can walk on his own”, you said, massaging your cheeks as they started to hurt from all that laughing.

“I can’t wait to find out”, Donnie said, turning Gali back towards you, holding him by the sides. Still smiling wide, Gali looked back over his shoulder, smiling at Donnie, a little bit of drool running from the side of his mouth. “Go to mommy, Gali. It’s mommy’s turn”.

Gali started laughing again, his legs giving out under him, letting him fall down into Donnie’s lap. However Gali kept laughing, causing Donnie to hide his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking from his own chuckles.

Gali stopped laughing, and grabbed onto Donnie’s arm, pulling himself up on his feet. Donnie quickly recovered, ready to hold on to his son once more, only to find that Gali had already taken a few steps away from him, still holding onto his arm. And then Gali let go. Both you and Donnie expected him to fall to the ground, followed by loud crying, but that did not happen. Instead Gali continued to walk towards you, laughing and screaming happily as he did so, before almost falling into your arms, you and Donnie staring at each other in shock.

“Gali’s walking!”, Donnie exclaimed, as if he did not fully believe it.

“He is”, you said, letting go of your young son, only for him to walk back to Donnie with more happy screaming.

“You’re walking!”, Donnie yelled excitedly, lifting Gali up for a bear hug, the young boy screaming and laughing all the way.

Michelangelo:

Nothing could beat mornings like this. You and Mikey in the kitchen with Sunny in her high chair, eating alone together before the rest of the family woke up. Who would have thought that you and Mikey ever would become morning people? Well, neither you nor Mikey, but then you gave birth to a daughter that tended to rise with the sun every day, and there was nothing that would make her go back to sleep. But both of you had to admit it was nice, sitting just you three in the kitchen, engaging Sunny in small conversation, her small sounds and her finger that kept pointing everywhere with curiosity, without the rest of the family around. It wasn’t because you didn’t want the others around, no not all, but because when Mikey’s brothers and their partners woke up, then so did their toddlers. And as much as you loved your nephews and niece, it was nice with some time only for your little family, enjoying your early breakfast together.

Once all of you had finished eating, you would stay in the kitchen for a moment, waiting for the rest of the lair to wake up. During those moments, Mikey tended to take Sunny out of her highchair and set her on his lap, letting her play with his hands, the tails of his bandana, or whatever caught her wandering attention that morning. And today it was his thumb, her small fingers holding onto it as she made all the sounds she could think of.

“Mmmmm”, Sunny hummed, her small hands grabbing onto Mikey’s thumb, before putting it into her mouth with a small grin. “Mmmmmm”.

“Do you think she’s about to say her first word?”, Mikey asked, wiggling his thumb a little, making Sunny giggle. “I think she’ll say her first word today”.

“Yesterday you thought she was going to say her first word”, you smiled, chuckling at the drool that dripped from her mouth.

“Mmmmmm”, she continued, her bright blue eyes looking up at her father.

“What’s that?”, he asked, bouncing his leg slightly, making her giggle once again. “Are you about to say mommy?”

You rolled your eyes. For the past few weeks, Mikey had tried and tried his best, wanting Sunny’s first words to be your parental title. And why exactly? Well, because Mikey thought you deserved it. You gave birth to her, so at least her first words could be mommy.

“Mikey, she isn’t going to say mommy”, you said with a smile, shaking your head at your husband.

“Bet”, Mikey said, lifting Sunny up so that she was standing on his thigh with both his hands under her arms. “Come on, Sunshine, say mommy”.

“Mmmmmm”.

“Mikey”, you said in a teasing warning.

“Mmmmmm”, Sunny continued.

“Nono babe, she almost got it”, he said, his eyes never leaving her small face. “Come on, Sunny, say mommy. I know you can do it”.

“Mmmmm”, she said one more time, and then, suddenly. “Mikey!”

Mikey stared at Sunny in confusion while you broke out in laughter, Sunny giggling in the way she always did.

“No, no, Sunshine”, Mikey said with a chuckle of disbelief. “I’m daddy, not Mikey”.

“Mikey!”, she said with a big and bright smile, giggling even more at his confused expression. This was definitely not what he had expected, nor did he fully know how to react. But for a long time afterwards, no one was allowed to call him Mikey, until Sunny started calling him daddy.

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ctitan98official · 4 months

Text

Anonymous: The Dimitrescus (Alcina and her daughters) reacting to an s/o who has an extremely contagious laughter? 👀

Hell yeah, I love this. Let’s get into it!

Alcina:

One day, as you lounged in the opulent library of castle Dimitrescu, you stumbled upon a dusty, old book that looked to have been penned centuries ago. The artwork and writing was so absurdly hilarious that you couldn’t contain yourself. Laughter erupted from your lips like a sudden storm, filling the room with infectious mirth.

You were doubled over and tears streamed down your face as you gasped for breath. The more you tried to stifle it, the harder you laughed.

Amid your uncontrollable laughter, you heard a soft, almost amused voice behind you. “What has you in such high spirits, draga?”

You turned your head, still chuckling, to see Alcina leaning gracefully against the library’s doorframe. Her golden eyes bore into you with a mixture of curiosity and affection.

Between bouts of laughter, you managed to choke out a response. “It’s this book, Alci. It’s absolutely ridiculous!” With great effort, you held up the book for her to see, it’s silly cover illustration only making you laugh harder.

Alcina couldn’t help but smile at your infectious giggles. She glided over and took a seat beside you, her fingers lightly tracing the spine of the book. “Ah, I remember reading this book once,” She said, clearly understanding what was cracking you up so much. As she looked at you, she smiled fondly. “I must admit, draga. Your laughter is quite… Contagious.”

Finally regaining control over yourself, you wiped away tears and turned to face her. “I’ve heard that my whole life, babe,” You grin.

Alcina’s eyes widened in surprise. This was a well-known trait of yours? How had she never realized this about you? It’s true, you two hadn’t been dating for too long, but… It made her wonder what other adorable quirks you might be hiding.

Alcina takes an even… Bigger interest in you from now on, wanting to know simply everything about you.

You’re not complaining.

Bela:

You and Bela had been together for a while and you couldn’t have been happier. Her imposing presence and beauty never failed to leave you in awe. But, there was one thing about you that always melted her cool exterior – Your laugh. It was extremely contagious and she loved it. However… She was unsure if you knew just how much she enjoyed hearing you laugh.

That all changed one evening as you two sat in her bedroom. You couldn’t contain your laughter. You were discussing something trivial, but once you started, it was impossible to stop. Your laughter echoed through the room.

Bela leaned in closer to you. "You have the most infectious laugh, baby,” She purred.

You blushed, immediately trying to stop laughing. You were suddenly worried she might be annoyed. “S-sorry, I can’t help it, babe. It just happens,” You said.

She reached over for you, her long, elegant fingers gently touching your hand. “I find it quite charming, really.”

Your eyes grew wide at her words. You were greatly relieved by this and felt yourself begin chuckling again.

This time, though, Bela couldn’t resist. Soft, melodic laughter escaped her, filling the room. It was a sound you rarely heard, and it was beautiful. Her laughter was like music, a contrast to her usually stoic demeanor.

As your laughter subsided, Bela leaned closer, her voice a soft whisper. “Your laugh is such a treasure to me. It brings so much light into my life. I hope you know that.”

You smiled, leaning in and giving her a soft kiss. “I do now, babe. I’m so glad.”

The two of you spent the rest of the night trying to make each other laugh.

It’s definitely one of your most precious memories now.

Cassandra:

You and Cass haven’t been together long, but her stern demeanor can be quite intimidating sometimes. She’s both elegant and calculated. But, it turns out that there’s one thing that will always break through her icy exterior… Your laugh.

You’ve been told by many people that you have an extremely contagious laugh. It’s not just a chuckle or a giggle either. It’s a full-on, hearty sound that fills the room. And Cass, well… She has a way of making you laugh often.

One evening, you find yourselves sitting together in the dimly lit library of castle Dimitrescu. The fireplace crackles, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Cass, as always, looks regal in her long, flowing gown. She’s reading a gushy romance novel Dani leant her and her brow is furrowed in concentration.

Then it happens. Cass says something that just absolutely cracks you up. She sniffs disdainfully after finishing a chapter in the book. “This author really needs to get laid,” She snarks at the rather poorly-written passage she just read. (A/N: Damn, is she reading one of my smut one-shots??)

Suddenly, the laughter bubbles up within you. You try to stifle it, but it’s futile. Your laugh erupts, echoing in the quiet library.

Cass looks up from her book, her golden eyes fixed on you. But then something incredible happens. She smiles. A faint, almost imperceptible curve of her lips, but it’s there.

Your laughter continues and you can’t stop yourself. Tears well up in your eyes as you laugh uncontrollably.

Cass closes her book and sets it aside, her attention now fully on you. She watches you with a mixture of surprise and something that might be amusement.

Then, unexpectedly, Cass joins in. Her laughter is like a rare, precious gem. A sound you never thought you’d hear from her. It’s a soft, melodic laugh that harmonizes with your boisterous one. You laugh together, the library filling with the joyous sound of your shared happiness.

As your laughter subsides, Cass leans closer to you, her lips brushing against your ear. “Your laughter,” She whispers in that velvety voice of hers. “It’s like… A breath of fresh air in this dusty, old castle.”

You grin at her, feeling a warmth spread through your heart. Cassandra Dimitrescu has not only tolerated your contagious laughter, but embraced it. It’s a reminder that beneath her intimidating exterior, there’s a woman who can appreciate the simple things in life.

You lean in to give her a kiss.

Daniela:

You’ve just told Dani a stupid joke and you can’t help but chuckle as you watch her beginning to lose her composure. Her striking golden eyes, framed by her long, fiery hair, crinkle as a big grin overtakes her features.

Dani, the silliest and most affectionate of her sisters, is known for her playful nature. She finds joy in life no matter what she’s doing, whether it’s chasing you around the castle or pulling a harmless prank.

As your laughter continues to spill out, she finally succumbs to it. “Oh, Y/N,” She says breathlessly as she cracks up. “You and that laugh of yours! It’s absolutely adorable!” She gushes.

You can’t help but laugh even harder at her words, causing her to break into a full-fledged giggle. It’s a beautiful sound, one that resonates through the grand halls of castle Dimitrescu.

Unable to resist, Daniela reaches out to you, her elegant fingers gently tracing your jawline as she pulls you closer. Her lips meet yours in a passionate kiss. As you break apart, she looks into your eyes, her own sparkling with happiness. “You bring out the best in me, baby,” She whispers, her breath warm against your face.

Your cheeks heat up at her attention. She’s so gorgeous. You still can’t believe she’s all yours to love. You lean in and kiss her again, enjoying the softness of her lips.

With Dani, everything is an adventure. You love getting to see how you two decide to spend your time together. But, it seems today was simply meant for some beautiful, shared laughter.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Masterlist

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re8 #re8 village #re8 lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitriscu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x y/n #bela dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader

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1d1195 · 1 year

Text

Zipper

Hi hi, sorry for the short break there. I've been working on this the last three days and it flowed out quite quickly to 9.5K words.

Warnings: Harry doesn't like her (or does he), there's a damsel in distress scene implying SA nothing happens nor described but could be triggering, "enemies" trope, Harry wears a lot of suits and is angry a lot.

Disclaimer: Everything I know about lawyers comes from TV shows.

Harry was a smart guy, but he truly hadn’t a clue as to why he was so mad at the prospect of liking her.

So, he pretended he didn’t. “You and Harry are together an awful lot,” his friend Niall said to her with a smirk once. They were in clear earshot of Harry, and nothing made Harry crankier than knowing his friends saw how mean he was toward her. It was the topic of many conversations over video games and while working out at the gym.

“Enough, Niall,” he muttered. “It’s not by choice.”

“Don’t know why he’s all grumpy about you all the time, princess,” Niall said quietly to her when his back was turned. “He talks about you more than any girl I’ve ever seen him with.”

“He just doesn’t like me much,” she explained.

“Oh, princess. I think it’s quite the opposite.”

Harry hated her. She could never figure out why. She and Gemma were on the same soccer team growing up, so she’s known Harry for forever. Because she and Harry were of the same caliber in school (and the same age), they were always in each other’s classes. Always in group projects together.

It made her wildly popular in school to know the one and only Harry Styles so closely—and she did. She knew he wouldn’t drink tea past four in the afternoon. He liked chocolate candy better than fruity candy. Any time he saw a dog while they were on their way to study together, he would dig a bag of little treats out of his backpack to give away. When his left eye got droopy it meant they had to take a break and she would always recommend some hot chocolate or lemonade (depending on the season) at the coffee shop near the town library.

However, their conversations never delved too deeply. She knew his birthday but not his favorite color—she suspected it was blue or maybe orange because most of his pens were blue and his highlighters were almost always orange. Of course, she knew Gemma and Anne, but she didn’t know what their relationship with Harry was like. Because of school, she knew most of his political opinions—and big shocker, they were roughly the same as hers—but she didn’t know his favorite music or if he liked to sleep with a fan on or not. When he was sick, she didn’t know if he liked sleep or soup. If it was his last day on earth, she doesn’t know how he would spend it. They weren’t things that she necessarily needed to know to define their friendship, but somehow, in her eyes, they were.

Other than school mandated projects, she was convinced Harry wouldn’t give her the time of day. “Can we jus’ get this over with?” Was Harry’s mantra around her during their school days.

She wished they could be friends.

She didn’t want to be that girl, but it was impossible not to be. Harry was beautiful and he was nice—just not very nice to her. She didn’t fault him for it, she wasn’t his cup of tea and that was fine. The way other girls sighed and ahh-ed over him made her jealous. She couldn’t do that. Harry was Gemma’s brother and her peer and that was it.

Needless to say, their lives were clearly going to be attached for the rest of their lives. They were like a coat zipper. They met when they were young and as they slid the zipper to the top more pieces of their life meshed. At first it was soccer with Gemma, then it was school in general, projects and friend groups, and now it was university.

Of course, they were going to get degrees in history and law.

Of course, they would have classes together.

Of course, Harry would be at every party she was invited to.

She knocked on the door to the party her friends were invited to, and she waited as the door opened. “God you’re everywhere,” he muttered taking a swig of the drink in his hand. He opened the door wider to allow her and her friends in and walked away without mingling a moment longer. She sighed and stepped through the threshold while her friends filed in behind her.

“You know Harry?” One of her friends gasped.

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “Grew up together,” she said heading for the kitchen to get a drink. There was a barrage of questioning. The interrogation of how well she knew him, if he was single—he was, as far as she knew—and so on. “He doesn’t like me much,” she shrugged.

“Shut up,” her friend said. “He likes everyone.”

“I’m not sure what to tell you. I’m not everyone.”

They were kind enough to let the conversation drop. But their eyes darted back forth between the two of them whenever they were remotely in the same realm as one another. Harry was never outrightly mean to her. He never made fun of her and never talked ill of her. They talked about school projects and assignments and classes and that was it.

Harry’s friends all really liked her. Of course, they liked her. There wasn’t anything to dislike about her. She was brilliant, incredibly kind, and naturally nurturing. It made Harry nauseous most of the time. He hated she could be so kind all the time—even when he was a dick to her. It made it all the harder for him to not like her.

