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chuluoyi · 3 months

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HAPPY MARRIAGE

- nanami kento x reader

“you don't deserve to be unhappy. and i don’t want to be unhappy, either.” you have always wondered where did you and kento go wrong. in the wake of your divorce, as you both returned to single lives, you and kento would come to realize what constitutes a happy marriage is... and it takes more than just love

genre: post-divorce angst, crack, misunderstandings, arguments, hurt/comfort, bestfriend!gojo is going to help your love life, and fluff in the end!

note: this fic... goes through a major change overnight after i was struck with a wholly different plot *sobs* and then i went through a major writing block for at least a week before i know what words i'm going to write :') anyways, this isn't really proofread so please forgive any typos to the anon who requested this and others, i do hope you'll enjoy it! tagging @tiredkitten as per request <3

listen to: today more than yesterday - kim jong kook

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

No divorce ever comes easy.

When couples enter into marriage, they do so with the dream of a lifelong bond filled with love and compassion. You too did once. And even until now, you still want that for yourself.

When you married Nanami Kento three years ago, you thought it was for eternity. He was your dream man, the only man you could see yourself with. He embodied everything that was just and righteous, and he was also kind man, who would always put you first, shielding you from any sort of harm.

Even if the source of that ‘harm’ turned out to be himself.

“You don't deserve to be unhappy. and I don’t want to be unhappy, either.”

Strangely, you didn't resent Kento that much, in the end. At that time, both of you had come to terms with it and you couldn't blame anyone. But now, six months later, as you sat in this shabby bar, downing shots of gin with your thoughts swirling in an alcohol-induced haze, your emotions were all over the place, and moreover, the presence of a certain clown before you was just particularly irksome, and you knew that he was someone you could blame—

“Gojo, you prick!”

Gojo raised one righteous eyebrow. "Who, me? Sorry, but I'm not your ex-husband?"

Gojo Satoru was the witness to several milestone in your life. Insufferable as he was, somehow you clicked with him ever since your early days as a jujutsu sorcerer. You remembered sending him your handpicked wedding invitation, having him celebrating your promotions, and then coming to him with tears running down your face in the middle of the night, telling him, “We are getting a divorce.”

"You!" you snapped, slamming down your glass of gin, whipping your head around to face the blindfolded idiot that was your longtime friend. Your index finger accusingly aimed at him. "This is all your fault!"

"Wha—"

"Because of you!"

"Okay, now it's clear that you're just too far gone—"

You hiccupped, your tone laced with fiery emotion. "If it weren't for you—if you hadn't been so adamant about setting us up back then—!"

Gojo grimaced. Ah, so this was the so-called drunken musings. While it was amusing to see his friend of 7 years in this state, even he couldn't deny how a tad bit pitiful you were.

"...then maybe," you started to deflate, eyes watering and lips trembling, sniffling. "I-I won't have to go through this..."

Correction, you were so pitiful you had no idea. But still, as a longtime associate, he couldn't bring himself to abandon you there, wallowing in your sorrows all alone.

He sighed and patted your back. "There, there... what about I introduce you to other guys, hmm? See if it'll lessen the pain away?"

You shot him a look so hateful despite your bleary vision. "No! Last time you did, it ended in a divorce for me! I refuse to let you turn me into a two-time divorcee!"

"I'm pretty sure your marriage is far from my business, I'm just your kind-hearted, handsome broker—"

"Bah! You— tasteless prick!"

You burped loudly afterwards and Gojo winced, and then you suddenly (and theatrically, he might add) slumped face-down onto the table with a thud, passed out in all your drunken glory.

And Gojo could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief.

. . .

He thought then, that you were definitely going to owe him one after this.

More often than not, throughout the past six months, Nanami also found himself thinking about you too.

Despite his calm exterior, separation with you didn't come easy for him. There was a reason he married you in the first place—he had loved you, and he too wanted it to last. You used to be the reason he went home on time each and everyday, the reason he eagerly anticipated spending his weekends with.

Everything had fallen apart before either of you realized it. Some disagreements suddenly spiraled into lonely nights, no updates during longer missions, your tears, and then ended with both of you filing the papers in the city hall to end it all.

Six months ago, he thought he was final with his decision. He thought it was the best as he was faced with the sight of your tear-streaked face.

“Kento, I’m not asking m-much, am I?” you asked between sobs, wiping your tears harshly. “Aren’t w-we family? Shouldn’t we be doing a lot of things—together?”

Recalling that moment now, it tugged at his heartstrings anew. Yet, despite everything...

“I’m telling you, I know my limits—”

“Is that all you have to say? Don’t you know how sick with worry I am?” you ended up shouting at him, voice quivering. “Put yourself in my shoes and think: how can I possibly sleep at night, constantly fearing that my husband might—” your voice broke, fresh tears flowing freely. “—might not come back?!”

He was the one who backed away first, who made you lose all hope, and ultimately, placed the sentence upon you.

“If you don't have it in you to... then, perhaps it's for the best that we... just get a divorce.”

"Nanami-san, you okay?"

He looked up from the sizzling barbeque grill pan to his junior, Ino Takuma, who looked concerned as he flipped the meat. "You have been staring into space for a while..."

"I'm fine, Ino-kun." He looked down and grabbed the tongs, flipping his side of beef.

Ino let out a sympathetic sigh. "Honestly, lately, you seem down."

Words he was holding back were "ever since your divorce", but Ino was pretty sure his senior understood the implicaton.

Nanami hummed. "Sometimes life just doesn't go as swimmingly... I'm fine."

Ino never really knew you that well and was curious. In fact, he was so very curious. When it comes to Nanami Kento, everything he does and has done is always with justified and sound reason, but he might be biased because the 7:3 sorcerer was his role model.

It might verge on invading his privacy, but—

"They said... Gojo-san was your matchmaker back then?" he went through with the question anyway, testing the waters. "I don't mean to pry, but I just thought it's cute."

To Ino's surprise, Nanami's lips curled into a small smile. "It's fine, Ino-kun. I think it has become common knowledge by now. Yeah... he was."

"For you to have fallen for someone who was Gojo's acquaintance... it speaks volumes about how charming Y/N is."

"Mmm," he nodded slightly as he indulged in the grilled meat. "She is."

"Nanami-san." Okay, Ino was starting to think that he wouldn't be getting his point across if he went the roundabout way. He would shoot it straight then. "I don't mean to patronize you... but if you're really that miserable, then I think you should go back to her and talk things out, no?"

Nanami put down his chopsticks and let out a soft sigh, making Ino to immediately regret his blatant suggestion.

"Before arriving at such a difficult decision, of course we did try to discuss some things," he explained, his gaze meeting his calmly. "I don't take matters like divorce lightly, Ino-kun."

"But still... now—"

To drove the point home, Nanami chose to vocalize the conclusion that still left a bitter taste in his mouth to this day:

"She is unhappy with the way things are, and I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't provide what she needs."

Ino's gaze fell in dejection. "Nanami-san..."

Nanami chuckled fondly. “I appreciate your concern, Ino-kun. Thank you.”

In front of his junior, he could maintain composure and narrated the collapse of his own marriage as if he were a mere spectator. But in his heart of hearts, Nanami Kento wasn’t at all the stoic man he made everyone believed he was—the fact that he had failed to give you the life of happiness he promised on the day he proposed to you still stung him to this day.

It hurt him, but echoing your words, he couldn't subject you to a marriage that felt like a dull cohabitation with little understanding.

“We never really talk anymore, do we...? We never really work on our problems too. Kento, lately, I feel like... things have changed.”

Suppose what he had to do was letting you go now.

It was easier said than done, because when Nanami saw you the next day at the school—this being the first time in several weeks—he almost couldn’t keep his cool.

"Ichiji, don't be too stiff!" you slapped the poor guy in the back with a giggle. "It's just me, it's been a while!"

You didn't look much different than the last he saw you—still the chirpy self he unwittingly fell in love with, staying on top of the latest fashion trends and all. Yet, there was definitely something different about you, something he just couldn't quite identify...

And then those cheerfulness deflated when your gaze met his, eyes widening as you tried to get your bearings. "Oh—h-hi, Kento."

That's too forced. It was so unnatural that made him almost wince.

"Hello." But the tremble in his voice, too, betrayed him. "Have you been well?"

You shifted your gaze away from him, and right before you answered, you let out a cough, and that was when he spotted it: you looked kind of pale.

"I'm fine."

"Oh, that's good then."

Silence. This was the absolute worst.

Nanami exhaled. It was you he was talking to, his ex-wife. He knew you inside out—or at least, he used to. He knew you didn't like this dryness as much as he did. He had to say something.

He braved himself. "Are you here for a mission?"

You looked at him in slight surprise. "Oh... yeah."

Darn it. Another dry reply.

"There... is a cursed totem in North Tokyo," you elaborated, not really looking at him. "Gojo's out from tomorrow until next week. I'm substituting for him to assist the first years."

"Are you sure you're up for that?" Nanami found himself asking before he could stop. "I mean no disrespect, but you look a bit pale."

"I am," you snapped, leaving him surprised. It was as though he had unintentionally struck a nerve, quickly turning your mood sour. "I'm fully capable of handling this, Kento."

"Please, I don't mean to upset you. I'm just..."

Worried about you. Somehow his throat closed in, it didn't really feel right to say that now.

"—I know how rash you can be." He regretted his words as soon as they were out.

It was clearly a bad choice of words as you took offense, your expression quickly turned into one of disdain.

"How rich... that it's coming from you," you scowled.

Memories of your failed marriage flooded your mind's eye. The long nights your ex-husband didn't bother to leave you a message. How he would return home with wounds and blood staining his clothes. And now... he had the nerve to insinuate that you were the reckless one?

"I can take care of myse—"

"That's a whole load of bullshit!"

Good grief. Why must Gojo pick this exact scene to show up?

The blindfold took big strides and halted between the two of you, pointing one finger in your face.

“Last night, she got wasted. Like totally wasted! She could barely walk straight afterwards and then she had the audacity to blame me! Me! For all her mess! Goodness, I’m just a very chivalrous friend and yet—”

"Shut up!" you were horrified, face flushed with embarrassment. "Gojo, you complete jerk!"

Nanami wouldn't admit it, but there was always something between you and Gojo Satoru that made him a bit uncomfortable, even way back when the two of you were still married. Perhaps the closeness, the candidness you shared. He knew you wouldn't harbor anything for someone as elusive as Gojo Satoru, but still, it remained an uncomfortable sight for him.

Like there was nothing pleasant about knowing Gojo Satoru was the one taking care of you in your drunken stupor. You shouldn't have in the first place. If it were him, he wouldn't let you hurt yourself. If he were still the one by your side—

Despite himself, thoughts like that swirled in his mind far often than he would've liked.

Suddenly, the air felt stifling. Nanami didn't like this at all, and even as you two were still harmlessly bickering, he chose to leave.

"Oiii, Nanami!"

He had barely left the room when the person he disliked the most emerged from the door, following closely behind him. Gojo evidently knew what his thoughts were. As irritating as he was, the bloke was smart, he wasn't the strongest for nothing.

"Na-na-mi! You can't just leave like that! We're going to have lunch together—"

"Gojo-san," Nanami stopped in his tracks and let out an exasperated sigh, throwing the white-haired idiot a glare so hard it would curse him if only glares could. "Please stop bothering me."

“How cold-hearted,” the blindfold replied in a mocking scoff. “No matter how, she was once your wife. How could you not care one bit?”

“We have gone on our separate ways, and if she is good with the way things are, then so am I.”

What a lie. He still couldn't help but to care. If you ever needed his help in whatever way even now, he would still move heavens for you.

“And that’s where you’re wrong, Nanami,” Gojo suddenly interjected in a less playful manner. “She is really missing you, you know.”

But you had your best friend by your side, didn't you? Someone perfect, without equal. Surely, you wouldn't need him anymore.

Gojo raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure that she's good with the way things are?"

"What exactly is she not good with?"

"Everything? You never ask her."

This was getting irritating, and before Nanami really lost control over himself, he finally drew a line.

"Gojo-san, I'm tired of people assuming things about our current relationship," he said, leveling a piercing look at him. "We are both adults. We reached the decision to separate because we both know why. If this is your way of showing concern, then thank you—but I'd prefer if you didn't interfere any further. We're handling this just fine, and by all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore."

With that, he left. Even when he wanted to stay longer with you, even when, in his wildest dreams, he wanted to rebuild everything with you again—

He knew you were there, hearing all of this.

Gojo clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. "Grr... You're so stubborn..."

. . .

There was a reason why you went to the school. Yaga's sudden request and of course, the chance to see Nanami again.

But when your conversation ended in a bitter note and he walked away, a part of you plunged into instant panic, compelling you to eavesdrop on his conversation with Gojo.

But as expected from you cool ex-husband, he was all rationale and logic.

By all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore.

Nanami would think so, wouldn't he? And he wouldn't be bothered either.

You shouldn't have expected more. This was no television drama in which the couple would get back together that easily. You were living in the harsh reality of jujutsu world, which basically, was the cause of your divorce in the first place.

At one point, you found it all to be exhausting, but upon reflection, it was more painful to acknowledge that he never truly fought to keep you by his side.

Tears welled up in your eyes unbidden, and you walked away quickly, brushing them away.

This is it. There is no use hoping anymore.

If you weren't on missions, then you'd likely be drinking. This had been the undeniable truth over the past few weeks.

Gojo found both you and Nanami to be irritating. The way both of you would evade each other was just plain stupid by this point, since it was clear to anyone with eyes that you were still not over each other.

"Nanami! Why don't you join us for dinner tonight!"

And since you were such an irritable drunk, he chose to keep poking the easier target.

Nanami shot him a scathing look, definitely done. "I have a prior appointment. Goodbye."

"Hoh?! But! They'll have free drinks!"

For the life of him, Nanami just wanted to go back home. He had minus interest in free drinks and even less in Gojo himself, and he would make his points clear.

"For the last time, I'm telling you, I don't want any part in your—"

Ring! Ring! Ring!

"Ooh, wait a minute, Nanamin! I got a call!"

Nanami gritted his teeth in pure annoyance. He truly didn't care about his call and seized the chance to walk away quickly, eager to flee.

Until—

"Hello? Yes. Yes... what? Huh— Y/N is rushed to hospital?"

...and that caused him to halt abruptly. Suddenly, his entire body went rigid, as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water.

You're hurt?

"I mean why—the hell? Severe bleeding?!" Gojo's voice dramatically rose, seemingly in surprise. "Whoa, uh, traffic accident?!"

Within seconds, everything as he knew it came to an end. He spun around, yanking the phone from Gojo's grasp, indifferent to whether it caught the latter off guard or not.

"Which hospital is this?" he demanded from the person on the other end, his voice rough and harsh. Suddenly, the fog in his mind dissipated, and he was consumed by panic.

"I'm sorry, sir, that's not—oh, it's Tokyo General Hospital—"

"Thank you." Nanami shoved the phone back to Gojo and broke into a sprint, in search of taxi.

At this moment, everything was a plethora of chaos—his surroundings melded into a blur, the constant honking of nearby vehicles echoed in his ears, and the relentless pounding in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. Nothing else held any significance. Nothing, except you.

Why did you get hurt? How did you even get into a traffic accident?

This was maddening. His world was falling apart hard and fast. The beginnings of heartbreak, stirring and churning in the depths of his stomach, once again threatened to drown him whole—

To others it may seem laughable that he was this shaken over an ex-wife, but precisely because you were his ex-wife was why he was running through the streets of Shibuya, opting not to take the cab as the traffic jam was at its peak.

Oh, how Nanami regretted it. He regretted a multitude of things; those long nights, silent treatments, your tears, divorcing you. If he could turn back the time, he'd do anything in his power to prevent that divorce from ever happening. He'd treasure you better, he'd make time for you more—

Because what if, now you were really slipping away from him for good? What if, he would never see you ever again?

Within minutes, he arrived at the said hospital, haggard, spooking the nurses, demanding your room number.

Thank heavens that the visiting hour wasn't over yet. He marched towards the said room, all of his logic and rationale flying out of window as he threw open the door.

And then he saw the pristine bed, IV drip, and you—

Sitting upright on the bed, turning a page of a magazine, your eyes widening and blinking at him in complete confusion—

Huh, what?

The last thing you would expect after waking up in the hospital was your ex-husband barging in unannounced, looking as though he'd just survived a whirlwind.

"Kento...?" you almost squeaked, taken aback at the sight.

His hair was a sweaty mess, his usually immaculate suit was crinkled and his tie was loosened, but it was the look in his eyes that grabbed your attention—as if expecting the worst.

“Are you alright?” he grounded out, approaching you in deliberately slow steps. “How long has it since you woke up?”

“Um... yes? Since about an hour or so.” You frowned. “Kento, what are you doing here?”

“They said you have severe bleeding, involved in an accident—”

“What! No! Did the hospital reach out to you?” you felt a bit uncomfortable at the thought. “I was sure I have removed you from my emergency contacts—”

“Gojo did—”

Suddenly, understanding dawned on him, and he cursed under his breath. “That rotten bastard!”

You blinked, unsure of what he meant at all. To his credit, Nanami didn’t dwell long on his thoughts and faced you once again with another fresh batch of confusion. “Wait, Gojo is your emergency contact? Why?”

“Should anything happen to me and a payment is required to settle it, he can handle the bills first?”

If Nanami didn’t look exasperated before then he sure did now. “Y/N… you…”

He released the deepest sigh imaginable before settling onto the sofa, further tousling his hair and removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Did you know I ran to get here because I thought something bad happened to you?” Nanami stated in a strained voice.

Why did your heart skip a beat? Why was Nanami suddenly playing the part of a concerned husband when the time for it has long passed?

Feeling suddenly irritated, you rolled your eyes. “I just passed out due to high blood pressure. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” his eyes squared on you, quiet anger behind them. “In what sense does you passing out ever ‘not a big deal’? What have you been doing?”

"Why does that even matter to you still?" you contested. "You were the one who said everyone should stop linking us together by now."

"Y/N, you're missing the—"

"You divorced me!" you screamed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as the urge to cry threatened to consume you. "You... h-have divorced me, Nanami Kento!"

Nanami felt as if a blade had pierced and twisted his chest at the sight of you—your quivering form, the stifled sobs. He had never wished to see you in such despair again.

"So why!" you finally broke down and sobbed. "Why did you play the caring husband now? Why not before? Why do you keep toying with my feelings...?"

"I'm not." Nanami grunted, getting up and approaching your bed. "I never meant to. That was never my intention. I never—"

"Then what!? What are you doing? Why did you throw me out just like that and why now—"

"Believe me when I said that I never want you to be miserable!"

You halted mid-rant, eyes wide as you gazed at him. Blinking, you felt a tear roll down your cheek. It was the first time Nanami had ever raised his voice at you. Even in the past, he never had.

But suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through your abdomen, causing you to instinctively clutch it. You whimpered, a nearly involuntary squeak escaping you, feeling the intense burn inside.

Nanami immediately got a hold of your hunched form, alarmed. "What is it? What hurts?" When all you could manage were pained sniffles in response, he swiftly hit the nurses' button and enveloped you in his embrace.

"Hold on," he comforted, placing a hand over where you clutched your abdomen, trying to offer some relief in any way. "They'll be here soon, don't pass out!"

"Mmngh," you gripped his hand in response, squeezing it as you slumped into his chest. For the first time in six months, you were enveloped in his warmth once again, and despite everything that had transpired, you were deeply moved by his gesture.

It took seeing you in such distress to dispel any doubts Nanami may have had. You were so petite against him, so delicate as you squirmed amidst your tears.

Had you experienced pain like this in the past six months? The thought made his heart lurch. Did no one comfort you at all?

. . .

And that was when he decided it.

He never, ever wants to see you in any sort of pain, ever again. And should it happen, then he'll be the one staying by your side, just like this.

Alcoholic gastritis. You consumed so much alcohol that it irritated your ulcer and causes a really painful tummy ache.

You could feel Nanami's judging gaze on you as your attending doctor explained your predicament. Truth to be told, you were quite ashamed. Your unhealthy lifestyle were laid bare before your ex-husband and it made you feel like a kid being scolded for misbehaving.

After the doctor left, Nanami sighed and pulled out a chair next to your bed. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yeah..." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Sorry, that... you have to see that."

But thankfully, he was unflappable as ever. "Nothing to be sorry about. It's fine."

You were kind of embarrassed of your outburst earlier too. While you didn't regret expressing your feelings, you pondered if could've done it in a less confrontational way.

At this point, you'd accept anything. Even if Nanami told you off after this—

"Let me continue from what I was saying earlier," he suddenly began, catching your attention. You perked up, and looked at him expectantly.

Nanami released a deep sigh, and the words he spoke next were ones you never thought you'd hear from him again.

"Did you remember what I said when I proposed our divorce?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. You wordlessly nodded, because it was one of the lines that made you unable to hate him completely.

"I said, you don't deserve to be unhappy." Nanami looked you right in the eyes, undaunted. "And that still stands until now."

Now fully engrossed in his words, the rhythm of your heart intensified, echoing in your chest.

"It wasn't a decision I blurted out lightly. I know you're hurt, because I am too. I married you with a reason. I have loved you. and if you were to ask me now, my answer would be the same—I am still in love with you."

Why did it feel like your vision was beginning to blur once more?

"But," Nanami's face contorted into a frown, gazing hard at you. "If staying with me is what makes you miserable—if waiting nights after nights, hoping I can make it each time haunts you so much—then I'm more than willing to release you from that burden. I don't want to subject you to that life."

Warm tears slid down your cheeks. Sniffling, you averted your gaze, looking downwards.

"Look, I make you cry again," he sighed, a mix of fondness and sadness in his voice, as a bitter smile graced his lips. One of his thumbs gently lifted your jaw, while the other tenderly wiped away your tears.

"Kento, I—" you quickly looked up, swallowing the lump in your throat. You had made up your mind. "I don't want you to leav—"

"I know," he cut in, his voice solemn, as he stroked your tear-streaked cheeks. "I know, and that's exactly why I'm going to say what I'm about to say next."

And with his next words, your heart burst into complete, utter warmth—

"Let's start over." Nanami Kento's voice was your lifeline, anchoring you and keeping you afloat. "We can take our time. There's no rush—we can return to how things were in the beginning. And when you're ready, then and only then... will I ask you to marry me again."

The one person who has your heart in his grasp, someone whom you are willing to care way more than yourself... You were openly sobbing now and yet a radiant smile broke through your tears.

There was only one answer you had in mind.

Five years later

"Yes! Yes! Yay!"

Today was sunny, just like the day of your wedding. Memories flooded back as you glanced at the grand wedding portrait in the foyer, a snapshot of yourself and your husband in blissful celebration.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the gentle smile on Kento's face amidst his typically stiff posture. You remembered his vows to you.

The one person who I will look for the rest of my life... is you. I have never met someone so important and precious to me that it hurts.

The sound of a car pulling up snapped you out of your reverie. Oh, he's home.

As you opened the door, your smile grew even broader, until a small figure darted past you at such speed that you were left gawking.

"Daddy!" your daughter's voice rang out with pure delight, leaping into your husband's arms the moment he swung the car door open, catching him off guard.

"Oh my, why are you so sweaty?" Kento inquired, scrutinizing your daughter with a puzzled frown, yet holding her close. "I thought we're going to the playground after this?"

"She's so excited for it that she keeps running and jumping around all the while," you chimed in with a gentle sigh, affectionately ruffling your daughter's hair as she beamed up at both of you.

Before long, the three of you set off to the playground, fulfilling the promise you had made to your daughter. As she entertained herself with the slides, Kento's low chuckle drew your attention. "What's so funny?"

"She takes after you a lot, you know," he remarked, a fond smile on his face. "The way she is just full of energy."

"Really? But sometimes she'll get this wrinkly little scowl on her face when she's annoyed—she looks like you then."

"Wrinkly...? No, surely I don't have that many wrinkles yet..."

Your laughter filled the air, a testament to the joy found in these simple, everyday moments.

Unexpected moments of joy, the comfort of family, and a love that had grown and evolved, stronger and more resilient with time...

And this, is what you'd call a happy marriage.

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mybelovedrin · 11 months

Text

✷ ITOSHI RIN x reader. fluff, established relationship. reader talks a lot and rin listens. this is actually pointless. warnings: the writing is kinda messy, i think. note: i just really think that rin <3 ! sorry if there's typos.

"shut up."

rin probably says these two words to you more than he says 'i love you'.

yet, he really, really does not want you to shut up.

it's been twenty minutes since you came from your dinner with your friend. twenty whole minutes of you rambling. twenty whole minutes of rin lying in bed, his arms feeling empty since you're too busy turned away from him as you change into more comfortable clothes. twenty whole minutes of him having to listen to your friend's husband's family's problems while his eyes stay locked on you as you throw on one of his shirts and then start removing your make up.

and again, he really, really does not want you to shut up.

but he would really prefer holding you while you ramble, and the fact that it's been twenty minutes and he hasn't even gotten a kiss yet is kind of starting to get to him.

"so anyway, she's basically hated by everyone from his side of the family— and i told her over and over that she should talk to him about it, but she just won't listen to me. god, why am i blessed with such stubborn friends?"

at this point, he feels like he's skipped eight chapters.

and yet he still listens, humming thoughtfully as he shifts in bed a little, pulling the covers over him just a bit more as he sighs in defeat, staring up at the ceiling as he mumbles, giving his own opinion. "shouldn't pressure her into it, though."

you groan, giving him a look as you still stand in front of the mirror while doing your skincare now. "i'm not, i swear! those people suck. she shouldn't be letting them do what they want and i'm sure that her husband would do something if he knew how salty they are."

his eyes go from the ceiling to you, blinking sleepily as he stares at the way his shirt looks on you. "when are you coming to bed?"

"almost done, rinnie."

he yawns quietly, turning around so that his back is to you. if he couldn't hold you yet, he could at least listen to your voice. "then does she really plan to just endure that treatment?" his voice is muffled by the pillow as he asks, setting you off on another talking spree.

"i guess she does. i hope everything goes well for her. but personally, i would not tolerate stuff like that." you say, shrugging as you finally finish your business, before going into the bathroom to wash your hands and brush your teeth.

the few minutes of you being gone and quiet make rin feel as miserable as ever.

he waits and waits, eyelids heavy.

when the mattress finally dips next to him and he smells the familiar scent of your skin products, he swears he's never moved this fast to turn around in bed and latch onto you.

you chuckle as he buries his face into your neck, holding him close as your little giggle turns into a quiet laugh when he groans in annoyance. "you took too damn long."

his hair tickles the side of your face. it's getting longer, you realise as you play with it gently, smoothing over some soft strands on the back of his head while he sighs softly into your skin.

"i talked a lot earlier, didn't i?" you ask quietly, your lips curling into a sheepish smile.

rin stays quiet for some time, his arms around you tight and firm as he presses himself against your side, even going as far as to place his muscular leg over you, caging you in against the soft mattress of the bed. "y'know i don't mind that."

"yeah, but im sure there's a limit—"

"there's no limit when it comes to you. 'kay?" he says quietly, his voice groggy and deeper now as he gets closer to drifting off— almost as if he was ending that discussion right there, not wanting to hear you talking about yourself in such a way.

"yeah, but—"

"shut up." he cuts you off, and you stop talking, only to let out another soft laugh. "if you're gonna complain about yourself, that is. now, more sleeping and less talking. i'll listen to the remaining part of your friend's story during breakfast tomorrow."

you snort at his devotion to listening to your silly stories, a slight wave of warmth creeping up your neck. "fine."

he nods a little, before holding you tighter.

"and i didn't get a single kiss from you ever since you came, by the way."

"oh, i am so sorry. my most sincere apologies." you speak, clearly joking as you shower him with light pecks on the side of his face that's peeking out from the crook of your neck.

he grunts, not being able to hide the redness under his warm skin as he feels your soft lips. his eyes stay closed shut. "ok. good night."

"no 'i love you' or anything?"

he sighs heavily. "shut up."

"...and i love you." he adds, before letting himself relax into his sleep when you let out a satisfied sound and say it back to him sweetly, your soft voice partially responsible for putting him to sleep.

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of-cauldrons-and-inkpens · 11 months

Text

You Missed My Heart: PART 1

PART 1 LINK | PART 2 LINK | PART 3 LINK

Description: Miguel had died months ago. At least, my universe’s Miguel had died. Maybe I should have noticed when I could feel him touching me in my dreams, but grief is a hell of a thing. That is, until I woke up in a house that looked just like mine, but somehow different.

Miguel had taken me from my universe and put me in one where he could relive his past, whether I liked it or not.

Word Count: 11,107 Author’s Note: I wrote this instead of doing my college work, but I also didn’t proofread. Hopefully there aren’t too many typos! I’ll probably add more chapters in the following days/weeks Content Warning: smut, mild breeding kink, reader is being held against their will, Miguel being manipulative and an ass, bit of angst (I mean his wife and child are dead so yeah)

Minors DNI! Story is below the cut

The dream was hazy. Miguel sighed as he began to inch toward the edge of the mattress, drifting out of the shared embrace that we had slept in. Arms and legs untangled from one another as he drifted away from me.