It was halfway through the semester when her phone vibrated with a message from Harry. She could feel the confusion wrinkling her face as she brought the phone closer to her face as if it was a trick. Harry never texted her. If there was a school project that needed doing, he was highly professional and would only email her. The only reason she had his number was because Gemma gave it to her when her phone was broken, and she was her ride to their soccer tournaments.

Could you read my essay?

Surely this was a trick. She couldn’t help but ask. Really?

Yeah. The response was immediate. Obviously, nothing special. She could practically feel his annoyance through his text bubble.

Sure.

Thanks. Conclusion needs work, I know.

The conclusion may have needed work, but it was a pretty good essay otherwise. A few grammatical errors and a rewording of a paragraph or two and his essay was finished. She didn’t question why Harry asked her. Surely, he had plenty of friends that would be willing to read it over.

His seeking her out was quite the surprise to her, but to Harry it made the most sense. At some point in time, maybe in year ten, he realized that he was probably stuck with her for a good long while. There was no denying she was smart—in fact, Harry thought she was brilliant. Probably smarter than him on any given day. And again, that agonizing kindness made him sick. He knew she would read his essay because she was so nice. If Harry acted the way he did to anyone else but her, they wouldn’t give him the time of day.

But he also didn’t trust anyone else in the world to read his work and know what it needed like she did.

She took all the essay reading to mean it was okay to ask him for school favors as well.

Do you have notes from the history lecture yesterday? I wasn’t feeling well.

I’ll email them to you.

Thank you.

Harry took good notes. She wouldn’t have asked anyone but Harry because she knew they took notes the same way. Of course, they did. If anything, his notes were neater because he typed just as fast as their professor spoke while she preferred to handwrite so she would remember better.

Do you know what our professor meant by this?

She sent him back a picture of her own notes with a marking around the part that Harry was referring to. This was my interpretation, but I emailed him to double check, I’ll let you know what he says.

Thanks.

Harry looked at her notes on his phone again and admired her handwriting. He doesn’t know how she was able to write so much so quickly during their lectures. He saw her shake her hand out every time their professor paused to answer a question or catch a breath. She had pretty handwriting.

The parties they attended together (not on purpose, just by happenstance) were when Harry was at his meanest. He would roll his eyes at her if she was part of a drinking game. Harry’s eyes shot daggers whenever any guy tried speaking with her, always there to remind her of some project they had to do, and he didn’t want to be stuck doing it himself. None of it clicked to her that he was jealous.

Of course, he was. She was the prettiest and nicest girl he knew, and he was mad.

Harry was a smart guy, but he truly hadn’t a clue as to why he was so mad at the prospect of liking her.

“Enough, Niall,” he muttered. “It’s not by choice.”

That stung, made her face warm in embarrassment, but it was partly true. They were practically stuck together. Zipped together by some life force. “Don’t know why he’s all grumpy about you all the time, princess,” Niall said quietly to her when his back was turned. “He talks about you more than any girl I’ve ever seen him with.”

She shrugged it off. It would make sense, he talked about her so much. Other than her roommate she probably saw Harry more than her own family. “He just doesn’t like me much,” she explained.

“Oh, princess. I think it’s quite the opposite.”

Gem suggested I ask if we could carpool home. Save her a trip.

Yeah, of course.

Thanks.

“Do you like her?” Niall asked Harry. “Like, she’s really nice and pretty. Obviously, she’s very smart so—"

He cleared his throat to hide the gasp that nearly left his lips. “What?” He asked, slipping his phone back into his pocket. They were at the library whispering to each other while studying for finals. He could see her in the back corner, headphones in her ears and answering his message almost as soon as he sent it. He was certain she would ace all her exams, no problem at all.

“Your friend from home,” he tilted his head to the girl in the corner. “Do you like her?” He repeated.

Harry shook his head. “No.”

Niall quirked an eyebrow at him. “S’weird...you’re kind of perfect for each other.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled. He wanted no part of it. Sure, she was nice and sweet, and in the right light Harry couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by how pretty she was. But he didn’t want to be with someone he’d known his whole life. He wanted someone he didn’t know—someone that didn’t know his every thought. He wanted to discover a new relationship where he would find someone that didn’t know everything there was to know about him.

Regardless, if he knew all too well that she would be perfect for him.

*A few years later*

“This will be your office,” the sweet secretary informed her. She wasn’t a young secretary, but she wasn’t old either. Somewhere in the middle—she reminded her of her mom and that eased her worry of her new job fresh out of school. “I heard you know your office neighbor here. He gave you a glowing recommendation saying “the bosses would be fools to not hire you” I believe was how he phrased it. They’re all very excited to have you on board.”

She blinked, setting her box down of trinkets she collected ready to have her first big job. A list of clients sat on her desk. She was ready to get started—eager even. Excited and nervous all at once. The box of trinkets would make her office homier and she started setting out the calendar and picture frames as she shook her head at the woman helping her get the lay of the land. “That can’t be right, my professors did my recommendations...I can’t imagine my professors saying that about me,” she chuckled nervously. “I think they liked me and all but—”

“No, no!” She interrupted with a giggle. “Pardon me, one of your references, Harry; Harry Styles,” she smirked.

Blinking in surprise, she felt her lips part in a breathless gasp. She had asked Harry as a parting gift of sorts if he’d be willing to be a reference for her on her job applications. “I don’t think anyone really knows my work ethic the way you do,” she admitted. “I understand if you don’t want to, I’d be willing to be a reference for you as well either—”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “No problem. That’s probably a good idea. Thank you.”

“Harry works here?” She asked, completely dumbfounded. She shouldn’t have been. She should have known of all the gin joints. Her heart pounded and the air in the room felt thin. When she had sent her applications and resumes out to every firm in the area, she didn’t dream that she would still be side by side with Harry. There were easily fifty or so firms in the city. There was no way the length of their lives on this zipper extended to work post-graduation.

“I thought that was why you applied here. Harry made it seem like you both—”

“Hi,” speak of the devil. She wanted to know the end of that sentence. The idea that Harry made it seem like anything was between them—friendship, collegiate respect, anything—seemed paradoxical.

But here he was in all his brilliant and handsome glory.

Harry looked effortlessly beautiful and nearly seductive standing in her office doorway. He was wearing a suit, but it looked like it was nearly painted on him—hugging each of his defined arms and seemed to stretch perfectly over his long legs. Throughout their schooling and university, she wondered when he had time to hit the gym because he didn’t go while she walked on the treadmill and read her textbooks—the one time the zipper of life skipped over their meeting. But it was obvious he had found time. Again, she wasn’t immune to his good looks and persona. She had seen him be nice and lovely to everyone he knew time and time again.

Just not her.

His hair was styled just so, and she could practically see the sweet secretary swooning at the sight of him. “Welcome,” he said. He looked like a kid to her. As if his mom told him to say hi and wish her a happy birthday or something even though he didn’t want to. He smiled weakly at her. It felt forced.

“Hi,” she answered, still in shock.

He nodded at her and left without another word. “He’s dreamy,” she said with an all too familiar sigh. “I don’t know how anyone gets any work done around here.”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe he works here.”

“I completely assumed he told you about the position...His friend is one of the senior partners,” she shrugged. “Louis?” She said. “I think Louis’ younger sister knows of you both or something.” She tilted her head at the woman. “I know everything,” she shrugged.

“You sure do,” she smirked. “Uh...no, I didn’t know Harry worked here.”

“I think it was Harry’s plan along with Louis or whatever—since they were young. They hang out a lot here.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “I didn’t know that.”

“I didn’t mean to say Harry’s the reason you got the job—your qualifications are outstanding and—”

“No, no, you’re fine,” she promised. “I know what you meant.”

Poor Harry.

For the most part though, the two rarely interacted. They would run into each other in the break room or near the copier in the storage room. On one occasion Harry asked her to read over his outline for a case to make sure he hit all the major components of what he needed to do. Every so often Harry would bring her tea and not say anything at all to her. She found it odd and thanked him even though he never spoke to her.

She was oddly comforted by the fact he was just one room over.

There was a gentle knock on her door before it opened. “Some of us are getting Chinese food and I noticed you’ve been holed up all day—are you okay?” Harry appeared speaking the longest sentence that wasn’t about schoolwork or a case in their entire life. And he even asked about her well-being.

She wasn’t okay. She had a headache, something fierce. It started at the bridge of her nose, gripped the back of her eyes, and was reaching for the back of her head. “Yeah,” she murmured not looking up from her papers on her desk. Her voice sounded weak and scratchy. How long had it been since she looked up? Her neck felt cramped as she raised her head slowly to look at Harry. She wished she had a glass of water.

“Kitten...y’don’t look so good,” he said quietly.

“M’okay...M’jus not feeling so well,” she shrugged. “But I have to get this done,” she told him. “I think I skipped lunch,” if she could fathom the idea of using any part of her brain for something other than this case, she would have noted how Harry so sweetly called her kitten.

He sighed, almost annoyed and she briefly wondered what she did wrong now. He disappeared for a moment. Within an instant he came back with water, pills, and a protein bar. “I’ll get some Chinese for you too.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled glancing briefly at how pretty he looked in his suit and how kind it was of him to bring her medicine. “I’ll Venmo—”

“Shh,” he said and turned off the overhead light of her office as he left. Leaving her in darkness except for the desk lamp to her left. “Try a nap on the couch,” he said. “I’ll wake you when the food is here.”

“Kitten,” he said softly. He gently shook her, and she tried to remember if Harry had ever touched her in their entire lives. The smell of greasy, salty food woke her up the rest of the way. Harry seemed to know her Chinese food order. She searched her memories if they ever ordered Chinese together and how he remembered.

“How’d you know what to get?” She asked stupidly. She could blame the headache or the lack of sleep if he said something mean about it.

He didn’t. “Your friends ordered at a party junior year,” he shrugged. “Remembered what you liked.”

“Oh.” He waited until she was upright and eating—staring at her like one of their science experiments from school. “Do you want some—”

“No, just making sure you actually eat.”

She felt her face warm, and she shook her head. “Uh. Thanks, that’s not necessary.”

“Well clearly it is if y’forget t’eat lunch and make yourself sick.” Again, her face heated up, but she said nothing because he was right. “What are you working on, anyway?” He asked. “That you’re skipping lunch and everything.”

“Uh...I just want to make a good impression and make sure I’m doing everything I can.”

“I’ve never known you to not give a hundred and twenty percent, love. If anyone has a question about your qualifications, you can send them to me.”

“How come you get to act like a partner?” She asked. “M’not jealous or anything—I’m just wondering why—”

“Louis always said I was brilliant or whatever,” he said casually with a shrug. He wasn’t bragging. He was just stating a fact. It was true too. Harry was brilliant. “I always told him it was because I worked with you, but he didn’t believe me. So, when he saw m’name as a reference on your application, I told him he would understand it was your brilliance that helped me be so successful and if he didn’t hire you, it would be a terrible mistake in his career because you would go be perfect and wonderful somewhere else. He’s seen your work, trust me, kitten. He knows how hard you’re working and you’re making an unbelievable impression. You don’t need to skip lunch t’prove your worth.”

This by far was the kindest thing Harry ever said of her—maybe anyone had ever said of her. She was speechless. Maybe it was the sleep still on her brain. Or the pain in her head that caused Harry to turn off the lights, so it was dark and quiet in her office. Or maybe it was because Harry finally said something sweet about her. But she finally worked up the courage to ask a question that had bothered her for their entire lives. “How come you don’t like me?” Her voice was so quiet it pained Harry.

He shook his head. “I like you,” he said with an eye roll. She wondered if it was no longer hard for him to lie like that. Countless people must have asked him over the years. Certainly, by now he perfected the tone and emotion needed to get people off the subject.

“Not really,” she said with sigh. When they were younger it definitely upset her more that Harry disliked her so much. When people asked she would feel a sting come behind her eyes because it would have made all the sense in the world for Harry to be her best friend. Now, it was just a matter of fact. NaCl was salt, flowers bloomed in spring, and Harry didn’t like her. “It’s fine...” but her voice cracked just a hair like it used to when she was asked about why Harry didn’t like her at all. “I just...I don’t know. We would have been really good friends if you did...that’s all,” she gave a small shrug eating another bite of her food.

“You want to be friends?” He questioned, surprised. Even though he was a dick to her she wanted to be friends. She seemed to be a glutton for punishment.

“Well,” she cleared her throat pushing her orange chicken through her fried rice as a distraction. “I guess we’re kind of old to be asking that,” she said quietly. “We just spent a lot of time together growing up. I think it would have made sense,” she explained. It felt like she was arguing another case, it was far more awkward though and while she would have liked to win, she didn’t know if it was worth it. “It’s fine...you don’t have to be my friend. Thank you for the food.”

“Kitten, I,” he sighed and ran his hand over his face pinching his lower lip between his fingers. She could tell from the tone in his voice he was exasperated by her. She should have just eaten faster and let him leave without the third degree. “We can be friends.”

She blinked at her food and then turned to look at him. “We can?”

He tilted his head at her and rolled his eyes. “Would it make you happy?” He asked.

She was lucky her brain wasn’t fully functioning due to the lack of food. That was a weird question for him to ask. Harry never once cared if she was happy or not the entire time that she knew him. “Yes.”

“Then we can be friends.”

Despite their newly found friendship, she tried not to overwhelm Harry. They made small talk when they ran into each other at the office. About once a week Harry would text her asking if she would like to carpool to work and she politely declined because again, she didn’t want to bother him.

“Hey, I’m going to meet a client at Starbucks, do you want any coffee when I get—oh,” she said softly. For the entire time she’d known Harry, she had never seen one hair out of place. Not one shirt collar unpressed. A shoelace never untied.

Right now, Harry’s hair was clearly the result of running his hand through it several times over, his eyes rimmed red, and his papers on his desk distributed haphazardly on the floor. “Go away,” he grumbled looking at the ground.

“Harry, are you alright?” She asked quickly closing the door behind her.

“Fine,” he spit. “Just leave.”

“Uh, no,” she swallowed the nervousness down. She thought about how nice he was when she wasn’t feeling well. She wanted to return the favor if she could. Whatever his outburst was about, she wanted to help. “You don’t look okay. What’s wrong? Can I help—”

“No,” he said firmly.

“Harry, seriously.”

“M’mum was in a car accident, Gem called,” he snapped. He had his head hung low as he pressed his hands to the back of his head. “I have a disposition in an hour and Mum’s in surgery. Okay. Are you happy?”

She blinked. No, she wasn’t happy. But she knew why he snapped. That answered her question about what his relationship with his mom was like. “Harry, I’m so sorry.”

“Whatever,” he sniffed.

“Harry...you...you should go to the hospital.”

God she was infuriating; this friendship thing was a stupid idea. She was too nice and sweet. “Did you not—”

“Harry, it’s your mom,” she reminded him. He looked up at her, again the startling contrast of his usual put together self and this...broken man made her weak. She wanted to pluck every piece of pain from his body and put it somewhere that would never find him again.

“I know!” he nearly shouted. “I can’t leave though,” he said softer than his shout. It was agonizing, she knew it was breaking him.