I reached my hand outward, catching onto his hand before he could slip away for good. “I need to go to work.” He whispered, his voice husky and warm from sleep. But, despite his protest, he lay back down beside me. “Don’t go.” I said. My hands worked their way through the darkness, moving to curl around his broad shoulders. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to feel his strong heartbeat against my chest and listen to him breathe one more time. It didn’t matter that this wasn’t real. I didn’t care that this was now a soft and distorted memory; this was all I had left of him. I had convinced myself weeks ago that if I dreamed of him enough, it would almost be like he wasn’t gone. “I have to. Alchemax is unveiling a new project today and I have to be there.” He leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. His breath was warm, working as a perfect antagonist for the frigid air of our bedroom. “Please Miguel.” I begged. He cut me off by pressing his lips against mine. The kiss was languid and wet. Our bodies were still naked from the previous night’s activities as he rolled on top of me. “Miguel…” I whispered. “Please don’t leave me.” “I’m not going anywhere.” He said. His lips slipped off of mine as he lowered his face, moving so that his mouth could graze the shell of my ear. There, he whispered the one thing I thought I would never hear again. “I love you…”

Something brushed the side of my face, pulling me from my dream. I jerked upward, searching for what had caused it. But I couldn’t see through the pitch black of the bedroom. In the darkness, I was so sure that I could smell him. He had been dead for months, but his scent still lingered in the walls and all of the soft places in the house. It was to the point that I was terrified of moving or washing anything; if I did, that last piece of him would vanish forever.

Hot tears slid down my face.

I had been crying again. But that had become such a common occurrence that I couldn’t even be surprised. Tears slid down my neck, soaking into the collar of Miguel’s Alchemax t-shirt that had been worn thin. Crying had become an every night thing since the funeral. Maybe if I could understand what the hell even happened to him, then I could be okay. But there had been no information about any of it. I had been told there was an accident at work and that there was nothing that could have been done to save him. But the term accident meant so many different things.

I lifted my hand to my cheek to wipe away the next batch of tears. But, as my fingers brushed my skin, I couldn’t help but notice the distinct warmth on that side of my face.

Had someone been here?

Had the gentle brush been entirely in my head?

I swallowed hard as my eyes searched the darkness. “Miguel?” I asked. But there was no answer. The delusional part of me wanted to hear him stir inside of the bathroom that attached to the bedroom. I slid my hand outward, searching through the sheets that would always remain cold.

The black out curtains that covered my window blocked out any light from the city. The only light in the room was from the small machine that Miguel had set up in the corner. I was never sure what exactly it did, but it always gave off a pale blue glow.

I glanced around the room, seeing that the pictures were all still lying face down on the dresser and bookshelves.

Nothing was different. He was still dead, and I was still alone.

I swallowed hard as I reached for the bottle of sleeping pills that sat on the bedside table. I had gotten them after stepping off one of the curbs in Nueva York without looking. But, before anything could happen, a man had grabbed me, jerking me out of the way seconds before my body had the chance to collide with the car that was racing down the street. Maybe if I hadn’t been so exhausted, then I would have thought before I walked.

The pills were my only chance at getting any rest these days. I unscrewed the top of the bottle, dropped one of the white pills into my hand, and then replaced the white plastic lid. I discarded the bottle onto the nightstand and then popped the pill in my mouth.

I just needed to go to sleep. If I could sleep, then I could see him again.

I leaned back against the sheets, watching the walls of the hallway through the open door of our bedroom. If I hadn’t known better, I could have sworn to God that I saw a faint orange and pink glow dance against the walls before being consumed by darkness.

No dreams came. My vision was dark, trapping me in a dreamless darkness. The pills always made my body heavy with sleep; it was almost impossible to open my eyes when I was like this. I didn’t see him in my dreams, but I could hear him. His voice was faint, speaking in delicate murmurs.

Fingers brushed against the skin of my face as he pushed several of my curls behind my ears. It was something he had always done, especially when I was sitting on the couch beside him. I had always wondered if he did it so that he could see my face or if it was just his way of getting my attention. But I guess that didn’t matter now.

I flinched at the reminder.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’m here.” Miguel whispered. He pressed a gentle kiss against my forehead. I felt the bed move under me, sinking on the edge as he sat down. “I’m gonna keep you safe.”

“You need to drop this.” A soft female voice said. Her voice was no more than a whisper.

“I can’t do that.” Miguel’s voice was firm; he had already made up his mind.

“Miguel, you’re torturing her. Just leave her alone.” The delicate voice pleaded. Behind my eyelids, I saw pink and honey color light flash. “Give her time. Let her mourn then let her move on. Maybe she could be happy. She could get married and have a good life.”

“Lyla, I’m not sure if you know this, but telling me that my wife is going to fuck someone else and that that’s why I should let her go has the exact opposite effect.”

“Let her be happy.” The girl pleaded.

“She should have died. I’m saving her.”

“Miguel, please let her go. Please, I really-” I heard him click something, making the second voice fall silent.

Warm arms slipped under my legs as I was overwhelmed by the smell of Miguel.

My Miguel.

He smelled faintly of cologne, sweat, and something else. He pulled me into his arms, laying my body against his strong chest. I felt him grab a heavy arm and place it on his shoulder. Beneath my fingers, I felt a weird material cover his skin.

What the hell?

I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t force myself out of the dream. The medication weighed me down, anchoring me into this strange haze.

Miguel bounced me in his arms a couple of times. I groaned, feeling him stand up. One of the blankets caught on my foot, tugging on my tired body. Miguel gently tossed the blanket onto the bed, offering a few more gentle bounces to my body as he started to walk.

“You’re going to be so happy.” He whispered. Miguel pressed a second kiss against my skin.

Blinding light came streaming through the window. I winced, lifting my hand to shield my eyes. I lay there for a moment before a thought occurred to me.

When was the last time I had been awakened by sunlight?

Miguel had always worked such random hours that we had hung thick blackout curtains over the window so that we had a chance at getting some sleep.

“What?” I pushed myself up in the bed, feeling my t-shirt drop down to cover the soft skin of my stomach. But the left side was caught on something, keeping that side of my abdomen exposed. I glanced down to see a thick bracelet that had been attached to my wrist. I pulled the shirt off of the bracelet, allowing it to fall and give me some sense of modesty as I glared at the contraption.

What the hell was this thing?

I glanced around, searching for some idea as to what was going on.

The only clue was a bright orange post-it note that had been pressed onto the bedside table. It was sitting between a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. Plucking the note off of the table, I quickly began to read it.

‘Please don’t be scared. I’ll be back soon. Take this for your head. It will take a bit to get used to all of this.’ It had been signed with a name that immediately made me shutter.

Miguel.

No. No. No.

Did I die?

Or did I finally go insane?

I pushed myself out of the bed, searching for some clue as to what the hell was going on. This was my bedroom. At least, it looked like it was. The closet was the same, the bookshelves were the same, even the weird off-blue shade that Miguel had picked for the walls was the exact same.

It was then that something caught my eye. All of the pictures were sitting upright. I could see our mutual smiles behind the glass. They were photos of us on dates, photos of us at the weird events that Alchemax held, and even some of the more intimate photos we had taken of us in bed with our bodies barely covered by the thin ocean of sheets.

I stepped forward, moving toward the closet. I jerked one of Miguel’s button-ups off of the hanger and inspected it. The spot where he had spilled wine on the cuff was missing. Instead, the material was bleach white.

This was wrong. This was all wrong.

Everything was familiar, but still foreign somehow. There were sheets that were the same color but didn’t have soft faded patches that had been acquired from stains during love making. There were clothes that I remembered wearing, but they didn’t have the small tears or stains in them. Everything was put together from memory, but it wasn’t my memory.

If I didn’t look too closely at it, it could almost be perfect.

Slowly, I stepped forward. As I moved toward the dresser, I stopped. In my home, my real home, there was a creak in the floorboard. Miguel had spent an entire weekend trying to fix it after we had moved in, but it was all in vain.

Maybe I was just paranoid. That was the only solution.

I leaned backward, then forward again in an attempt to get the floor to creak.

A deafening silence filled the room.

I reached down and pulled at the bracelet. It was heavy on my arm. I slipped my fingers under the band, attempting to pry it off of me. But it was no use. It had been secured at the base, making it impossible to remove.

Then, I did the only thing I could think of.

I ran.

I bolted from the bedroom, moving down the hallway. When I reached the stairs, I took them two by two. Frankly, I was amazed that I didn’t slip and break my neck. But fear is a hell of a motivator. I sprinted through the living room, searching for the front door of our house. I threw open the front door and rushed outside, ignoring the fact that I wore only a thin t-shirt and underwear.

I needed to get the hell out of there; I didn’t care about being modest at this point.

It was Nueva York; the buildings were the same, so was the noise. Sounds of construction, traffic, children playing, and music blasting filled the air. But, I couldn��t help but notice the main thing that was missing: no people or vehicles.

“Hello?” I called.

But I was all alone.

“Hello?” I screamed.

Something grabbed my hand, jerking me backwards. I stumbled but was caught before I could collide with the pavement. Strong arms curled around my waist and hauled me upward. I flailed my arms and kicked out my legs in an attempt to get free, but it was no use. The figure turned around and began to carry me back to the house as if I was nothing more than a doll. “You weren’t supposed to leave the house.”

I knew that voice. It was the one that haunted my dreams and filled my every ‘what-if.’

Miguel.

“What the fuck?” I screamed.

“Stop trying to fight me.” His voice was flat. I glanced behind me to look at him. He wasn’t my Miguel. His eyes flickered somewhere between chocolate brown and blood red. The muscles on his shoulders were more defined and the line between his eyebrows was deeper. But maybe that was because of the dark scowl that he wore as he carried me up the small steps of the brownstone.

When he stepped inside of the house, he threw me onto the hardwood floor. As my head hit the floor, he reached behind him and flipped the deadbolt.

That was to make sure that I didn’t try and escape again.

Miguel wasn’t dressed how I was used to. My Miguel always wore some kind of standard, normal clothes. Nicer clothes for work, soft pants, and sweatshirts at home. But this man, the imposter, wore a red and blue costume that stretched over his hard muscles and accentuated his domineering frame.

“You were supposed to wait. I said I would be back soon.”

“Who the hell are you?” I twisted my body so that I was sitting up on the hardwood floor. I pulled my legs close to my body, attempting to hide my thin underwear from him.

“You’re joking right?” He asked. He stood over me, inspecting me with a look of both confusion and disappointment.

“No, I’m not. And what the hell did you put on my arm?” I shook my wrist, trying to loosen the device.

“Stop trying to take it off. If you do, you’ll die. Unless that’s what you’re hoping for.” He said as he studied me. I froze.

“What?”

“It keeps you alive in this universe. You’re not from here; you don’t belong here, so if you take that off, you’ll glitch until you die.”

I glanced around the room, taking in all of the little imperfections. The room was wrong, reminding me that I was in some kind of strange prison.

“What is all of this?” I asked. Miguel stared at me at if the answer was so obvious.

“It’s our home.”

“No… no, it isn’t.” I said. “What did you do to me?” I pushed myself off of the floor. As I did, I pulled at the bottom of the t-shirt. The man stared at me, his eyes dancing between the terrified look on my face at the pale skin of my naked legs. As his eyes drank me in, I could see them turning to a deeper shade of red.

“Who are you?” I asked. He let out a dark chuckle. As he did, I couldn’t help but notice that sharp white fangs that protruded from his mouth.

“Sweetheart…”

“Don’t call me that.” I said. He rolled his eyes.

“Look, I’ve been very sweet to you. But now you’re starting to piss me off.” His voice was sharper this time. He moved toward me and I stepped back.

“Why do you look like him?” I asked. He knew exactly what I meant.

“Because I am him… in a way.”

“I don’t understand.” I said. He once again tried to fill the distance between the two of us. I stepped backward, feeling my back hit the side of the couch. “You died… he died.”

“In your universe, yes. Please call me Miguel. I know this may be new to you, but I am your husband, just a different version of him. I mean you no harm.” The dull ache from being thrown on the floor said differently. “I did all of this because I love you.”

“You don’t know me.” I said. I slid my hands against the side of the couch in an attempt to find something to cling to. He let out a dry laugh.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I know you in every single universe. I’ve known more versions of you than you can imagine. Versions where you live, versions where you die. So, in a way, I know you better than you even know yourself.”

“If you knew me so well, then you would know Miguel and I never married.”

“Purely semantics. Besides, that’s something that I fully intend on correcting.”

“You’re insane.” I said.

“Don’t fucking call me that. You have no idea how hard I worked to fix everything for you; how hard I worked to make sure that everything would be perfect.”

“Miguel, where the fuck am I?” I demanded. “And I don’t want you to keep saying I’m home. This isn’t my home. Where am I?”

“You could be a little bit more grateful. You should have died.” He said. “You weren’t supposed to be pulled out of the way of a car and you were.”

Anger flashed through me. Just looking at him filled me with a mixture of rage and sadness that mixed together in a sludge that did nothing but make me want scream at him. “I’m supposed to be dead? You’re dead! I went to your funeral! There’s a goddamn sign in the Alchemax lobby for you.” My throat burned and my eyes stung with tears. “Was that all some kind of sick lie?”

“No, your Miguel did die.” His voice was matter of fact- almost cold. It was as if he had said this all a million times before. Hell, for all I knew, he had. Maybe this was some kind of sick game he liked to play. “But, that’s no matter. I’m here now. I made a little pocket universe for you; where you can live and where you being here won’t affect anything. You can stay here with me, and things will be exactly as they should be.” I glanced at the locked door behind him. “You being here won’t affect any other universe and it keeps you out of your own, making sure that all of the canon events happen exactly as they should. The canon is safe and you get to live. Two birds, one stone.” He was so proud of himself.

“Do I have a choice in staying with you?”

His face twitched at my question. “I’ve watched you cry for him at night. I’ve heard you scream and beg for him to come back. You wear his clothes and listen to his music and talk to yourself like he’s still there. For God’s sake, I’ve watched you touch yourself to pictures of him. I just assumed you would have had a warmer reception to me.”

“You had no right to spy on me.” I winced, remembering the feeling of my face being touched in my sleep. He had been there, watching me as I mourned. Besides, there was something in the way he emphases a warmer reception. He was hoping I would immediately adore him and drag him into the bedroom to screw until I couldn’t walk straight. He wanted us to immediately slip into some weird little habit where I pretended to be his loving wife. He said I died in other universes. Was I his replacement, just as he hoped to be mine?

Miguel sucked on his teeth before he stepped forward.

Without thinking, I twisted my body around and bolted toward the kitchen. I had no idea where I was even going; I just wanted to be away from him.

I got about five steps away before he reached outward and grabbed me. This time, his hold was harder. His arms crushed themselves against my body as he lifted me upward and began to carry me toward the stairs. This time, he was holding me so tight that I was sure he was going to break my ribs.

“You’re hurting me.” I gasped.

“Then stop trying to leave me.” He said. “You’re not going to get far and you’re just going to end up hurting yourself.”

He carried me up the stairs, his eyes dark red in the dim light. He carried me to the bedroom at the end of the hall. When he reached the room, he looked down at me.

“Say you love me.” It was a second chance. I paused for a moment, trying to find a way to fake sincerity.

He wasn’t my Miguel. He wasn’t my angel who I curled up with on the couch or who insisted on making me listen to old music that nobody but him would ever like. This man didn’t have that gentleness about him; he wasn’t sweet or loving.

“I love you.” I tried. I knew I sounded like I was faking it.

“At least I know you’re a shitty actress.” He muttered. He dropped me on the floor of the bedroom and then stepped outside before I had a chance to make another getaway. He slammed the door shut.

“Miguel, please let me out.”

“Ah, now you want to be nice to me.” He mocked.

“You kidnapped me. I’m sorry if I’m not the person you were hoping for. If you want someone better, just get a different me from some other place. I’m sure the universe is just littered with them.”

“I saved you. Your universe would have collapsed if it weren’t for me. I offered you the chance to live in a different place, where none of that can ever hurt you and you hate me for it. You want to be pissed? Be my guest. But in time, you’ll love me. I know you will. You always do.”

“Yeah, Miguel, it doesn’t feel like you’re giving me a choice in the matter.” I said. “Why can’t you just find another girl? Anyone else?”

“It has to be you. Because it always is, no matter what. Every time, we end up together so I can’t just grab some random person. Besides, there aren’t too many of you who aren’t already with some version of me. Stealing wives from other versions of me just sounds wrong.”

Yeah, that would be the wrong part. Not the whole kidnapping thing. He keeps flipping between lunatic and romantic who is waxing poetic about our deep love. Maybe I would have been charmed if I had actually known this man. Plus, there was something weird about the way he said it. Had he considered it? How did he find widows versus wives?

“Miguel, sweetheart, how about you let me out of here and then we can find some kind of arrangement that we both like?”

He rolled his eyes as he locked the door from the outside. “When you decide to be the version of you that I know and love, then we can talk.”

Bastard.

I kicked the door, but I knew it was useless. He was already walking away from the door. In the distance, I heard his voice as he began to speak to someone else.

“Lyla, I’m a little busy right now.”

“It’s urgent.” She said.

It was hours before he came back. I didn’t hear him when he was stepping toward the door. I only heard him when he unlocked the door and let out a low sigh.

“I brought you dinner. It’s in the kitchen. I expect you to eat dinner with me tonight.” He said.

“Thank you.” I squeaked out. I hadn’t eaten since the night before. I was starving. Besides, if this was his idea at a peace offering, who was I to reject. He obviously didn’t want to return me to my real home. Maybe I should just get used to this. “I’ll be down in a minute. I want to clean up a little bit.” I said.

“I’ll get everything ready.” He said. With that, I heard him step away from the door of the bedroom. At least he was receptive to me needing a moment, rather than dragging me downstairs to eat right now.

I sighed to myself as I pushed myself off of the bed. I couldn’t just wear a t-shirt and underwear. I already looked like an absolute mess. My face was swollen from crying and my curls had turned into a frizzy mess from being manhandled so many times in the last twenty-four hours.

My best bet was a shower to calm me down and hopefully take away some of the puffy redness around my eyes and nose. I didn’t want him to see that I had sobbed when I was alone; he may have carted me around in my underwear, but I still had my dignity.

There was a small bathroom attached to the room. It was one that I was familiar with. It was exactly like the one at my house; there weren’t any superficial tweaks that he had made. At least, none that I could see upon first inspection.

I quickly showered, scrubbing my body gently as I went. As I slid a loofah along the sides of my body, I winced. Dark bruises were starting to blossom across my ribs from where he had squeezed as he carried me.

Damn it, that hurt!

I winced as I washed my body, careful not to aggravate any new sore spots that I had gotten. I then washed my hair, making sure that it was nice and clean.

Stepping out of the tub, I realized that I hadn’t grabbed a towel. I was sure that he would put them where I always did. After all, that was really the only place for them in the bathroom. I quickly ducked down and pulled open the door to the bathroom cabinet. The towels had been stacked on one side, random trinkets and things he had brought for me rested on the other. I snatched a towel from the pile as I eyed the objects.

They were the usual fair, mixed in with a few oddballs. Tampons, deodorant, razors, women’s shaving cream, a perfume that I wore pretty often, a couple of bottles of hand and body lotion, a toothbrush, toothpaste, an eyelash curler, a new tube of mascara, hair gel, and a dozen or so other hair things. I sighed and quickly added several of the things to the counter. I needed to brush my teeth and do my hair. As I stacked those things on the counter, I couldn’t help but notice that there were more things resting against the very back of the shelf. Against the wall sat two small pink boxes that were still in their clear wrapping from the drugstore. I frowned as I pulled them forward, moving them closer so that I could see them. The first was a new box of pregnancy tests. I shook the box; sure enough, it actually contained what it said it did. Part of me expected the box to be a decoy and to either be empty or filled with something outwardly sinister, like a camera. Why did he buy me pregnancy tests? I flipped the second box over and was greeted by a bulk box of ovulation test strips, meant to check for when I was ovulating. I winced equally at both of the packages. I quickly shoved them back into the cabinet and closed the door.

Part of me wanted to know why those were what he chose to buy me; the other part was scared to know the answer.

I quickly stood up and began to dry off. It was a short time between when I finished showering and when I stepped out into the bedroom, my hair styled with my curls down, my teeth brushed, and my skin dried of any excess water.

Stepping to the closet, I noticed that all of the dresses in the closet were too formal. Most of the clothes that I typically wore were missing. No t-shirts, jeans, or even standard pajamas. Damn it, Miguel. I quickly walked over to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer.

Based on what was there, my best bet was the baby pink nightie that lay on the top of the pile of clothes. It was obviously new; a tag was still attached to the spaghetti strap and frankly, I had never seen it before, so I figured that it was something he had picked out himself.

I pulled the dress on, wincing when it stopped several inches above my knees. I pulled on a pair of underwear and then snagged a grey cardigan from the closet in an attempt to have a chance at being warm.

What I was wearing was closer to lingerie than actual clothing, but that didn’t seem to matter at this point. He had dragged me around twice in my underwear, on top of the fact that he said he had watched me touch myself to him. My face burned at that thought.

Besides, if he was right and we were always together, then none of this would be new to him. But maybe it would make him be nicer to me if he thought I was being nicer to him.

I stepped through the hallway, careful not to lose my footing in the dim light. As I went, I couldn’t help but notice one of the more glaring differences between my universe and this was. The door to the room that rested next to the bedroom wasn’t stained with its dark russet shade. He had painted this door yellow. That was clearly a recent change; the air still smelled heavily of paint. But why the hell had he painted it in the first place? Maybe he was used to it being a different color and was perfecting it to fit his little fantasy.

I made my way downstairs. He was sitting in the small breakfast nook that rested in the kitchen. He had set out the white plates and arranged the food so that I had easy access to everything. As I rounded the corner, he glanced upward. Something stirred in his dark eyes, but he didn’t say anything. Miguel was sitting at the table, pushing around an eggroll with a plastic fork. He had changed out of his standard red and blue spider suit into an old sweatshirt and flannel pajama pants.

Lucky bastard.

He looked tired. He had a dark stain of blood on his left cheek and I was sure that it wasn’t his. I didn’t want to think about whether or not the owner of that blood was still alive, because I knew there was a good chance they weren’t. I watched him for a moment before I stepped away from the table. He frowned, watching me closely. I was sure he was watching to verify that I didn’t make another run for it. I quickly pulled a washcloth out of one of the lower cabinets by the sink and then turned on the faucet. Once the water ran warm, I wet the rag, wrung it out so that it wasn’t dripping, and then I turned off the water.

I stepped back into the small dining area. “Miguel.” I said in an attempt to get his attention. His tired eyes drifted up to meet mine. The eyes that were once a burning red were now a warm brown. They were almost the shade of coffee. He watched me with such an intensity that it made my face turn a dark maroon. I was sure that he noticed, but he didn’t remark on it.

I leaned down slightly, moving so that my standing height could line up with his sitting size. God, he was so damn tall. “Miguel, here. You have blood on your face.” He reached up to take the cloth but was surprised when I gently pressed the warm material to his face. “Just hold still for a second.” I whispered. For a moment, I couldn’t help but wonder if he had changed out of his suit for comfort or if it was just as coated in blood as his face was. The idea made me shudder internally.

I gently wiped away the dried blood, folding the cloth as I went so that I didn’t rub old blood against his face. When I reached the hollow of his cheek, I slipped one hand under his strong jaw and had him tilt his face to the side in an attempt to give me a better angle. He closed his eyes, giving in to the gentle touch.

He was touch starved. I could tell by the way his breathing slowed and the hairs on his arm stood on end. He wasn’t used to being touched; not anymore. Not in any way that offered any kind of tenderness.

“There you go. All clean.” I said. He opened his eyes and he nodded. His eyes then dipped downward toward my dress.

“Nice outfit.”

“It would appear that most of my actual clothing is gone. So, I have plenty of clothing for the bustling city life outside and I have plenty of lingerie, but everything else is a bit sparse.”

A smile pulled at his lips with my comment. Then, he nodded. “I’ll bring you your clothes from your home universe.”

“Thank you.” I said. Miguel leaned forward and grabbed a container of orange chicken.

He had ordered us Chinese food. It was something that I couldn’t help but note was the same as we had had on our first date. I glanced at the label and confirmed that it was the same restaurant and everything. We had eaten there the night we had first met. We had dipped out of a party at Alchemax early. I hadn’t wanted to be there, but my father had worked there for so many years that it almost felt like an obligation. When I had turned to leave too fast, I knocked wine all over Miguel, but he hadn’t seemed to mind.

“Are you okay?” This Miguel asked. I quickly nodded as I was pulled from the distant memory.

“I am. Thank you for dinner.” I pushed a small amount of food onto my plate and then returned the container to the center of the table.

“You need to eat; really eat.” He said. His brown eyes danced over my face as he searched for something in my gaze. He was hoping to find some kind of love there; a familiarity or affection that I could offer him.

“I feel sick.”

“That’s just because you aren’t used to being in a different universe. Consider it like jet lag. You’ll get used to it in a few days.” He noticed when I didn’t move to eat. I stared into space, feeling my previous convictions about being sweet to him begin to slip away. “I could always make you eat.” He said.

“You wouldn’t do that.” I muttered. He let out a low sigh and then returned to his food. He wasn’t going to argue with me. Or maybe I was right; maybe there were some things he wouldn’t be willing to do to me. But he had walked in sporting horror-movie levels of blood on his skin. So, who knows?

“Is there anything that’s bothering you?” He asked. “You can always ask me.”

“Are you going to lock me up in my room again if you don’t like the question?” I asked. He didn’t respond.

Tread lightly, I guess.

“Why do you look different than my Miguel?”

“I’m Spiderman. Your Miguel wasn’t. He was close, but he didn’t quite get there before…” His voice faded off. He was trying to be sensitive to me, in his own fucked up way. Or maybe his own narcissism wouldn’t allow him to talk about his failures, even in a different universe.

“Do all Spidermen look like you?” I asked.

“Are they all so devastatingly handsome? Afraid not, sweetheart. They don’t usually look the same. Hell, they can look like anything. I found one that’s literally a cartoon pig. But appearances aside, they can mostly do the same things: climb walls, shoot webs, the whole lot.”

“Ah.” I said. “Do they all have the…” I tapped my finger to my teeth, motioning for the fangs that protruded anytime he spoke. He shrugged.

“That seems to be a thing entirely unique to me.”

Did I sense a bit of insecurity there?

He furrowed his brow as he turned his attention to the dinner plate. Damn it, now I felt bad.

Why the hell did I feel bad for hurting his feelings? He kidnapped me and had dragged me around like a rag doll. But I couldn’t ignore the guilt that started to brew inside of me.

I sighed as I moved closer to him. Even if he was my captor, I couldn’t help but see him as the man who I still loved. Even if that ended at the physical resemblance. I slid to the edge of my chair and reached my arm out for his face. My fingers slid against the rough stubble of his jaw, tracing the side of his face for a moment. He leaned his head to the side, moving into my touch.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. He nodded, lifting a hand upward. He laid his fingers on top of mine, holding my hand there against his skin. God, he was burning up. Did he always feel like this? Maybe he was actually sick. My Miguel never ran this warm. Or maybe it was just a side-effect of the spider bite. I didn’t understand any of that well enough to question it and I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask about it.

Suddenly, something clattered to the ground in the kitchen, making me jump. I pulled my hand back from his face, feeling the reality of the situation settle in. I slid my hand back into my lap, watching as his eyes lingered on for entirely too long. His brown eyes swam with a deep want. He wanted me to keep touching him.

Maybe sleeping with him would knock him out of this lovesick spell. Or maybe it would only make it worse. He stared at me, moony eyed and desperate. He was Miguel, even if he wasn’t my version of him. Maybe he could genuinely love me, even if only in his own fucked up way.

“If you loved him so deeply, do you think you could ever love me the same way?” He asked.

“Miguel…” I said. His face twitched slightly. I couldn’t say no; maybe I could, eventually. Or maybe he would become crueler, and I would hate him every second of my life. I didn’t know what to tell him. He leaned back in his chair, his face twisting in an attempt to conceal a deep pain.

Change the conversation quick. Change it before the night could descend in chaos with either us screaming at one another or him locking me in the room again. Or maybe he would just send me back to my own universe to die. After all, if he couldn’t get what he wanted from me, then there was no use in keeping me here.

He made a low noise and then returned to eating, never saying anything about how I had dismissed him.

“Why did you paint the door in the hallway?” I asked. He paused, trying to think up an answer. Then, he swallowed his dinner and shook his head.

“Just decided that it looked better that way.”

“But why? What was wrong with the original color?”

“Does it really bother you that much that I changed one thing?” He asked. His voice had an edge to it now. I clearly was not supposed to ask about the door. But why? It was just a damn door.

“No, but it’s weird that that is the one thing you decided to change. I figured that there was probably a reason.” He rolled his eyes as he took another big bite of food.

“Can’t you just be happy? Most people would overjoyed if they had the opportunity that you do.”

“Yes, I’m quite sure that most people would just love to be stolen from their bed by their boyfriend’s psycho twin. Frankly, that’s every woman’s dream.” My voice was dripping with so much sarcasm that he rolled his eyes. “How long are you planning on keeping this up? This isn’t the Truman Show. You can’t just keep me locked up here for the rest of my life so that you can get your kicks spying on me. And I’m not going to act out some fifties sitcom for you.”

“You don’t have to. I just want you to be… you. Or, as close to it as possible.” He said. As close to me as possible… the words rattled around in my head for a moment.

“You want me to be her.” His face twitched. “I lost him and you lost someone who looks exactly like me.”

Dear God, that was exactly it. All of my suspicions were correct. I was supposed to play house with him, while pretending to be a very specific version of myself that he had once loved. I had to be the perfect version of his wife; the one who doted on and loved him, or else this was all for nothing.

“Have you ever read The Great Gatsby?” I asked. He stared at me, his gaze littered with something.

“Tread lightly, sweetheart.”

“The book is about a man who tries to relive his past. He is so sure that repeating everything and making little adjustments will fix his world.” I swallowed hard, trying to make sure he understood what I was saying. I wasn’t his toy; I wasn’t meant to be wound up to perform for him. “Miguel, you can’t fix things by redoing them. People die. You have to let them go. If your wife died, you need to let her go.”

“I don’t hear you saying that about him.” He sneered.

“That’s because I didn’t kidnap you. I was willing to let you… to let him go.” All of the terms were confusing. This man looked like my Miguel, but he wasn’t. He was a different version of him, which I guess could also make him him, just a different kind. God, I was confusing myself.

“That’s bullshit. I know you want him back. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in the way you look at me.”

“I think what you’re seeing is a mixture of fear and your own reflection.”

“You love me.” He said.

“I don’t know you, Miguel. I don’t know who you are. I know who you look like, but that doesn’t really help your situation.” I paused for a long moment. “How did she die?” I asked. He shook his head.

“That’s none of your fucking business.” He snapped. I flinched at his words.

“I have the right to know how she died.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t even know how your own husband died and you think you have the right to pry into my life.” With that, he pushed himself up from the table.

He tossed the plate into the sink and it shattered against the metal of the basin. I heard him swear in Spanish under his breath. He was pissed but he hadn’t meant to do that. Maybe that was just an every day occurrence with spider strength.

He began to head to the archway that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house. As he stepped, I heard him swearing under his breath. I also heard my name several times.

“Miguel, where are you going?” I asked.

“You hate me so much, maybe it would be better if I wasn’t around.”

“Miguel, where are you going?” I repeated. He muttered more words under his breath. I watched as he pushed several buttons on the sides of his wrist device. He flipped a top piece on the metal bracelet.

“Lyla-“ he started.

“What are you doing?” I asked. I pushed myself up from the table, following him as he left the kitchen. He didn’t reply. I rounded the corner, following as he stepped into the living room. Upon entering, I was nearly blinded by a massive orange and pink hole that swirled and twisted in the center of the room. With every step he took, he drifted closer to it.

So, that was how he managed to leave and then come back. If what he wore on his wrist was capable of doing it, I wondered if mine was, too. No, surely not. The intent was to keep me here; giving me an opportunity to escape would defeat the entire purpose. He said that if I took it off, I would die. I had no choice but to believe him on that front.

“Miguel.” Still no answer. “Where are you going?” He stepped toward the portal without a sound.

“Miguel, where the hell are you going?” I repeated.

He rolled his eyes as he glanced down at the device on his wrist.

“If you leave, what the hell am I supposed to do? There aren’t any people outside. I’m going to have to guess that all of the buildings are empty. Are you coming back? Am I going to starve to death? What if I get hurt? What if I fall down the stairs and die? When the hell are you coming back? How am I supposed to contact you?” The words fell out of my mouth so fast that I didn’t have the chance to consider if these were stupid questions.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” He scoffed. But he didn’t offer me any kind of actual answer.

“Miguel, you said you were my husband. You can’t just abandon me.” He flinched, but he still did not turn around. “Please…” I begged. If he left, I was stranded. At least with him here, I was guaranteed human contact and sustenance.

“Miguel, I need you.” I said. As the words left my mouth, I did the only thing I could think of to get his attention. I slid my hand up to the cardigan and quickly slipped it off of my shoulders. He didn’t seem to notice or care when it dropped to the ground below me. I then reached upward and grabbed onto the thin spaghetti straps of the pink nightgown. Without hesitation, I pulled them over either shoulder, allowing the gown to slide entirely off my body and pool onto the floor at my feet.

“Miguel.” I repeated. This time, my voice was no louder than a whisper. That was enough to get his attention. Or maybe he had heard the dress gather on the floor at my feet. I swallowed hard, feeling the cold bite at my bare skin. I was standing almost naked in the middle of the living room, wearing only a thin pair of underwear that offered very little coverage.

Miguel glanced backward. His eyes caught expanse of my bare skin and I swore I saw him smile.

“Don’t leave.” I said. I lifted my hands and crossed my arms. It was a force of habit. I felt so exposed like this. Though, I quickly lowered my hands, knowing that getting his attention was my best chance at him staying.

He turned around to face me. “Please say something, Miguel.” I whispered. The longer I went without a reaction, the more I started to feel like an idiot for this. Maybe I had just made myself look stupid in front of him. Or, better yet, maybe this was something his wife wouldn’t have done; maybe this would make him send me back home to die.

He slunk forward, a predator approaching prey. I saw the portal swirl into a smaller and smaller hole in the universe. Then, it closed, leaving us alone in the dim light of the living room.

Miguel moved so that he was only a few inches in front of me. The material of his shirt grazed my naked skin, making me wince. The shirt was too rough against my goosebump littered flesh. He stared down at me. As he did, his eyes turned from warm brown to a deep red again.

His palm drifted up to cup my cheek. His skin burned to the touch. I swallowed hard, feeling his fingers stroke the side of my face. It was almost as if he was petting me; like I was a toy for him to play with. He leaned down. His lips grazed the shell of my ear as he whispered, “Let me know if I hurt you.”

“Huh?” He pressed his mouth against mine, hard. His lips were warm as he began to work them, moving them so that they forced my mouth open. I moaned, overwhelmed by it all. As his lips slid against mine, I was sure that I would be bruised tomorrow.

A fang brushed my bottom lip, making me gasp. “Gentle, Miguel.” I whispered.

“Sorry.” His warm breath covered my face. He smelled intoxicating. He straightened his stance, moving away from me. When he pulled away, I let out an audible whimper.

God, please tell me I didn’t genuinely want him. I swallowed hard, feeling myself getting slick between my thighs. I was sure that if he looked, he would see a spot forming in my underwear.

I wanted to hold him. I tried to grab his shoulders, but our heights were too off. He was too tall for me to grab hold of. I pushed myself onto my tippy toes, but even that wasn’t enough. I was still too short for him. Miguel noticed this and leaned downward, allowing me to curl my arms around his strong shoulders.

“That’s my girl.” He slipped his hands down and curled his fingers around my bare thighs. He jerked my body upward. I curled my legs around his hips. He was already getting hard, causing his pajama bottoms to strain.

Miguel stepped forward, carrying me up the stairs. I knew where we were going: the bedroom. I pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek. Even in the dark, I could tell he smiled.

He was getting exactly what he had wanted. But I couldn’t bring myself to make it all stop. I wanted him. I had craved him for so long and here he was. He wasn’t my Miguel, but maybe he wouldn’t die. He was stronger than my Miguel. Maybe that would allow him to stick around.

He twisted the door handle, leaving deep dents in the shape of his fingers in the cold metal. He was trying his hardest to be gentle with me, but I knew it was a battle he would most likely lose.

He tossed me on the bed, throwing me just a tad too hard. I landed on the opposite side of the mattress, groaning as my head almost collided with the wooden headboard. “Miguel.”

“I know, I know.” He teased. He flipped his hand over, shooting a fine web that caught my ankle. “Come here, sweetheart.” He rolled the webbing around his fingers, pulling it tight. I gasped, feeling my body sliding across the sheets. He dragged me down to the edge of the bed.

“Miguel!” I squealed. He smirked as he pressed his knees into the bed, pulling me so that I was only a few inches away from him. He pulled the web off my skin, making sure that it didn’t hurt me.

“Do you do that a lot?” I asked.

“As often as you, sweetheart. Next time, I can web you to the headboard.” My face flashed bright red. He chuckled.

Miguel reached down and grabbed the bottom of his sweatshirt. He hauled it upward, pulling it over his head before discarding it on the floor. Taut muscles danced under his skin. Every inch of him was bound in hard muscle, covered in perfect skin.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against my knee. His fingers wandered up my thighs, feeling my bare skin. He pushed his other hand into the mattress.

“Miguel, please.”

“Please what?” He asked. I took his free hand in mine and guided it up to my chest. He moaned, offering a soft squeeze.

Miquel scrambled up to my chest. He caught my nipple in his mouth and moaned, licking the sensitive skin as he sucked. His fingers kneaded my other breast, stopping every once in a while to offer the hard peak a gentle pinch.

I brushed my fingers through his dark hair. He smiled against my skin, releasing my nipple from his mouth. “What?” I asked.

“Let me know if I’m too rough with you.” With that he slinked down to the warm skin of my thighs. He traced his lips across the bare skin. As he went, he opened his lips to gently suck and kiss the bare flesh. Every so often I would feel a burst of pain that lasted no longer than a second. He mumbled something against my skin. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, moving so that I could see what he was doing.

Another sharp pain shot through my left thigh as he buried his face in my skin. Miguel glanced upward, feeling my eyes on him. His fangs had nipped my bare skin, making me yelp. “I’ll be more gentle.” His voice was warm and weighted with lust.

He slipped upward and slid his fingers under the waist of my panties. He bit the material with his teeth. I heard him snip the material and rolled my eyes.

“You can’t do that to all of my clothes. I barely have any to begin with.”

“I’ll buy you whatever you want.” He pressed a warm kiss against my bare hip. Then, he moved to the other side. He repeated the same action, slicing through the material using his fangs. He placed a kiss on that side, as well.

“You’re such a showoff.”

“Am not.”

“You could have just pulled them off of me the normal way.” I fought back a laugh.

“I can bench press a city bus. I don’t need to showoff to you. Besides, learn to have some sense of romance.” He threw the remains of the panties onto the floor. He immediately pressed a soft kiss against the mound that had been covered by my underwear.

He was extremely careful when he shifted downward. But the dull ache on the skin of my thighs where he had bit made me want to make my only request. “Hey, no teeth.”

“Funny, that’s what I always tell you.” He muttered. I rolled my eyes. “Lay back and hush up.”

“You’re so damn bossy.” I shifted on the mattress, spreading my legs wider for him. He placed his hand across my folds and gently spread them to expose my clit. He flicked his tongue across my clit. “Fuck, Miguel.” I lifted my hips off the bed, moving closer to his face.

He started to work, flicking his tongue over my clit as the index finger on his free hand traced my opened. He collected my wetness on his finger, sliding it around to make sure that I was good to go. Then, he slipped in his middle and index finger, sinking in until his knuckles touched my pussy.

I moaned, feeling his tongue work its magic.

Fuck, he was good at this.

He curled his fingers inside of me, brushing my sweet spot. I grabbed the back of his head, feeling his head bob under my palm as he licked.

Then, something occurred to me. He knew every inch of my body because he had fucked me thousands of times in the past. Even if it wasn’t me, it was a girl who was exactly like me. Maybe I was just that predicable. Or maybe he was just that good.

He picked up his speed, lapping between my folds as I curled my fingers in his hair. I was close and he could feel it. He could feel the twitches and miniatures spasms on his tongue as he worked. “Miguel, I’m close!” I whimpered.

He licked faster. Suddenly, pleasure shot through me, filling me with a white-hot heat. I moaned, spasming around his fingers as I came undone.

Miguel whispered something into my thigh as he pushed himself off the bed. Then, he pulled down his pajama bottoms, allowing for his cock to spring upward. It smacked against his lower stomach, heavy and decorated with a dark vein that ran along the underside. He kicked his pants off into the floor and then crawled on top of me.

He pressed a soft kiss on my lips. I could taste myself on his lips.

“This may hurt at first. I won’t move until you’re ready.” He said. He reached down between us. I watched as he grabbed his dick, stroked himself twice, and then lined himself up with my entrance. Without another word, he slid inside, making me gasp. I curled my legs around his hips, pulling him in deep as possible. “That’s my girl.”

I was overwhelmed with a stretching sensation. Arms rested on either side of my head as he stayed in place, waiting for me. After a moment, I leaned forward and kissed him, giving him the go ahead. One hand drifted up to my face. He caressed my cheek and his lips glided against mine.

He drew his hips back, sliding nearly all the way out. Then, thrusted upward, hitting deep inside of me. I gasped into his mouth. “I forgot how tight you are.” He murmured, his words slurring together.

My hands slid down his muscled back as he started to fuck himself into me. All the while, he kept his mouth on mine. I could feel his heart beating against my chest as he worked.

“Miguel…” I moaned, rocking my hips against him. I could feel my lower stomach tightening.

Suddenly, he whispered my name. It was so gentle that it was almost unsettling, considering the circumstances. I glanced up to meet his gaze. But as my eyes met his, he dipped downward. He buried his face in the curve of my neck so that I couldn’t see his eyes.

“Miguel, what’s wrong?”

He rutted his hips upward, burying himself as deep as possible. I gasped, digging my nails into his back. Despite how hard I had sunk them in, they didn’t break the skin. He was indestructible… at least, physically. I slid one hand across the skin of his back, moving to his dark hair. I could have sworn I heard him murmuring something into my neck. I could feel his lips moving against my skin, offering some kind of low prayer. But to who?

“Miguel…” He pulled his hips back again and then quickly slid inside of me again, grinding his hips against me to get a reaction. I gasped, tightening my hold on his hair.

“Say you love me.” His voice was dreamy, and his words slurred from pleasure.

“What?” I asked. It caught me off guard.

“Say it.”

“I love you.” I felt his hips still their movements. He was weighing the authenticity of my words. After a moment, he lifted his head from my neck.

“Say it again.” His eyes peered into mine. He was searching for something in my stare.

“I love you.”

“Good girl.” With that, he continued to beat into me, groaning when I would tense around him.

We were both close. I could tell by the chorus of whimpers and moans that were filling the room. That familiar tightening in my stomach was close to coming entirely undone.

He pivoted his hips, hitting the perfect spot inside of me. Miguel stared down at my features. He wanted something very specific from me before he finished. He ground his hips, making me gasp.

Fucking hell, Miguel.

With that, I felt myself come undone. Pleasure shot through me, making me clamp down on his dick. He grunted, never stopping his movements. “Miguel, I love you!” He groaned at my words. He kept hitting deep inside of me, making sure to grind himself against me every couple of thrusts.

His orgasm overtook him. He groaned my name as he gave one final thrust, hitting deep. I felt his body tense under my hands.

Slowly, we both came down from our highs. We were dragged back to the reality of the bedroom. The day had faded into night, leaving us in darkness.

He had finished inside of me. I could feel a deep warmth inside of my stomach. I also felt a distinct wetness that was hard to ignore. I sighed, relaxing into the mattress. I unhooked my legs, waiting for him to slide out of me. But, instead, he reached behind him and closed my legs again.

“No…” He murmured. Then, he leaned down and pressed a kiss against my lips. In this position, I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. It was so intimate; so loving. Maybe he really did see me as his wife. He pressed another gentle kiss against my mouth. I closed my eyes, giving into the softness of the moment.

“You have to do something for me.” He said. I opened my eyes to look at him.

“Okay.”

“I want you to love me like you loved him. I want you to look at me like I’m your hero and that I’m special.” He inhaled sharply before he reached forward to brush one of my curls off of my forehead. “I want you to care if I die.”

I nodded. What other option was there? I was trapped in his little universe; it’s not like I could ever leave or be with anyone else. Besides, we were still literally connected at the hip.

After what felt like an eternity, he slid out of me. He leaned back on the balls of his feet to inspect me. I immediately closed my legs, though that did little good. He reached forward and grabbed my knees, prying my thighs apart. Warm cum dribbled out of me, coating the naked skin of my upper thighs.

He smirked at his handy work before pushing himself off of the bed. He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, turning on the faucet and grabbing a towel from the cabinet.

It was then that something occurred to me. “Miguel, I’m not on birth control.” I said. He nodded, acting as if I had just told him about the weather. He stepped out of the bathroom holding a damp washcloth. “Miguel.”

“What, sweetheart?” I stared at him, feeling my mind begin to race. He climbed onto the bed, moving to where I was laying. He sat down between my thighs and gently began to clean the remains of him off of my skin.

“You didn’t… you didn’t use a condom and I’m not on birth control.” I said. I could feel my heart beginning to race. Why wasn’t this bothering him in the same way?

“You’re my wife.” He said as he wiped my skin.

“Miguel.” I repeated. I wanted him to react.

“What are you wanting me to say?”

“Anything.” I said. I wanted some kind of actual reaction.

“Things are exactly as they need to be. Whatever happens, happens.”

“That’s not an answer.” I said.

“Maybe you need to learn to be happy with what you’re already working with.” He finished cleaning me up and then walked to the bathroom. He had made sure to only clean the skin outside of my body. He didn’t try to remove any of the fluid inside of me, despite how much there was.

He came back to the bed and quickly climbed in. “You should get some sleep.” He said. I stared at him, searching for some idea about what he was thinking. He offered a soft smile in return.

Was he fucking with me?

Did he really love me or was he just using me as a quick screw?

Did he actually want me to be his wife… or was this some fucked up mind game of his?

He leaned back against the pillows and then lifted his hand. He curled a finger toward him, motioning for me to come. “I’m not a dog.” I muttered.

“Then be a good girl and do as I ask.” He reached forward and gently grabbed my body. He slid me closer to him, moving me so that my head lay against his bare chest.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Afraid so.” He said. He placed one hand on my shoulder and the other on my side. He slid his fingers up and down either side of my body, taking in every soft dip and curve. Every so often he would lean down and kiss the top of my head.

I couldn’t help but notice the way that his fingers traced over my lower stomach. He looked wistful as he traced the soft skin. I squirmed, feeling insecure.

“Stop wiggling and get some sleep.”

“Then stop feeling me up.”

“I’m not feeling you up. I’m trying to be nice to you.” He murmured against the top of my head. He pressed another kiss against my hair.

“You’re an ass.” I muttered. I rolled his eyes as he continued to pet my bare skin. His heartbeat played in my ear.

As I began to drift off to sleep, I felt him begin to play with my frizzed curls. He would coil a stand of hair around his finger and then let it go, satisfied with the soft curl that had formed.

It was something that my Miguel liked to do, as well.

Maybe they weren’t all that different.

I heard his strong heartbeat against my ear as I faded away from the room.

Before I fell asleep, Miguel pressed a gentle kiss against my forehead. “Please don’t leave me.” He whispered.

I love you...

#miguel o'hara #Miguel Ohara smut #Miguel o'hara smut #Miguel O'Hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #Miguel ohara x you #Miguel o'hara x you #Miguel ohara imagines #Miguel ohara fanfiction #spiderman99 smut #spider verse smut

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genshxn · 8 months

Text

dan heng being bad at feelings, the sequel.

started writing this pre-1.3, so i am once again emphasizing that i am making shit up. (well, 1.3 dropped while still working on this and the TB mission was rather lacklustre, so i'm gonna half ignore it).

sorry for any typos/mistakes/whatever, most of this was written at dubious hours of the night.

contains. mild-moderate canon divergence, dubious jing yuan shenanigans, dh being somewhat down bad. i dropped a bit too much spice in, so it is no longer “mild”. take that as you will.

7.5K words. THIS IS SO FUCKING EMBARRASSING.

here's the first part in case you haven't read it. you're still not the trailblazer.

tags: @akhiran @cypunk-0 @fiona782 @seelelovesbronya @bleakqblake @xiaos-poems

this place is not a place of honour. no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here…nothing valued is here. Below 15, DNI. Go away.

the next day, you awoke to a feeling of emptiness at your side. any part of the bed that your limbs weren’t splayed upon was long cold with dan heng’s absence. you were alone, still left in the nest of sheets and pillows he arranged himself. it couldn’t have all been some kind of fever-dream, could it?

no, any such possibility was dashed when you looked at the messages on your phone. one unread, left two hours ago.

with the ellipsis and all. oh, the self-inflicted misery. (does he really consider every single person his enemy?) you sighed, swinging your feet off the side of the bed to get up. if you knew him well enough, then you already knew the next little while was going to be tricky, to say the least. it was obvious what his plan was from the beginning, with him abandoning your side at the sun’s first rays: avoidance.

and avoid you, he did. in the denouement after phantylia’s attack, he still had to be around you, but the stiltedness he carried with him was palpable. he made a point to stand as socially acceptably far from you. it was almost like he was acting like a ghost solely to you. elusive, non-communicative, only seen out of the corner of your eye. perhaps leaving you with the lingering feeling of being watched, and ultimately gone before you could even call his name. in fact, he quite literally ghosted you. he wouldn’t even respond to your messages.

once the day after the final events rolled around, you thought that maybe he would have had enough time to finally be able to face you again, but no. apparently he elected to confine himself to the archives the moment he returned aboard the express. however, this didn’t deter you from going knocking on his door.

"dan heng?" you tapped on the sealed door. your ear was right up against the frame, listening intently.

whatever shuffling was coming from within fell still at your voice.

"dan heng, i know you’re in there. i just heard you stop moving."

there was more silence, then followed by a sigh. "did pom-pom not relay my one request?"

"no, they did. told me that i’m not allowed near the archives."

"yet you’re still here…" his voice was strained, and distant from the door. he must have been sitting either at his desk or on his thin, messy futon. beyond that, it was hard to imagine what he was doing in there, or even what he looked like. it was surprising. you thought he struggled to control his form, but it seemed no problem when he wasn’t with you. so was he the regular old dan heng sitting in there? or the vidyadhara that laid next to you that night?

"you really think i’m gonna listen? i never do." you squared yourself further towards the door. "now, c’mon. we’re already talking, so can’t you just—"

"n-no, i can’t," he cut you off. "i… i’m sorry, but not here, and not like this."

"can you at least tell me why you say you can’t be around m—?" almost as if on cue, in came an angry pom-pom inbound like a squishy freight train.

"hey! what did pom-pom just say?!" they cried. "can’t you follow one simple rule for the time being?"

as pom-pom ushered you away from the archives with weak thumps to the back of your legs, you grunted to yourself. you were tempted to chuck them in the opposite direction, but alas, such a thing was not in the cards for you. after all, it would be wise to not tempt fate with the conductor. things seemed like they were going to be more difficult than you anticipated.

░░░░░░░

early the next morning, long before either march or stelle would rise, you shuffled your way into the parlor car in search of food. if it was going to be anything like yesterday, you were anticipating being the only one in the parlor car. however, to your surprise, there was another person present when you silently closed the door behind you—dan heng. he was in his regular appearance of shorter, fluffy hair and his regular attire. you sighed as quietly as you could, staring at the back of his head that leant on his wrist, propped up on the table. seeing him staring dejectedly at the food was a sorry sight.

the unspoken tradition you had with him was that when the whole express wasn’t eating together, it’d always be you two sharing your meals together. it began when you first joined the express—after dan heng himself, but before march. left adrift as a vagrant amidst the stars, you were all too familiar with the feeling of loneliness. it was always at its worst when you managed to gather together enough scraps to resemble the meals you used to eat in your old home. to you, when possible, meals were something that should be shared in the company of others. so when you first saw dan heng sat alone on your first proper morning aboard, you saw part of yourself in him. a part that you wanted gone, now that you had a new home. so you sat yourself down next to him, your own food in hand. you were met with some minor (albeit polite) resistance, but you being the stubborn ass you were, would not have it. you knew your persistence was risky, but it paid off. not long after that, he would wait until you were sitting with him.

so to see that sight left you saddened, but also vehemently annoyed. normalcy was out the window thanks to this baffling, self-imposed restriction he had against you. as quietly as you could, you stalked up behind him. moving as lightly as possible felt like it was the only way possible to get closer to him. it wasn’t like he developed a sudden allergy to your presence or something, was it?

you were successful in thwarting his pre-occupied senses as you reached the velvet couch. but maybe you were too successful, because he almost leapt out of his skin when you planted yourself down next to him. you leaned against the table and spoke. "how about us talking if it’s over breakfast?"

he did manage to calm down, but not by a lot, and not enough to give you a reply. his expression was still frazzled as he struggled to keep himself in place.

"can you please tell me if i’ve done something wrong? i don’t understand why we’re suddenly like strangers again," you said, reaching out to put your hand atop his one that was clenched at his side. but he snatched it away before you could feel the warmth of it.

"it’s my fault. you’ve done nothing," he said. "but please, i need some time before i can talk to you properly."

he turned to get up and leave, but you caught him by the sleeve. "w-wait, by why?" you trailed off, voiced far weaker than intended.

the look he gave you was weird. it was a jumble of confused emotions, but the most you could make out was nervousness. you had no idea what that light flush could have meant for you. his mouth parted to make some sort of reply, and you could have sworn you the glimpse of sharpened canines. "since when have you had fangs in this appearance?" you blurted out after doing a double take.

his eyes flared wide open and a hand flew over his mouth. "s-since never." with that, he slipped from your grasp. "please excuse me."

you watched incredulously as he walked out of the parlour car and back towards the archives as if he had wooden knees. you had no idea what just happened. rejection, you supposed. but considering how he was that night, it made no sense. nothing about this made any sense.

whatever it was, it was slowly eroding your patience, leaving you biting the inside of your lips in irritation. it’s true you were doing some type of avoidance when his alternate form was finally revealed, but it was nothing of this calibre. it was almost impossible for it to be the case with dan heng, but if this really was some kind of petty revenge, he may as well have whipped out a steel chair after you knocked shoulders with him.

░░░░░░░

your shameful failure of an interaction left you in need of recuperation. you hadn’t felt that irked and downright baffled since one of herta’s curios fell on your head. so now, you were blathering a ranting tirade at stelle and march over some snacks, all in the parlour car. "i swear to whatever aeon’s listening, he’s turned emo or something." you folded your arms across your chest, sinking down in your plush chair.

"like he wasn’t before?" stelle mumbled, not looking up from whatever gacha game she was playing on her phone.

"eh, not really. he does have his moments, though." march shrugged, grabbing a single chip. "but yeah, i’ve never seen anything like this. it’s so weird, he almost never avoids you like this!"

"hence why i’m so confused."

"things seemed to get pretty tense between the two of you after he had his magical girl transformation," stelle added while shovelling a handful of chips into her mouth, still not looking up. "then maybe… the day after phantylia, he got even weirder."

"yeah, like, he won’t go near you for some reason, but he keeps staring at you so longingly and sighing like you’re the last cookie in the jar and he’s been told he can’t have any more!" march said with the melodramatic flourish of a swoon.

"that one sounds like it’s based on real experiences." stelle cast her a sideways glance, to which march let out a sniff and wiped away a dry tear.

"just how much has he been doing that?" you muttered, unable to comprehend.

"a fair amount from what i’ve seen. he’s looked like a kicked puppy every single time," march said. "well, as much as dan heng can look like a kicked puppy."

"not that he’s particularly talkative, but i’ve tried asking him about it. was only met with howling winds of jarilo-vi’s everwinter storm." stelle placed her phone down on the table and sat back with her arms crossed. "but now, he’s just being straight up weird. (y/n), what’d you do to him?"

"yeah, i mean, he won’t even eat in the mornings if you’re there!" march cried.

your nails dug into your knees as you looked at your lap. you could feel a heat creeping onto your face as you recalled him so close to you. his words still rung in your head. if they were true, then what the fuck was he doing now? "i—i don’t really want to say, since it’s between him and i," you said. "but some pretty… significant things happened, i guess."

march suddenly drew in a comically loud gasp. "DID HE FINALLY CONFE—" she began, but you clapped your hand over her mouth before she could finish.

"must’ve," stelle said, leaning forward with her hands on the table loosely clasped in front of her.

"it wasn’t… exactly like that." your voice was low. your attempts to protect your dignity were feeble at best. it’s true, he never explicitly told you he has feelings for you in the classic format of ‘i like you’, but… who were kidding, it was a confession in all forms except literalness. you grabbed at your face, hiding the creeping heat behind your hands with a groan.

"no, it was totally a love confession. he’s been head over heels for you for a while now! even when i first met you two, it was so obvious he had a big ol’ crush on you. how’d you not notice it?!"

"cuz they’re denser than dan heng." stelle deadpanned, staring right at you.

"if you’re going to be making indirect insults about me, at least do it to my face," a familiar voice muttered from somewhere a distance behind you. in walked dan heng, eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose. he was once again in his normal appearance. stelle immediately squashed you down beneath the square table, leaving you only to look at everyone’s legs.

"oh, so the elusive dan heng finally graces us with his presence, huh?" you couldn’t see march’s face, but you knew she was making a half-lidded, unimpressed frown at him—the certified march classic.

"i’ve had a lot of information to collate and put into the archives, so i’ve been busy—" his words stopped short. from around the bend of the chair’s edge, you could see him inch closer to the table.