“I can do your disposition Harry. You have to go to the hospital.”

“You don’t know the case.”

“Give me the highlights.”

He looked up finally, right in her eyes and stared at her. “You would really do this?” He asked. She nodded. “What about your client?”

“I’ll reschedule. This is more important.”

“I can’t lose this one.”

“I’ll do my level best,” she promised. “Trust me.” He did. Implicitly. All the school projects, every presentation, any time Harry forgot something he knew she wouldn’t. She was always there to make everything they did better. “Just go and don’t worry about this.”

Harry sucked his lip into his mouth as she put the phone to her ear and quickly told the other end of the line she had to reschedule because of a family emergency—but she left out that it wasn’t her family. They could do dinner this evening if she’d like on short notice or coffee tomorrow. It was done with ease and grace. The client at the other end didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. “I don’t think I can do this,” Harry admitted; he wasn’t sure he would tell anyone else that except the girl he had known for his whole life. In Harry’s eyes, no one knew him better—even if she didn’t know it. “This client is very particular, and he’s mean and—”

“I can handle mean,” she said firmly. Harry wasn’t in the headspace to realize she could handle mean because of him. “Harry, you’re going to the hospital. You won’t do a good job if your mind is on your mom and you’re worrying the whole time. Then you’ll be worried you’re ruining the disposition so just let me help.”

He nodded solemnly. She was right, of course. She waited for him to make his decision. His knee bouncing the whole time as she picked the papers off his floor, and she organized them into neat little piles on his desk. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she said and pulled her phone from her purse. “Hit me,” she said holding the phone out to him ready to record.

Harry arrived at the hospital. Gemma was in tears but in such shock as she gazed at her arriving brother. “Are you really here?” She asked hugging him tight. He nodded, squeezing her hard.

“How’s Mum?” He asked ignoring her obvious question that he would never willingly leave work—especially if he had an important meeting.

“She’s okay,” she said, eyes red and teary. She nodded firmly. “It was really scary because they wouldn’t say until I got here. Surgery is needed but not life or death,” she explained. “She’ll be ready to see us in a few moments.”

Harry sighed with relief and sat in the waiting room chair. “Christ,” he muttered.

“I thought you had a disposition?” Harry quickly explained the situation and that the sweet girl was taking care of it. “You work with her?” Gemma asked. Harry nodded.

“Yeah, why?”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re...paired again. It’s just fate, y’know?” She mumbled. “S’nice you have her to look after you. To have someone you know and trust nearby,” she told her younger brother. “I love her,” she said with a shrug. “Even if you don’t.”

Harry ignored her. He was focused on his mom. He was relieved she was okay. But he wanted to see her.

His phone vibrated with a text from her. She promised an update as soon as the disposition was finished.

All done. Went well. I left notes on your desk. Let me know if you need anything. Wish your mom and Gem well. Don’t worry about anything else here.

Thank you, kitten.

“Kitten, hmm?”

“Yeah.”

Harry locked his phone. When they went to the room where his mother lay looking banged up but alive, he nearly cried. “Hi Mum,” he sniffed.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” she smirked easily. Nearly unaffected by the wires and tubes. “How’d you get out of work?” Gemma was delighted to tell the tale of the sweet girl. “Oh, I love her,” Anne grinned tiredly. “Why didn’t you ever bring her home, Harry?” She wondered. Harry started to answer but the arrival of a get-well basket on behalf of that sweet girl made its way through the threshold halting all of Harry’s thoughts of an excuse.

Because he really didn’t know why he never brought her home.

At the company party Harry eyed her from across the way. They were definitely friendlier, but Harry was hedging his bets. First and foremost, he was still hesitant to be in love with her. She was perfect and if he thought for two seconds longer, he would realize his stupid idea that he shouldn’t be in love with someone he’s known his whole life wasn’t his issue. Perhaps his issue was that she was perfect, and Harry was not. It seemed cruel for fate to tempt him like that. But maybe there was a reason she was so heavily involved in every aspect of his life.

Harry also wasn’t blind to the implications of dating a coworker.

But most importantly to him, she was so good at everything he couldn’t imagine being a subpar boyfriend when she deserved the very best. Harry didn’t even know how to be a boyfriend. Because of all the schoolwork he focused on he rarely dated anyone longer than a few dates or the occasional hookup.

And he had seen her in action as a girlfriend. Their junior year of university she dated a guy that she obviously adored for nearly a year and a half. She was naturally perfect. Went to every basketball game he was in, brought him soup when he wasn’t feeling well, and looked over his work for him before he turned it in. He was exactly what Harry imagined her boyfriend would be like. Attractive, hardworking, and very sweet to her. They met at the gym while she was studying for her ethics class on the treadmill (he only knew this because he told the story at a party, they both attended and Harry was intently listening).

The only problem Harry had with him—besides the fact he was dating the girl he spent so much time with—was he was not ambitious, and he never planned any of their dates. Harry hated him. She deserved flowers and coffee dates. Ice skating and movies. Once while she was on the phone with her sister when Harry was arriving at one of their study sessions, he knew she wanted a carriage ride around the park at Christmas. It wasn’t hard to figure out, so he was glad when he found out she broke up with him. Even if Harry didn’t like her, he knew she deserved more than that.

“Harry!” It was the client he had to skip out on for his mum the other day. “How’s your mum?” He asked.

“She’s fine, thank you. I’m sorry for the short notice of me not being there,” he said seriously.

“I was mad as hell when she told me you left. I think I screamed at her,” he admitted. Harry didn’t like that at all. The way his blood boiled at the idea of anyone yelling at her made him want to punch his client. Harry never thought himself a violent person, but here he was angry on behalf of a girl he only barely liked. It made him even madder that she didn’t mention anything at all about getting yelled at either. “But she was incredible! You can leave me with her anytime—she was brilliant and poised. I don’t think anyone suspected anything she had to say.”

“Yes, she’s very good,” Harry murmured around a sip of his drink. He was right, too. No one ever suspected the sweet girl to know anything. She was all eyes and beauty. She was softspoken, but her words carried weight. It would be entirely unfair for her to be exceedingly intelligent too. But she was. Harry hated the way people underestimated her, especially when they were paired together. It was like they thought he was only paired with her because she was pretty.

“She’s easy on the eyes too,” he winked at Harry. Harry gripped his drink tighter as he envisioned shattering the glass over top of his head.

“Ha, yeah.”

“Well thank you. I’m glad your mum is okay. I’ll keep you posted about the next meetings,” he said.

Harry nodded. “Have a drink on my tab, please,” he said gratefully.

Harry was suddenly at her side. “You didn’t tell me he yelled at you,” he said interrupting whatever conversation she was in currently.

“Uh, sorry,” she said softly clearing her throat to the gathering that eyed Harry like they’d never seen a man before. It was clear the interruption didn’t bother them solely because Harry was the one interrupting and it gave them an excuse to ogle him up close. She was lucky she spent so much time with him growing up. She could ogle at her own leisure. “Excuse me,” she grabbed Harry by the forearm, and he swore it felt like fire where she touched him. He wracked his brain for a memory if she ever touched him before this moment. “Come again?”

“My client. He told me he yelled at you. You didn’t tell me that.”

“Uh...you were kind of busy Harry. I’m used to getting yelled at, it wasn’t a big deal to—”

“Who yells at you?” He asked quickly. “Why would they yell at you?” Harry felt his blood boiling and he didn’t really know why. He wanted to put her in his office and monitor every interaction she had with anyone else in the world. She should never be yelled at—he would be sure of it going forward.

“Well clients mostly, my sister, you, this woman yelled at me one time at the grocery store—”

“I’ve never yelled at you.”

“Yes, you have,” she shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. We work in a business of yelling, Harry.”

He wanted to throw his glass across the room now. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Seriously?” She asked.

“Seriously, what?”

“It’s really okay, Harry. I’ve been yelled at before.”

“But you shouldn’t be,” he was exasperated again. It was a quick switch to get to this breaking point of her complete non-understanding of why he was mad. But she didn’t really know why he was mad, and it was unfair of Harry to be so agitated by her when he didn’t even know why he was mad.

“Harry,” she said gently and put a hand on his forearm and gave him a squeeze. She gazed at him with those beautiful, lovely eyes and Harry could feel himself melting at the sweet expression on her face. “It’s okay,” she promised. He tore his arm from her and stalked off angrily sipping his drink before he did something like tell her she loved him.

So much for friends. She thought to herself.

Harry never really avoided her at firm parties. But he seemed like he was at this one. She hadn’t seen him in a while, and it oddly made her uncomfortable to not knowing where he was. She supposed since she had been with him for nearly 20 years of her life, when he wasn’t around, she knew. It didn’t make the party any less fun nor did it deter her from chatting with potential and current clients.

“Hello there,” a man said while she waited for her drink at the bar. She could tell he had too much to drink. It was another member of their team. Someone she saw on a very rare occasion. His client load was substantial and kept him busy and away from the office most days.

“Hi,” she said politely. He was a tall man. And with the alcohol coursing his bloodstream he knew very little of personal space.

“You’re very pretty,” he slurred. Her face felt hot at his assessment, and she wished she wasn’t by herself.

“Thank you,” she said gently and walked toward a group of the women she was chatting with before she headed to the bar to get another drink.

“I’ve seen you around,” he said following her another step. “You’re very smart.”

“Try to be—I have to get back to my friends,” she said gesturing to the women nearby. He frowned but she could feel his gaze on her back as she hurried back over. Fortunately, he was gone when she glanced back.

At the end of the party, she told her friends she was going to use the restroom before she left and not to worry. She would see them on Monday. What she hadn’t accounted for was the stupid drunk man to be in the darkly lit hallway leading to the bathrooms when she exited. “Hello, again.”

Shit.

“Hi,” she said gently. She sounded a lot braver than she was. There was no one in sight at all.

“I wanted to tell you how pretty you were earlier.”

“You did.”

“Well, I wanted to tell you again.”

“Thank you,” she said and stepped forward to brush past him. He grabbed her arm. She felt her fight or flight kick in and she desperately wanted to fly. “Excuse me, I’m leaving. I’m expected home soon—”

“Can’t you come home with me?” He asked with a sick smirk on his face.

She shook her head. “Let go of me,” she said firmly.

“Come on, I can make it worth your while,” he pulled her arm hard making the space between them almost disappear. She didn’t like how small she felt. She hated that about her job. She was constantly made to feel small because she was a woman. His height didn’t help. Neither did the alcohol.

But right now, it was a hundred times worse, and it made her stomach churn. She wanted to throw up and for a moment she thought maybe that would help her escape. “No thank you,” she said pulling harder on her arm that would surely have a bruise when she looked later.

“Well how about right here?” His smile was evil and vile. She really wanted to throw up now. Why didn’t she just go home with her friends?

With as much force as she could muster, she stomped on his inner foot, and he gasped and released her arm in shock. “Fuck!” He shouted. She hurried down the hall, tears filling her vision but somehow, he was right behind her, grabbing her arm again and pushing her against the wall causing her to yelp. “You’re going to regret that,” he snarled in her ear.

Before she had time to cry or vomit (or both) his presence was gone, and she fell to the floor at the lack of pressure against her body. She scrambled to her feet and turned to see Harry towering over the man he had clearly thrown to the ground. The panic flooding her body subsided immensely. Her heart rate was still elevated on behalf of Harry but seeing him made her feel so much safer.

“She said no,” Harry said with so much anger in his voice she was terrified. He dared one glance back at her to see her back on her feet. His eyes were furious. She had seen him argue in mock trials and even been to some of his real court dates. Harry may have disliked her for a long part of their lives, but she had never seen hatred like this.

She would have hated to be the man on the receiving end of his look. “She’s a taunting little bitch. I’ve heard the way you talk about her,” he snapped at Harry. “Leave us alone.”

“I’ve known her my whole life. She knows I don’t talk about her,” Harry said knowingly. His voice was so deep, and the intensity of his words left her woozy; she couldn’t imagine someone protecting her—least of all Harry. And his words were true of course. As much as he disliked her, no one ever had a bad thing to say about her at the hands of Harry. “I will not be leaving her alone.”

She nearly sighed with relief at his statement. He turned quickly, grabbed her hand, and pushed her in front of him as he guided them out of the hallway and out of the restaurant. There were people milling about, but it was late, and it wasn’t crowded by any means. If Harry wasn’t there, she doesn’t want to think about what would have happened. He ushered them a few paces away from the restaurant up the sidewalk.

“Are you alright?” He asked suddenly, he turned her to face him as they stood under the streetlight outside. She was shaking like she was cold, and Harry wanted to reach out and warm her. The last five minutes were catching up to her violently. “Kitten?” He almost snapped, desperate for some indication that she was okay. “Are you okay?”

She nodded then shook her head. “I-I’m fine,” she said and sniffled wiping her sleeve across her nose. “I just want to go home,” she said with an awkward laugh and then the tears started to blur her vision.

“Kitten, I’m not going to leave you alone until I see you lock your door and you’re home safely. So it’s okay to not be okay, just tell me,” again, he sounded exasperated with her.

“Yeah, no I’m okay...” she whimpered biting her lip trying to erase the thoughts from her head of the last few moments. Harry was there and she was okay. “No...no...” she shook her head as the tears steadily fell. She gasped out a strangled cry and Harry pulled her to him immediately. She was overwhelmed by a lot of things but also that he felt so safe and sturdy as he held her. His arms around her protectively, he cupped his hand on the back of her head and one arm around her waist. The sobs left her freely then.

“S’okay,” he said so gently it hurt more than anything that happened to her. Harry being so nice to her nearly wounded her. The safety of his embrace left her breathless. His thumb rubbing over her hair made her weak. “You’re safe, kitten,” he promised. “I got you.”

Harry held her hand the entire cab ride home. She sniffled and each time she did, Harry squeezed her hand reassuringly. The cab stopped outside her apartment building, and she reached for her purse for money. “Stop,” Harry said putting her hand to her side and paying the driver. Harry followed behind her while they made it up the stairs to her second-floor place. Every so often she glanced back to see if Harry was still there. “M’not going anywhere, kitten,” he promised.

She nodded, unlocked her door and pushed inside. “Can I get—”

“Just go sit down, love,” he shook his head at her. “I’ll be right in,” he said making his way for the kitchen. His voice was gentle. Like when she wasn’t feeling well, and he made her nap and eat.

She followed his direction. She felt a little out of place in her own apartment and she twiddled her fingers together as she waited in silence for Harry to come to her living room. He was there shortly, a glass of water for her. She reached out for it, but Harry noticed how her hand was still shaking. “Here,” he said bringing the cup to her lips. He gently cradled the back of her head with his other hand. She felt like a child as Harry helped her drink, but he didn’t pay any mind to the situation at all—he just didn’t want her to spill and make a mess that she would have to worry about right now. “Can I get you anything else?” He wondered. His voice was so deep and gentle in comparison to the hatred he spewed before in every word he spoke.

She shook her head, more tears filling her eyes. “Thank you,” she said gratefully.