"been busy what? you just stopped talking." march sounded confused.

"is that… (y/n)’s scent?" his tone was far sharper, but his wording sounded unsure.

"are you calling them stinky? that’s kinda rude, isn’t it?" march frowned.

"huh? no, of course not!" he sputtered. "it’s just v-vidyadhara senses. they’re quite acute." there was the shuffling of some fabric. he must have crossed his arms.

"well i say it’s cuz you’re going heehee-silly-delulu with your big fat crush on them." march chimed in. your eyes widened as you frowned. why were they both baiting the literal dragon?

the only sound that came out of dan heng was something like an indignant cry that was cut-off at its head. "i… i do not—"

"you don’t like them? alright, keep telling yourself that," stelle said.

"…what hand does (y/n) have in this? they were just here, weren’t they?" he took a few steps towards the table. you imagined him with a strained look on his face, fighting to keep his composure like he yesterday. as he was stood right in front of you, you felt yourself shrinking back. it was maybe only seconds until ground zero—until everything hit the fan. "because that’s their scent nearby…" he changed his footing just a touch, and the second you saw the tips of his fluffy hair peak down past the table, you launched headlong into him. not by your own volition, but because a heeled boot slammed into your lower back, jetting you forward. your face collided with some part of his legs (of which was not very soft), sending you both in the same direction with simultaneous cries. there was a significant thud when dan heng hit the floor, and your head knocked into something bony.

your eyes cracked open, rubbing your forehead with a groan, but all sounds fell silent when you realized you were hovering between his knees. you stared up at him with wide eyes and a stifled breath, where he met your owlish gaze with his own. in other words, you were almost right between his legs. both of your faces lit like infernos, but neither of you moved. a grand total of two seconds passed before the vidyadhara features came out. it was quick—his horns rose from his head, and his hair spilt over his shoulders. his tail appeared behind him, laying still. even his clothes suddenly swapped out on him. his chest rose and fell as his breath seemed to quicken.

"s-sorry," you swallowed thickly. in almost an instant, he dug one of his clawed hands into his arm. he clambered to his feet, unable to look you in the eye.

"wh-what the hell was that?" his voice cracked.

"fuck, that was my bad." stelle said from behind you.

"ngh, you… please excuse me," he quickly turned and strode back towards the archives, still holding onto his arm. you hadn’t moved from the floor when you watched the passenger cabin’s door close behind him.

"what the heck, stelle?!" march cried, startling you.

"holy fuck, i’m so sorry. i did not think it’d go like that," stelle said. when you looked back over, she was leaning back and had raked her bangs back, hand still on her forehead.

"how did you think it’d go?" you groaned, unsteadily raising to your feet once again.

"i dunno, but not like that."

"why’d he suddenly change like that, i wonder?" march tapped her finger to her chin, looking off to the side.

"cuz he’s down bad." stelle looked very confident in her answer.

you almost choked on your spit.

"he’s down bad, but then he keeps running off 'cuz refuses to let himself be so."

"what kind of a theory is that?!" march huffed.

"a simple observation. mr. yang says i’m perceptive, so i have final authority on all judgements ever made." stelle crossed her arms over her chest, face seldom making any expressions. "and i say exactly what i said."

you stood with your head hanging in your hands, burning with embarrassment. things couldn’t keep going on like this. if this was the new dynamic, then how were any of you supposed to function while you’re out trailblazing? how were any of you supposed to function even just normally? that was it. you raised your head until your eyes lifted from behind your hands, a new resolve filling your blood. maybe jing yuan might know something.

░░░░░░░

managing to secure a time to speak to jing yuan was unbelievably easy. then again, you should gave guessed it’d be. over messages, he told you that since he’s been doing nothing but resting, he’s incredibly bored—someone to see or speak to is more than welcome. and so, it quickly was organized that you could stop by a planned location in aurum alley to see him.

the time soon rolled around, as long as it took. during the day, as expected, there was no sign of dan heng having any interest in interacting with you normally, much to your growing irritation and mild chagrin. even march and stelle were shaking their heads and clicking their tongues in disapproval.

it didn’t take long for you to get there. you agreed to meet him in a small, secluded area, just out of the way of eyes that might seek to pry into the general’s private business. it was a bit into the early evening. it wasn’t too hard to find him sitting at his table since he wasn't exactly the most conspicuous person out there. the golden artificial sunlight poured in from an oblique angle overhead, coating the tucked-away courtyard in a honeyed light. once he saw you approaching, jing yuan cast you one of his usual sleepy, cattish smiles.

"um, hello," you spoke, pulling out a seat next to him.

"and to what do i owe the pleasure?" there was almost a purr in his voice. "tell me, what is it you wished to speak about?" he leaned forward, resting his head on his wrist propped up on the table. "or did you simply come here to chat with me because you felt like it?" he made a closed-eyed smile laced with mischief.

"ah, i’m sorry to disappoint, but it’s because i’m having a bit of a dilemma." you scratched the back of your head with an awkward laugh. "please hear me out on this one, but it’s about dan heng."

"oh, dan heng? what about him?" jing yuan tilted his head. "as it stands, i’m afraid you might know him better than i do, unfortunately. so i don’t know if i would be able to provide the best of help for you." there was a faint, bittersweet smile on his lips, making you bite your own.

"it’s, ah, a little more about him as a vidyadhara, i suppose. i’m not sure if he has anything in common with his previous incarnation, but i thought there must be something there."

"well, i can say his obstinance seems to have certainly survived reincarnation."

"it’s thriving," you huffed, at which jing yuan lightly laughed.

"so is that the root of your problem? him being too stubborn on something?"

"that’s about it, yeah." you pressed your lips into a line. "he’s been avoiding me for… reasons i won’t divulge… and i don’t what i can do to get him to talk to me again."

"you don’t need to put it like that. i can tell he really likes you," he said, the trace of a smug grin on his face. after you coughed loudly, he continued. "he’s rather obvious if you know what you’re looking for. but anyway, what happened between you two? if i’m allowed to know, that is."

you swallowed nervously. should you really be revealing everything like this? you did it anyway. "one night, we said a few things of… i guess questionably romantic nature to each other, and he reacted in a way that i think was influenced by some sort of… vidyadhara shenanigans."

jing yuan looked at you with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. "go on."

"he hauled me off to his bed and then got uncharacteristically affectionate. he had a back-and-forth with self-doubt once he realized i was really confused by it all, but i told him it’s fine. i mean, i even pet his horns out of my own volition and stuff." it was all coming out at this point. "then he eventually drifted off and then pretty much declared his feelings in his half-sleep. but even though i told him i’m fine with him doing whatever he was doing, he still decided to run off the next morning. i’ve tried to talk to him repeatedly, but he won’t reply to my messages and he almost freaks out every time i’m in his vicinity. i don’t get it!"

"mm, that’s quite the situation on your hands there," jing yuan hummed. there was a mischievous spark in his eye, and you weren’t sure if you liked the look of it. "now, i couldn’t tell you the specifics, but if you say he got ’uncharacteristically affectionate’, then that’s definitely some old vidyadhara response. they can get very protective over the things they love."

your gaze dropped somewhere in front of your as your face prickled with heat at his words.

"but now, i’d wager he’s stuck in some sort of self-imposed battle of will against himself."

"and how would you suggest i get him out of it?"

"i suppose there is technically the option of waiting this out," he glanced at your face. you looked embittered at such an inane suggestion, making him laugh. "or you could simply make him lose the battle, since it sounds like he’s set on taking it ad infinitum, if needed."

"small issue… i’m now allowed near the archives," you sighed, leaning yourself back. "it’s hard to simply go there with both the conductor banning me as well as dan heng refusing to open his door."

"hmm…" jing yuan shifted his hand beneath his chin. "might i do something a bit uncouth?"

"uhh, okay."

"come here for a moment." he slid himself next to you, turning to face you a little more. with a slight frown, you turned towards him as well. "now, i can’t guarantee his reaction to this, but—" he suddenly pulled you closer toward him and placed his head in the crook of your neck—the same side dan heng had his. one hand snuck its way around your neck and held the base of your neck ever so gently, while the other looped around your back. you had to fight a shudder when you could feel jing yuan’s lips ghost over your neck and shoulder. "if i do this, it may be enough to knock him from this cycle of his."

"wh-what?" you strained out.

"he’ll be able to tell i’ve been with you. and by the places i’ve been in contact with you…" he said, voice low. his faint breaths were cool on your shoulder. you couldn’t suppress a slight shiver. "…it should be enough to grant you access to… the archives, was it?"

"y-yeah." you blinked a few times. your brain had been reduced to a single cell bouncing around inside your brain like a shitty maraca.

jing yuan finally pulled back, assuming his original pose. "please forgive me for that… but you’ll likely see why i did it." he still couldn’t help but wear his usual small grin for the second part. "i’d now recommend that you find him again, and try to keep his attention long enough for him to notice you were with me. vidyadhara’s senses of smell are perceptive, so it shouldn’t be long. well now, you’d best get back then." his stupid grin was even wider and even smugger. his gaze wasn’t condescending, but read more as if he were thinking just wait and see.

"i… guess i’ll be going then. th-thank you, general." you made an awkward bow as you hustled back the way you came, hyperaware of the air brushing against your shoulder. it all felt incredibly foreboding… but that was to be expected when you were about to enter the dragon’s den.

░░░░░░░

your plan was flawless:

1. jing yuan does his shit

2. go back to the express.

3. bait with bubble tea to get the door open.

4. "talk" to dan heng long enough until he notices jing yuan was up to something

5. ???

6. profit.

just as detailed, to further your chances of getting that door cracked open, you decided to buy a bubble tea. a classic milk should have sufficed, since he tended to favour the more simple things. the chances of him actually opening the door to take it were already slim, but desperate times called for desperate measures. knowing him, he’d simply make you leave it at the door, which was a problem. so there you were, stuck on an express couch, plotting. (or, perhaps more aptly, chewing your nails in nerves). as you sat there, in waddled pom-pom, looking mighty chuffed for some unknown reason.

"hm-hm-hm! dinner of pom-pom’s own creation will be ready in just over 20 minutes!" they declared, puffing their stuffed chest. they waited for any reaction, but no one looked up at them, making them deflate with a scowl. "stelle, (y/n) you go tell everyone," they grumbled, shuffling back into the passenger cart and beyond.

"wait, what?" you looked up—you hadn’t even noticed them.

"we’re on messenger duty," stelle said from her seat. she was placed upside down on the couch, hair grazing the ground while she played her usual gacha games.

"can i try and deal with dan heng?"

"i mean, sure." she looked over at you. "but what’re you plotting?"

"my entry into the archives. i come baring gifts." you motioned towards the untouched bubble tea sitting in front of you.

"i’ll leave you to it. i’ll go tell march and the others then." she chucked her phone elsewhere on the couch and got up, wandering towards the passenger car. you followed shortly behind, offering in hand.

it was a short walk. you knew you were being dramatic, but you couldn’t help but grow more and more nervous the closer you drew to the archives. you had already weathered so many rejections, so it’s not like this was going to somehow have a worse result. perhaps it was because you put too much on this. you’ve gone to a rather large effort just to have a slim chance of getting him to open the door—speaking of, you were already there.

you raised your hand to knock on it, but before you could even lay your hand on it, dan heng spoke from inside. "what is it, (y/n)?" he was once again somewhere further off in the room, speaking with undecipherable emotions.

"um." your voice cracked, making you cringe. "pom-pom said dinner’s ready in 20."

"ah. thank you," he said plainly. it still kinda stung, being back at what felt like the stage where you were only acquaintances.

"i also got you something." you tried to cast another line.

"you can leave it at the door."

you flopped your head against the door. of course he said it. "i’d rather give it to you now. it’s some bubble tea. the ice is melting." there was no response. you couldn’t tell what he was doing. "c’mon, it’s not like you’re sick or something."

"hah, more like lovesick," stelle called as she walked past behind you.

"stelle!" dan heng cried indignantly. he sounded closer to the door. "i am not—"

"if you’re not, then open the door." she simply kept walking.

you were stood with wide, unblinking eyes and an open mouth, watching her jacket pass through the cabin door until you were left alone in the hall. the door suddenly slid open a little. you jumped, turning to stare up at him. as usual, there was a strained look on his face that he was trying to suppress. "see, i’m not—" he looked out and around for stelle, but she was nowhere to be seen. instead, he simply sighed.

you tried to swallow your heart beating in your throat, but it still hammered away. "hi."

he closed his eyes, leaning his head on the inner door frame. "hello," his voice sounded tired. tired with himself. "please forgive me for how i’ve been acting. i know it’s not fair to you. it’s just…"

"i know, you need more time. you like to say it," you muttered with a slight, strained grin. "by the way, here’s your tea. it’s just your usual order." you held it out it to him, and he looked down at it with softened eyes. as he went to grab it, his fingertips brushed over yours. he seemed more startled than you, but after a moment’s hesitation, he placed his hand back over top of yours.

"i haven’t been completely honest with you," he said. (that was certainly one way of putting it).

you held your breath, as if making a single noise could suddenly startle him back into the archives.

"i… since that night, i haven’t known what to do with mysel—" he suddenly paused, frowning the tiniest bit. he leaned forward, seeming to concentrate on something with closed eyes. once they opened again, his pupils had constricted into slits, and he was staring intently at you. uh oh.

"wh-what is it?"

"where were you before this?" he took the tea from you and placed it somewhere next to the door frame inside the archives.

your stomach flipped. was this really going where you thought it was? "um. i was wandering around aurum alley." it wasn't a lie. "why?"

"that’s not all. what else?" he took you by the arm and drew you into the archives. it was an uncharacteristic mess in there. low-lit, and with clothes, books and items were strewn all over the place, perhaps as a reflection of his state. you watched the door close behind you, and when you looked back, there stood dan heng with his full vidyadhara look on display, right in front of you. uh oh.

he stepped closer to you until you could feel the warmth of his body radiating off of him, then grabbing hold of your shoulders. it was a tight grip, but not enough to hurt yet. he dipped his head into the crook of your neck and drew in a long but quiet inhale. "what were you doing with jing yuan?" his voice was low, almost with a slight growl. as he spoke, his arms had wound around shoulders, so he was holding the back of your head, just like jing yuan was. only far harsher than the other’s ghost-like touch.

yes, this was going the direction you thought it was. "we—we only met to talk about something," you sputtered out, your heart in your throat again.

"then why do i smell him on you, as if you were doing something more than just talking?" with a free hand, he took your jaw and turned your face towards him. he was only inches away from you, gazing at you with narrowed, dimly-glowing eyes. "why go to him when you have me?"

you frowned, eyes wide. "huh? what do you mean i have you? you’ve refused to speak to me normally ever since the morning after you hauled me to your bed. besides, i-it’s not what you think."

but your words were lost on him. "no, this won’t do." his voice was barely a murmur. he seemed to be living in his own version of the world. dragon-brain was back, evidently a fuller force than ever. you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t him drawing you even closer, placing his head in the crook of your neck and nuzzling. your face lit like an inferno as some kind of noise escaped your lips. it was really back to the nuzzling. only with surprising fervour, this time. he nestled his face into your neck, exhaling small sighs against you. his nose and lips brushing against your skin was almost ticklish, but you weren’t laughing when his tail snaked itself around your hips, twining itself down one of your legs.

"d-dan heng?!" you cried when he suddenly lifted you with his hands clasped beneath the backs of your thighs, assisted by the tail. he had his mouth placed right over top of your collar bone, watching where he was going from over your shoulder. "dan heng, put me down!" you had to hold onto his back and shoulders for stability.

he gave you no reply, only taking you back to his mussed futon. similar to his bed at the inn, the blanket was strewn in a way akin to the base of a nest. stray pieces of clothing made up the rest of lack-lustre structure—you could have sworn one of your own old shirts you’d forgotten somewhere was poking out from beneath a different article. dan heng sat himself down in the centre of the futon and brought you into lap. your position was a bit awkward as you sat perpendicular across from him. both your legs went one direction while your torso was turned to face him. he sunk his head into the crook of your neck again, drawing in more, shorter inhales.

"seriously, wh—what are you doing?"

"he’s still on you." he said against your shoulder, warmth breath making you shiver. there was a slight growl in his throat again.

"even after that?" as you spoke, he tilted your head away, exposing more of your neck. "hey, w-wai—ah!" you made a cry of pain when a pair of fangs suddenly bit down into your shoulder. it wasn’t hard enough to draw much blood, but more than enough to hurt. you shuddered with some ungodly, almost harrowed noise when his tongue glided over what would blossom into a bruise. his arms and tail wound tighter around you, as if you might slip away at any second. he moved on, this time toward your jaw, peppering it with desperate kisses. you tried to say his name as he trailed down in between his own rapid-growing breaths. he was panting once he reached your shoulder, his kisses sloppy. in some work of miraculous dexterity, he had readjusted your seat on him until his waist was slotted between your legs. all the while, one hand was in your hair angling your head for his best reach, the other around your back. you had to hide your face in his hair when he had began making small vocalizations, something like tiny whines.

you said his name again, this time louder when he trailed his fangs back up your shoulder. right after he left a hot kiss on your shoulder, he bit down again. you seethed in pain, trying to push his head off, but you were only met with purrs. even though he didn’t seem fully aware of what was going on, those purrs had to be weaponized against you. he shifted to another part of your shoulder, mouthing another kiss on it, but before he could bite, you grabbed his horn.

"dan heng!" you yanked his head back, surprising him. but instead of some sort of pained cry, he let out a heady moan. to your surprise, that noise slipping from his mouth seemed to restore his lucidity in an instant. his dilated eyes shot wide open and his hands flew to cover his mouth, almost sending himself backwards in the process. his face burned with embarrassment, colouring his cheeks and pointed ears in a bright crimson. you huffed, but didn’t remove yourself from your position. in fact, you anchored yourself down by locking your ankles behind his back if he were to try and push you off.

"(y/n) to dan heng, can you hear me?" you said, almost tempted to knock on his forehead.

"i-it happened again," his voice was quiet in horror.

"hey, i need you to listen to me before you clam up on me again." you brought one hand to the side of his face, gently making him look up at you. he jumped at the contact, sending his hands further up his face until they were covering his eyes.

"please forgive me," he rushed out.

"look at me," you said softly, placing one hand on top of his to move it to the side—one of his faintly glowing eyes glanced at you. "i’m more happy to make out with you, but we need to talk first."

he made a strangled groan of embarrassment in answer, moving his hand back in place again.

"are you listening?"

he nodded.

"alright, the whole thing with jing yuan was me asking about you," you said. "i thought he might know a bit about you as a vidyadhara and your behaviour, so i went to ask what i could do to get you to let me into the archives. his idea was a less than tactful, but i guess it worked. that’s why ‘his scent was on me’, as you say. he only stuck his head on my shoulder for a bit because you’d be able to tell and then demand an explanation or something."

his fingers had parted to show his eyes again, and they were staring in bewilderment.

"so, i’m sorry for doing all that to you." your voice was soft. "i just wanted to see you."

"no, i should be apologizing. i have no control of myself and i haven’t been fair to you." he lowered his hands to hovering somewhere over his chest. "i was saying before… since that night, i have been an embarrassment. all i’ve wanted to do is steal you away and… smother you in affection until you returned it. the feeling was so intense that i didn’t trust myself around you, so i hid. i thought if i waited, it’d calm down, but it really only made it worse."

your heart swooned then and there, lighting a fire in your cheeks. "o-oh… so if i did return it, then you wouldn’t act like a lovesick ghost anymore?"

"hey." he frowned, but his face soon fell back into the same flustered expression from before. "but to answer you, maybe after a while. i could also just get worse… but i really don’t want to subject you anything you don’t want." while he couldn’t meet your gaze, he still leaned his head into the palm of your hand. with a sigh, you held his jaw and angled his face to look at you again.

"how many times do i have to say i don’t mind? you can’t seem to fit that one through that thick vidyadhara skull of yours." you did actually knock on his head this time, making him wince.

"i—i don’t know, i just get embarrassed." he hid face his face against your chest, face a shade redder and his ears drooping. "you also always look so shocked. i don’t want to do that to you."

"that’s only because you tend to forget any kind of warning," you said with a light laugh. "truly, i like it—when you give me warning, that is—because i really like you too, stupid."

his breath audibly hitched, and he raised his head back up. "t-too? but i’ve never said—"

"are you kidding? you don’t need to say it when the aeons and their grandmas know. even march says it’s obvious. you’re seriously worried about that after you’ve made out with my shoulder sloppy style? by the way, what was with the bites?"

"ngh, don’t word it like that." his tail that was still tangled around you thumped against your back indignantly. "…and the bites are a weird territorial thing. i’m sorry if they hurt." he leaned his head against you, running his thumb over one of the marks.

"dragons…" you sighed with a smile. "you’re lucky you’re so cute." you pet his hair, and he leaned into your touch.

he moved his chin so it was on your collarbone, looking up at you with softened eyes. there were almost stars of reverence in them when he gazed at you. "i love you."

"wait, wha—" you began, but he swallowed the rest of your words when his lips were upon yours. he pressed himself up against you, his hands gently holding the sides of your face. as he kissed you, there was a faint rumbling and vibration coming from his chest—he was purring.

he pulled back again, leaving you a little short of breath and a lot dazed. you’d always thought it’d be you that had to kiss him first, not the other way around. he began to leave another trail of kisses starting from your lips to your jaw, this time leading toward the other side he had already been. your hands fell from their place on him and inched onto his back while his lips were on your neck. one hand slipped into his back window, and he suddenly gasped. his back arched into you, almost knocking you over. he panicked, and his tail constricted behind you like another set of arms to catch you.

"what was that?" you laughed, trying to re-steady yourself.

"your hand was cold. i don’t know, i guess i have a sensitive back," he huffed. his ears were angled down and a flush was heavy on his face. you couldn’t really articulate what it was about him, but you were suddenly overcome with cuteness aggression. you leaned your weight onto him, sending him backwards onto the futon and—perhaps somewhat out of revenge—hovered yourself over top of his hips. he stared up at you with widened eyes and a held breath, frozen and waiting for your next move.

"you said i need to return your affection, didn’t you?"

he swallowed and nodded the tiniest bit.

"so let me have some fun too, my beloved." you placed a hand on his cheek.

"wait, you heard—i actually said that?" it almost looked like steam would start rising from the top of his head at any point.

"heard it loud and clear." you smiled to yourself, leaning down and managing to get your fingertips into his chest window—only for the door to slam wide open.

"hey, it’s dinner! what’re you two even doi—!" march called, leaning her hand on the doorway. you and dan heng leapt off each other, landing on the opposite sides of his futon. march stared in silence for a long while before lolling her head back. "jeez, finally! anyway, can you two wait until after dinner? pom-pom’s ‘bouta blow a gasket waiting for you two."

"w-we’ll be there in a minute," you said, trying to readjust your collar to try and hide dan heng’s bite marks.

"don’t be long!" march said as she strode back off down the hallway. a couple beats passed and you looked over at dan heng. by some miracle, he’d managed to swap himself back to his human look, but he still looked disheveled as he went to stand back up.

he held a hand out to you and pulled you up, pausing for a moment. he glanced at the bite marks on your shoulder that still peaked out, made some sort of strained sound and then removed his coat. "they don’t need to see that," he said as he strung it around your shoulders, fixing the collar so it hid the marks from sight.

"i’m wearing your coat. march saw us before. if she learns something, it’s guaranteed to be said," you deadpanned. "they’ll know."

instead of giving you a direct response, he took your hand in his and lead you out of the archives, looking at you with what was probably meant to be a neutral expression. his light flush and knitted eyebrows betrayed him though. "can we at least pretend we have dignity?"

"i mean, sure, but it’s not gonna do anything, looking the way we do. now c’mon, don’t wanna keep the conductor waiting." you walked off with him in tow.

he only made a small groan in response again.

#sorry for the random jerma joke at the beginning #it's a moral obligation for me #hsr x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng #dan heng x reader #imbibitor lunae #imbibitor lunae x reader

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seresinhangmanjake · 1 month

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader - We Both Know

Summary: Simon broke up with you but you both know it was a stupid choice.

Notes/Warnings: Stalker-ish Ex!Simon; Soft!Simon; Insecure!Simon (a little bit); some smut (18+), fluff, cursing, typos probably

Words: 1642

He’s here. You know he’s here. Not because you can see him or hear him or feel him—he’s too skilled for that—but because you know Simon Riley like the back of your damn hand. And Simon Riley won’t let you go. He has not proven himself capable of letting you go. Not yet, not fully, and if you can help it, not ever.

When you close the door behind you and kick off your shoes, you don’t bother turning on the lights. You’ve spent nearly two months flipping that switch in your entryway, pretending he isn’t somewhere in your apartment. Two months of going about your nightly routine as if there isn’t an intruder in your home. Two months of ignoring the soft shutting of your front door or window once you’ve settled into bed. But you’re tired of playing this game, and frankly, you miss him—the man; not the ghost who has been haunting you, trailing you, hiding in plain sight.

“You've been watching me,” you announce into the void.

A handful of beats pass but not for a second do you let yourself believe you’re crazy for attempting to converse with blackness and silence. Then the little cord on your lamp is pulled by thick fingers, illuminating the side of the apartment where he stands. He’s a shadow in the corner of your living room, drenched in black from head to toe, skull-printed balaclava included, and it takes everything in you not to rush to his side, shove that piece of fabric up over his chin, and kiss him.

“You've made it necessary,” he scolds; the first words he has spoken to you in nearly sixty-five days. It’s the longest he has forced you to go without hearing his voice, having been attached at the hip since you met; and having that smooth, deep tone in your ear is like soaking your body in a hot bath, sloughing off the wear and dirt and grime to come out renewed and refreshed.

You nod because you know what you’ve been doing. You’ve known your choices would bring him back to you. You hoped, at least. But you also hoped he would give himself and his stalker behavior up long before you would have to call him out. He’s usually much more possessive when you spend your evenings drinking and freely dancing amongst crowds, and the thought of you flirting with other men has always put him in a sour mood. You thought seeing it up close would make his vision go red, but he's held himself back. However, you suppose him watching and following you from a distance is better than not caring to watch or follow you at all.

“You're not being safe,” he tells you.

“You mean I'm doing things you're not happy with.”

Simon doesn't respond to that. He can’t, because you’re absolutely right and he isn’t the type to disrespect you by lying to your face.

“You broke up with me to—what was it—‘live my life’ while you're gone? Do you really have a right to be pissed at me for getting a head start?” you ask as you take steps further into the apartment and toss your purse on the counter. “If that's the case, maybe you should've dumped me a little closer to your deployment date so you wouldn’t have to witness it.”

Now you do feel him. You see him through the mask. He’s bubbling inside, the beginning of a boil, because he made a silly choice and doesn’t like to be reminded of his mistakes. He hasn’t exactly voiced that, specifically, but it’s the truth. It was silly. It’s also the truth—though again, not specifically expressed—that he regretted it the very minute he walked away from you, leaving you in tears because he is the one afraid of what will happen when the two of you face his first deployment in your relationship. He is afraid to come back home expecting a loving welcome only to find disappointment if you’ve chosen to seek out the comfort of another man. So, ‘Don’t let me hold you back, love’’ he’d told you. ‘Live your life, and I’ll figure out what to do with myself.’

Simon groans, grumbles, vibrates the room. He begins to close the distance between you until he thinks better of it and halts beside your couch. “I did it because–”

“Do you miss me?”

“That is not rela–”

“Do, you, miss, me,” you press.

He swallows hard, Adam’s apple protruding under the balaclava. His fist clenches at his side. You don’t think he's going to give you the satisfaction, but then he sighs and says, “Of course I fucking miss you.”

Your breath catches in your throat and your vision starts to blur at the edges. Those words heal the bits of your heart that he broke when he left.

“Then don’t be stupid,” you say, crossing the room until your chest is nearly pressed against his. You rest your hand on his cheek, or what would be his cheek if not for the mask. “Don't make us spend your last week here apart from one another.”

With another exhale, his shoulders loosen their rigidity, and in that moment you know you have him.

“Fuck me, Si,” you whisper.

His eyes flick to yours. A flash burns through his irises.

“It'll just make it harder.” That pathetic argument betrays his actions. One of his palms instantly goes to your waist, gently tracing the curve. The gesture is so natural between you you’re not sure if he even knows he’s doing it.

“I promise it won’t,” you say.

Then your hands slide along his shoulders to grip his biceps and you slowly turn his body until you can push him into a seated position on the couch. He lets you lead. He lets you staddle his lap. He lets you lift the mask a few inches and connect your lips as you grind your hips down, hardening him within his pants.

Simon’s fingers squeeze your thighs. They travel to your hips, encouraging your movements, before they continue a path up your spine. With his tongue in your mouth, you lose track of his touch for some time until he’s settled on a placement for his hands. One wrapped around your waist, hugging you tight; the other woven into your hair, holding you in place as his kisses swell your lips, verging on bruising.

“Come on, baby,” you mutter into his ear when you break the connection to breathe. “Don’t you want to be all warm and snug inside me? Don’t you miss how well you fit? Like my pussy was made for you, right? That’s what you’ve always said.”