He shook his head back at her. “Don’t,” he sighed. “I would never let anything happen to you, kitten,” he promised. Her heart fluttered, despite everything. It was by far one of the sweetest things Harry ever said to her. “I’m glad you’re home safe now. I can leave if you want—"

She was quick to protest. Too quick. “No! Please don’t,” the words rushed out of her mouth before she could stop them. She turned to look at the empty dark apartment as a distraction from her cheeks turning into two red tomatoes. She cleared her throat regaining her composure as she looked back at Harry. She was lucky the tears filled her vision again at the frustration and sadness of her evening overwhelming her again.

“I won’t go until you want me to, kitten,” Harry answered pressing his hand to her face. He brushed his thumb gently over her cheek bone and caught the stray tear that spilled over. His voice was so quiet and soft. It was so different than every interaction he ever had with her.

“Really?” She whispered breathlessly.

“No, baby,” he promised. “I won’t.”

She didn’t think and wrapped herself up in his embrace. It worked so naturally of course. His arms wrapped around her, and he tugged her carefully, so he was snuggled into the corner of her sofa with her cuddled into him. She sighed with relief as tears flowed onto his shirt and coat. She sniveled miserably. “I’ll have to get this dry cleaned for you,” she managed to mumble between her tears.

“Would you please just shut up?” The exasperation was thick in his tone. It kind of made her smile.

“Okay,” she whispered sniveling still.

After a few moments her cries subsided, and Harry let his fingers dance up and down her arm as he held her close to him. He tried not to think about how perfectly she fit in the empty spaces of his body. “Harry?” She asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you,” she said again.

He sighed, a bit irritated that she was thanking him for being a decent human being and protecting her. But he knew she was uncomfortable and upset. “You’re welcome, kitten,” he said softly. “Go to sleep.”

“I can’t do that, Harry. His client base is too substantial.”

“Let him leave with them, then,” Harry snapped. He was pacing Louis’ office. Adamant something be done.

“Harry, stop,” Louis rubbed his hand over his face. “We can get her a restraining order if she wants, and we can put him on a different floor so he never—”

“You need to fire him,” Harry said. “Or she and I will take all our clients and leave instead,” he promised.

He stared at his friend. “Harry.”

“Louis, you fire him, or you’ll have to represent me when I kill him.”

There was a knock outside Louis’ door before the pretty girl entered, making the anger in Harry’s heart dissipate immensely. “Oh, hi Harry,” she murmured and looked at her feet nervously. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Tomlinson?” She asked softly.

Harry gazed at her so adoringly, he couldn’t stop himself. His blood was on fire the moment he saw her struggling. He never thought about murdering someone seriously in his whole life. Yet there he was—ready to kill someone on behalf of the sweet girl. “Call me Louis, love. Please.”

She nodded. “Louis, then. Am...I in trouble?” She asked curiously.

Harry sighed in exasperation and ran his hand over his face in disbelief. She stared at Harry curiously as he made his assessment. “You’re an idiot,” he said to her.

She looked at her feet, feeling her face warm at his insult. “Harold,” Louis snapped. “No love, you’re not in trouble. I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Oh.”

There was a bit of silence. “Well, are you alright?” He repeated. Harry wanted to shake her a bit. She was beyond infuriatingly annoying sometimes.

“I’m okay,” she said softly. “Uh...Harry protected me.”

“Yes, he’s decent every once in a while.”

She smirked. “He is.”

“Can I do anything for you to ensure you feel safe while you’re working?”

“Oh, um...no—”

“You can fire him,” Harry repeated.

“Harry, that’s not necessary,” she shook her head, her face feeling flushed.

His right eye twitched and he looked out Louis’ window; stuffed his hands in his pockets as he muttered to himself. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not safe while you’re here,” Louis said knowingly.

Harry wasn’t watching her, but she looked right at him as she answered Louis. “I feel safe,” she said softly.

Louis smirked and shook his head at Harry who still wasn’t paying any attention. Talk about an idiot in this scenario. “I’m very sorry that happened to you. He will be reprimanded beyond belief, you have my word. We’ll be moving his office to a different floor as well,” he promised.

“Louis, you weren’t there,” Harry reminded him. “You didn’t watch her cry while she fell asleep—”

“Harry!” She gasped at the admission and her face felt warm. That was not something she wanted her boss to know. It painted the wrong picture—even if she slept so well in the comfort of Harry’s arms. Louis didn’t pay any attention to their night spent together, though. He was keeping his eyes on Harry.

“I wanted to kill him,” Harry repeated. She gulped at the idea of Harry doing something so violent for her. Something that would get him thrown in jail for a long while.

“I understand that,” Louis said simply. “Love, I’m very sorry,” he returned his attention to the poor girl who looked wildly uncomfortable. “If there is something I can do for you, don’t hesitate to ask. I know you have Harry in the office next to you, but if he’s not around, I’d be happy to assist you with anything,” he said kindly.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” she said courteously.

“Harold,” Louis said narrowing his eyes at him.

“Whatever,” he grumbled and stalked out of the office.

“I’m...sorry about him,” she said nervously.

“Don’t worry love, I’ve known Harry for a long while. He means well. He’s just thick headed sometimes,” he shrugged. “I’m serious though, if you need something or want something, let me know.”

“I will, thank you.”

Shaking her head, she exited his office and headed back to her own. She grabbed a cup of coffee from the breakroom as she passed it and tried to think about the to-do list she had for the day. Mentally, she added a dry-cleaner stop for Harry’s suit she cried all over as well. It wasn’t much, but it was the least she could do as a thank you for all he did. As she paced the last few steps toward her office, she tried to convince herself the last few moments in Louis’ office were real. Harry was angry at Louis (and maybe her, what else was new?) for something beyond his control. She wondered why he was so adamant but found it sweet in Harry’s own way.

She closed her office door behind her and tilted her head at Harry sitting on the couch. As she entered, he stood up and gazed at her without speaking. It looked like he was looking through her. She bit the inside of her lip as she held the coffee with both of her hands to keep her tingling fingers warm at the idea that Harry was waiting for her. “Can I help you?” She asked.

“I’m going to be a shitty boyfriend.”

She blinked in complete confusion. It was by far the last thing she ever expected Harry to say. “I’m sorry?”

“I get all wrapped up in m’own stuff and I forget dates even though they’re in m’calendar and reminders and everything. It’ll infuriate you. I’ll make up for it with grand sweeping gestures that will maybe make it better, but they might just make y’madder that I can’t remember the little things.”

“Harry, what—”

“M’so in love with you and I’ve been ignoring it since we were kids. The six months I worked here without you were the longest months ’ve gone without seeing you and I didn’t even want t’see you, but I don’t want to go that long without seeing you ever again. I barely want t’go an hour without seeing you and even when I do I think about you the whole time,” he started to pace across her office back and forth as if was retracing his steps to remember all the things he was saying. Like they were written on the carpet.

“Can you just—”

“I’ll be better than that tool y’dated in third year,” she wondered where that came from because she didn’t even know he knew she was dating someone. “I’ll give you everything y’want or need whenever you ask. I’ll plan dates, I’ll take y’anywhere you want t’go, I’ll walk on hot coals for you, if you ask. I love you so goddamn much, love. I want to murder someone for you, and I wouldn’t bat an eyelash; ’ve never felt this way ‘bout anyone before. You’re infuriatingly sweet and y’never know when t’shut up or what’s good for you. It’s probably going t’get y’killed one day and I don’t know how someone s’sweet could be a corporate lawyer. You’re unbelievably challenging in so many ways and y’always remind me that I don’t know everything even though I think I do. Mum and Gemma want me t’bring you t'Sunday dinners.”

She shook her head trying to process all of this it didn’t help that he was jumping from topic to topic. Harry had given speeches in college before. She listened to many of his own closing arguments and of course read countless persuasive essays. This wasn’t anything like any of that. This was wild and out of sorts. She wondered what was flowing in his head and why it was spewing out like this, why it was happening now. “Harry, what are you—”

“You asked me t’be friends because you thought we’d be good friends since we spent all that time together. Quite frankly you’re m’best friend. Even though I was miserable towards you all the time. I don’t know why I did that t’you and s’jus’ another reason you should tell me t’take a hike. No one knows me as well as you do. Sleeping with you on your couch made m’neck so sore I can’t turn it to the left, but it was the best sleep of m’life and I want t’do it over and over again if I can hold you.”

That made her face flood with heat so quickly she was sure she looked bright red. “Harry, honestly, I’m—”

“I will never hurt you and I will never let anyone hurt you while m’around.” This time she didn’t interrupt him she could feel her face soften at his words and she felt like she was going to cry if he talked any longer. “I don’t think I know anyone half s’beautiful as you, kitten, inside or out,” he said softly. Everything else he said felt like a sprint. A rush of words he had been dying to get out for who knows how long. “Please, be my girlfriend,” he said finally, slowly at last.

They stared at each other silently for several moments.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Thank you.”

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surfinminho · 4 months

Text

6:00 PM

wc: 1.3K

Warnings: age gap, reader is older, fem bodied, humiliation, panty stealing, perversion, masterbation (m), spit, sub!felix, overstimulation, unprotected sex, keep in mind reader is like 15 years older with a kid though it isn’t rlly mentioned

He could get you fired, you’re his professor and he’s just one of your many students.

You were the talk around campus for a while. He can see why though. I mean, you were pretty, has a nice figure, smart, Felix could go on for hours about you.

You on the other hand, seemed to pay him no mind. He kinda got upset about it multiple times. Not noticing his wandering eyes on you or staying after class just to spend a few more seconds with you, pathetic attempts he knows.

As time went by, finals week came closer. And Felix isn’t going to lie but, he was going to fail. Environmental science wasn’t his strongest subject. But you’re here! And you could help him.

He contemplated for a while if he should just get a tutor and suck it up, but apparently you had some concerns too. “Felix, can you come here please?” The bell had just rung, leaving a few laggers, and you sitting at your desk.

He packed his stuff up quickly before heading to your desk. “Hi miss” he gave you a small smile, sitting down on the nearest chair.

“Felix, your grades are much lower than last semester, it went down 12%.” You frowned, taking out a piece of paper and a pen, “See Felix, if you get less than a 90 on your final you’re going to fail the semester.”

He didn’t want to disappoint you with his terrible grades, he wanted to seem better than that.

“I can get a tutor?” you cut him off, writing something’s down on the piece of paper.

“I’m afraid with what little time we have left, getting a tutor isn’t enough. So, I’ll do it for you, personally.” you hand him the piece of paper nicely folded.

“Thank you, miss” as he gets ready to leave, you stop him once more.

“Since it’s also at my house, I’m not really allowed to do that so don’t tell anyone”

Felix nods his head and leaves, smiling to himself, thinking about all the possibilities of what could happen.

You let him in with a smile, telling him to go to your room and wait for you. As he was waiting, he looked around the room. It was white and chic with a hint of brown. Though, on your dresser, there was a picture of you and a younger girl, the girl was fairly young, probably 9 years old, give or take.

His train of thought is interrupted as you walk through the door,

“Let’s get started Felix.”

The next few hours were hell, it’s like the practice problems you handed him were impossible to do. It’s like any prior knowledge he had flew out the window. He could your sighs get louder every time he gets another question wrong, rubbing your temples.

“Felix, these are simple questions, you know what, I’ll be right back” you got up, leaving the door slightly ajar.

He looked around the room again, taking in everything once more. This time, a piece of fabric that he definitely didn’t notice caught his eye. It was sitting on the floor, by the bed frame. You could come back anytime, but what’s the harm in looking?

He got up, picking up the fabric, or lack there of. His face flushed, pink lace panties. He should put them down, it’s an invasion of your privacy, but he wasn’t thinking rationally. He pockets your underwear and sits back down, picking up his pencil and going back to work.

“How about we call it a night”

He doesn’t know what came over him, guilt was taking over his body as he looked at your underwear. He doesn’t know why he took it, he can barely look you in your face anymore. He wasn’t going to give it back though, it’s covered in his cum and spit. Your smell as worn off, surely he can sneak another pair?

As the days go by, he goes to your house at 6 pm, sharp. He’s never early or late. It’s routine at this point. He goes over to your place, does some practice questions, then he goes home and jerks off using your panties.

But today, when you answered the door, your were very giddy, smile reaching both ends of your face. The questions you given him were fairly easy, the answers were basically common sense.

“Miss, I finished this packet.” Felix said, slowly sliding the paper towards you.

You carefully look it over with a pen, tracing each answer with it, you slide it back to him with a smile. “Good, only 1 wrong!” You paused, getting up and walking to your dresser, “I think you deserve a reward, I mean those questions must’ve been so hard.

You sit down on your bed, calling him over.

“Miss, what’s this abo-“ he choked on his words as he watched you throw a pair of lace panties at him, almost identical to the ones he stole a week before.

“I know you took my underwear Felix, you’re not very slick” you frowned, pulling him closer by his thighs.

he stayed quiet, playing with his fingers in his lap.

“Felix, that was very disgusting of you, I offer you extra help and you take from me. Is that how you were going to make your move on me?” your tone was condescending, it made him want to die from embarrassment.

'No --- No, no, no, no, no --- I’m sorry, I don’t know wh-“ you pressed a finger to his lips, shoving two fingers into his mouth.

“Aw but baby, you do know. Tell me why you did it, I don’t like liars” you slowly removed your fingers from his mouth, wiping his spit on his cheek.

“I wanted to taste you..”

“Wanted to taste me?”

He hums, looking up at you, trying not to touch you.

“You’re a pathetic thing, could’ve just asked.” you mumbled, taking your index and middle finger, hooking it on the waistband of his pants, pulling it down along with his underwear.

“Show me what you do to them at home”

He didn’t reply, saving himself from any more embarrassment. He took his hand and spit in it before wrapping his hand around his cock. His body jolts at the feeling, back arching into the pleasure. He wraps your panties over his tip, rutting into his fist. The spit made the glide easier, making it so he could go faster. He closed his eyes, staccato moans leaving his plump lips, little ‘pleases’ coming out ever so often.

“Stop.”

His eyes shot open, stopping his movements while keeping his hand on his cock. He whined, blinking away tears, to look at you. When do you take off your pants?

“Ah, you’re so cute and well behaved, makes me wanna kiss you.”

“Can I? Uhm can I get a kiss?” He pouts

You shuffle over to him, knees on either side of his lap, slotting your lips against his. You titled your head to the side, grabbing his chin, trying to get more of him until you felt something wet seep in between your thighs so you look down and-

Oh.

“I’m sorry” he sputtered, still rutting against your thigh.

“Cumming just from me kissing you? Pathetic baby” you leaned down to press a kiss to his lips, shutting him up before lining his cock up and sinking down.

“I can’t- miss- mommy please, f-fuck!” Letting out a choked out sob, he could feel his cock drag against your soft, warm walls.

“Yes you can” You huffed, fucking yourself down onto his cock, his cum making the slide easy.

“Let- let me pull out, g’nna cum shit” he threw his head back, his moans reaching a crescendo as his thrusts became erratic, losing its rhythm.

“Just like that, good boy” you pulled him into another kiss, gripping his shirt to keep leverage. “Wanna breed me? Make me a mommy?” You said in between moans, meeting him halfway.