You know how it sounds. It’s desperate and needy, but you don’t care. You’re begging, not just for the man who sets your body aflame, but for the man who altered the trajectory of your life when he entered it. The man you refuse to live without.

“Love–” he starts, but his groan from the nibbles you give to his neck interrupts him.

“You can rest deep in me for a while if you want. I’ll stay perfectly still for you. Or I can go nice and slow the way you like.”

Moving your head back, you stop the shifting of your hips and lock your gazes. You pointlessly wait for him to deny you. Pointlessly because Simon Riley doesn’t deny you in situations like this. The equal balance of your need for one another has made that impossible, so it doesn’t surprise you one bit when he nods in agreement.

Your thumbs delicately guide the balaclava over his nose, but you stop there. Only he removes the mask. It’s his right; his decision to show his face and to whom. You are one of the lucky ones, but you’ve never taken advantage of that gift.

With one hand, Simon grips the top of his mask and jerks it the rest of the way off his head—hair sticking out in a million directions—as he sneaks his other between your bodies to undo the button of his pants. He lifts his hips, bouncing you on his lap, before you do the same so he can push his pants down his thighs.

You don’t spend time marveling at the thick column of flesh he’s pumping with his fist. You know everything about his cock. Every ridge and valley from base to tip. Every vein. Every inch of him you have memorized, and you’re too hungry to waste another second without him where you want him most.

When Simon finally slides inside of you, you hum in satisfied delight. Like basking in the heat of the sun after the chill of Winter. Like the first bite of your favorite ice cream hitting your tongue. Like quenching a thirst. Like coming home.

Simon’s head falls back against the couch and his chest heaves with heavy inhales and exhales. His eyes are closed, but you catch a hint of a smile on his face.

“We feel so good together, Si,” you say, slowly rubbing your hand up and down his chest. “I want this when you return. Don’t you want this when you return?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Then why deprive yourself of what you love? Especially when what you love wants you so bad.”

He lifts his head and reaches up to brush his knuckle from your cheekbone to your chin. “I was trying to make it easier.”

Palms cupping his jaw, you run your thumb over his bottom lip. “Fuck easy.”

“Love, it’ll be a year. No less.”

“I don’t care,” you swear. You start to rise and then you sink back down onto him. “I'll be waiting for you, Simon.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #modern warefare ii #mw2 cod #mw2 #call of duty #ghost x reader #simon riley fic #simon riley fanfic #simon riley imagine #simon riley fanfiction #simon riley fluff

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tetsuskei · 4 months

Text

belonging - portgas d. ace [nsfw]

synopsis: it’s never the best time when it’s his birthday, but luckily he has you to show him differently

notes: two days late, but this is the bday fic dedicated to my soul, my luvr boy. poured so much into this that it kinda doesn’t make sense but we will roll with it <3 kicking off the year with him and wouldn’t have it any other way !

warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, self doubt, depression (ace has some dark thoughts), anxiety, praise, nipple biting and sucking, body worship, barely edited so probably lots of typos, reader has fem body parts

ace always assumed that ‘falling in love’ was something that happened to other people, not to him.

his entire life had been a series of doubts and questions to himself. doubts about if he deserved the good things that came to him and the people who entered his life.

but gone were the days where ace let out all his anger towards anyone and everyone in the world. if you could ask anyone about him now, they would have only amazing things to say about him. many see him as a brilliant leader, one not to be meddled with. his brothers admire his never ending strength and courage. his spirit was always there to uplift others.

so who would be there to lift him up?

only you have seen who he is once broken down. once he’s out of the public eye, and behind closed doors, he’s a much more sombre person. he’s clingy, and soft. sad, and vulnerable.

it’s not a surprise to you that he struggles with his mind sometimes. that there are days where he may spend too much time in his head, fighting off demons.

“what am i doing here?” he asked one time. it wasn’t a question directed towards you, and from the empty look in his dark brown eyes, you could tell he was having trouble answering himself.

having the blood of a devil circulating in his veins is a double edged sword. he always told himself to not let where he came from hold him back. that mentality had gotten him this far, after all. it became a driving point for him.

but after quickly rising up in ranks and making a name for himself just like so, his mindset started to change. he began to not really know what he was after. yes, he wants to be more famous than his father, but so what? what would come next?

he focused on a much simpler task. he wanted to live each day without regrets.

many considered ace like the sun. he shined so brightly on his own (literally and figuratively), but in a way, it was a curse. he shined so brightly that if anyone came too close to him, he would burn them. they’d scorch up in flames within an instant.

but you were different. despite how brightly he shone, you didn’t let that stop you. it scared him, to say the least. the only people who he was comfortable being vulnerable with in his feelings were his brothers, and yamato being another person. now you were the fourth.

you had picked and pried at him in a way no one ever had before. getting scorched (literally and figuratively) in the process. you showed him kindness and affection that he only saw in the pages of fairytales.

he knew very little about gentleness. but it didn’t mean it was impossible. the feeling of your finger tips running over his bare skin is enough to soothe him. it makes him feel like he is at home and belongs. and in return, he wanted to give you that same feeling.

he wanted to live, and always come back to you.

ace always seemed more tense around this time of year. a little more gruff, and on edge. but not in a way that makes him dangerous. or, at least to you. he just seemed a lot quieter, and more consumed in his thoughts.

his birthday, as it turned out, had always been a sore subject amongst the whitebeard pirates. no one ever pried too much into his past. even after he told you and several others of his father, of his mother, no one wanted to push him to speak more about it.

you don’t make the most grand gesture out of his birthday, only requesting help from thatch to make a grand spread of all his favorite foods, and small decorated cake.

“i’m not going to ask anything of you, but only for you to have a good time. no sulking, kay?” you told him that morning.

when finally getting time alone with your boyfriend that evening, you sat with him, holding him in your arms as the two of you watched the stars.

ace loved when you talked about the stars to him. you told him once that the constellations that sit in the sky are the same ones projected onto his face in the form of freckles. he thought it was the most ridiculous thing ever, until you said one thing.

“the stories written up in the stars are no different from the ones that live in your eyes.”

his eyes always told you what he was thinking. after all, you read him so well. you long since noticed the troubled look on his face, but remained impassive as you know he’ll come to you when he’s ready to talk. for right now, having you as his support is the best thing you could give him.

eventually, he told you that he ‘just wanted to forget about things’ and while you understood what he meant without a full explanation, you wanted to make it known how thankful you are that he’s here. that he was born. that he’s a gifted presence in your life—and so many other people’s.

one thing led to another—shared kisses and words of declarations as you shedded each others clothes off.

right now ace lays under you, a complete mess as you ride his cock. his hat was on your head at first, but now it lays somewhere on the ground.

“ahh~ fuck!” a pretty gasp leaves his rose colored lips, his eyes glazed over with tears. his adrenaline has his blood pumping like crazy, and his cock is of course no expectation to that rule. he’s twitching erratically inside of you, more than likely leaking heavily as he holds back his orgasm. his chest feels tight from how much your cunt is gripping him. it’s like you’re sucking the life out of him.

funnily enough, he’s already cum once, but his stamina, is unlimited. he’d be able to go for hours on end. that doesn’t deter you from your goal of completely fucking him stupid.

ace thinks you look beautiful above him the way that you do. like an angel that descended from the heavens. he doesn’t think he believes in any gods, but he knows surely you were sent by some celestial being to be the best gift he’s ever had in his life.

“you’re doing so good for me, ace.” you hum, leaning over his muscular form to kiss the shell of his ear. he keens when your lips then meet the sensitive juncture of his jaw and neck. your tongue swipes up any access sweat and you hum, cheekily biting him. “taste so good, too.”

his whole body is boiling to the touch, to say the least. black, greasy hair matted to his forehead. his brown eyes are blown out in pleasure, and he thinks he’s dying.

it shouldn’t be possible that he feels this good.

“don’t say that.” he grumbles shyly, hiding his face behind his hand. you pin it down to the bed, eyes glaring down at him.

“it’s true, though.” you argue, “and you feel so good too. always fill me up so well.” you moan, letting your head fall back as you grind down on him, pleasure crawling up your spine as his cock rides up against your cervix, kissing your gummy walls lovely.

“if you keep talkin’ like that i’m gonna cum again…” he warns, whining slightly.

you grin, “that’s the plan.”

ace groans, letting his head fall back on the pillows, “jesus christ, woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

you laugh, “i would say death do us part, but i’d like to think we’d follow each other into the afterlife. i feel like that’s the true meaning of a soulmate.”

ace can’t help the tears that permeate at his ducts when he feels overwhelmed with love by you and for you.

“well, i hope that if we’re reborn, we find each other in the next life.” he says breathlessly.

you hum, smiling, “of course we will.”

he’s silent before his hands guide your hips, helping you bounce on him. there’s a deafening squelching sound from the combined slick and it drives both of you crazy.

“you’re so pretty, ace.” you say, kissing the freckles on his face.

he frowns, glaring at you, “the correct term is handsome or sexy. men aren’t ‘posed to be ‘cute’.” there’s a pout on his face and it only adds on to your statement.

you laugh, “sure, baby. whatever you want.”

“‘whatever’ my ass,” he says crudely, “why don’t you make yourself useful and cum on me?” he isn’t asking though, and brings his thumb to your clit.

a sharp breath of air escapes you as you realize how much your impending orgasm is creeping up on you.

“wait…” you start, hand reaching out to stop his own.

he swats its away. “you said to make sure i’m having a good time, and this is helping.” he smirks, “no ‘sulking’, remember?”

you don’t have time to answer when your boyfriend leans over you, taking one of your breasts in his mouth to suck.

a loud moan escapes you once a euphoric pleasure washes over you. you quickly seize up before you realize your cumming hard on him.

ace grunts, closing his eyes once he feels you milking him. you’re a walking sin, and the grievance between your legs would be his downfall.

he hooks his hands under your legs before flipping you over to lay you on your back.

“a-ace…” you stutter, looking up in shock at how much his energy has suddenly changed.

“my pretty girl.” he smiles, kissing your nose, cheeks, and finally your lips. “just relax.”

his hips began to steadily rock into you as he takes over the pace, his hefty balls slapping loudly against your ass.

still sensitive, you twitch and jerk under his grasp, feeling helpless and near limp as he rails you.

“nothing ‘cute’ about the way i’m fuckin’ you, now is there?” he grins, hand titling your jaw to the side before proceeding to suck marks into your delicate skin.

a keen slips from your mouth and you try to catch your breath, “o-okay, you proved a point.”

“damn straight.” he moves both of his hands downwards, holding onto your thighs before moving your legs over his shoulders.

the new angle feels as if the wind is knocked out of you. with the way he’s looking at you adoringly, and damn near shattering your pelvis you might as well be conflicted on if he loves or loathes you.

“always feel so fucking good. wish i could stay in you forever.” he moans, biting his lip. “so perfect like this. i’m so lucky.”

you gasp, your toes curling at the way his tip drags itself seamless over your insides. your eyes threaten to roll back but you fight it, seeing how ethereal your boyfriend looks when he’s feral.

he’s never been the best with words, but with the way he takes care of you, especially in the moment you share right now, you can feel the essence of his love. the way his hand reaches grips yours to kiss your knuckles.

“thank you…for always loving me.” he pants, “and for showing me things in life i never thought i’d be able to see.”

“thought i told you to stop thanking me.” you hit him on the head. you pull on his hair but he only groans, cock twitching.

ace pulls back from your neck, “i’m serious, i…i’ve never been this happy before.”

you only smile at him before grabbing his face with both of your hands, kissing him long and passionately.

he ruts into you, chasing his release. his vision is nearly spotting with how sensitive his nerves are, but his body has a mind of its own as it craves endless pleasure.

“s-shit! i’m gonna cum!”

shamelessly, you lock your legs around him, pulling him in closer wordlessly.

he laughs, sweat trickling down his brow, “ah~ you want it again, yeah? can’t get enough of my cum, can you?”

“always need to be filled by you, ace.” you moan, nails clawing helplessly at his back.

you lean forward before your teeth gently sink into a pert nipple, making him shout and swear as his orgasm is triggered.

and as he spills into you again for the second time that evening, you find yourself following him in suspension of death.

ace lays his weight on you, not crushing you, but knowing him and his narcolepsy, he just damn near will in a second.

you use all your strength to turn both of you over, and he grunts. if it was wet before between the two of you, it’s soaking now as his cum trickles down your legs.

“you’re wastin’ it…” he grumbles, holding your hips tight.

“not my fault you’re a human cum geyser.” you retort. “now let me get up.”

he pouts, “just…stay like this for awhile?”

“fine, but you’re cleaning me up.” you warn. “happy birthday, you animal.”

a sleepy grin appears on his face as he kisses the top of your head. “yeah, i love you too.”

and so maybe after all, he could learn a lot more about what life has to offer, especially if that means you’d be by his side. there’s nothing he truly wouldn’t fear anymore. not in life or in death.

#ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d. ace x reader #ace smut #one piece smut #op smut #op x reader #one piece x reader #portgas d. ace #portgas ace smut #portgas ace x you

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sheisjoeschateau · 3 months

Text

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART I

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

WHEN THE UNEXPECTED NIECE OF MURRAY BAUMAN GETS THROWN IN THE MIX, THE GANG HAS NO IDEA JUST WHAT THEY'RE IN FOR. SCRATCH THAT - STEVE DOESN'T KNOW. YOU GET ALONG WITH EVERYONE WELL. YOU BANTER WITH THE ADULTS, WHO APPRECIATE YOUR HELP. THE KIDS LOVE AND WORSHIP YOU. YOU'RE HELPFUL ALL AROUND. BUT AS FAR AS STEVE IS CONCERNED, YOU'RE JUST NUISANCE. AFTER ALL, YOU'RE THE REASON HE LOST THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE AND MISSED OUT ON A LIFE THAT "COULD'VE BEEN." IF YOU HAD JUST KEPT YOUR SORRY ASS OUT OF THE PICTURE... IF YOU HAD NEVER GONE WITH NANCY AND JONATHAN AFTER THEY LEFT YOUR WHACK-JOB UNCLE, MURRAY BAUMAN'S, BUNKER? HE WOULD BE HAPPY. SO F*CKING HAPPY. BUT HERE YOU WERE. YOU WERE BASICALLY THE COOLER (...AND SURE, MUCH MORE ATTRACTIVE) FEMALE VERSION OF MURRAY BAUMAN. YOU WERE SARCASTIC, QUICK-WITTED, TOO SMART FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, AND APPARENTLY BUILT FOR THE WAR. SURE, YOU WEREN'T AS BRASH AS YOUR UNCLE. BUT IN STEVE'S EYES, YOU WERE SOMEHOW FAR MORE OBNOXIOUS. HE DOWNRIGHT HATED YOU. HE WILL FOREVER HATE YOU... BUT WILL HE?

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED AND/OR REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS. THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MDNI.

An original fanfiction series, written by Misha St. James.

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

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I did not proof-read this after Tumblr gave me hell trying to share. So pls excuse possible typos. hehe

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Let's just get to the point, shall we?

Once upon a time, a young boy named Will Byers went missing. Later, he was found in an alternate dimension by the world's #1 mom and a cynical cop turned hero. A girl with a shaved head had telekinetic superpowers, befriend's Will's four loyal friends along the way and helping them track down their missing party member. Then, whatever the hell was on the other side - whatever was in this...upside down...took back Eleven. She'd been missing ever since that dreadful winter.

Fast forward to now: you're sitting in your uncle's bunker, looking at his wild display of efforts. Papers, files, whiteboards covered in multiple words, arrows, sketches - all in different colored markers. Murray Bauman was on a mission, and he would be damned if that grumpy, cynical smart-ass known as Jim Hopper honestly thought that he could dismantle his efforts. Nice try, chum. Game on. Thankfully, you'd gone to school with Barbara Holland. That's whose parents had assigned the task of searching for her to your uncle. Murray was asking you tons of questions, and you were glad to help. It meant spending time with the only family member you cared for, despite his wackiness. You guys got each other. Bantered well. Got shit done. Honestly, it was also a great way of drinking safely and not with a bunch of rowdy teenagers at some stupid party. You got along just fine with everyone at school. But damn, they could all be annoying. ...especially Steve fucking Harrington, who was now the topic of conversation. You know, given that his house is where Barbara was last seen. "It just isn't making sense," your uncle huffed, raking his hands through his oily dark hair. You sipped on the glass of vodka that your uncle had poured you, hissing at the strong taste. Leaning across the coffee table, seated on his couch, you tried to connect the dots with him. "I'm telling you, someone in that group of teens knows what's up. Or at least has an idea." Your uncle swigged at his vodka, defeated but ruthlessly trying to piece together his clusterfuck of scattered evidence across his wall. "Well then, guess we better grill 'em."

And that's how you come into the picture. When Nancy and Jonathan came to seek out Murray. And when they arrive, they're surprised to see you. They recognize you from school. Jonathan took several classes with you. In fact, the two of you got along well at Hawkins High. No, you weren't close. But you both were cool. Nancy, on the other hand, didn't know anything about you. Just that you took political science with Barbara, and got straight A's across the board. You could've been class valedictorian. But you were not looking for any sort of title that demanded pressure or attention. At least not in high school. Career wise? Sure. Not here, though. Not Hawkins. "Your timeline is wrong," Nancy is saying, making you and Bauman freeze. Nancy is telling you that the girl with the buzzed hair is not Russian. She is, in fact, from Hawkins lab. And her name is...Eleven? So they do know something. And something turns out to be everything.

Jonathan sits you both down to relay everything to you both. And woof, does it give you guys a headache. Strangely, though... it makes a whole lot more sense than some mundane explanation of sorts. Obviously though, that puts you all in a tough spot where you'll all need to put your heads together. So the two classmates of yours stay, sharing in chilled Smirnoff and having to endure the hilarity that ensues between you and your uncle. You and Murray both banter well with the two of them. Jonathan finds you to be hilarious. Nancy finds you intimidating. Very intimidating. You’re quick witted, darkly humored and independent. But there is a reserved, mysterious sort of feminine energy to you, despite your more masculine strengths and bluntness. Over glasses of stiff vodka, you all come to the conclusion on how to go about exposing the truth about Barbara Holland's disappearance: water it down.

At the end of the night, you're all winding down -- you and your uncle having convinced the two lovebirds to stay. But when you're telling them they can take your uncle's guest room while you take the couch, Jonathan's asking if he can take the couch. You blink. Huh? ...surely Nancy is not still with --

"Okay, I'm confused," your uncle's saying. "What's going on here? Lovers quarrel?"

You cock an eyebrow, leaning back into the loveseat.

But Jonathan and Nancy are then talking over each other with weird, flustered excuses...saying they're just friends.

You and your uncle bust out laughing. And then you're shrinking back in your seat, knowing what's coming: one of your Uncle Murray's lovebird witchdoctor speeches that he barrels into anytime that two delusional people have convinced themselves that they aren't in love. Or at the very least, not into each other.

Uncle Murray is breaking them down, one at a time. He's reading Jonathan like an angsty teen novel, seeing right through him and his brooding, mysterious energy. Trust issues, thanks to daddy issues. Yikes, that makes you sip some more drink.

And then he's onto Nancy, saying that she's harder to read. But he manages anyway. It's the Bauman way.

He's telling her that she's likely like everyone else, "afraid of what would happen if you accepted yourself for you who you really are." He looks at you. "Am I in the right ballpark?"

You nod, swallowing the last drop of vodka in your cup. "That...and afraid of that might happen if she didn't retreat back to the safety of someone familiar."

Nancy looks bewildered. But more than that, she looks caught.

"Name?" your uncle is prodding, snapping his fingers. "Name."

You and Jonathan both say it. "Steve."

Uncle Murray's face is priceless. He feigns adoration, putting on a baby voice as he repeats the name. "Dawh. Steve. We like Steve."

"Yes," Nancy laughs nervously. Eek, you think.

"But we don't love Steve..." Your uncle's words floor Nancy.

And when Nancy's saying something about still being with Steve, insisting that she loves him, you roll your eyes. Even scoffing, getting her attention. Maybe if the vodka weren't in your system, you wouldn't be so bold. But Jonathan's mopey look just gives you more confidence.

"Boom, ladies and gents," you say with a grin. "Second lie of the evening." "The hell was the first one?" Jonathan asks, blinking. "You guys being just friends." You and your uncle say something along the same lines, simultaneously. You both laugh together, clinking glasses. The two not lovebirds just squirm awkwardly in their seats. Finally, you sigh. "Look. You guys don't wanna give up the ghost? Be my guest. I'll happily keep my bed." You stand up, ready to turn in. But not until casting them one last work, pointing a finger. "But if I were you two? I'd cut the bullshit and just share the damn bed." Murray snorts, rising to stand as well. He stretches. "Welllllp. I'm turning in for the night." You begin mounting the stairs, hollering: "Better act fast, kiddos. At least before this poison in my system knocks me out cold. Don't worry, Nancy, I don't snore. So if you do choose me, you're safe." "But that's so lame," Murray adds to that wryly, heading off to his room. You both tell each other goodnight, leaving the two angsty teens to decide their fate. All you know is that Nancy ends up walking out and not coming back, at one point in the night. Yeah, thought so. Breakfast the next morning is even more hilarious. You and your uncle ask every single question that drips with innuendo that you ever possibly could. And it's worth every fucking minute.

Murray's gonna need to keep that couch cleaned. To your surprise, Murray sends you off with Nancy and Jonathan, but given that you want to go and see it all for yourself you don't mind. You’re basically his little spy. Most uncles send off their nieces and nephews with some good advice, maybe a packed lunchbox or snacks, and a warm hug.

Yours, however, sends you off with a full bottle of vodka, a thick wad of cash and some fun sarcastic banter. But he headlocks you in for a hug, and you cackle. He really is a nutcase, and man you can't help but love him. He is so not the parental type. Yet somehow, he's practically raised you. And in your opinion, you're pretty well-prepared for the world. More than most, in Murray's opinion. So off you go with Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Buyers, and they both honestly enjoy your company. It helps them get past their umm...well...awkward new reality. That new reality that comes post-sex, after a long ass time of playing the tip-toe game. The sexual tension between them is hysterical to you. But you keep your thoughts to yourself for now. The vodka did most of the talking for you last night.

When you both arrive at wherever the hell your destination is, it's dark outside. And if you're being honest, it's pretty creepy. You're somewhere near the woods, and as you all walk closer you're beginning to see lights approaching you...along with a handful of shadowed figures.

Fuck, you literally just got here.

But then, after a tense several moments... Nancy and Jonathan call out to them. You jump, startled at the fact that they do it so confidently. But the name that they call out suddenly makes it all make sense. "STEVE?" "NANCY...?" And that's how you became a crucial part of the most royal pain in the ass, King Steve's, life.

#steve harrington angst #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington smut

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spacecowboyhotch · 10 months

Text

The Brink

summary: you and aaron try for a baby.

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

contents: NSFW/18+/MINORS DNI, pwp, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint

wc: 1.2k

gif credit: @hotch-girl

an: first proper hotch fic ive written since sept of last year. hotch girls make some noise, it’s been a long time cominnnnn’! this isn’t beta’d so if there’s typos blame grammarly 🤪

cm masterlist | requests closed

“Oh god, Aaron, please,” You whine softly into the sheets, attempting to rock back against him.

“You’re alright, I’ve got you,” He shushes you gently, pulling back just a bit before easing back inside of you and staying still.

He’s driving you insane in the best way and all you can do is take what he’s giving you.

You’re so warm. The warmest you’ve ever been in your life, surrounded by heat, and while you generally prefer to bundle up in the cold there is no other place you’d rather be right now. There’s sweat pooling in the dip of your back, coating every inch of your skin that is practically suffused to Aaron’s. He’s draped his entire body over yours, his hips moving forward in a slow grind that presses the tip of his cock at the spot deepest inside of you.

You’re unsure of how much time has passed, but what you are sure of is that there was at least a bit of dusk peeking through the blinds when he’d first carried you to bed. You feel as though he’s consumed you— his hands, his mouth, they’ve been everywhere and you haven’t had a single complaint.

You’d told him that evening that you were ready to have a child with him in the most nonchalant way. As always you were perched in his lap, grinding down against him until he’d gone mad and needed you as much as you needed him. And when he had reached for protection like he always does, you grabbed his hand and fixed him with a look that made him feel like you wanted to swallow him whole.

Don’t. I want to try, Aaron. I want you to fill me up, you’d said.

His head had tilted, eyes scanning your face as he assessed you for what felt like an eternity before quietly asking you if you were sure. And when you nodded, opening your mouth to speak, he hadn’t even given you the chance because he lunged forward, pressing his lips to yours in a frantic, hungry kiss. You’d been frozen, succumbing to his mouth before your brain recalibrated, able to match his fervor.

It took no time at all for him to get you both naked, to have you cumming on his fingers and tongue. Aaron’s always giving in bed, but it is his way of taking. Your pleasure and his pleasure are almost one and the same, two veins that feed into each other.

“I love you,” He murmurs against the skin of your neck before pressing a series of kisses to the column of your throat, trailing them over the slope of your shoulder.

You shiver against his mouth, reaching back with a hand to bury it into his messy, slick hair, “I love you, too.”

“Are you ready for me to put a baby in you, sweetheart?”

This time your shiver is more of a shudder. You support your head in the cup of your palm, turning to glance over your shoulder at him as you nod frantically. “Please. Please.”

“One more time, sweet girl, ask me one more time. The way you beg…” He breathes, the sound hitching in his chest.

You notice that his eyes are cloudy, with love and lust, as he stares at you. Your mouth pulls up in a lazy, satisfied smile. Yes, you’re always happy to submit to Aaron, to have him scramble your brain until your only words are his name and some sort of pleading for more. But sometimes —unknowingly— Aaron submits to you too. Your every ask is met with yes no matter how long it’s been, how tired he is— in and out of the bedroom.

“Please, Aaron.”

“I’m right here. Right here, it’s alright, sweetheart. I’ll give you what you want,” He reassures you softly.

Despite that reassurance, he doesn’t quicken his pace or increase the force of his hips. He continues to grind into you, wanting to stay as close to you as humanly possible. To cum as deeply inside of you as possible, hellbent on it to take. And while you’re confused, this much different than how he usually works you both to climax, you trust him with everything.

“Look at me,” He breathes into your ear, and you do, your eyes meeting his once more.

There’s a desperation in his eyes, a wildness you’ve never seen before and you know that he’s just on the brink. His hips move sloppily against yours though there’s still no change in his methods. He feels like he’s acting on instinct, like some need in his body has taken over and he can hardly think about anything but you. The way you smell, the way you feel around him— tight and wet— the way you’re looking back at him with this pleading expression on your face.

The sight of him like this is what sends you over the edge, and you cum with a whine, somehow squeezing him tighter than you had before. He follows you, burying his face in the smooth skin of your back as he fills you with warmth. The groan he lets out is deep and filthy, his breath tickling you and making you squirm. It sends him deeper, and his hips buck forward, keeping every single drop of him inside of you.

If this doesn’t take, he doesn’t know what will.

He avoids putting all of his weight on you by turning you both on your sides, hooking a leg through yours, and wrapping his arms around you so there’s nowhere for you to go— not that you’re in any rush to move. Not that you could with how exhausted you are from being tangled in bed with him for so long.

“Incredible stamina,” You tease as you try to recenter your breaths.

“We’re never doing that again,” He huffs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You laugh softly, leaning into his touch, “What time is it?”

He glances behind him to the clock on his bedside table, and you feel rather than see his grimace. “Eight,” He says reluctantly, knowing what’s about to happen.

You glare over your shoulder at him, “Aaron, I missed my show.”

“Maybe next time, you should tell me you want to have a baby on a day you have nothing to watch,” He says matter-of-factly, mouth twitching as he tries not to laugh.

“I always have something to watch.”

“I’d deem it a worthy sacrifice.”

His words make you smile, heart going gooey. Any grumpiness about your show fades as you nod softly in agreement, “Yeah, me too.”

“And sweetheart?”

“Hmm?” You hum as you lay back against him again, eyes slipping shut.

His lips are at your ear, his voice just a whisper, “I recorded your show. All of them, they always record.”

The smile on your face widens, making your cheeks ache, “You’re a perfect man.”

“I try,” He quips.

The two of you lay there for a while until he convinces you to clean up and order food. And as you sit with your feet in his lap, tuned into your show, Aaron glances over at you, his heart full. He hopes that this little slice of life you have together with get brighter with your growing family.

cm taglist: @ssahotchsbitch , @ssamorganhotchner, @kuolonsyoja, @heliotropehotch, @averyhotchner, @zetasaturno99, @art-and-thoughts, @ssa-montgomery, @thinking-bucky, @ashhotchner, @moonshine-evelyn, @emlynblack , @sunshinemunchkin, @angelfxllcm, @wheelsupmarvel, @jaspxr, @gspenc, @sadgirlml, @hotchs-bitch , @crowfootwrites, @wilbur-rabbit, @hotched, @greg-montgomery, @reidselle, @fightingdragonswithwho, @honeybrowne, @rousethemouse, @eternal-silvertongued-prince, @mayasreadingnook, @lesbianhotch

#aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #arson writes #not sfw

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kmazine · 6 months

Text

[ 02:41 AM ]

You open your eyes when you felt Seungcheol jolted awake beside you with a low panicked yelp. Despite the dim light in your bedroom, you can see he broke in a cold sweat.