“Cumming!” You felt his release paint your walls, sure it’s not a lot but it triggered your own orgasm.

You climbed off him, using the discarded panties to clean him up.

“You better be prepared for the final.”

#surfinminho #stray kids #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids smut #sub skz #sub lee felix #Lee Felix

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lcvernat · 2 years

Text

Doodles | Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha has a habit of drawing on your hand whenever she’s bored.

Word Count: 692

Content Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, too much fluff actually

A/N: i’ve returned. probably. hopefully. maybe. thought i’d come back with a bang aka a very very short (writing over 1k words rn is frankly impossible i’m sorry) but sickeningly sweet little fic. i got this idea from a cute gif i saw and thought it was cuteee so… enjoy! also happy international lesbian day to my fellow lesbians, we rock.

Natasha Romanoff was many things. A complex woman of many layers, and very few got to uncover all of them. Even you were still constantly finding out new things about her. A recent quirk that you had discovered was her love for doodling on your hand. She’d only started doing it recently: during meetings when she was bored, on the Quinjet to get rid of the post-mission jitters, and generally anytime you were near her.

A few months ago, the team was sat in a particularly boring mission. So boring, in fact, that you would have much rather been in your room tackling the mountain of paperwork on your desk than sat listening to Steve blabber on about God knows what (you’d stopped listening about halfway through). Someone lightly taking ahold of your hand and the tickling sensation of a pen gliding across your skin was what brought you out of your daydream and into the present.

You looked at your girlfriend, Natasha, to find her occupied with drawing a little heart on your hand. “What are you doing?” You whispered, briefly glancing up at Steve then looking back at Natasha when you were satisfied that he wasn’t looking.

“Doodling,” she said simply, the tip of her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on drawing various little stars, hearts and smiley faces all over your hand. You smiled at her, even though she couldn’t see it, before entering your daydream again, more than content to let your girlfriend busy herself with turning your hand into her own personal canvas.

That was when it had started, and it kept happening more and more frequently to the point that your hand was constantly covered in various little doodles and you had started to carry a pen around with you at all times incase Nat ever needed it. The team had started to take notice of Natasha’s little habit but no one dared question her on it. Steve had tried once, to reprimand her on not listening during a meeting, and she had sent him such a withering stare that you swore you quite literally saw the 6’1 super soldier shrink into himself in fear. She returned to drawing her cute doodles as if she hadn’t nearly just sent Captain America running as Steve awkwardly regained his composure before picking up where he left off in his speech. No one ever mentioned the newly gained habit after that.

Day after day, new drawings would appear on your hand. Old ones would get washed away, only to instantly get replaced by fresh doodles. They started to get more eccentric after time: stick figures of the two of you, funny drawings of various Avengers (she’d drawn a surprisingly good drawing of Clint sleeping once with drool at the side of his mouth. You had to try your hardest to cover that up for the rest of the day), and she’d even started to leave little messages on your hand that ranged from ‘I love you’ to ‘Tony’s hair looks weird today’.

You found it completely adorable, and you cherished the various drawings she done and the little messages she left you. Even though the redhead had already enraptured you, mind body and soul, letting her draw on you was your way of telling her that you were hers and she could do whatever she wanted with you. Natasha could draw on every inch of your skin and you’d let her.

Natasha Romanoff was many things, and you had never painted her as an artist before, but you had quickly learned to never be surprised when she unveiled another part of herself to you. You love her, everything about her, all the little quirks that only you notice because you pay just that much attention to her and all of the quirks about her that you haven’t yet discovered. Everything about her is a masterpiece that you can’t tear your eyes away from, and you find you don’t want to. You want to untangle every part of her, learn everything you can possibly learn about her, because she’s yours. Forever and always.

tags: @sheneonromanoff @olicity-boo @r4nd0mgir1 @tigerlillyruiz

dm me, send me an ask or reply to be added to my taglist!

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow imagine #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow x you #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff comfort #natalia romanova #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader

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anniemika · 2 years

Text

All yours

NSFW Content!

Eren Jaeger x Female Reader

Summary: Leaving your toxic boyfriend seems to be a mission impossible, especially when he shows you just how good you could have it with him every single time.

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: cursing, oral sex F receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, spit, dirty talk, degradation, choking, impact play (slapping), creampie

.....

Ring ring

He’s calling you. Again.

Your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend.

You’re lying in bed, hugged by your favourite warm blanket with a bowl of popcorn sitting right next to you, a glass of sparkling wine in your hand as you watch the last season of The Bachelor and wipe your running nose every now and then. Ideal.

After a long crying session that consisted of the occasional scream into your pillow, you think you’ve finally made peace with it. You’re dumping him. For good this time.

He’s not worth it anymore. 2 years is a long ass time to go through the shit you’ve gone through. He’s an asshole, he’s toxic, he doesn’t deserve you. Simple as that.

You reach for the little glittery notebook you’ve been keeping as some sort of journal, get your favourite pink fluffy pen, and let the thought process begin. You’ve been writing in it for some time now, noting down all the things you want to do this summer as a single woman. Get a summer job, party, travel with your friends, all the things you’ve wanted to do for so long but didn’t have the.. permission to do.

When you first met Eren, you didn’t think for one minute that he was going to end up being the narcissistic asshole you’ve come to know. He was like a dream come true at the start. No one had ever treated you as good as him, paying you so much attention, you became addicted to it, and singing you so many praises, it was like you’d made him in your head. The honeymoon phase was the most amazing part of your relationship, filled with love, happiness, and so much sex, you couldn’t walk straight for a whole day after your usual marathons.

But then, as the months went by, you started seeing another side of Eren. It began with the occasional “when are you coming home??” text when he knew you were out with your friends, and the “you’re not going out in that, are you?” when you’d wear something he didn’t have any problems with before. He became possessive, jealous of the people who were close to you, he wanted you all to himself. He was a master manipulator too, succeeding in making you feel like you weren’t making an effort to understand him and why he had a problem with the otherwise normal things you did, like having a girl’s night with your friends or going to your parent’s house without him once. Now, having guy friends was a whole new problem on its own.

You could hang out with his friends (when he was there, of course), but not with the guy from your biology study who you were assigned to make a project with. It was out of the question, the name of any guy from your classes or even old friends’ was met with a scowl and a look that let you know you should probably never mention or see them again. All the bar fights when he’d see someone so much as glance your way, or the fights you would have with him for the stupidest things, like asking a bartender what kind of cocktail he would recommend to you almost always ended up with Eren pressing you against a wall and asking “you wanna fuck him, huh bitch?”

Oh, but the sex. You think that maybe that is the reason why you stayed with him for so long, even with all the bullshit. It was out of this world. Eren is a fucking beast in bed, an experience that any woman dreams of. He is rough, full of passion, knows exactly which buttons to push to bring you over the edge every time, and the dirty talk.. oh boy.

“That’s it, that’s it you little fuckin’ whore, make a mess on my dick.”

“Wanna cum so badly, you crying, huh? Beg for it then.”

“Open that filthy mouth, come on. Wanna see the place I’m ‘bout to feel my cum with.”

Just thinking about all the times he’s used your body like a fucking rag doll has you licking your lips and clenching your walls. But, you’ve made up your mind for good this time. The dick may be good, but you’re done with his shit.

The clock shows you it’s 20 minutes past midnight, and you decide to call it a night and try to catch some sleep. You check your phone, the 10 missed calls from your soon-to-be-ex making a long, exhausted sigh leave your lips. All the crying had made you tired, and all you wanted was to finally lay your head on your soft pillow and forget all about Eren. Only if it was that easy.

A ring on your doorbell startles you out of bed, and you begin to feel the dreading feeling of who is standing on the other side of it. You put on your slippers and with angry steps make your way to it, tippy-toeing to see who it is through the tiny hole in your door. And, of course, you’re right.

There he was, on the other side of the door, Eren Jaeger in all his drunken glory. He looked roughed up, his shirt a mess, with a couple of his rings and bracelets missing, the knuckles on his right hand swollen with a blue undertone. Amazing.

“The fuck do you want, Eren!?” You shout through the door, anger bubbling up like a volcano ready to explode.

“Y/n, baby-“

“Do not call me your fucking baby!” The nerve of him. Last time he saw you, he called you a “fucking whore” for wearing a freaking ruffle skirt.

“Baby, I’m really s’orry, please open up!”

“Yeah, fuck you. Go home, Eren.” You decide to be as stern as possible. He had to understand that there was no coming back from this. Not anymore.

“Y/n, fucking please, you know I’m sorry!” You see him lean against your door with both hands, his head hanging low in between them.

“No, I don’t. Wasn’t I a fucking whore, Eren? Why would you want anything to do with such a disgusting whore like me, huh?” You don’t know why, maybe it’s because of all the anger you have nestled inside, but you begin to feel tears stinging your eyes. “I don’t wanna be with you anymore! You treat me like shit, Eren!”

You shout at him again, and in response, he begins to punch your door. You feel the vibrations of his punches, and for a moment, you think about calling 911 to have him escorted out of the building. You didn’t want your neighbours to become witnesses of yet another one of your fights.

“Stop or I’ll call the cops!”

“Fucking call them, then! I don’t care anymore! I fucking lost you..” the last words become whispers, and then you hear it. He’s crying. His sniffles echo in your ears, and that’s when you break, too. With your back against the door, you sit on the cold floor and begin to sob quietly, trying not to let him hear you. He wasn't going to see you cry again, you’d promised yourself.

“Y/n, I.. I know I'm a shitty person, okay? But baby, if you ever loved me, please.. just open the door. I h-have to see you.” He slurs his words, and you hate yourself for it, but you begin to feel bad for him. Truth was, Eren had a lot of problems with himself. All the uncontrollable anger, the jealousy, the possessiveness. You tried to help him with some of them, but he wasn’t serious about getting help. So, naturally, you stopped trying at some point, because all he did was try and push you away, continuing with his behaviour. And look where it got him.

“I haven’t slept for days, I can’t reach your phone, I- I just need to see you.. please.” His words are like a dying man’s wish, at least that’s what it feels like to your ears. That’s how much you care about him and want to believe he's actually not the asshole who treats you like his property. So, with a few last sniffles, you get up from the tiles in your hallway and grab your keys. When you open the door, it’s like his eyes light up and get filled with hope. You still loved him.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty..” the compliment rolls off his tongue so naturally like you weren’t just screaming at each other. You look down at your feet and move to make room for him to get in. Eren feels the need to touch you, bring your body close to his, smell your scent, but no matter how much he’s had to drink, he knows it won't be right. He moves slowly inside your apartment, head low like a schooler who’s been scolded. You keep your distance, eyes concentrated on the floor.

“So,” you begin, “talk.”

He turns to look at your face, disappointment gracing his when he sees you’re not looking back at him. He rests his back against one of your hallway walls, emerald eyes glued to your figure.

“I miss you.. I really fuckin’ do.” You don’t like the way your heart stings from his words.

“I hate myself, d’you know that?” He ends the sentence with a short, bitter laugh. “I’m such an insecure piece of shit. I know you deserve better.” There’s a ball in his throat when he says the last sentence, feeling his tears ready to fall. “I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry for all the shit- for just screwing things up. I’m sorry.”

Don’t cry, is all you keep repeating to yourself. He always does this, he’s manipulating you, don’t fall for it.

“You’re the most amazing person in the world, and I feel like a fucking failure for losing you. You loved me, only me, and I always found a reason to pick a fight. I’m just so.. helpless, I don’t know what to do anymore. I fucked up.”

You snort, finally bringing your face up to send him a piercing glare. “You don’t know what to do? Oh, poor you, Eren! And what about me? What am I supposed to do with this, huh? Every time I try to end things, you always pull this shit! It’s fucking exhausting!” Your voice bounces off the walls, filling the space with your frustration. Eren can feel it, can feel your sharpened nerves, and how no matter what he says, you’re on the offensive.

“I- I know! I get tired from it too, I swear, I hate myself for it, but.. I can’t let you go like this.. please..” you hate, hate, hate how his apologetic tone and pretty voice play with your heart and mind, how it drives the tears to accidentally spill from your eyes, how all you want to do right now is kiss and hug him.

“Fuck” you clench your teeth, wrapping your arms around yourself, “I hate you..” But I don't. Not really.

Eren feels like this is his cue to try and move a bit closer to you, doing his best not to stumble on his feet. You begin to feel his warmth when he stands a few inches away, catching the mix of the alcohol and the musky scent of his perfume.

He bites his inner lip, “I don't think you do, though..” His hand raises to try and touch your cheek, and to his delight, you don't flinch away, “I love you.”

You wince. No, no. “Don’t say that.”

You try to move away from him but he quickly cups your face in his hands, “But it's true. I love you, I love you so fucking much, it's killing me.”

He's lying, don't fall for it. “That’s not love, Eren. It’s ownership. You can’t own me.”

“I don't want that, baby, I swear.” He washes your tears away with his thumbs, “I just want you.”

He inches closer until your lips are just a centimeter away. You debate pushing him off and telling him to get out of your apartment, but something inside you doesn't let you move a muscle. And so, you taste him. You taste the vodka and the tears, and maybe even the regret, as he kisses you softly. It's so unlike Eren, he's usually the type of person to overwhelm you with his presence, with his harshness and passion, but this time, it's different. It's sensual, but still, so tender, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he slowly slips his tongue inside your mouth to get a better taste. That tongue of his, and the way it pushes against yours, driving you to press your head against the door and let him explore your mouth further. You're screaming to yourself to just push him away, but the little tingle in your lower belly tells you that this is exactly what you want. It's embarrassing.

You break away, placing your palms against his chest, “Eren, stop.. I can’t.”

You can see him trying to hold back from kissing you again, his lower lip trapped between his teeth, “Fuck, y/n, please..”

He rests your foreheads together, and an internal war commences inside you. You want him, you can’t lie to yourself, you need his touch, crave it, but it’s a mistake, a big, huge mistake to let him in again. Stop this, chase him out. Kiss him, let him touch you.

Screw it.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he takes it as a chance to slam his lips against yours so vigorously, it takes your breath away. You brush your fingers through his hair, ruffling his bun, and he grabs you by your waist to push you further against the door. He sneaks his hands to your lower back, and you instantly know what he wants. You wrap your legs around his waist as he holds you by your ass, squeezing the fat your absurdly short jams aren't able to hide.

“So fuckin’ soft.” Eren whispers in your ear, kissing your earlobe and going down the side of your neck. You relish in the way his mouth sucks on your skin, leaving marks you know would be there for days to come. He loved it when he marked you. He wanted everyone to know that you were his.

A moan of his name reverberates through the air when he licks a long stripe down your neck to your collar bone, traveling straight to Eren’s dick. And so, a leap of courage enters his body when he cups your sex with his palm, enjoying your little gasp when he presses his hand firmly against it.

“Gonna let me fuck your tight pussy, baby?” Another moan, this time coming from somewhere deep within, leaves your lips, and it pulls a smirk from his. “Gotta tell me with your big girl words, ‘kay?”

There he was. The person he became under the sheets, the one with no filter and so much confidence, it made your cheeks the darkest of reds.

“Open that pretty mouth and tell me.”

“I want..”

“You want..?”

“I- fuck- I want yo- oh!” He rubs his clothed dick against your heat while your body is still crushed against the door, massaging your clit.

“Feels good?”

“Shit, i-it does..” it’s no point hiding it anymore, the slick between your legs already smearing against your panties and shorts for him to feel.

“Want it to feel better?” He’s still rubbing himself all over you, knowing damn well you’re way past the point of refusing him.

“Fuck me, c’mon, just-“

You needn’t say anything more than that. He lets go of your legs to give you a harsh, sloppy kiss, biting your lower lip, a move that sends waves of pleasure throughout your body. He quickly removes your shorts and panties down your thighs, kneeling to get a look at what he's been craving for the past week.

“She's dripping.” He uses his fingers to gently pull your pussy lips apart and catch the watering sight of your cunt.

“All that talk..” he moves his thumb across your swollen clit, “and now this?”

“Fuck you.” You grit through your teeth, shuddering from his touch.

“You’re about to.” He snickers, beginning to draw circles around your cunt, watching you squirm above him. You curse inwardly for being so weak, your only thoughts being how desperately you want to ride his smug face. And it’s so uncanny how he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“Want my tongue in there, hm?” He tilts his head upwards to look at your flushed face, breathing hitched as you wait for him to fuck you with his tongue.

“Well, don’t mind if I do..”

He’s plunging that long, slick muscle of his until it reaches your entrances, chuckling at the guttural moan that passes your lips. You’re already a mess and he hasn’t even started fucking you yet.

“Ride my face.” His tone is commanding but you don’t care, it only contributes to your arousal and the rapidness of your heartbeat. You begin to move back and forth on his tongue while he watches you with hooded eyes from bellow, moaning from your taste. You grip his hair with both hands and pick a pace, getting yourself off and waiting for the rush to hit. It was going to be powerful, you knew that much from the burning feeling in your tummy that slowly but surely traveled to the place you most wanted it to.

“Oh fuck, Eren” you whine, throwing your head back against the door while you continue to pleasure yourself on his tongue, “I’m ‘bout to- fuck -I’m ‘bout to cum!”

What you get in response is something you can only compare to an animalistic growl, followed by his fingers plunging into the fat of your thighs, trying to steady himself as you lose your mind above him.

“‘m cumming!” you gasp out as your legs barely hold you from falling, the intensity of your orgasm making you bend your knees and hold onto Eren for support. It takes all your strength away and leaves you limp in his arms as he carries you to your bedroom and unbuckles his pants like someone’s chasing him.

He throws his clothes onto the floor, moving in front of you on the bed as you mewl out his name when his leaking tip probes against your entrance.

“Haven’t felt this pussy in so long.” He moves his head along your puffy clit, still feeling your swollen lips throb from your orgasm.

“We fucked last week.” You say with closed eyes and your head against your pillow, amazed at how rock-hard his cock is.

“Felt like forever.” He pushes in with a hiss and your mouth is falling wide open from the stretch. It really does feel like forever, his cock ready to tear you apart no matter how many times you'd taken it before. “There you go, swallowing it all up.” He smirks as he watches the way his length disappears inside your tight walls, placing a harsh smack on your ass. He turns both your legs to the side, pushing them down with his palm, his hips beginning to move.

“So damn tight, shit” he throws his head back, grip tightening around the back of your knees as he pumps his cock into you. Your tits begin to bounce because of the fast pace, slapping against your skin, and he swears it’s the hottest thing ever, along your pretty cherry lips and the way they’ve parted so your moans can spill out. “You know nobody else could give it to you like I do.”

You bite your lip when his tip pushes against your g-spot, not gracing him with a response. Which isn’t left unnoticed.

Your left leg is quickly moved to its rightful side, Eren’s hand going to the back of your head so he can fist your ponytail, yanking it forward until you squeak and are able to see the way he absolutely ravishes your pussy.

“You don’t think so, huh?” He’s forcing you to look, to see just how fast he moves in and out, amazed at the bulge of his cock inside your belly, “Tell me, who else could make you babble like that, hm?”

Your lips might draw blood from how hard you're biting them, eyebrows screwed together, desperate whimpers the only sounds you can manage because his thrusts become hard, so hard, you’re sure you can feel him in your deepest core.

“Can’t even answer. Am I fuckin’ you stupid, baby girl?”

He pushes your head further down until it almost bumps into his abs.

“Fuck, Eren, it’s too hard-“ he’s not letting you finish your words, yanking your ponytail downward until you’re forced to look up at him and his predatory gaze.

“And you’re gonna take it, right?” His eyes are ablaze, locking contact with yours, bewitching you. He still holds your hair with one hand, while two of his other fingers tap twice on your flushed cheek. “Open up.”

You do as you’re told, opening your mouth like a good little student, pussy throbbing at what you think he’s about to do.

“Want my spit or my cum?”

“Both!” Your answer is so quick, Eren is left with no choice but to chuckle.

“Thought so.” He pushes his pointer and middle finger inside your mouth, still fucking you at a merciless pace. “Not gonna give you my cum yet, tho. Think there’s another place I wanna fill it with.”

Your eyes widen at the thought. Yes, you know it’s wrong, but you want it, want it so bad, it’s beyond your control.

“I think you’d like that better.” He removes his fingers and roughly grips your jaw, his cheeks hollowed when a string of saliva leaves his lips and enters your mouth. He mutters a low “fuck” when you swallow it. “What do you say?”

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.” Your obedience only earns a slap to one of your bouncing tits, rough hands going to the back of your neck and interlocking his fingers behind it, holding it in place as he rams inside you like you’re his own personal fleshlight.

“You like watching?” He talks down on you, feeling your folds squeezing him in after every sentence, “Getting used like my little cum slut, hm?”

There’s mirth in his otherwise stern voice, and you just know he’s enjoying this, the way you’re falling apart for him after pushing him away for a whole week. He knew you wouldn’t be able to resist him long.

“Wanted to leave me, baby? Give my cock to some other girl?” Your head shoots upwards in an instant, eyes wide with a mix of shock and anger. And by the low laugh he lets out, you get that that was just what he wanted. “Now, now, don’t get mad. You and I both know no other pussy could take me like this.”

God, you want to break up with the guy, you really do, but just the thought of him fucking someone else the way he does you could make you straight up murder someone. You don’t know what comes over you, but when you reach to grab him by his shoulders and push him on top of you on the bed, you sink them as hard as you can into his sun-kissed skin.

“Fuck!” Eren wails into your ear, the pain from your long nails and the pleasure from your drenched cunt sending him straight to cloud nine. You can’t help but smile devilishly into his shoulder, he definitely deserves the scratches that are going to grace his soft skin for at least two weeks.

“You enjoyed that, huh?” He switches positions in a flash until you’re on top of him and he’s holding you in place by your ass cheeks. “Do it again. Be rough with me.” He takes your tiny hand and moves it to the base of his neck, encircling your fingers around it. “Squeeze, come on.” He encourages by driving his hips upwards into your heat, making you cry out, knowing he just hit the spot that could make you absolutely lose it.

You apply pressure to his neck, feeling it pulsate in your palm, and he starts moving again, rushing his cock into you. “Harder.”

You listen, squeezing that pretty neck of his and watching as Eren’s jaw ticks in response to the pressure, and oh is it an image. It’s moments like these when you truly appreciate his beauty and think that maybe, just maybe all the toxicity is worth getting loved and fucked by this beautiful, flawed man.

“I can cum like this, just keep squeezin’” his voice is strained, shaky even, you really put your strength into it because you knew just how much pleasure it was giving you both, with Eren thrusting inside you as hard as he could, “C’mon, stay still and squeeze my neck, that’s it.”

You put your whole body weight into the hand that is wrapped around his neck, your thoughts flying out of your head as you feel him reaching his peak. It’s too much, his cock is entering you too fast, and you’re not even able to stand up straight anymore, “Eren, I can't hold on much longer, fuck-”

You feel a stinging pain on your right cheek, his palm having just made contact with the skin. “I said you were gonna take it, didn't I?” The shock he sees on your face only makes him snicker, “Like the nasty girl you are.”

Releasing your hold on him, you move your hand to gather the force you need to strike him right back, but he's quicker, catching it, pushing you onto the mattress, and sliding right back into your slick walls.

“Now, slapping’s where I cross the line” he pins both of your wrists on the bed, slamming himself inside you so deeply, it feels like he wants to live there, “You see, I'm not a slut, baby” you clench your jaw, glaring at him, but when his thrusts speed up to the point your whole body begins to bounce on the hard mattress, you’re only able to whine and close your eyes shut, orgasm approaching with full force, “Only filthy sluts get slapped across the face like that.”

His low chuckles get jumbled with your desperate whining, and you hate yourself for getting pushed over the edge with the help of his obscene words, but it does happen, and soon you find yourself screaming his name and squirting your cum all around his cock, while he’s still mercilessly hammering it into your cervix.

“There it is, let go on this fucking dick, it’s all yours.”

You’re still cumming and contracting around him when you cry out, “Fucking give it to me Eren, fuck, fuck, fuck-“

Last words get lost somewhere on the road because Eren is next, his hips losing control as he marks your walls with his warm cum, whining from how strong his high is. He doesn’t stop even when you’re sure he’s given you all he has to give, filling you up to the brim with his load, continuing to slowly rock his hips into you.

“Holy shit,” his voice is barely a whisper, and you’re still so out of it, you can’t concentrate on anything else but the feeling of his cum dripping down to your ass, “you were so fuckin’ good for me, love.”

He places a soft kiss on your cheek, gathering your face in his hands to look at your droopy eyes, “Hey, pretty girl. You okay?”

A tired nod is all you manage to give him, but it is enough to pull a tiny smile from his full lips, “That’s good.” It’s so bizarre how this same person was the one fucking you into oblivion just minutes before, talking to you like you were nothing more than a filthy whore, but is now staring at you with the most intense, loving eyes, those emeralds of his pulling at your heartstrings. After a moment, he looks down at your lips, his expression turning sorrowful, “Want me to go?”

You should want him to. You should tell him that this doesn’t change anything and that you’re sure there is nothing he could do to make up for all the damage he’s caused to your relationship. But instead, your heart screams at you to let him stay, to let him take care and love you like he said he would.

“No…”

Eren tries to contain the happiness that simple word evokes in him, nodding twice in acknowledgment, then lying on your side to cuddle you into his arms. He whispers adoring words and gentle praises into your ear, and it’s what causes you to drowse off into a much needed sleep.

The next few weeks are something out of a dream. Everything is different. Eren is different. Showering you with gifts, letting you have all the space you need, that includes going out with your friends, doing the things you love, and then being there for you when you need him. And, as the days go by, you become as you were at the beginning of your relationship, too in love to pay attention to anyone or anything else, just locking yourselves inside your own little world.

But even so, you still can’t help but wonder.. where the hell did that glittery notebook go?

.....

A/N: Never did I ever think I would one day write about toxic Eren, but here he is. I guess that's the mood I'm in🙄 God he’s so manipulative but also so hot, it’s like damn. Anywho, hope you enjoyed this fucker<3

#Eren Jaeger #eren jaeger smut #eren #eren smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader

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promenadewithme · 10 months

Text

The Viscount Who Deceived Me - Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | ...

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem! Reader, Benedict Bridgerton x Fem! Reader

Warnings: none, I think

Word Count: 1.7K

a/n: I'm having a lot of fun writing this series!

You took a deep breath and stepped out of your carriage in front of the Cowper residence.

Closing your eyes and gathering strength, you straightened your shoulders and released all the pent up air in your chest.

"Are you alright, my dear?" your mama asked, taking your arm in hers.

You gave her your best smile, that still turned out small, and answered "I'm perfectly fine."

She didn't believe you, but nonetheless nodded. You both walked around the house and greeted people you knew on the way to the gardens.

Candles were lit, floral patterns were freshly painted on the grass, and everyone was dressed in varied tones of red, orange and black. The invitation had said it would be a blazing event and that the guests should dress in the hues of fire.

There was said to be a never before seen surprise to do with the theme at the end of the night, but many disapproved, thinking it was too provocative for a ball.

You had thought it might be fun and were very excited to see what this innovative surprise might be.

You abandoned your family greens for a burgundy dress that evening. Madame Delacroix had truly outdone herself with your dress this time. The light fabric along with your hanging sleeves made it look like your clothes were dancing with your every move.

"There are the Bridgertons." pointed your mama with a nod of her head.

Sure enough, you saw the whole family except for the little ones.

They spotted both of you as you made your way over. You smiled and curtsied politely, trying to avoid Anthony's gaze. He made it impossible when he took your hand in his and bowed to kiss it.

'Has he ever kissed her hand?' you wondered.

'Of course he has, he was already kissing her neck. He might have even kissed her lips.'

"How are you this evening?" he asked.

"Perfectly fine." you said, but your voice was too weak, pitch too high.

"Alright then, if that is all." Eloise took your arm in hers and started dragging you away "We will be on our way."

"Do not linger too far!" called out Violet, but the two of you were already gone.

You leaned closer to your friend and whispered "Thank you."

"You looked like you saw a ghost, I had you get you out." she answered, looking around.

You spotted Penelope in a corner grabbing a champagne flute from a passing servant and gestured to Eloise that you had found her.

"Ah."

The two of you walked towards her and she smiles when she spotted you.

"There you are! I was beginning to think I'd have to spend the rest of the night in the company of plants." she quipped.

"I wish I could have stayed home," huffed Eloise, crossing her arms and glaring at a gentleman who passed by looking at her "You know how much I despise these sordid events."

You chuckled and nudged her with your elbow "Are you not the least bit excited for this surprise they have planned?"

"I am excited to finish my book. I am excited to lay down in bed and sleep."

"What are you reading?" you asked, looking forward to the topic.

The three of you were the only women your age you knew that enjoyed reading. Most ladies of the ton found that improving your mind with extensive reading was not an accomplishment, but a waste of time.

'Men do not want a woman who has read Shakespeare, they want a wife who can entertain them with the pianoforte or their voice. Men want women who can embroider and paint, not someone to discuss politics with.' was what you had heard a gentleman saying while you were at the bookshop one time.

"Wuthering Heights." she answered excitedly.

"What is it about?" questioned Penelope before taking another sip of her champagne.

"Vengeance." she smiled.

"I am very much afraid of you sometimes." you said and Pen nodded.

"Thank you," she touched her heart "but, in all earnest, it is a very good book. The both of you should read it."

"Can I borrow your copy after I finish my current read?" smiled Pen.

"Of course, I shall drop it off as soon as I finish it. What are you reading now?"

"Pride and Prejudice." she said and you gasped.

"So am I!" you exclaimed excitedly, gaining a few disapproving looks from other guests.

"What do you think of Bingley? she asked with a smile and a slight flush to her cheeks.

"I think he reminds me a bit of Colin," you leaned closer to her ear "and you remind me a bit of Jane."

"Oh, hush." she chided, but her cheeks had turned crimson and she grinned "Do you really think so?"

"I do." you nodded and turned to Eloise "And you, my dear friend, are Elizabeth Bennet."

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged the corner of her lips. "And who might you be?"