"Bad dream?" You sit up, slowly rubbing your hand up and down, hoping that will help him calm. Another hand wiping the cold sweat on his forehead. He rubs his face with his palm roughly before taking a deep breath. You start to glide your fingers up and down the back on his neck.

"Yeah..." He give you a weak nod. He's not the type to have nightmare, but when he does, it can be pretty intense. You want to ask him but you know that can wait. He'll share with you in the morning anyway. Your priority right now is to soothe him, to calm him.

You decided to get off the bed but Seungcheol was faster, he grabs you by your waist and pulls you into the embrace.

"Don't go. Stay"

"I'll just go get you a glass of water okay?" You gently rub his arms, trying to pull his arms away but he didn't budge.

"Stay" He whispers.

So you decided to stay still and hug him back as tight as you can. You smile when you can feel his body loosened after a while as he rest his head on your shoulder.

"I don't want water. Let's just get back to sleep." He say when you try to move again, as if he can read your mind, and pulls away from the hug, gap enough for him to look at your face. You nod after he give you the reassurance smile before stamped his lips on your forehead.

"Okay. let's get back to sleep then" You ran your hand through his ruffled hair, glad to see the frown on his face gone.

Both of you snuggles, with his arm around your waist, your back against his chest.

"Sorry for waking you up, love" He whispers.

"It's fine. I prefer to be the one that can comfort you anyway." You assure him.

"You always do. I love you" Seungcheol pulls you to his frame closer and pressed his lips on your shoulder. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck seconds before both of you drifting back to sleep.

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[ my other works / masterlist ]

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a.n : I'm having nightmares lately and I hate waking up at night but also at least waking up "free" me from the nightmare (interestingly enough I never jolted or having any physical reaction when I woke up. It's just I slowly start to wake up and it's somewhat annoying because it takes time to get to open my eyes, still got into cold sweat though.) Yes this is me writing because I couldn't get back to sleep lol

Enough with my stupid rambling, like always, please ignore the grammatical mistakes and typos, I'll fix it after I back to check from time to time.

And I hope you enjoy this one.

#seventeen drabbles #seventeen imagines #seventeen oneshot #svt oneshot #svt drabbles #svt imagines #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #scoups x reader #scoups drabble #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 7 months

Text

Kissing In The Rain » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky and the reader kiss in the rain.

Warnings: Fluff, language, nothing but cuteness, kissing, cuddling, pet names (doll)

Written on my phone so sorry if there’s any mistakes or typos.

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

You sighed as you looked out the window, watching rain drops roll down the window. Alpine jumped onto the windowsill, looking out the window with you.

“I know. It’s still raining, sweet girl.” You cooed, gently scratching behind her ear.

You smiled when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around you from behind. You leaned back against Bucky’s body, laying your head on his shoulder. He gave you a soft sweet kiss on your lips.

“What are my girls doing?” Bucky asks, petting Alpine.

“Watching the rain. It’s kinda pretty to watch.” You say.

“Not as pretty as you.” He says, kissing your cheek.

“You’re so cheesy.” You giggled.

“You’re the only one who makes me cheesy, doll.” He says softly, kissing your cheek again.

You giggled when his beard poked your skin. You guys watched the rain until you got an idea.

“I have an idea!” You say excitedly.

You managed to get out of Bucky’s arms and ran towards the door without putting a jacket or a pair of shoes on. You ran down the hallway of the apartment complex to the elevator with Bucky following behind you.

“Doll, where are you going?” Bucky asks.

“You’ll find out in a minute.” You say.

You and Bucky gone onto the elevator and pushed the button to go down.

“Are you at least going to tell me your idea?” He asks curiously.

“You’ll have to wait and see.” You say with a smile.

The elevator dinged, letting you guys off on the ground floor. You immediately ran outside to the rain and started dancing around in it like you were a kid again.

“Doll, what the hell are you doing? You don’t have a jacket and shoes on. You’re going to get sick.” He says with concern in his voice.

“No I’m not! Come dance with me like it’s the 40s!” You say with excitement, holding out your hand.

That made Bucky smile widely. Bucky took you hand in his, twirling you around as if you two were in a movie. He then picked you up and spun the two of you around making you laugh. Your laughing died down and you looked into his beautiful blue eyes. You cupped his stubbly cheeks, placing your lips on his, kissing him passionately. The rain fell on the two of you as you guys kissed. It felt like everything around the two of you was in slow motion. Like sparks were flying. You pulled away from his lips slowly while looking into his eyes.

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” You say softly with a smile.

Bucky kissed you softly, smiling against your lips.

“Thank you for making me feel young again.” Bucky says.

“Anytime, Sergeant.” You smiled, kissing him again.

“We’re soaking wet now. Let’s go inside, get changed and warmed up.” He says.

Bucky walked inside the apartment with you in his arms. The two of you changed out of your wet clothes and into dry clothes. You guys got comfortable on the couch with Alpine and a blanket with a movie playing on the TV.

“I love you, doll.” Bucky says, kissing his lips.

“I love you too, Buck.” You kissed him back.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky Doll

#sergeant james buchanan barnes #sergeant james barnes #sergeant barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes #winter soldier #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #the avengers #avengers #marvel #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff

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ihadlife · 14 days

Text

Achilles' Heel

pairing: (aged up) pro hero!Bakugo Katsuki x fem!reader

word count: 10.2k

synopsis: You and Bakugo aren't dating, so you can't be really mad when he's toying with you. What you can be, though, is miserable. Especially when you get laid off from work. And to whose else's arms can you run into other than the person who's hurting you the most.

tags: 18+, adult content, fem!reader, fem gendered pronouns and pet names, angst, so much fucking angst, baby trapping, unprotected sex, dumbification, masturbation, dom/sub dynamics, dirty talking, oral sex (male and female receiving), praise kink, degradation kink, impact play, unrequited love, reader and other people smoke, reader has crippling mommy issues and self-isolates, the worst possible decisions ever made at all times, toxicity contest between reader and Bakugo i guess

an: crossposted on ao3. reader makes decisions so bad i wanted to smack her head against concrete all the time. if you're reading this for the smut i suggest you skip this one, it's not centered around it. it was pain in the ass to write bakugo’s direct speech but if it doesn’t make sense from an accent standpoint i’m begging you let me know and i’ll adjust it. and as always, english is my second language so if you spot any mistakes or even typos pls let me know.

“I get that he was like… busy, and probably exhausted after, but he could’ve sent me a message at least, you know?”

“Yeah, I’ve been telling you he’s a dick.”

Your best friend inhaled the cold autumn air through the tobacco and filter in their cigarette, filling their lungs with smoke before exhaling it, letting it mix with the breeze.

“He’s not a dick… there’s just a lot on his plate.” You tried defending him, but even to your own ears, the words that had left your mouth sounded pathetic and feeble. “God knows how I would’ve acted if I had his job.”

You were looking down at your own hands, playing with the handle of the mug that was now empty, the coffee in it long gone. You didn’t even have to look up to know that your friend was giving you a dirty look.

To be fair, they weren't completely wrong. You still couldn’t get behind their words – a dick – but you more or less agreed with their general idea: he wasn’t treating you right and you deserved better.

Knowing and realising all that, you still couldn't bring yourself to do anything about it.

“You would’ve been honest and communicated.” They took another drag through their cigarette. “And he should be too. If he wants to keep a relationship.”

The truth was, he had a demanding job. Being a pro hero and saving people’s lives almost every single day was taxing. Not only physically, but also mentally. You understood that. You had let him know that you understood.

Still, as your friend said, and even as your own head was telling you, wanting him to communicate his needs and intentions beforehand was the bare minimum. Not even letting a problem arise and preventing it. Because he should have cared.

The thing that hurt you the most was that it hadn’t always been like that.

At the start, when you two met, he was attentive. Funny. Kind. Charming. You were sure he was still the same person, only not towards you. Not anymore, at least.

You entertained your friend and they tried to distract you from your own thoughts for about another hour before you both got up and went separate ways, counting on seeing each other sometime in the next two weeks again. Not that any of you could make it longer without seeing each other.

You decided to take the longer walk home, hop to a small market on your way and buy some necessities you needed. Maybe pick up something small to treat yourself.

Your heels were clapping on the sidewalk loudly, your tempo moderate. Your feet hurt after spending the entire day in your heels and once again you cursed yourself for choosing this type of footwear when you had known you would have to spend an entire day in them. There was a huge blister forming on your right Achilles, you were sure.

You fished your phone from your purse without even thinking about it, your thumbs moving on the screen as if they’d had a mind of their own. Or maybe it was a muscle memory at this point.

You opened the messages app on your phone and stared at the screen. Maybe hoping that if you stared long and hard enough, you would somehow manifest his response. Or maybe he would even open and read the message instead of leaving you on delivered.

I’m sorry to hear that! You really should take a few days off, you deserve it :(

Pathetic.

Scoffing at yourself you put your phone back into your purse and entered the small market. After greeting the lady who owned the shop you grabbed a basket and started browsing the isles.

You liked this market. The owner was aloof, she never asked you personal questions. You had been going here for long enough for the lady to remember you, you were one of the regular customers, yet she treated you like a stranger every time.

You appreciated that. This kind of curtness.

You began your usual route around the small store – a route you’d walked so many times you would be able to walk it with a scarf around your eyes without bumping into a single thing.

You idly strolled through the shop, picking up the stuff you needed.

Toast bread.

A premade sandwich with cheese, ham, and cucumber.

Spam ham.

Canned fish.

A few packets of instant ramen.

Cheap coffee.

Two single rolls of toilet paper.

Two bottles of soju.

Your feet stopped once you were in front of the register. You put the basket on the counter with a tiny smile and waited for the owner to scan the items.

Your eyes slid from the small woman to the stand next to the register, where the magazines were, all kinds together. The serious ones and the ones that just wrote about celebrity gossip. Living and lifestyle ones. Ones for teenagers. Weekly sudokus and crossword puzzles.

You weren’t the same scared, shy, uncertain intern as you were a few years ago. You’ve earned your place in the publishing company; you were a proper columnist at that point. So when your boss had assigned you the interview with the pro hero that would be the main feature of the next issue, you had been elated and had readily accepted the task. You had been sure this would help further your career. Maybe help you get a raise.

As you had soon learned, you might have been a good columnist, but you were still very much naive. You hadn’t gotten a raise. Nor had the feature helped the career.

What you’ve gotten out of the interview, however, was your phone number in Dynamight’s phone.

“Thanks for the interview, it was great.” You smiled and closed your laptop right after saving the file.

“No, ya were great.”

You laughed a little, bashful, a quiet ‘thank you’ leaving your lips as you put your laptop into its case and into your faux leather bag that was resting against the chair you were sitting in.

“I mean it,” he leaned back in his luxurious office chair, his elbows resting on the arms of the seat. “Most of the interviews I do are real uncomfortable. People love bein’ nosy and invadin’ my fuckin’ privacy.”

“You can’t blame them,” you grinned. “Of course, they wanna know everything about one of the most popular heroes.”

“And ya?” He asked after a slight pause and butted his chin in your direction.

“Me?”

“D’ya wanna know everythin’ ‘bout the most popular hero?”

You didn’t miss the way he changed ‘one of the most popular’ to ‘most popular’. Shameless.

“Uhm,” you bit your lower lip, not really sure what to answer.

“Lemme take ya out.”

You couldn’t deny his attractiveness. His cockiness and the roughness around the edges were more alluring than you would like to admit.

“Okay.” You breathed out and gave him a nervous smile.

Were you ready to go on a date with a pro hero though?

“Sorry?” You apologised to the woman when you realised she had said something.

She repeated the total price to you.

Oh, right.

You fumbled with your purse a little and fished out your wallet.

“Could you please add a bag to that?”

The woman grabbed one plastic bag from under the counter and put it on top of the things you purchased, not bothering to bag them.

“Actually… I would also like some cigarettes. And a lighter.” You put your wallet on the counter and started bagging the groceries yourself.

“What kind?” Was all she said, but you didn’t miss the judgy look she gave you.

“Gold Marlboro.”

She turned around to retrieve the cigarette box and basic, plastic lighter in a bright blue colour and handed them to you.

You finished bagging your stuff quickly, paid for it and with a goodbye exited the market.

A silent groan left your lips when you felt the rocky cement underneath your feet again, the back of your shoe digging into your Achilles more than before. The blister was going to be a big one.

The rest of the route to your home was uneventful. Thankfully. Once you opened the front door of the crappy building where you lived, you stood in front of the elevator.

It was old, unreliable, and just barely held together. This is why you usually took the stairs, but the painful cushion filled with fluid made you reconsider your actions. You looked from the elevator to your feet. It was either the stairs which would abuse your blister even more, or the risky elevator.

You sighed as you carefully stepped out of the heels.

“Shit.”

The blister that formed on your Achilles during the day must have popped and was now bleeding. Your entire heel and the inside of your shoe were stained with red that was slowly turning brown; the edges were crusty and flaking.

“Great.”

You bent down to pick up the bloody shoes in your free hand and started walking up the stairs. The stone and occasional tiles of the floor were just a tad too cool on your soles but you didn’t necessarily mind the sensation. It felt nice on your slightly swollen feet after the entire day.

Once you made it to the seventh floor – your floor – you stopped in front of the door to your apartment, and with a loud bang let the shoes fall from your hand to the floor. The bag with your groceries followed suit and soon you were trying to fish out your keys from your faux leather shoulder bag.

Your phone started vibrating, set on silent mode. Scrambling to quickly pick it up, you found your phone in record time and checked the caller’s ID, hoping to find a certain hero’s name on the display.

Your eyebrows furrowed a little when you found out it was your mother calling you. Inhaling deeply and breathing out through your nose, you slid your finger over the screen and put the phone against your ear.

“Hi, mom!” Your voice was too high-pitched as you greeted her. You leaned your head heavily to the side and squished the phone between your ear and your shoulder to keep your hand empty.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

You pulled a face at the pet name. You hated loving it.

“Mom, I’m sorry, but I’m really busy right now. Is it important?” You slightly fumbled with your bag as you kept trying to find your keys.

“Oh, no, I just wanted to call and ask how you’re doing,” you could hear the smile in her voice.

“I’m doing fine! Listen, would it be alright if I call you tomorrow? I’ve got a lot of things I still gotta do today.” You were lying through your teeth.

It took only a few more seconds of conversation with her, and you both agreed on a call the next day when you ‘have more time’. You tossed the phone in your bag and rummaged through all the things once again before you found your keys in the bottom corner of your bag and unlocked the door.

First, you walked into the small and cramped hall of your apartment and put down your purse, then just halfway stepped out of your flat to retrieve your shoes and finally the bag with groceries.

Eventually, you closed and locked the door behind you, the grocery bag in your arms as you stepped into the apartment that was way too small to even fit a single person. Not even two steps later you were in your living room and bedroom and after three more steps and turning the corner twice you were standing in the ‘kitchen’. ‘Kitchen’ with quotation marks, because the very few cabinets with a sink and without a proper oven could hardly count as a regular kitchen.

The apartment was horrible. It was in a worse part of town – not necessarily the worst, but bad enough. The prefabricated block of flats was old and in desperate need of renovation; the plaster on the outside of the building was slowly crumbling, the insolation was thinner than the walls between apartments, the pipes were rusty, and you heard that several neighbours of yours from lower levels had complained about mould.

Most of the people here, except for a few old grandmas and young women around your age, were unfriendly. The neighbours, with whom you shared one of the living room walls, were too loud.

Oftentimes, there were strange smells, ones you could not identify or describe. Whether they were lingering in the hall of the building or, for some godforsaken reason, in your own flat, they always lasted only a couple of hours.

During your walks up and down the stairs to get to or from work, you’d meet people who’d make you cross the street if you met them in the city at night. They were mostly younger men with pronounced eyebags and a strut that was either overconfident or not confident enough.

The only reason you stayed there was because it was cheap and the commute to your work from here was alright. Even with a salary that was too low for the job you did, you were able to afford it and even save a little bit of money on the side for any possible emergencies.

You set the grocery bag on the counter and went back into the hall to take your probably ruined shoes, bringing them to your minuscule bathroom and setting them on the floor in your shower, deciding on trying to salvage them later.

On your way back to the living room you took your work bag with you. Opening the window first and letting the cold autumn breeze in, you sat down on the couch and fished around in your bag once again, looking for the cigarettes and lighter that you put separately into your purse. Once you found it, you chucked the bag without any care on the floor and leaned back on the couch, putting your bare feet up on the coffee table.

You hissed as the raw meat on the back of your heel came into contact with the old glass top of the table that needed some proper cleaning, but ultimately did nothing to alleviate the pain. Instead, you took a single cigarette out of the package and rested it between your lips, inhaling at the same time as your fingers brought the fire from the lighter to life.

You left the cigarette hung from your mouth, held by your dry lips, and leaned your head back, your hands splayed on the sides of your body.

The fact was, you were exhausted.

And you didn’t even have a good reason for it.

Sure, work sucked. You worked like a dog only to be constantly overlooked and not earn enough. You were lying to your own mother every time you talked, pretending you were much more successful than you actually were, trying to get on her good side and receive any bit of praise. You hated living in your apartment. You were seeing a man who probably didn’t feel the same about you as you did about him.

The only good thing was your high school friend, always by your side and ready to lend a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen.

Maybe you should go see a therapist.

You closed your eyes and deeply breathed in the stale air that refused to move even with the window opened through the tobacco and filter. You wondered what Bakugo was doing right now. Maybe he was working on the paperwork in his office, sitting behind the big, wooden table that you’d once seen. Or maybe he was out, patrolling with one of his sidekicks, walking in the streets. Maybe he was covered with fake sweat, flexing his muscles for a shoot for another men's magazine.

Your mind lingered on the image of that.

His healthily tanned skin taut over his herculean muscles, the drops of water rolling down and creating a web of moisture, leaving goosebumps behind.

You pressed your thighs together, putting a small amount of pressure on the nether part of your body.

You thought back to all the passionate moments you’d spent with the pro hero. Bakugo might have been getting on your nerves lately due to his behaviour but he was an exceptional lover. He was the best you’d ever had, not that you would admit it out loud. That fiery personality of his projected itself well in the bedroom.

You brought your hand to the cigarette between your lips, took it away from the dry skin and shook off the stack of ash that was growing bigger and bigger at the end of the tobacco. Even though the hot ash landed on the floor covered by very cheap linoleum that was slowly peeling in some corners, you didn’t care.

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight, princess,” Bakugo was panting above you, the drops of sweat rolling down his forehead, neck, and chest and occasionally landing on your damp skin.

Your pussy was drooling on his dick, your juices wet on your inner thighs as well as his entire crotch and lower abdomen. He was bullying your body with his cock, repeatedly slamming it in and out of you at a fast pace.

“Katsuki,” you pleaded. You didn’t even know what you were asking him — to slow down? To change the angle? To fuck you harder? Your brain was a mush at that point and all you could think about was him, him, him.

“Not my name, sweetheart,” he grinned and slapped the top of your cunt with his hand, successfully hitting your clit.

You winced and tried to comprehend what he just said to you. Once the words registered, you corrected your mistake.

“Dyna- Dynamight!” His hero name on your lips was cut in half by your gasp.

“There we go.” He praised you. He didn’t move his hands from your hips when he angled them more, making your back arch and your pussy more open for him. “Your pussy fits me like a fuckin’ glove.”

Your head was swimming from all the sensations. Bakugo’s dirty talking, his hot breath hitting your calves while your legs were propped up on his shoulders, the blunt nails on his fingers digging into the skin of your hips, the tip of his dick dragging along your warm walls while he made sure you could feel him for several days to come.

“Look at ya,” he continued. “My dick feels so good’ya can’t even think, huh? Did I fuck ya dumb, princess?” There was a mocking tone to his voice while he talked.

In a normal situation, if you were having sex with anybody else, you would’ve been embarrassed. Both about the mocking and also about the fact that he was right. To be fair, none of your exes were able to fuck you good enough to get you into this state. But with Bakugo you couldn’t even manage to form thoughts coherent enough to feel the embarrassment at the moment.

“Dynamight,” was all you managed to let slip from your lips.

With the cigarette still between your lips, you unbuttoned your trousers and pushed your dominant hand under the fabric of your panties, the tight cotton sandwiching your fingers between the textile and your cunt.

You circled your entrance to gather some moisture, your pussy just starting to get wet. With the now slick pad of your finger, you moved it upward, tucking it a little underneath the hood to touch your clit directly.

Breathing out cigarette smoke from your nostrils, you leaned your head back, resting it against the headrest of your couch. With your eyes closed and a gentle sigh leaving your lips, you started moving the finger in circular motions.

“That’s right, princess.”

Your eyes were watering as you tried to swallow around the thickness of his cock in your throat.

“Fuck yeah, just like that.” His grip on your hair tightened. You were running out of air and fighting your gag reflex when you put your palms on his strong thighs, ready to tap out at the last second in case you needed to. “Choke on my dick.”

Your nose scrunched up against the neatly trimmed pubes as you gagged hard and you quickly tapped his thigh. Bakugo didn’t release your hair, instead, he tugged your head backwards so you would get him out of your mouth quickly. Your lips were red and swollen, covered in your own spit and as well as his precum, parted as you panted for air. Two tears rolled down both of your cheeks as you looked up at the man standing in front of you.

“Good girl,” he sadistically grunted through his gritted teeth. “You’re such a good slut for me, aren’t ya?”

You closed your eyes as he gently, almost affectionately, slapped your cheek a few times.

“Open,” was all he said as he pushed two fingers into your mouth, reaching so far into your throat it made you gag again.

You grabbed the butt of the cigarette with your hand that wasn’t down your pants and leaned over to your coffee table to put it out against the glass. Leaving the butt there, you reclined against the couch once again, moving your finger from your clit back to your entrance, adding a second one to cover them both in your wetness and pushing them inside of you, immediately targeting your g-spot.

“Don’t stop.”

Bakugo’s hand on your hip helped with guiding your movements, effectively pushing you up and down on his cock as you rode him. You were so close to him your nipples were rubbing against his chest with every motion and you were practically breathing each other’s air. The tip of him was deep inside of you and rubbed against your g-spot each time you moved. Your arms were resting on his shoulders. One hand was leaning your weight against his trapezius and the other one against the god-awfully expensive leather sofa of his which you were probably staining now.

“Fuck,” he groaned so quietly you were only able to hear him thanks to the proximity. “You’re mine, do you understand?” His other hand, which wasn’t holding your hip but was snaked around your waist and pushing in between your shoulder blades so that you would be close to him, moved upwards and firmly, but not forcefully, squeezed the back of your neck. The gesture only made you feel that much closer to him. You nodded your head as fast as you could, but that was not enough of an answer for him.

“Say it. Say you’re mine.”

There was a certain desperation in his voice. Desperation that you heard for the first time with him.

“I’m yours.”

The words silently left your lips with a puff of air following suit. Bakugo wasted no time and kissed your lips passionately, seemingly putting all his feelings into it.

But you knew better.

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours.”

The buzz of your phone vibrating in your bag next to the sofa disrupted you.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You let out an angry grunt.

You debated not picking it up and calling whoever it was that interrupted you later, but decided against it when you felt a considerable amount of guilt in your throat. What if it was important?

You quickly pulled your hand out of your trousers and wiped your wet fingers on your blouse, leaving shiny, sticky splotches behind. Fumbling with the bag a little, you managed to find your phone just in time, not even looking at the caller ID as you swiped your finger against the screen and put it against your ear.

“Hey.”

Your body froze a little at the sound of the unusually cheery voice on the other end. He must have had a pretty good day, judging by his tone.

“Uh, hi.”

“Ya busy?”

You straightened on the sofa and tried to clear your throat as discreetly as possible.

“No, I was just cooking, sorry.” Lie.

“Cool. Listen, we haven’t seen each other for a while so I wanted to call ya.”

“That’s nice of you.” Bare. Fucking. Minimum.

“Yeah. I can’t really talk now, I’m ‘bout to go grab a few beers with my mates. I’ll call ya later, so we can talk properly, yeah?”

“Oh, sure.” You turned your head to look at the clock on the wall in your kitchen. It was already nearing eight o’clock, just how late did he mean to call?

“Alright. I’ll talk to ya later.”

He ended the call sooner than you could say goodbye.

Your hand that was holding the phone to your ear fell limply against the couch with the device still between your fingers. You didn’t know if his call made you feel happy or even more pathetic.

It was good that he called you, right? He obviously wanted to check up on you. And also promised to call you again later.

So why were you feeling like this? Where did this feeling come from?

You gulped the saliva that gathered between your teeth and the flesh of your cheek, accidentally swallowing a bit of air as well.

No, you thought to yourself. He was trying. That was good enough for you. For now.

You raised your hand with your phone again and unlocked it, opening a food delivery app. You debated between classic pizza and maybe something healthier, but your finger ultimately landed on the pizza picture on your screen, successfully tapping it into the cart. You chose the address for delivery and type of payment and locked your phone.

Releasing a deep breath, you stood up and with your phone still in your hand walked the few steps to your bed. The pizza was supposed to be delivered in 30-60 minutes. Might as well masturbate properly with your vibrator in the meantime.

»»————-　　————-««

After giving yourself two orgasms, eating the entire pizza and drinking several shots of soju, you fell asleep on your sofa just a few minutes after midnight. Bakugo didn’t call.

»»————-　　————-««

It was several days later that you heard from him again. This time, he didn’t even bother with calling you; he decided that two texts would suffice.

hey, sorry for not calling you the other day, i got wasted

you wanna see each other sometime again? ;)

‘That’s not a proper apology. Send him to hell.’ your friend replied when you sent them a screenshot of said messages.

You were sitting behind the desk you were assigned at work, your hands idly resting on the keyboard of your computer, but your eyes were glued to your phone that lay locked next to your cup of coffee. You should send him a reply.

“Do you have a minute?”

You jerked in your seat involuntarily, the sudden proximity of the voice effectively scaring you. Your blood rushed to your cheeks, heating your face, when you realised you were caught slacking off.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You replied to your boss, not exactly enthusiastically.

“Great.” He gave you a fake smile that didn’t reach his eyes and quickly left his lips and tapped the side of your cubicle a few times before he turned around and started walking towards his office, obviously expecting you to follow.

You cleared your throat and got up from your seat, tugged your pencil skirt down a little and followed him as quickly as you could in the garment that was sexy and elegant, but also restrictive.

You closed the door once you stepped into the personal office that was separated by glass walls from the rest of the cubicles where you and your colleagues worked.

“Sit down.” Your boss moved his hand in the general direction of the seat that was positioned in front of his desk.

The table was made of a grey and white particle board, as well as all the desks you and others worked on. The carpet in his office was originally the same shade of dark blue as the rest of the entire floor, but was less walked on and therefore managed to retain its colour better than the carpet in the rest of the space.

The window behind his back that you were facing and that he liked to stare out of so often was as bleak as it always is this time of the year. The strange shift between autumn and winter when the weather gets even colder and the days even shorter, when you usually reach for your second-hand wool coat before leaving your apartment.

“We need to talk.”

You were fucked.

»»————-　　————-««

Tears were rolling down your cheeks as you held the phone in your hand.

When are you free? We need to talk.

A small part of you wished Bakugo cared about you enough to actually get stressed after reading your message. But the more rational part of you knew that that wasn’t the case. The pro-hero with a super-inflated ego wouldn’t get anxious due to a mildly threatening message from an average journalist who had had his balls in her mouth not so long ago.

Unemployed journalist.

You debated calling your mother but ultimately decided against it. You weren’t in the headspace to deal with that kind of phone call.

You also considered calling your friend.

You didn’t, though.

You knew they would pity you. You didn’t want people to pity you. You just needed somebody to listen. And maybe a hug. But none of the people you were in contact with or that were in your life would ever just listen.

So you were left all alone with all these feelings that felt just too heavy on your chest. A lead that made it hard to breathe, a lead that your muscles had to actively fight against to fill your lungs with much-needed air. A lead that made you drag your feet against the pavement.

Your phone buzzed in your hand.

this thursday at 5pm, come to my apartment

You didn’t even open the message to properly read it, your eyes just skimmed over the message in the notification on your lock screen before you stuffed the electronic device in your bag once again.

Good, you thought for yourself. You had three days to somewhat get your shit together before visiting him. As much as you had feelings for a certain pro-hero, you were not about to let him see you like this.

Especially not since you were determined to end whatever the weird situationship between the two of you was.

»»————-　　————-««

You rested the back of your head against the cool mirror behind you. The extra thick layer of concealer underneath your eyes to hide the dark circles was slowly creasing even though you’d used enough powder to set it… you could almost feel it.

The Visine in your eyes to make them appear whiter and not like you cried just this morning felt unnatural – too watery and a tiny bit stingy when you closed your eyes for long enough.