"Me?" you stopped for a second to consider your options "Well, I suppose I must be poor Mr Collins."

They both laughed and everything seemed so normal. When you were like this with your friends, it was like all your troubles faded away.

You did not have to marry the man who betrayed you, you did not have to worry about taking one step out of line with the fear of having to be wed to the oldest man you knew, you did not feel nauseous and anxious like you had the rest of the day. With Eloise and Penelope, you could just be.

That feeling of peace faded all too quickly when Anthony appeared in front of you and bowed "May I have your first dance?"

All colour drained from your face and you had to clear your throat before answering "You may."

He wrote his name on your dance card next to the first song. A quadrille.

At least you would not spend the whole dance with him.

He offered you his arm and you took it, giving your friends one last glance. They tried to smile encouragingly, but it looked more like they were grimacing.

You took a deep breath as you stepped into position. Four couples, including yourselves, stood in rectangular formation. You and Anthony on one side, a married couple to your right, Philippa Featherington and Finch to your left, and Benedict with Cressida Cowper in front of you.

Your shoulders were hunched, your muscles tense. Anthony's hand felt cold in yours and you remembered how it had touched the opera singer.

Benedict locked eyes with you and his gaze was warm. His eyebrows furrowed and he mouthed "are you alright?"

You forced a smile and nodded just as the song started. He didn't look like he believed you, but didn't say anything else.

The string quartet continued as you turned to Anthony and bowed to each other, you repeated the same with Finch. While the couples at your side met in the centre and danced around one another, switching partners then back, you stayed in place.

Benedict continued looking worriedly at you and you gave him a small smile.

Anthony interrupted your silent communication when he leaned close to your ear and whispered "I have to talk to you. About us."

"Are you sure this is the right time?" you asked and inwardly cursed him for bringing this up.

"This is the perfect time." he said before taking you to the centre of the group.

You briefly grasped both of Benedict's hands before passing by him and meeting with Anthony again. He held your left hand on his and his right held your waist. You stayed that way as you walked around the couples.

"Have you received the flowers?" he asked, a hopeful look on his face.

Anthony had sent you roses after you left the house that morning. Your mother had said it was romantic, you thought it was generic.

"I have." you answered, nodding curtly at Philippa.

'Does he even know that my favourite flowers are tulips?' you contemplated sadly. 'I was so blind to think he loved me.'

"Good, good. And are they to your liking?" he probed and you contained an annoyed sigh.

"They are perfectly fine." you stated, looking anywhere else but him as you stepped into your starting place again.

"I know that you have not forgiven me for what I have done." he whispered solemnly.

Your eyes burned and you stared at Cressida's hem, the couples on each side of you switched partners.

'I will not talk about this, I will not cry in public, I will not make cause a scandal.' you repeated the words over and over in your head.

When you said nothing, he continued "I do not expect you to forgive me, but I would be grateful if you would give me a chance to explain."

"There is nothing to explain." you spat then took a deep breath to calm yourself "I already know everything."

"But you do not." he insisted "You do not know the half of it."

You scoffed "If that was merely half, I do not wish to know the rest at all."

Stepping forward once again, Anthony and Benedict switched partners. One hand on your waist and the other holding yours, he leaned forward and his lips brushed against your ear, breath tickling your neck.

"Save your next dance for me?" he whispered and chills ran down your spine.

"Yes." you nodded as you switched brothers again.

"If you will not let me explain," he said, alternating his feet in front of him to the rhythm of the quartet's melody "at least let me say that I will no longer be seeing Siena."

"I truly do not care." you said between your teeth, attempting to hide your anger behind a smile "Do what you will, it does not matter to me. Not anymore."

Anthony pulled your body flush to his by the waist, searching eyes boring deeply into your soul.

"You hate me." he stated gravely.

"I do not hate you." you sighed.

"You do, I have wronged you and you have every right to hate me. What I do not understand is why you are choosing to marry a man you now despise."

Your voice was small and desperate when you answered "It is not a choice, Anthony."

The song ended and you untangled yourself from him. You curtsied and turned to walk as far away from a furrow-browed Anthony as possible.

a/n: guys!!!! I got so many requests for a part 3!! I hope you are all enjoying reading this series as much as I do writing it! (ps: this was my first time writing dialogue during a dance, so please tell me if it was bad or too confusing)

General Taglist: @crazy-beautiful @missryerye @flourishandblotts-inc

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Series Tag List @snixx2088 @acourtofbooksandfantasy @alldaysdreamer @dandansdays @freyagallileaevans @alldaysdreamers @lizziesfirstwife @theonewithallthemilkshakes @freyathehuntress @ilovehopelessromantics @venomsvl @claire-loves-music @looneyleo @mmontgomery12-blog @myownworldsstuff @booknerdlifelover @fandomluver-101 @littleone65 @freyathehuntress @mxacegrey @pet1t3 @otheliesstuff

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#anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fic #anthony x reader #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x sis!reader #benedict bridgerton

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mathanlin · 9 months

Text

// mentions of past abuse & neglect, burns

Foster AU where foster kid!Tommy’s ready to destroy the Watsons.

Not *fight* them — he’s not stupid (and… maybe he falters at their persistent kindness). But there’s other ways to get his anger out.

Like vandalism.

And his first target is Phil’s stupid parenting book.

The stupid fucker left it out, bookmarked and all. It falls open as Tommy snatches it, intending to shred the thing.

His eyes catch a few words. Abuse. Neglect. Trauma.

But what he truly reads is the highlighted line.

“...may act aggressive or lash out to hide their fear.”

Tommy… hesitates.

No. This is adrenaline & anger, not— not fear.

But he won’t rip the book to confetti (celebrating how he’ll surely be forced out). He just grabs a pen, scribbling out the stupid highlighted line.

And scrawls his own note. “Fuck you. I’m not fucking afraid.”

And he’s *not.*

Not when he’s driving back from school, bantering with (and insulting) the twins. Not when he strolls into the Watson’s house, laughing too loud to be safe.

Not when he sees Phil on the couch, book open in his lap.

Tommy freezes in the doorway, paralyzed as the twins tumble past him.

Phil looks up. Right at Tommy. And… maybe, just for a second, he’s afraid.

But that’s replaced by jaw-dropping confusion as Phil just *smiles,* setting the book to the side. “Hey mate. How was the day?”

Fuck it. Tommy hates him, but he hates being confused more. (And that’s what this is. Confusion. Not fear.)

So he stays silent as the twins joke with him, as Phil makes supper, as they drift off to bed.

And the moment he’s alone, he rushes to the book & flips it open.

There’s his mess of scribbled-out lines. His note, in ugly bold.

And… neat, small handwriting, right beneath it.

“It’s alright to be scared *or* angry.”

And next to it, a *fucking smiley face.*

Tommy’s jaw drops even before his eyes flick to the other note, a Post-It on the page.

“It’s the one-week anniversary of your first day here! We’d love to get you a gift, let me know what you’d like.”

One week. Like he’s staying.

Like he deserves gifts, after what he’s done.

Tommy’s eyes don’t burn. He doesn’t forget to breathe, trembling quietly.

No. He just scoffs out loud. (Even if it wavers painfully, far too close to a sob.)

And grabs a pen.

The next morning, the book’s moved, sitting on the end table next to Phil’s favorite mug.

And the next evening, there’s a stack of gifts outside Tommy’s room. (Despite his note, “I don’t need shit. Fuck off.”)

Soft sweaters. Little fidget toys. Candy.

And an annotating set.

Tommy much prefers his permanent marker — thick, bold, destructive.

But Phil never seems to see it like that. No matter how much Tommy swears or blots out the book’s sappier lines.

And even then, he’s… talking, more. Having genuine conversations through notes in the margins.

“Which of these sounds nice?”

Tommy goes still, staring at Phil’s neat handwriting. His heart hitches at the little chart above it. Types of affection. Hugs. Compliments. Gifts.

Hand trembling, he grabs his own pen. No sharpie.

For once, he feels like being quiet.

“I don’t need any of these. I never have.”

The thought festers in his mind, no matter how many times Wil ruffles his hair or Techno’s dry remarks turn to compliments. Or how Phil looks at him, so impossibly soft.

And when Phil replies, it’s only two words.

“Page 96.”

Tommy can barely turn the pages, his hands are shaking so hard.

And when he does, he can hardly see through his tears.

The book’s text is neat. Scientific. Pragmatic.

And it still tears Tommy apart.

“Every child requires and deserves affection, both physical and emotional.”

Then, a little note below it. Phil’s.

“Please let me know if you’d like to talk.”

And… Tommy wants to, if just to answer the questions crying out in his mind.

To stop his tears from dripping onto the book’s pages.

(If I deserved it, why didn’t I get it?)

He tucks the book under his arm, grabbing Phil’s mug from the end table with shaking hands.

Tea. He’ll make tea. Phil’s favorite, so that even if he pushes Tommy away, maybe he won’t hate him enough to force him away for good.

(And so Tommy can calm himself. So he can stop crying, so he can talk instead of sob.)

But he never gets the chance to speak.

One trembling misstep is all it takes.

The mug tips, sending boiling water over Tommy’s desperately reaching hands. With a horrible crash, it shatters across the floor.

And the stupid fucking book sits right in the puddle’s center, no longer soaked with just Tommy’s tears.

Right there, he gives up, crumpling to the kitchen floor despite the shards beneath him.

It doesn’t matter that his hands ache, in agony from the scalding burn. His heart hurts worse, as he finally lets himself sob, alone.

It isn’t anger. It isn’t just adrenaline.

It’s fear.

But it doesn’t matter. He won’t ask for comfort or someone to cling to.

(Even if he apparently ‘needs’ and ‘deserves’ it.)

No. He’ll stay quiet — what every foster parent had wanted of him, and what only Phil had managed to get.

He’d wanted to break everything in the beginning. To be loud, to destroy things, to hurt the Watsons in any way possible.

But now, if he’s the last thing to break?

He’ll give no words, no written notes.

He’ll be quiet.

“Oh god. Tommy.”

It’s the worst thing that could’ve happened. Phil, standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at the broken porcelain. And the book, utterly ruined.

But the things he seems most concerned with are Tommy’s hands.

“Here,” he says, guiding Tommy to the sink and nudging his hands beneath the cold water. He obeys numbly, frozen as Phil disinfects and bandages every burn.

When he finishes, Tommy finds the strength to speak, curled into the couch like it could protect him.

“Are you mad at me?”

They’re the first words he’s spoken directly to Phil in ages. With his burnt, bandaged hands, it’s not like he can write.

(And maybe he’d like to hear Phil’s voice, too.)

Phil looks at him so softly Tommy can almost believe what he says.

“No. I’ve never been mad at you.”

“But— I broke your mug.”

“I just want you to be okay,” Phil says, glancing at Tommy’s bandaged hands like they’re hurting him too. He laughs quietly. “The mug doesn’t matter.”

“And… and the book?”

Phil goes still, and Tommy almost sobs in fear.

But the man just leans closer, ducking his head to meet Tommy’s eyes like he’s uttering a promise.

“I only cared about that book because of you,” he says quietly. “So you’d feel comfortable. So you’d ask me for whatever you needed.”

Tommy swallows, curled in on himself. There’s no time to think about his response, no proofreading like when he’d written them out.

So when Phil quietly asks, “Is there anything you need?”

Tommy whispers, weak and desperate, “A hug?”

And of course, Phil gives it. That, and so much more.

The mug’s shards get sweeped up, and the first thing Phil makes in the kitchen is Tommy’s favorite breakfast.

For once, he lets himself enjoy it. Enjoy *them,* their laughter and love so freely given.

And the first thing he writes after his hands have healed?

His name. His signature, really.

Right next to Phil’s, on the final line of his adoption papers.

#mcyt #dsmp #dsmp au #sbi #sbi au #threadfic #tommyinnit #technoblade #wilbur soot #philza

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greypetrel · 7 months

Text

Crisp those Lines!

Or: a small collection of suggestions for a crispy, neat lineart.

SO MANY OF YOU ASKED FOR THIS (it feels absurd to say, yes), so here you go.

A premise: there's no right or wrong way of inking, and some of the following tips entirely depend on the type of inking I do. Which is neat and clean, with no blacks, and moreover: digitally. More under the cut because it's gonna be long and full of explanatory pictures. Here's an example:

SOFTWARES AND BRUSHES:

Let's address the elephant in the room: Photoshop SUCKS for inking and linework. The stabilisation of the brush there is SHIT. Good for colouring and painting and doing photobashing, but for Lineart you want it to be precise. Do yourself a favour and don't use Photoshop. I generally use Clip Studio Paint, but i have to say that the best program for it that I've tried keeps being Paint Tool SAI 2. It has few functions, it's true, and I use CSP because it has more instruments. But if you don't want to pay much, SAI is incredible as for brush rendition and stabilisation.

As for the brush: you don't need a fancy brush, anything in your software will go. What I use and what works best tho must have:

Tapered start and end.

High stabilisation (I go from 60 upward, lower it down for trees and grass or anything more natural that needs to be less neat and flowy)

Low tapering.

It must be set so that pressure controls only the dimension. The more you push on your pen, the bigger the line gets. No colour or opaciy variation!

On Clip Studio Paint, I use the G-Pen in the program. It's good as it is, but I think I did some variations as per here:

FILE DIMENSIONS:Better work larger and then resize down. Sizing files up digitally is possible, but it leads to unfocused images. I generally work on files at 600dpi (300 is fine too, but don't go any lower. Particularly if that's something you want to print later on, any printing wants a minimum of 300dpi). in roughly an A3 format (bigger dimension is 43cm). Most pictures I upload here are 6000x5000 pixel. A bigger file will give you more possibilities with brush sizes, and it'll be easier. Remember: digitally, sizing down is ok, sizing up is not something you should do.

SKETCH:

This is the suggestion I should follow but never do. Having a clean, polished sketch simplifies your life A LOT. This is because if you don't have to worry about drawing details and fixing the anatomy of your drawing during the lineart, and doing it so GOOD because it's the lineart... You'll go that much slower and your life will be more complicated (it's not impossible, my sketches usually are very rough. I am ok with it, the most I do drawing wise is during the lineart... But I'm lazy, don't do like me. A good sketch will help you out.) Compare the two sketches below:

Another note about your sketch layer: you know those memes that complains that the sketch looks good but when you hide it the lineart is shitty? That's easily solvable. When you're inking, lower the opacity of the sketch layer down, A LOT. I generally go for a 30 or 40% opacity (depending on the colour of the sketch. the yellow sketch will go around 40% because it's less visible, the purple one lower).

When you're inking, you MUST see clearly the lineart you're doing. If the sketch isn't contrasting enough, you won't see clearly what you're doing... It's like trying to sketch with a dim light, not seeing the paper clearly. See the difference:

BEFORE YOU START:

You probably have read it everywhere, but it bears repeating: warm up your hand. You're using muscles and for more than five minutes. The warmer they are, the firmer your hand is, the easier it gets controlling your lines. It also prevents you from damaging your wrist. Stretching is also great, and grippers are nice to have. Keep your hand fit!