Your thought process? Don’t let him see your weakness. Don’t look like you actually care about this ‘relationship’. Could you even call it that? Could you call this situationship a relationship when he kept you secret from the public and his friends as well? When all he ever wanted to do with you lately was to fuck you?

The odd smell of the hairspray that you had used deliberately to keep your hair bouncy was almost palpable in the air, even though you used quite a lot of perfume. Those two smells as well as the lingering stench of a cigarette you smoked earlier combined were almost suffocating you, pressing down on your person, making you feel smaller and smaller.

The supposedly calming music that was playing in the elevator was paradoxically making you even more nervous.

The trousers you decided to wear that day made your ass look extra good, but cut into your stomach every time you sat down – a decision you, again, made on purpose. To get it over with quicker. You can’t even really sit down with these on. Plus, obviously, it wouldn’t be bad to remind him what he was going to lose, right? One last look at your ass was all you were going to grant him.

Saying that you were uncomfortable was an understatement.

You lost your job just a few days ago. It was clear to you you’d have to consider moving soon; the shitty apartment you lived in was cheap, but not cheap enough to keep while unemployed. And now, on top of your job and an apartment, you were about to lose him.

Maybe it was a good thing, though. Even though he made you feel like you were on cloud nine in the beginning, showering you with affection and spending most of his free time with you, lately all you’d been getting from whatever was happening between you two was stress and anxiety. Self-doubt. More insecurities.

Besides, were you really going to lose him? Could a person lose something they’ve never had in the first place?

Your mind wandered on its own to your favourite memory with him. It was still quite fresh, you could remember it as if it had happened a few days ago, even though in reality it had been weeks.

Your head resting on Bakugo’s thigh, the sound of the television and the feeling of his fingers playing with your hair inevitably lulling you to sleep. Your belly was comfortably full thanks to the amazing dinner Bakugo had cooked for you.

“You’re sleepin’.”

“Am not.” You replied, but you could hear it in your own voice, the tiredness and how you slightly slurred your words, your eyes still closed. His smell and proximity was just making you feel so, so safe.

A sigh left your lips as your hand moved on its own and started rummaging in the small purse that you’d brought with you. The fluorescent light in the elevator did nothing to flatter your appearance, quite the opposite, actually. You found the lip gloss you were wearing that day in the depths of your bag and reapplied it generously. You gave yourself another look in the mirror as you stuffed the small thing back into the bag.

God, it looked like you’d tried too hard.

Quickly, with only a few stories left, you tried to card your fingers through your hair to make them messier and ruin your appearance a little. Your hand flew to your lips to wipe off all the gloss you’d just put on as the door of the elevator opened to Bakugo’s floor.

You hesitantly stepped inside of the apartment and took off your shoes, the elevator door closing behind you. Leaving your coat and scarf on the hanger that was situated in the dead end of the hallway, you then stepped in the other direction to actually get further into the flat.

Your feet were quiet on the overpriced Persian runner rug, so you called his name to announce your arrival.

“Hey.”

You were looking directly at his back as you walked into the more open space and the centre of the floor. With his back to you and broad shoulders covered by a simple oversized black hoodie, he was standing right in front of a kitchen counter, probably mixing something judging by the sound of it.

“Hi.” You replied, your voice lacking the usual enthusiasm that laced it whenever you were with him. You put your purse on the couch in the living area and walked closer to where Bakugo was standing.

“Hope you’re hungry.” He said without raising his head or really looking at you.

When you came close enough, you were actually able to see what he was cooking – tamagoyaki.

“Not really.” You’d kill for some tamagoyaki at that moment, to be honest. “I'm not planning on staying long, actually.” You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned your weight against the kitchen counter, resting your hip against it.

“Hm.” Was all he said.

You watched as he poured another part of the egg mixture into the pan, helping it spread by tilting the metal and sort of pushing the liquid with chopsticks.

Bakugo was an amazing chef. You’d asked him about it when you were eating curry rice during one of the occasions that you’d visited his flat and his response was a grunt and cookin’s not that hard.

“You know why I’m here, right?” You asked.

You hoped that he would say it first. Yer leavin’ me. You had prayed that he would say it, make it easier for you. Spare you from having to force air over your vocal cords and formulate the sounds with your tongue and lips.

He didn’t.

The silence stretched on as he seemingly minded his business, rolling the tamagoyaki into a perfect little roll and adding more egg mixture.

“I can’t…” You started but cut yourself off. You gave it another thought before you started again. “This has to end.”

Bakugo didn’t move a single muscle to indicate any sort of reaction he might’ve had. You watched him finally move as he took two bowls out of his kitchen cabinet and nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen aisle.

“Siddown, food’s almost ready.”

He started filling the bowls with steaming rice straight from the rice cooker while the egg was frying on the pan.

“I said I’m not hungry. I’m not here to eat.”

“And I didn’ ask.”

“Stop treating me like a child.” Anger was gathering in the pit of your stomach, twisting it more than it already was.

“Then stop actin’ like one.”

A moment of silence.

You were speechless.

A lump formed in your throat, successfully gagging you and preventing you from defending yourself. You could feel them, the tears forming in your eyes, threatening to fall over your lower lash line and roll down your cheeks.

“Please, siddown so ya can eat your food.”

You swallowed around the tightness in your throat and just nodded your head, not trusting your voice to keep steady. Without another word, you walked around the kitchen aisle and sat down on one of the tall bar stools, resting your forearms on the cold granite countertop. The stone was cold enough to sting your already cold skin, goosebumps forming on your arms.

After not even two minutes the meal appeared in front of you – a bowl of rice, another bowl of miso soup with tofu, a plate filled with cut tamagoyaki and a small bowl of steamed spinach with garlic.

“Eat up,” Bakugo said as he put his own bowls and plate on the countertop, sitting next to you.

The food was warm, filling your tummy with a nice feeling.

“It’s delicious.” You complimented after a few careful bites. You meant it.

“It’s alright.”

Ever the critic. Even when it comes to himself.

The two of you were eating in silence, only the sounds of chewing and slurping filling the air.

Bakugo raised his eyes from his meal when he noticed your reluctance to continue eating about halfway through the meal.

“Why aren’ ya eatin’?”

You could hear the disapproval in his voice. Not worry, not even concern. Just disapproval.

“Uhm,” you started, but couldn’t finish your sentence.

The godforsaken jeans you’d decided to wear were digging into your stomach painfully, to a point where a sharp pain was shooting up your chest. And you filling your belly more wasn’t helping it.

“D’ya not like it?”

“No! No, that’s not it.” You moved a piece of the omelette with your chopsticks around on the plate. “It really is delicious.”

Hmph.

You chewed on your lower lip. Bakugo was obviously unhappy with your answer. He was still staring you down.

“I’m wearing my standing jeans.” You admitted after a few seconds.

“Standin’ jeans.” He repeated, obviously not understanding the term.

“Yeah. Standing jeans. Jeans that look great when you stand up, but you can't really sit down in them because they’re too tight.”

Your laughable reason was met with silence, he was obviously letting you stew in the ridiculousness of it all.

“They’re too tight when I sit down, they dig into my stomach.”

Bakugo blinked at you once before he rolled his eyes and without a word got up and left the kitchen, disappearing in the direction of his bedroom.

You heard some sounds coming from the other side of the flat before he reappeared with grey sweatpants in his hand, handing them to you.

“Change.”

“I’m not going to change into your sweatpants.” You protested, looking at the fabric in his extended hand. “I didn’t even want to stay here. Nor eat your food. Can we just get this over with?”

You were this close to begging him. This close. Begging him to say the final words, those ones you had no guts to really say. Even though they were long overdue.

“Ya look like shit.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ya heard me. Ya look like a’mess. Change'nto those damn sweatpants and finish your food.”

You looked from his face to the sweatpants he was still holding out for you. Reluctantly, you took them and stood up, immediately feeling the relief in your midsection. You walked back into the hallway where you came from and disappeared in the door on the left – Bakugo’s bathroom.

You peeked a look at yourself in the mirror immediately after closing the door behind you. He was right. You looked like shit. The concealer was cakey under your eyes; the foundation was sitting on your skin almost unnaturally, making you look like you were wearing some sort of a mask. The mascara formed spider legs on your lower lash line – where some stray tears had gathered. The Visine you had used obviously wasn’t working.

You could just leave the apartment. Just leave and not look back. Obviously, he would get the hint, right?

Leave and not say a word. Save yourself from the uncomfortable conversation, the uncomfortable feelings that would inevitably bubble up your chest and settle in your throat.

You sighed and put some liquid hand soap in your palm, turning on the water with your other hand. Smearing the soap across your face, you rubbed hard enough to get the mask off your face, so you could feel the inevitable tears on your skin without any barrier between the two. The soap was slightly stinging as it got into your eyes, but it didn’t stop you from rubbing your face with your nails until your skin was all red and the makeup was now underneath your fingernails.

It didn’t matter if you wore your mask or not. Not anymore. He had seen right through it. Might as well bare yourself to him.

Looking up at yourself in the mirror, you saw the black streaks of mascara all over your face, which made you dunk your face into the watery, soapy concoction for longer, until it was running down your forearms and to your elbows, dripping down onto the grey rug on the floor. It didn’t bother you at this point.

You only opened your eyes again when you ran out of breath, now looking at beet-red skin with two bloodshot eyes that were staring back at you in the mirror.

That would do for now.

Opening the drawer underneath the bathroom sink, you knew exactly where to look to find the hair accessories Bakugo kept for all his hookups. Grabbing the ones you needed, you pinned your slightly damp hair out of your face. Stripping off your standing jeans, you folded them neatly into a nice square before you put on the grey sweatpants that were ill-fitting on you.

It didn’t matter now.

Didn’t matter what you looked like.

You sniffled a little and opened the door, emerging into the hallway and letting only the slight taps of your feet announce your entry to the kitchen.

Bakugo looked up from his meal, unphased, and nodded his head to himself.

“Thanks for the sweats.” You put your jeans on the counter to your right, where there was empty space.

“No problem.”

That was actually kind of nice of him.

Your brain whined in your head.

He wasn’t supposed to be nice to you. Not now. Not when you needed a final push to end this. Like a coward.

“Is al’this just ‘cause of me, or did somethin’ else happen?”

You stayed silent for a while, instead putting in your mouth a spoonful of miso soup with a piece of tofu.

Should you be honest with him, or lie?

…It didn’t matter anymore, did it?

“I got fired.”

You stuffed your face with the fried egg.

It was really nice to eat a warm meal after some time. Only now that you were wearing his sweatpants and your entire stomach wasn’t hurting from those damn jeans did you realise how much you actually relished the feeling of warmth filling you up.

“Sorry t’hear that.”

All you replied was a low hum from the back of your throat, continuing to fill the dark, empty space inside of you with the home-cooked meal.

“Ya wanna talk ‘bout it?” He asked after a minute.

You could see in your peripheral that he was looking at you now, pausing his eating.

“Not really.”

After that, the two of you finished eating in silence. Once you accepted that Bakugo knew you weren’t alright, the silence actually turned comfortable.

You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking things over while the two of you were eating. Was this really the last time you’d ever see him? He deserved to get dumped for how badly he had treated you, right?

Maybe he had his reasons. Maybe something in his life happened the same way you got fired just recently?

You shook your head from side to side discreetly as you swallowed down another mouthful. It was too late. You came here for a reason, and that reason was exactly what you were mulling over now.

Don’t be a fucking coward.

It was the right thing to do.

Bakugo treated you as disposable. If that was what you were to him, there was no reason for you to stay.

Were you ready to prove to yourself that you truly were disposable to him, though?

You realised you had been staring at now empty plates and bowls in front of you only when Bakugo’s hand appeared in the picture to collect the dishes.

“Thank you for the food, it was really nice.”

“Hm.”

You stayed seated at the kitchen island as you watched him neatly put the bowls and plates into the dishwasher. It was obvious that he followed a certain system. You didn’t even consider getting up and offering any help. You knew him well enough to know that he would scold you and tell you to sit down again.

Your eyes drifted over his body while he was bending down to put the porcelain away. The way his back muscles moved underneath the fabric, the way the dirty blonde hair at the nape of his neck brushed against the skin.

You could almost feel it. Feel his muscles move under your fingers, taste his skin on the tip of your tongue.

Your eyes followed his movement as he finally turned around once he was done, resting his backside against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes met and your look didn’t falter. It didn’t.

“So ya wanna break up?”

You let him win and looked down at your lap. All you saw was the grey fabric that belonged to him.

“Is it really a break-up if we haven’t even properly dated?” You dared to raise your eyes again.

“Fair enough.”

It was him now that looked down. You won this round.

You were sitting on the bar stool in silence while he was just standing there, in the kitchen, the kitchen island creating sort of a safe barrier between you two. Your fingers were fidgeting in your lap, trying to make your mind focus on anything else than what was really going on in your head.

Don’t say it.

Don’t.

“What happened?”

You winced. You said it.

“Whaddya mean?”

This was a mistake.

You abruptly got up and grabbed your jeans from the countertop. You were leaving in his sweatpants. You’ll send them back to him sometime later.

“Wait.”

You could hear his hurried footsteps following you to the living room area where you collected your purse from the couch.

“Wait, god dammit,” he grabbed your arm and spun you around so you could face him. “What didya mean by that?”

You were staring at the neckline of his hoodie, tears smudging your vision. There was not enough of them to roll over the notional barrier, but enough of them for you to fear that they would.

“What didya mean by that?” He repeated the question. Now that he was so close to you, his voice got much softer. Much quieter.

That along with the smell of his cologne and deodorant made you realise just how much you’d missed him. The emotion filled your body with a strange feeling of sorrow and grief.

His hand left your arm and you craved for his touch to return.

“What happened?” Your voice sounded broken. It felt like it was another person talking rather than you, you couldn’t recognise it. “It was so nice at the start.”

You dared to look up at him, which turned out to be a mistake. The movement sent the drops of salty water over the edge of your waterline. You felt them rolling down your cheeks to your chin where they connected into one and dripped down.

Bakugo’s vermillion eyes followed the movement of the liquid on your face. He almost looked guilty.

“I don’ know whaddya want me t’say.”

“The truth.”

He looked away from you for a few seconds while he put his hands in his pockets. It was clear he was debating it. Whether or not he should really be honest with you.

“You owe me that much.” You encouraged him to talk even though you didn’t want to hear it. You wanted to be anywhere else with anybody else than in his apartment with him. Maybe you were a masochist.

“I used ya.”

Fresh tears started streaming down your face as soon as his words registered in your brain. His saying it out loud made it all too real. If he hadn’t admitted it, you could still pretend it was something else. You could pretend and make yourself feel better about it. When he admitted it you lost the possibility and comfort of gaslighting yourself into thinking he had a good reason.

He had enough sense to look at the floor almost shamefully when he carried on.

“I had a lottov things goin’ on ada time. Ya distracted me from it.”

You blinked harshly to force the water from your eyes out. The gentle gasp for air left your lips even though you tried to fight it, to conceal it from him.

“’M sorry. I thought I could give ya more, ‘cause you’re really nice.”

“Yeah, well… really nice doesn’t seem to cut it, does it?”

You both stood there in silence for a few more beats before you felt his hand on your cheek, his thumb smearing the tear away from underneath your eye.

“Don’t.”

It was a quiet plea, a quiet plea that sounded too much like a whimper, leaving your lips parted after rolling off them.

“I meant what I said.” He pulled his hand away from your cheek, moving it to the other and wiping your tears there as well with the upper side of his index finger. “Ya are nice.”

“Whatever.” You removed your face from his touch, eyes glued to the floor.

“Spend the night.”

Was it an order, or a request? You didn’t know, but the sentence froze your feet to the floor before you could turn and make your exit.

“What?”

“Listen, listen. No funny business. Just, spend the night. Ya can sleep inda guest room.” He added the last sentence almost as an afterthought.

Your eyebrows were furrowed above your eyes that were moving from right to left, going from one red eye to the other, trying to gauge the sincerity of his statement.

“Spend the night.” He repeated once more, his voice just barely above a whisper.

Your mind was screaming at you to get the hell out of that apartment, but you felt yourself nod.

A masochist.

“Yeah?” He was making sure.

“Yeah,” you whispered, not even looking him in the eye. The lump in your throat was making you feel like you could choke on it and you already felt bad for betraying yourself like this and agreeing to his outrageous request. You couldn’t bear the way he was definitely looking at you on top of all of that.

Bakugo gently put his hand on your shoulder and guided you back into the heart of his apartment.

“D’ya wanna watch some movie?” He led you to the couch so you sat down on it without any protest.

“Sure.”

He sat down next to you, not really close, but not far away from you either, turning the TV on and switching to the streaming service on it immediately.

You kept biting the inside of your cheek and looking everywhere else than at the TV or him. Hearing the opening of a movie, you raised your eyes to the big screen mounted on the wall. Your throat went dry as soon as you realised what was playing.

“No, something else.” You demanded quickly. “I wanna watch something new.”

Bakugo looked at you for a few seconds and then nodded his head, taking the TV remote in his hand once again and switching the movie to a different one.

The movie that he initially pressed play on was a movie you talked about with him. You could still remember how you gushed about it, mentioning how it was your favourite movie growing up and saying the words we should watch it together sometime. Of course, that 'sometime' never really came. So, now you wouldn’t let him do this. You wouldn’t let him taint your movie. This was yours. He had no right to claim this thing as well.

You wouldn’t let him have this because that would mean that at some point he actually listened to you. It would mean that at some point he might’ve tried if he cared enough.

The sound of a different movie playing commanded your attention then and so you tried to tune in as much as possible. Just from the music, you could tell that it was an action movie.

“Real’ like this one.”

You wished he didn’t say those words.

»»————-　　————-««

You were probably in the middle of the movie and lucky for you, you were already able to say that you hated it. Loud explosions, ridiculous situations, plot with holes. Surprisingly, Bakugo liked a Hollywood action movie with too big of a budget.

Your eyes drifted from the TV screen to the window. Living this high up definitely had its perks. The view being one of the main ones. You remembered how naïve you had been when this situationship started. How you had thought maybe if this goes well, I’ll be looking at the same view every morning.

“Ya don’t like it?”

Ever the observant.

You turned your head to the other side, looking at Bakugo who was looking right back at you. You bit your lip and shrugged your shoulders.

“It’s fine.”

You didn’t want to be mean but you also didn’t want to lie about liking it.

“Fine?”

Wrong answer, apparently.

“I guess I just wasn’t in the mood for an action movie.” You tried to calm him down a little. Lying it was then.

“Shoulda told me that hour and a'half ago. Dammit.”

You watched him as he grabbed the remote and exited the movie.

“What are ya inda mood for, then?”

You watched his profile illuminated by the light from the TV screen for a few seconds. He was so beautiful it almost pained you. The constantly furrowed brows you almost couldn’t see because of his hair covering his entire forehead, his perfect nose, the shape of his lips. His skin without blemishes, apart from a few small scars, even though he didn’t really have a skincare routine.

You remembered how you imagined what your possible babies would look like. They’d be perfect.

“So?” He asked impatiently when you hadn’t answered immediately.

His eyes met yours when you decided what to do.

Moving closer to him, you leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. Just as you remembered. He still tasted the same. It was Bakugo who leaned back, looking at you. Making sure you knew what you were doing. You leaned in more, kissing him again. Gently, almost tenderly. What if this was the last time you ever got to taste him? You relished the feeling, trying to commit to your memory as much as you could. His taste, his smell, the way his lips felt against you. The kiss got interrupted when he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Are ya sure ya can handle it?”

You knew what he meant. Are you sure you can handle that, emotionally? Are you sure it won’t ruin you even more? You couldn't help yourself. Bakugo was like a scab you couldn't stop picking at. An open wound that just wouldn't heal. He was your weak spot.

“No.” You said with your voice all breathy, kissing him once again, this time more passionately. Bakugo reciprocated without missing a beat, one of his hands grabbing the side of your face and the other one going straight to your waist. Not even a few seconds in, you swung one of your legs over his thighs, straddling him without breaking the kiss.

You were eager.

And Bakugo was just as eager as you.

Part of your brain hated this. Hated how good his touch felt, hated how familiar all of this was. How safe you felt right in that moment and just how vulnerable and exposed it was all at the same time. You felt weak.

Bakugo’s hand that was on your waist moved to your hip and gripped it tightly, pushing you back and forth, guiding your movements so you would grind against him. There was impatience in the movements from both of you. You knew where it was coming from on your end but the implications of it coming from him made your heart drop in your chest.

“Need you.” You half whined against his lips before you quickly stood up and took off the sweatpants he had lent you. Bakugo followed suit – he took off his trousers hastily and welcomed you back in his lap with open arms, immediately grabbing at your flesh and squeezing what he could.

“Couldn’t leave ‘thout one last fuck, could ya?” He growled against your skin when he moved his lips to your neck and started kissing and nibbling it.

You let out a quiet moan and grabbed his growing bulge through his boxers, the thin fabric the only thing separating you from him. He was almost fully hard already, huffing against your neck as you stroked him.

“Fuck, okay, lemme go grab a condom.” The hero parted from your neck momentarily and was about to get you off of him and get up when you stopped him.

“No!”

You surprised yourself with how quickly you objected to that. Bakugo stopped himself and gave you a look.

“No,” you said calmer this time. “I wanna feel you.”

You deserved it. You deserved this. You deserved at least one good thing in your life. And he would be the one to give it to you. You didn't need his love or affection. All you needed was a piece of him.

You pushed his underwear down just enough so his balls and dick, now fully hard, were free and stroked it, eliciting an almost painfully sounding groan from the man.

“I wanna feel you tonight.” You repeated, pushing your own panties to the side and lining him up with your entrance.

You definitely needed more prep than this, you knew that it would be an uncomfortable stretch and that you weren’t wet nearly enough to help with it, but you couldn’t wait any longer.

You groaned from the slight sting, it was a bit worse than you expected it to be.

“Shit, easy.” Bakugo put his hand on your hip to slow you down a bit. “No need’da hurry. We got all night, princess.”

»»————-　　————-««

You sat on the bathroom floor in your mother’s flat, having to temporarily move in with her due to your unemployment. The phone you kept pressed against your ear kept ringing and ringing. To be honest, you were expecting it to go straight to a voicemail right away.

“Yeah?” He picked it up probably at the last possible ring.

“Hey.” You greeted him. “Listen, could we talk?” You bit your lip as you looked at the positive pregnancy test in your hand.

#bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #pro hero bakugou #pro hero bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugo x you #bakugou x reader #bakugo smut #bakugo katsuki smut #katsuki bakugo smut #bakugo angst #bakugou angst #bakugo katsuki angst #tw: baby trapping #ves writes

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pfhwrittes · 2 months

Text

housemate!kyle x gender neutral reader let's goooooo.

rating: PG-13 (for now) pairing: eventual kyle "gaz" garrick x gender neutral reader word count: 1.5k TW: bit of swearing, fluff, mentions of original characters AN: i fully plan on writing more of this, but i wanted to get the first part out before i start the next part. as always, barely edited so funky grammar and typos are still likely. this is completely self indulgent. please send love to @391780 for cheerleading me with this one!

–

your housemate sucks since meeting her new boyfriend.

your normally sociable, polite and reasonable housemate has turned into some kind of lust-crazed succubus since meeting dale, spending hours upon hours of her time shut in her bedroom with him. and if she doesn’t shut the fuck up in the next five minutes you’re going to kick her door in. or castrate him. or possibly burst into sleep deprived tears.

“oh! oh god! fuck! dale, baby, oh my god!”

jesus fucking christ. it’s 4.30am and ruby is wailing like a cat in heat at the top of her fucking voice. she’s so loud you could swear she and her soon to be castrated boyfriend were fucking in your bedroom instead of the room next to yours. briefly you debate yelling at the top of your lungs but you don’t want to disturb the neighbours any further, so with a muttered curse you snatch your pillow and duvet off your bed and stomp downstairs to the living room so you can sleep on the sofa.

you get settled onto the sofa and glare at the ceiling in the living room, the sound of rhythmic thumping and moaning still audible even with the increased distance between you and the nymphomaniac formerly known as ruby. you mutter and grumble to yourself as you shut your eyes trying to get at least a little bit of sleep before needing to get up for your job interview in the morning.

–

at midday you kick the front door shut behind you and shrug your coat off your shoulders as you step further into the hallway.

“hey i’m home!” you call up the stairs, “my job interview was an utter shit show so i’m thinking we get a chinese and a bottle of wine to commiserate, yeah?” you pause waiting to hear ruby’s usual reply reminding you not to order from the golden palace but silence greets you instead.

“huh. weird.” you mutter to yourself as you pass through the living room, dropping your bag and coat on the sofa as you beeline towards the kitchen. ruby’s probably making something for lunch while listening to one of her creepy true crime podcasts.

“hey ruby - oh.” you cut yourself off as you walk into the kitchen, no sign of ruby except for the used butter knife leaving a greasy smear on the counter and a pink post-it note stuck on the front of the fridge. you step forward to pluck the note off the fridge and squint at ruby’s loopy handwriting.

gone 2 stay w/ dale 4 a few days! look after widget for me - r xxxx

you huff a breath out of your nose and crumple the note into a ball so you can pop it in the kitchen bin with the crumbs you sweep off the side into your palm. ugh. it’s such a little thing but you feel frustrated tears well up in your eyes in response to having to clean up after ruby once again on minimal sleep.

a tiny high pitched mrr! interrupts your internal grumbling and you turn around to face the little tabby that is waiting patiently by an empty food bowl.

“hiya widge, have you been a good girl while i’ve been out?” you ask softly as you crouch so widget can bonk her head onto your outstretched hand. typically widget doesn’t answer but she chirps again before padding back to her bowl, politely requesting that you get with the programme and make with the biscuits before cleaning up the rest of the kitchen.

you sigh and push yourself up from the floor, just another half finished job left for you. great.

–

a week later, with no sign of ruby and your texts unanswered, your laptop chimes on the coffee table with a new email. you hope briefly that it’s one of the companies you’ve applied to responding to your application with an offer for a job interview, but your heart sinks as you realise it's an email from your landlord, john.

you skim over the email and you feel your eyes sting as select phrases leap out at you. “i’m sorry to inform you that ruby has decided to end the tenancy agreement at 141 hereford way early” ... “you can choose to remain in the property as a sole tenant after an additional credit check to ensure your affordability” … “alternatively, please let me know when ruby has collected her belongings so i can advertise the room to other prospective tenants”.

fuck. that utter bitch. she’s left you unemployed and now potentially living with a total stranger. fuck.

your hands shake slightly as you reach for your laptop so you can start composing your reply to john.

“hi john, thanks for letting me know. i haven’t heard from ruby in a week now, so i’m unsure when she’ll be able to collect her belongings but i think it’s probably for the best if you look at advertising her room as available to rent. i’ll start bagging up her belongings today. kind regards….”

it’s official. your soon to be ex-housemate really fucking sucks.

–

several days pass with a flurry of emails to john and even more unanswered texts to ruby, when a solid jaunty knock startles you out of the doze you’d dropped into on the sofa. you hiss as widget launches herself off your stomach using her claws for purchase so she can bolt up the stairs away from the noise. you swear under your breath as you kick one of the six black bin bags that line the hallway filled with ruby’s crap as you edge your way to the front door. the silhouette you can see through the frosted glass in the door knocks again just as you reach for the handle and pull the door open.

“yeah yeah i’m here -” you cut yourself off with an embarrassed sound as you get a good look at the man standing at the threshold. oh no, he’s fit as fuck is your first thought and you’re not wrong.

the first thing you notice, as you flick your eyes over him quickly, is that he’s in incredible shape. the stranger has broad shoulders and a muscular chest that tapers off into a narrow waist. the second thing you notice when you raise your gaze back up to his face is that he has a jaw dropping smile when he flashes you a friendly grin.

“hey, i’m kyle. your new housemate.” he says confidently, “john should’ve mentioned me.”

you shake yourself out of the slight daze you’ve found yourself in - seriously no man should have skin that perfect - and you offer your own tentative smile back.

“uh, yeah. sure. sorry i was -” you glance back into the hallway and cringe at the sight of the black bin bags “- um. in the middle of something.” you finish weakly, hoping you don’t look too obviously like you’ve been napping in the middle of the day.

your housemate - kyle - rumbles out a slightly bashful chuckle.

“no, no it’s fine. i would’ve been here earlier but i had to give a witness statement for the accident on the high street.” kyle reaches up and tugs at the brim of the scuffed blue baseball cap on his head awkwardly.

“oh shit, really? what happened?” you query him eagerly, your love of gossip overriding your mild embarrassment in a flash. kyle’s eyes crinkle happily at your tone and he leans in conspiratorially, letting his hand drop away from his face.

“some guy walked into an open manhole cover.” he says with a completely straight face.

you burst out a startled laugh. “no fucking way!”

kyle nods, his lips twitching in a poorly concealed grin. “yeah, stuck like winnie the pooh, i swear to god.”

you have to hold onto the edge of the open door to stop yourself from collapsing into fits of laughter. “how -” another gleeful cackle escapes you before you can compose yourself, “how the fuck did he manage to do that?”

kyle shrugs. “he just walked straight through the barrier, surprised the lanky fucker missed it really.”

you collapse into laughter again, feeling your cheeks ache from the width of your grin. holy shit, that’s the best thing you’ve heard all day. eventually your slightly hysterical laughter peeters out and you wipe at your eyes as you look at kyle who is grinning back at you.