As for warming up: I usually do some calligraphy exercises, practicing on flowy cursives. You want to practice varying the pressure of your lines in a single trait, hence why calligraphy is good. But generally, what you can do is...

PRESSURE VARIATION AND LONG LINES:

So. My main tip and trick is to vary the pressure of your lines. In the same line, and between different details. This will help making the lineart more dynamic and interesting. A note: this works for semi-realistic styles. If your goal is obtaining a Cartoon Network style: they have generally little to no variation and it works. My suggestion would be to study the kind of style and effect you want to obtain, different styles will work best with different linearts. If you're aiming at hyperrealistic painting, there's no point in spending time over a lineart, for example, I inked the same lineart, but with a brush that doesn't vary it's dimensions with pressure, and not changing the dimension of the brush.

What makes my linearts look "flowy" and "neat" is the fact that I tend to draw less lines and longer, and pay attention when I stop, to start the line where I end it. This will give the impression of one continuous, single line, and make everything more fluid. See above in the french hood: on the right, I left the line rough on purpose, you can see where I stopped and started again. On the left, where I took care of it, you can't.

Generally speaking:

Thick, dark lines communicate that the object is close to the viewer (always keep the viewer in mind!) or in shadow. Lines should be thicker on the outside of your objects, to separate two planes, and in stuff closer to you.

Thin lines are delicate, they should be used in the background, for small details (see the hair, the lips, the small wrinkles around her eyes.)

As for line continuity: in both cases, the line of her face is one single line I drew. This can be obtained with a smooth result, particularly in curved lines, by getting the brush stabilisation on higher settings (80-100): sacrifice speed for accuracy.

MORE IS MORE, WHEN IT COMES TO LEVELS:

Particularly when there are two objects intersecating, or more characters interacting… Instead of inking all on the same level, I always do one level for each object, trace the WHOLE line as if there was nothing above, and then erase where it's not shown. This is a little thing, but pays off. Always in the drawing of above, the feather and the hem of the bodice were on separate layers, and then I erased the bodice under the feather. Take advantage of being inking digitally and not traditionally!

For many characters, here's an example of a vignette of a comic page before cleaning it up and erasing. Every single character and the weapons are on separate layers

For this it's very useful knowing your recurring mistakes. For example, I tend to draw heads bigger than they should. I know I do, so generally I keep the head on its own level, and the body on another, so it's easier to modify and size down just the head without getting crazy selecting only the lines you want with the lazo.

Again, you're inking digitally. It's not easier than traditionally necessarily, take full advantage of your instrument!

OTHER TIPS AND TRICKS:

High brush stabilisation sacrifices speed for accuracy. The line will lag a little from your cursor. Get used to watching the cursor and not the line, and trust that the line will follow.

GO SLOW.

Rotate and flip the canvas. Don't ask me why, but tracing long lines towards me is always easier than not the other way around.

Use the Free Transform, Warp, Distort etc etc and the Liquify to your heart's content if you notice the lineart has something wrong. The only cheating in art is using fucking AI generators (and AI pictures are not art, sorry not sorry)

References are your friends. Study how an artist you like does the lineart. Try and imitate them, and if you can and need to post them: tag them! (don't trace and sell it as your own)

Experiment with brushes, find one that you like for the effect you'd love. You do you, there's no right or wrong way of inking.

Remember to breathe when you trace those lines! (and to drink and do pauses and stretch, you don't want a tendonitis!)

Have fun. Lineart is not evil, lineart is your friend!

I hope this essay is exhaustive enough. I'm tagging ALL THE PEOPLE that requested it (and giving each of you a muffin). @ndostairlyrium @narina-gnagno @salsedine @whimsyswastry @layalu @n7viper

If you have any questions, don't hesitate in asking!

#tutorials #lineart #inking #digital inking #digital art #tips and tricks #petrel explains #COME LO FECI (cit)#listen if we're mutuals and we chat... ask me to share my screen I don't mind the company when I work if it's not something I can't show #or if it's not too late at night for me #also I unironically like how Alyra inked without variation looks even angrier and more judgemental than normal LOL #also some spoilers for The Last Bacchae if you follow that #“Marmotta” means “Groundhog” in italian #art ref

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spider999sposts · 10 months

Note

All this Miguel O’Hara content 🥵🥵🥵

Genuinely unsure if I’ve submitted this already, I am getting LOST in these fics, but what about a scenario involving that famous upside-down kiss but with Miguel O’Hara??

I’ve had daydreams of Miguel starting to frequent the coffee shop I tend to go to when having some work projects to do- we have some interactions, short chats; “another spreadsheet?” / me forgetting I have my pen in my mouth while typing, “neff-“ *taking pen out* “never underestimate the power of a good spreadsheet”

Just like… flirty friendly strangers. Then somehow ends up in an interaction with spiderman 2099 in that classic rainy upside-down kiss style 😩😮‍💨🥵

Your fics don’t help my feral obsession for this man and I’m so curious as to what you’d come up with, I neeeeed him 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Not Really Strangers — Miguel O'Hara

🕸synopsis: miguel o'hara gets his very own spiderkiss

🕸genre: fluff

🕸tags: miguel o'hara × reader

🕸a.n: thank you for requesting anon! so fun to write a version of this idea <3 requests are open everyone <3

Working at the Daily Bugle, meant that for most of the time, you had to do work that was not yours.

Your job didn't even include this in the work description when you first applied, you were suppose to be writing articles on what is happening in Nueva York, not making excel sheets of sales and marketing. At first, you did it to fill in for your pregnant co-worker in sales, but ever since she went on maternity leave, your boss, J. Jonah Jameson had designated you the office's sales rep, apparently, without even taking off some of your own work load.

Getting anything done in the office was near impossible nowadays with everyone looming over you, asking if you were done, if the spreadsheets were coming along, if the articles were finished, so you'd dissappear for a couple of hours when the office was at its busiest, taking your laptop and working at the coffeehouse right infront of the building you worked at.

You used to make fun of those who sat at coffee shops, with their big headphones and overpriced drinks, but now you realised how much you actually got done when no one was hanging over your shoulder, asking if you got it done. You've adopted a habit out of going to this café, to the point where you were recognised by the baristas and some of the regulars.

You never really spoke with any of the other regular customers, always gave them a polite wave or just said 'Goodmorning' or 'Have a good one.' depending on the person. None of them made any attempts at speaking with you, so you never really paid them any mind either. They were just familiar faces who made this place feel a little more homely.

Your first encounter with one of the regulars though, was certainly something.

You remember seeing him a couple of times, who wouldn't remember seeing that? Tall man, muscular arms, massive back, soft tufts of blackish brown hair and a brooding look, a nice ass—maybe a little too nice, always wearing that white jacket over any kind of shirt. He'd always come in, order the same coffee, every time.

His voice was queit, he mumbled most of the time and he had a deep, low voice, "One large americano, please." He'd get his drink, sip on it while scrolling through his phone or messing with his watch, then leave. You watched him do this routine one too many times, and one day you caught his name. "One large ameircano for Miguel!"

You never really did anything beyond stare at him, glancing at him between breaks after crunching numbers on your computer. He was just another –attractive– stranger. Nothing too special about him. No need to freak out.

That was until you were holding up the line one day, while looking for your wallet. You were nervously checking all your pockets, getting more and more nervous when you heard the irritation of the customers behind you. You almost had a breakdown when you heard someone walking over, bumping into everyone else. "Sorry—Lo siento—Hello." It was him, him and his...glorious chest and round ass. Him and his stupidly high cheekbones and plump lips. "Add one large americano to that, please. What's the total at?"

"17.75 dollars."

"Tsk, La inflación está afectando todo, ¿eh?"

[Inflation is affecting everything, huh?]

He pulled out his wallet and slid the money over the counter before you could even register. The line moved when the two of you made your way out of it, standing to the side to get your drinks. "Thank you, you didn't have to do that." You said, a blush creeping on your face. He didn't seem like a person who smiled very much, but he gave you a small grin, shaking his head. "Don't mention it. Besides, you really were holding up that line."

You laugh, even though it wasn't all that funny. "I..couldn't find my wallet. That never happens. I think I just left it back at the office. I'll fetch it to pay you back–"

"Oh, no need, my treat. I've wanted to buy you a drink for a while now."

From there, you start talking. You tell him why you became a regular, your hectic office and your demanding boss. He tells you he comes to avoid how hectic it gets too, tells you he works at Alchemax, and you salute him for surviving this long, he tells you it's all thanks to the coffee breaks he gets here and you laugh.

From here on out, you two keep bumping into each other at the coffeeshop. He'd come over and sit with you when it was too crowded, and it slowly became a thing with him, your thing with him. He'd sit at your table, watching you work and occasionally chatting with you, asking how it's going.

"What does a journalist have to do with sales?"

"Tvat—"You took the pen out of your mouth, putting it behind your ear. "—That is what I said!" He laughed, taking a sip of his coffee.

"It's cute how irritated you get. Here, let me help you."

Other days, when he seems a little busier, he flashs you one of those smiles of his, and drops a paper bag on the table before leaving, always containing some kind of sugary pastry to keep you going.

"I've got to run today, but make sure you eat well."

"Oh, are you concerned about me?"

"Of course I am, you're my periodista favorito." [Favourite Journalist]

"Spanglish!"

"Give me a break."

When he's on the phone and rushing out, he'd wave and wink, mouthing you a 'Goodluck' as he walked out the door.

And when you were working late, he'd offer to walk you home, saying it's the gentlemanly thing to do.

"That is me.."

"Ah, not so far from work, huh?"

"Not at all. Thank you for walking me."

"Of course, hermosa, wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you."

"Not with you around."

You didn't see Miguel very often after that, you mentally crused yourself for not asking for his number, but you had to remind yourself, you came here to get work done, to get spreadsheets filled out, to get articles written, not to daydream about a –gloriously handsome– man like its a school crush.

You ended up working over time back at your desk, going home at hours that you should probably be compensated for. Today was just one of those days. Your co-workers had all left, leaving you to lock the office. Once you were done, you exited the building, the cold autumn air flowing through your lungs and the pouring rain dampening your hair. You moved quickly, there were no taxis at this hour, so you pulled your coat closer to your body and made your way down the street. You didn't live too far from where the Daily Bugle was, but with this weather, you much preferred to be in a vehicle.

It was getting a little harder to see, the downpour was getting heavier and your vision was getting blurry. It didn't help how you could hear a pair of footsteps behind you—Make that two pairs of footsteps behind you. This time of night made people of every kind come out of the shadows. You just had to get to your neighbourhood and everything will be fine.

"Oi, sweetcheeks, wait up!"

"We just wanna have a chat, baby, stop walking so damn fast!"

You were practically speeding infront of them, trying to lose them by moving in between buildings. Maybe it wasn't the smartest of decisions, because by the third time, you found yourself met with a dead end. The two men from earlier seemed to have picked up a friend, and the three of them were approaching you in a menacing manner. You saw one of them holding something in his hand, the blade glinted in the pitch darkness. The other two lunged at you, pinning you to the wall. You let out a loud scream and started kicking, but it was to no avail. The armed man stepped closer to you, running his blade across your clothes, with a disgusting grin on his face.

"Gonna be a nice night, eh?"

You moved, kicking him between his legs. He recoiled, taking his time straightening up while his two filthy friends held you back tighter.

"We've got a fiesty one, h—"

A man moved out of the shadows, a familiar blue and red glow following him as he lunged at the perpetrator, knocking the swiss knife from his hand. The two men let you go and launched themselves at him, while the other one struggled to grab his knife from off the ground. Your not-so-unknown hero knocked out the two henchmen, webbing them to each other and kicking them to the side while he swiftly handled the third one. He was fast, incredibly fast, you could hear the man struggle to keep up with him, until he was finally knocked out near his two friends.

You stood mesmerised, staring at his massive back as he stood looming over the three of them. "¿Tu madre no te ha enseñado modales?" He grumbled. He must've felt your gaze, because he looked back at you. Your eyes met his red irsis, as he stood unmasked, the only thing concealing his face was the darkness you stood in.

[Has your mother taught you no manners?]

You took a few steps towards him, and he immediately moved, launching himself up. "Hey, wait!" You ran up to the street, looking up at the roofs of the two buildings you stood between. Behind you, you could hear a ziiiip! and when you turned around, your not-so-friendly masked hero stared at you, hanging upside down.

"Oh my god, hey." You smiled at him, putting your hands on your heart. It felt like was going to jump out of your chest.

"Hey." He replied, "¿Qué es algo bonito como que haces tan tarde en la noche?"

[What's a pretty thing like you doing this late at night?]

His voice sounded like you've heard it before, the way he rolled his r's and that thick spanish accent of his made him feel a little too familiar to you.

"I—I was working late." You replied after a bit, the glow of his suit reflecting in your eyes. "Spreadsheets again?" He asked, and the question made you laugh. "Yeah! My boss needed them finished."

"You shouldn't stay this late out." His tone was authoritative, "Especially all alone. Who knows what would've happened if I wasn't...in the area."

Unknown to you, he wasn't exactly 'in the area', he was making sure you'd get home safe. Just like he did every other night you went home late.

"Usually I have a friend that walks me home, but I haven't seen him in a while." You explain, before nodding. "But you're right. I won't stay this late again."

"Ah, good. Take care of yourself."

"Are you always this concerned about the people you save?"

"Just the pretty ones."

Your skin heated up, and you took a step towards him with a smile. "That's not very fair of you, Mr. Spiderman. I'm a journalist you know, I could hold this against you."

"But you won't." He chuckled, and you tilted your head at his playfulness. "You like me too much."

"My boss doesn't though, writing something negative about you could give me a raise."

"Mm, that's your thanks for saving you?"

You laugh, and move a bit closer to him so your faces were inches apart. A moment of silence fell upon the two of you, as you gently hooked your finger against the fabric of his mask.

"Wait—" One of his big hands wrapped around your wrist, but he quickly removed it, holding on to his red webs instead.

You lowered his mask and set it gently on his sharp nose. You could see his tanned skin glistening with rain droplets, his plump lips were parted and there was a recognisable small scar on his neck, peeking from under the suit. You wrapped your hands around his warm cheeks, and leaned in, pressing your lips to his. They were soft, just like how you imagined they would be. He kissed you back, closing his eyes under the mask, letting himself savour this moment as much as he could. You were ever so gentle, your breath hitched in your throat and your mouth slightly open.

You pulled back after a few minutes, and he leaned forward, not really ready to let go of you. He fought the urges he's been feeling ever since the first time he saw you in the coffeeshop, but if it were up to him, he would've had you kiss him until the two of you were breathless.

"That is my thanks." You replied, taking a step back with a smile on your face. "I'll see you around, right?" You asked, and he nodded. "You will."

You turned your back to him and made your way out to the street, the smile still on your face.

"Oh, and spiderman?"

"Yeah?"

"I didn't tell you about the spreadsheets."

His cheeks flushed as he watched you go, he followed you on the rooftops until he made sure you entered the apartment building safely.

His gizmo beeped, and a notification caught his eye.

Canon Event Completed.

#across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miguel o'hara #marvel #lyla spiderverse #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o hara fluff #miguel needs a hug #answered #requests #requests are always open everyone !!#more requests please <3

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