“so, fancy letting me in then?” he nudges at the frankly massive khaki rucksack at his feet after a moment of silence as if to remind you that he isn’t just here to charm you with silly stories and his offensively handsome good looks. your embarrassment flares once again as you realise you’ve just been looking at him instead of asking him to come inside like a normal person.

“sorry, yeah of course.” you step back from the door and turn around so he can’t see the way your cheeks are now flushed from embarrassment instead of laughter. “sorry about the mess.” you say apologetically over your shoulder as kyle follows you into the hallway.

“oh i dunno, it doesn’t look too bad to me.”

you hear kyle kick the door shut behind him and you laugh again to cover up the way your stomach flutters at his tone. if you didn’t know better you’d say he was flirting with you, but you discount that as wishful thinking on your part as you lead him towards the stairs.

it is wishful thinking, right?

#housemate!gaz #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #gender neutral reader #is that p starting a new wip series based on a whim? why yes it is!#smut is coming (no pun intended) but i wanted to post the set up straight away #eventually i'll cross post this over to ao3 #kg

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unoislazy · 5 months

Text

‘Til The Caged Bird Sings

(Part 3)

Recap: Mizu found you in some makeshift holding cell in the basement of the gambling house you were being held in.

Surprise Shawties two in one night

CW: a bit bloody description

Mentions of SA

Literally falling asleep as I type this, hopefully there are no typos (I doubt it)

I’m probably gonna go back and rewrite this cause I genuinely can’t remember what I wrote and I’m frankly too embarrassed to go back and read it

————————————————————

Mizu approached you with haste, managing to open your cell with one swift motion of her sword, breaking the lock almost clean off. She cautiously made her way into the dark and dreary cell, the only light that entered the room was from a small window on the back wall. This place was not meant to be a cell, it seemed to have been made last minute more than anything. It wouldn’t take a genius to know that they didn’t care about the people they stored here.

Once she got right in front of you, she noticed that you had gone quiet and still, other than the tremble that you couldn't seem to stop.

Mizu kneeled down before you, lifting her hand, wanting to tap your shoulder just to gain your attention but just as she had just barely grazed that now tattered fabric on your shoulder you began to flail and scream.

Most of your words came out as nothing more than incoherent sobs, but Mizu could definitely make out the words, “Get away from me! Don’t touch me!”

Your voice was hoarse and scratchy, you had been shouting for a while.

Your cheeks were stained with tears, Your eyes were held shut in fear as you flailed about, trying as hard as you could to make it impossible for whatever man you assumed was in front of you to grab you.

You felt two strong arms grip yours, holding them still as you continued to struggle.You didn’t know who was infront of you but the last thing you wanted was to open them and be face to face with the fact that you’d have to endure another hour of torture. That was until you heard,

“Hey hey, it’s me.” Mizu shushed you, continuing to hold your arms still as you slowly began to stop thrashing. You continued to cry, still not wanting to open your eyes, believing your brain was playing some hopeless joke on you.

“Open your eyes.”

Finally, your eyes fluttered open. Immediately you were met with the blue eyes that you loved so much staring back at you, filled with a fear you could not even begin to explain.

You leapt forward, wrapping your arms around her as tightly as you could manage, never wanting to let go. You continued to cry, your words a jumbled mess as you tried to describe what had been done to tou.

You dug your nails into her clothes, trying to pull yourself closer than you could possibly manage, your breathing was unstable and your tears began to soak through Mizu’s clothes.

She didn’t care, she held you as tightly as she could, happy to at least have found you alive, but terrified of what you might’ve had to endure before she did.

You both sat there for a few moments as your crying died down a bit, a few hiccups here and there made it hard for you to properly express yourself as you tried to talk to the woman.

“Let’s go home, please.” You pleaded, no longer wanting to be in such a place. She nodded, carefully wrapping your arm around her shoulder, helping you to stand as you both made your way towards the door of the cell. As fast as you could go, you made your way back to the ground floor before you heard the clamoring of several armored men running into the house.

They finally knew Mizu was here.

“Someone go check on the girl!” You could hear one of the men yell followed by the sound of a few men running towards you and the rest running in the opposite direction. You began to shake, fearing that they would somehow manage to take you from Mizu again, right after you had just been reunited.

She noticed you shaking and putting a reassuring hand on your arm as she looked towards you.

“I’m not going to let them take you.” She said as she gently placed you up against the wall. She drew her sword, standing before you, emulating a wall between you and then men who had finally made their way towards the hall you both stood in.

Once their eyes landed on Mizu, they all immediately got into fighting stances and quickly charged at Mizu, who did the exact same thing towards them.

She sliced through most of them easily, but for each man she brought down, more came to replace them.

The men who had previously been upstairs had all made their way towards the commotion, making it harder and harder for Mizu to keep up with all of them.

Eventually she had been so caught up with the men surrounding you that she hadn’t noticed the one man who seemed to slip past her and make his way straight for you.

Mizu called for you, quickly gaining your attention as she continued to struggle against the men she was fighting with.

Your head shot up, quickly seeing the man who was making a beeline straight for you. As fast as you could react, paired with the adrenaline that suddenly shot throughout your body, you stood up and lunged yourself at the man. Not expecting you to fight back, the man had been taken by surprise as you scratched and clawed at him in any way you could manage. You didn’t have any other weapons on your so your nails would have to do, and with the right technique they could be lethal.

You have managed to successfully scratch at the man’s eye, leaving you feeling disgusted and him severely wounded.

But you didn’t stop there, you had so much anger from not being able to fight back that you could release until now. The only thing you felt like you could do as you continued to attack the man was to scream. You screamed as loud as you could, carrying all the emotions that you had been feeling for the past few hours. The emotions that you truly didn’t even have time to fully process, the emotions that scolded you for being weak and yet consoled you for this not being your fault.

You continued to scream, being blinded by your own rage you had not realized the sheer amount of damage you had caused to the man’s face. You had somehow managed to break the skin on several parts of his face, his eyes included.

He continued to scream, finally pushing you off of him as he knelt down, cupping his face in pure agony. With one clean plunge through his chest, the screaming stopped. You watched the man flop to the ground as the sword left his body, your entire body shaking as you tried to catch your breath. You had no idea how to react to what you had just done, you had never injured someone so severely in your life. You didn’t mind Mizu’s past, you were aware she had harmed many people before she had met you, but it was an entirely different story when the blood was partially on your hands.

He deserved it, he and several other men in his group had taken advantage of you, they talked down to you as if you were nothing, they tried to make you feel as if you were no more than an ant trapped beneath their feet.

And in some ways they succeeded.

Mizu bent down before you, gaining your attention before touching you.

“You ready?” She asked, making sure you were fully aware of your surroundings. You nodded, still not all there entirely, but you were there enough to know you wanted to get out of there. Just as she had done before, she wrapped your arm around her now blood soaked shoulder, helping you to walk as you made your way out.

However, due to the excessive amount of adrenaline coursing through you, and the blood that has already partially made its way onto your clothes, you had yet to notice the wound that was currently leaking from your abdomen. You hadn’t noticed, but through your moment of blind rage, in an attempt to get you off of him the man had stabbed you and took the knife back out.

You both left the building leaving nothing but piles of bodies and an egregious amount of blood behind.

You made it all the way back to Mizu’s horse before you had noticed the stab wound that still continued to bleed out.

Your hand grazed over the wound, almost as if to convince yourself it wasn’t real, but the blood that coated your hand afterward was indeed your blood.

“Oh shit” You muttered, looking towards her with a terrified look in your eye. Mizu, who was already getting the horse ready, looked back towards you, her eyes widening.

You knew Mizu had gone through worse but the same couldn’t be said for you, you didn’t know if you were going to die in the next two minutes or the next ten, if at all. You might have known what to do if you were thinking clearly but at this point in time you couldn’t think straight. You couldn’t think at all.

The world began to spin as you took one step towards Mizu, the world going black as you began to fall right into her arms.

Mizu admittedly panicked just a bit, not knowing whether the wound was lethal or not. All she did know was her question was going to be answered regardless of the placement if she didn’t stop the bleeding.

She ripped whatever piece of fabric she could find and hastily wrapped it around you, trying to add as much pressure to it as she could before carefully lifting you up onto the horse.

It was a bit of a journey back but luckily the makeshift bandage Mizu had wrapped around you was enough to slow the bleeding down a significant amount.

Everything was dark for you, you didn’t know how much time was passing, you could hear things happening around you but your mind was too foggy to focus on anything clearly. It only took you a few hours before you woke up, the stab wound miraculously being the only major injury you sustained after the whole ordeal. You had a few scratches and bruises littered throughout your body but it wasn’t something a lot of rest couldn't handle.

While you slept she had gotten around to cleaning the house up, getting rid of any mess that had been left waiting for you both to return. Mizu now sat next to you, she watched carefully looking for any sign of consciousness as she held your hand.

By this point she knew the cut wouldn’t be lethal, but waiting for you to wake up was excruciating.

She gently brushed away some of the hairs that had gotten stuck to your face, carefully moving them out of the way as she just simply stared at you.

She was so afraid of losing you, you had been taken from right under her nose and she had no idea.

Now more than ever she never wanted to leave your side.

And she wasn’t going to, not unless she absolutely had to.

She continued to sit calmly beside you, no noise really coming from either of you either than your slow and steady breathing. Every so often she would take a peek at you, making sure that you’re still alive and okay and that you hadn’t drifted off to the other side while her eyes were closed.

By every so often, it was actually every thirty seconds.

Mizu desperately wanted to try and persuade herself into believing she wasn’t stressed out about this, telling herself you were fine and that she shouldn’t worry, but there she was, worrying. She wasn’t trying to go too far on herself, after all self pity gets you nowhere, but she felt so guilty for not getting there on time. You were the one person who accepted her in every way that she existed and she practically offered you up on a silver platter.

She gently held your hand, feeling your pulse to reassure herself as she sat there. She said not one singular word as she waited for you to wake back up.

Once you had woken up, a wave of relief washed over her. It was one thing to think she lost you via kidnapping, a whole nother to think she was going to watch you die in her arms.

Your eyes fluttered up, meeting her soft gaze as you sat up.

“Mizu?” You asked even though you knew it was clearly her. You looked around, noticing the space was entirely cleaned up. She smiled down at you, moving a bit closer as you tried to sit up. She very gently pushed you back down before saying,

“I’m glad you’re awake but you need to stay down for a bit.”

The fact that you had woken up alright was enough of a reassurance for her, knowing that you were okay.

You immediately laid back down, listening to your wife who had suffered a great deal more pain than you. You practically considered her an expert when it came to pain.

Relieved to at least no longer feel direct pain from you abdomen, you wearily smiled at her.

“Thank you, for coming for me.” You thanked her, but it only threw offMizu a bit.

“You’re my wife, that’s part of my job, to protect you.” She said, looking towards you with a new found curiosity for what else you had to say.

“But in protecting me you put yourself in severe danger.” You argued, you weren’t entirely a big fan of Mizu being so badly wounded but then again who would be.

“A risk I’m willing to take for you.” She responded plainly as if it were a fact. Maybe because it was. She was willing to take any risk for you as long as it meant you’d continue to keep loving her.

“But-“ you began, only to be cut off by the woman.

“I don’t care what excuse you want to make, I went looking for you out of my own free will, I knew the dangers that came from it and I handled them pretty well.” She explained, finally being about to persuade you.

“I would do anything for you.” She said, holding your hand so you would understand just how serious she was being. She understood but she’s be lying if she said she didn’t want to hear it again.

“Anything?” You asked.

“Anything.” She responded.

#x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #fanfiction #mizu x reader #unoislazy #x gn reader #mizu come home the kids miss you #bes mizu #mizufics #mizubrainrot #mizu x you #mizu bes #mizu fanfic #mizu #blue eye samurai fanfic #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai

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delicate-moon-princess · 1 year

Note

Hello. Hope you are well. I don’t know if your requests are open, but I would love more Superman x reader stories. Maybe the reader is married to Clark. Clark is always very gentle, caring and soft. Always afraid of hurting the reader by accident. But maybe wants it a little rough? At least sometimes. Totally not against any dd/lg elements.

Bad Days and Bratty Ways

Trying to seduce your husband after a bad day seems to be futile. Good thing a little bit of misbehaving can tip him over the edge. -Daddy!Clark Kent x Reader

Warning: 18+ dd/lg, daddy kink, rough p in v, fingering, choking, light spanking, dumbification, squirting, creampie- Let me know if I forgot anything!

4.2k words

Any typos are my own!

A/N: This had been in my inbox for awhile, I’m sorry 😣 I hope you enjoy it!

******

Clark dealt his anger differently than most. Some people had hobbies that helped them de-stress. Or perhaps they went for a walk to clear their heads. The Kryptonians' fury morphed into something more carnal. His method to fighting any hostile thoughts was chasing them away with a good, hard fuck.

It was a shock to learn this at first. Clark seemed like such a proper gentleman. And he was. Most of the time. Other times he ditched all gentlemanly standards, used your body for his own selfish needs. And you loved being there to help chase away his ire.

You cherished the times he was rougher with you. Your husband rarely got angry, so those moments were far and few between. His fits always left you aching in the most pleasant way. Despite being married for only a short time, you quickly learned to pick up on the signs that he was riled up.

That’s why you kept a close eye on him during dinner.

Something was bothering him. His mannerisms made it clear. The smiles he gave you were strained, as you observed how tired his eyes looked. His food was half heartedly pushed around with his fork, as if he had no appetite for the meal. He wasn’t very talkative, so you carried most of the conversation. You would get an occasional nod or quiet response.

When you asked him about his day at work, he changed the subject to something else. Typical. He always tried to ignore his emotions. He didn’t want to worry you, but more importantly, he didn’t want to hurt you if he became enraged with lust.

Maybe he just needed a little push?

When the food was gone, he helped you clean up. No words were spoken as he loaded the dishwasher. His brows were pinched together, his jaw clenching as he pursed his lips. You saw his nostrils flare slightly.

“Daddy?” You stood behind him, your arms behind your back.

You held back a smile when you saw him freeze. There was the magic word. Now to watch him fold.

He turned halfway to look at you, brows raised. His expression softened when he took in the sight of you in front of him. You rocked on your heels as you patiently waited to be answered by him.

“Yes, sunshine?” He hummed, the sight of his precious girl gazing at him so adoringly made him want to melt.

“Did you have a bad day?” You asked, leaving him no choice but to confide in his concerned wife.

“You could say that…” He sighed, shaking his head when you frowned. “It was a long day, sweetheart. There’s nothing to worry about, though.”

Why did he always build these walls around himself? You stifled a groan when he turned back to the dishes. Just a little encouragement. If you approached this carefully, he would open up.

You made your way to him. You knew he could hear as you neared, but he did not turn to look at you. He only stopped loading dishes when your hand touched his bicep. The plate he was holding made a soft clinking sound against the counter as he set it down.

He looked at you while covering your smaller hand with his. You watched as he brought your fingers to his lips and tenderly kissed your knuckles. You lifted your other hand to his hair, gliding your nails along his scalp. Your spouse shuddered.

“I could help you relax.” You hinted, trying to get him to submit to his urges. “I know how to make it better.”

He knew too. Clark knew what he needed to extinguish the smoldering fury he felt deep in his gut. He couldn’t push you that far. Not again.

That’s what he always told himself.

Every time he used you in one of his primal trances, you wore bruises the next day. Along with a raw feeling between your legs. While the fact that he was the one to make you limp gave him a demented sense of pride, guilt always overcame him. How could he ever hurt you like that?

He was apologetic afterwards, but you made an effort to comfort him by stressing how much you liked it when it hurt. The tinge of pain you felt after taking on the Man of Steel in bed served as a persistent reminder of who owned you.

Still, he remained hesitant to let go of all ambitions and ravish you like you both desired.

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea, sunshine.” He shook his head, gulping at the thought of hurting you too much. It only took one time for him to forget his strength.

One time and he could do irreversible damage to the most important person in his life.

He took your other hand away from his hair, kissing your opposite set of knuckles. Then he brought your arms back down to your sides, pressing his lips to yours. He pulled back before speaking.

“I’ll run us a bath after I finish this. Go wait for Daddy in the bedroom, okay?” He stroked your cheek, beckoning you towards the bedroom with a nod of his head.

Your pout deepening did nothing to sway him as he turned away. Letting out a huff, you crossed your arms. Obviously, more drastic measures needed to be taken. More bratty measures.

You stomped back to your previous position a few feet away from him. Instead of continuing to the bedroom like he asked you too, you spun back around.

“So, what asshole pissed you off at work today?” You raised a brow, not surprised when his head snapped up.

“Excuse me?” He challenged, certain that his ears misheard.

His little girl did not just utter curse words. Not his sweet, good little girl. She knows better. Clark could feel the anger that was simmering during dinner begin to boil over.

“You heard me.” You sassed. “What prick got under your skin? Did you tell them to fuck off?”

You considered backing out of your bratty regime when the superhero growled warningly. Then you saw his lip start to curl, and you knew you were close to striking oil.

“You need to watch your mouth, little girl.” He asserted, abandoning the dishes to slowly make his way towards you.

That was your last warning. You paid no mind to it.

“Why don’t you watch it for me, Daddy?” You smirked, cocking your head back to look up at him as he got closer. Not an ounce of fear was in your voice, your teeth biting your lower lip excitedly.

His eyes narrowed. Then before you knew what was really happening, you were spun around by a strong hand on your bicep. Gasping, you tried to gather your wits. A grin broke out onto your face, proud to have finally pushed him over the edge. You shuddered, attempting to anticipate his next move.

“I wouldn’t be so proud of myself if I were you, little girl. You won’t like what Daddy has planned for you.” He kept a stern hold on you, his front pressed firmly against your back.

“Are you gonna spank me?” You went to turn your head to look at him, still smirking. His hand was quick to grab your jaw, keeping you looking ahead towards the island in the kitchen.

“No, you’d like that too much, wouldn’t you?” He scoffed, walking you forward until you were trapped between him and the counter.

That was true. You bite your lip to quell your smile, eyes rolling back when his hand slipped down to your throat. You unknowingly let out a whine, wordlessly pleading for him to squeeze.

Clark growled, his bulge nudging the crease of your ass. Your walls clenched, as if your pussy was instinctively trying to swallow his length. Despite the confines between your bodies. His other hand held your hip, keeping you from squirming.

“You know how much I don’t like it when you use those words. Do you think you’re a big girl now, hm? You think you can spurt out such vulgarity and get away with it? No, I don’t think so.” He hissed close to your ear, the hand on your throat finally clenching. With your breath cut off, he effectively squeezed the last vestige of deviance out of you.

You flooded your panties, the fabric darkened with the amount of your juices. Stars flashed behind your closed eyelids before he let you go, and you greedily inhaled air. You hiccuped as your knees wobbled.

“D-Daddy, please.” You whimpered, your eyes closed as you begged for his pity.

“What’s the matter? Can’t say bad words with Daddy’s hand around your throat, can you?” He gruffed, your throat vibrating against his palm as you mewled.

“I see right through that bratty facade.” He growled. “You’ve been squirming since I got home. You like to see me in a bad mood, don’t you?”

You inhaled sharply, bashful now that he called your bluff. And maybe a bit guilty. You pouted, closing your eyes. It was wrong to push his buttons when you knew he already had a bad day.

“Yes, I know your little games. And all through dinner, I could smell that dripping cunt. I know what you really want. You just need to be fucked, don’t you? It’s all you can think about. My precious little girl has become a real cock-crazed slut.” He sighed while shaking his head scoldingly.

“D-Dadd-ah!” You were about to beg for forgiveness before he bent you over the counter, cutting off your plea with a soft yelp.

The cold marble shocked your blazing flesh. You moaned, still trying to catch your breath when you feel his fingers hook under the hem of your bottoms. He shucked them down your legs

His eyes burned into you as you quivered before him. A draft blew across the wet fabric of your panties, making your toes curl. His heavy hand trailed up the back of your bare thigh which gave you goosebumps.

“Look at the mess you’ve made of yourself, dirty girl. Does acting like a brat really get you this excited? Do you like seeing me this angry?” He chided as you whined.

It was hard for you to speak, all you could focus on was his teasing fingers tracing the seam of your underwear. You didn’t answer, not expecting him to sigh and rip your flimsy panties off like they were made of tissue paper. The brutal smack on your bare bum also came as a surprise. Your startled shriek rang through the otherwise quiet kitchen.

“Answer me, sunshine. You don’t want to test Daddy’s patience right now.” He huffed, squeezing your glowing ass cheek.

“Yes, I-I like it…” You muttered quietly, ashamed to say it out loud. He sneered in displeasure, and you grunted when he swatted you again.

“Louder, little girl. You were so brave a second ago, what happened?” He raised a brow.

You pouted, your bum stinging. He said he wouldn’t spank you. It’s only fun when you’re expecting it. The wetness growing between your folds said otherwise, however.

“I like acting like a brat, Daddy.” You whined clearly, shifting back and forth on your legs to relieve some of the pressure in your belly. “It gets me excited.”

“And why’s that, huh?” He grunted, needing to hear you say it.

“Because…” You whispered hesitantly, glancing away from him. “Because I-I wanted to make you mad. When you get mad, you’re rough with my… princess parts. And I love it.” Your voice became close to silent, this time he didn’t correct you.

Saying it out loud was embarrassing. This wasn’t the first time you had disobeyed to get the attention you wanted. And this surely wasn’t the first time he noticed. How humiliating. A small part of you was still relieved to finally admit it.

Clark narrowed his eyes. He knew he shouldn’t condone such behavior. Like all the times before this. But all he could think about was pounding your tight little princess hole so hard you screamed.

“Naughty girl. Instead of coming and asking Daddy nicely to fuck your desperate pussy, you decide to act out. Push me to the edge, until I have to punish you.” He chastised, the aching in his loins made his restraint weaken.

“Sorry, Daddy...” You huffed, peeking back at him with a pout.

He seemed to be debating something in his head. You swallowed nervously, your tongue coming out to lick your dry lips. He watched your mouth intensely. A groan rumbled in his throat as he blinked slowly. Then his gaze snapped back up to yours, his expression hardening once more.

“I shouldn’t be indulging in such naughty behavior, but you’re lucky I’m pent up from my day at work.” He grunted, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you want. I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t have a single thought in that pretty little head. The only thing you’ll be able to think about is how I’m pounding that tight princess pussy.”

A quick slap to your clit shook you, crying out in surprise. You melted into a pitiful puddle of desire, your skin tingling as he rubbed your thighs and hips. His touch disappeared after giving your ass a hefty squeeze.

With your head still spinning, you looked back to see him working on unbuckling his belt. The metal clinked together. A sound that made you whimper. You unconsciously pushed your hips up, presenting to him. He wanted to chuckle at how needy his little girl was.

When you reached for him, he backed away so your hand fell. You gave him a big pout, even trying puppy dog eyes. Why was he teasing so much?

“Quit your pouting. You don’t get to decide the pace, little miss. That’s Daddy’s job. Now be a good girl and keep your hands to yourself.” He smirked.

He resumed pushing down his trousers. You moaned when his manhood fell out, already half hard and growing larger by the second. You wanted nothing more than to touch him. While you reached for him again, your fingers made a grabby gesture. It was paired with a frustrated whine.

He wouldn’t budge, stepping just out of your reach. He smirked before movement below his waist caught your attention. He had grabbed himself in his hand, casually squeezing from his base to his weeping tip.

Pearly white precum beaded out from the slit, making your mouth water. Your taste buds ached for a taste of him. You huffed to yourself, licking your lips to keep from drooling. He grinned.

“Is this what you want so bad, sweetheart? Is this what you’ve been fussing over, what’s got you so bratty? You’ve become addicted. Daddy’s cock has got you drooling. From here.” He grabbed your cheeks, pushing your lips together. You felt the saliva in your mouth start to drip out.

“And from here.” He let go of your jaw, reaching down to cover your mound in one large hand.

He groaned as you leaked onto his palm, stroking his fingers back and forth to coat his hand in your wetness. You twitched as he circled your oozing entrance with one thick digit. His thumb sought out your nub, putting pressure on the aching knot of nerves. You cried out softly, pushing your hips into his hand as he toyed with your most sensitive spot.

“Such a messy girl. Dripping all the way down to my wrist and I’ve barely touched you.” He chuckled, and you buried your head in your arms.

“Don’t get shy now, sweetheart. Daddy still has to fuck the naughtiness out of your drooly pussy. Right after I make you gush around my fingers like the nasty girl you are.”

You gasped as he sunk a finger into you. Your body seized, but it wasn’t enough. He clicked his tongue as you hiccuped and ground your hips against his one digit.

“Oh, poor girl. You’ve got yourself so worked up. My finger isn’t enough.” He cooed mockingly. “How about another? But it just won’t be enough until Daddy fucks you nice and hard, will it?”

You hide your face with a whine. He entered with a second finger, making you hiss. Your tight hole swallowed his fingers like it was starving. He dragged his digits in and out of you, the tips of his fingers scraping the delicate spot residing inside you. You moaned, lifting your head off the counter to tilt upwards towards the ceiling.

“That’s it, work yourself onto my fingers. You’re absolutely soaked. You’re going to make a puddle on the floor if you continue like this.” He laughed while looking down at his glistening hand and forearm.

A third finger joined the rest, stretching you as his thumb found your pleasure button. Your legs shook with the pace he set, the rubbing of your clit was in rhythm with his pummeling fingers. A groan left you, your eyes rolling back.

“Listen to that wet little pussy.” He beamed with a wild look in his eyes as your tightness squelched. “You’re going to do it, aren’t you? You’re going to make a mess all over, like the dumb little baby you are. Such a poor little thing, you can’t help it. Feels so good, doesn’t it?”

Sobbing, you nodded to everything he said. This got him to chuckle, the muscles in his bicep bulging as he fucked you with his fingers. He curled said fingers downward, knocking against the spot that made your heart stutter.

“Go ahead a cum, sunshine. Show Daddy you can still be a good girl and gush all over my hand.” He growled, his thumb winding tight circles as you mewled like a kitten. “So close, baby, just a little bit more… Theeere we go, good girl.”

He cooed as he felt you clench around his fingers, smirking as he knew what was about to happen. The wail you let out made your own ears hurt, but you couldn’t help it as you squirted all over his arm. You heard some of it hit the floor, as he anticipated.

You humped against his hand as he shook his fingers inside you, stretching your climax out for as long as he could. Your flesh had a light sheen of sweat, which Clark licked off your neck while nuzzling your shoulder.

“There’s a good girl. I knew you could do it. Maybe you’re not so naughty after all…” He hummed.

Your head snapped up when you felt the sensation of his hard member against your dewy petals. Instinctively, you pushed your hips up. This gave him a perfect angle to plunge into you as he teased the tip against your aching clit. You hiccuped as he groaned deeply, still hazy from your climax but you never forgot your need for him inside you.

“There she is, there’s my girl. Getting ready to take it in her little hole because she can’t seem to care about anything else. Beg for it. Go on. Daddy wants to hear you beg to get your tight pussy demolished.” He traced the head of his length up and down your slit, coating himself in the juices leaking from your core.

He teased your entrance, but never filled you like you wanted. A deep ache was building in your gut, tight and throbbing. It was beginning to hurt, being unsatiated for so long.

If he wanted you to beg, you would grovel at his feet. If that’s what it took for him to fuck you.

“Daddy, please.” You whined, swaying your hips back and forth. “I-I need to be fucked. ‘M all wet and achy down there… Need you to fuck me. Wreck my princess parts, Daddy, please! Demolish me-AGH!”

You interrupted yourself with a loud cry when he plunged into you in one deep thrust. It took little effort on his part, your tunnel lathered in your arousal made easy passage for his manhood. Your mouth dropped open as he claimed every inch of you from the inside.

A strangled gasp escaped your throat. It felt like the air was stolen from your lungs, only this time his hand wasn’t around your throat. The sheer size of him rendered you breathless.

“Look at that…” He murmured with adoration in his voice. He watched your face as all thoughts escaped you, becoming a panting and pliable doll for him.

“That’s really all you needed, sweetheart. You get Daddy’s cock inside of you and all the brattiness slips away, doesn’t it? It’s like your own kind of paci…” He murmured, chuckling under his breath when your walls fluttered around him.

He gave you no time to adjust, not that you really needed it. His thrusts were brutal, as promised. Your lips separated as a resounding cry forced its way from your chest. Finally, you got what you wanted. The euphoria was so strong, it was borderline painful.

With your face twisted, you tried to match his animalistic pounding. Soon, you found it too hard to keep up, so you arched your back and let him rail you. Clark found leverage with your hips, gripping them hard enough to cause bruises. He snarled, jaw clenching as his skin smacked against yours.

Your pussy gushed around the thick intrusion invading it. You could hear it when you paused your sobbing to catch your breath. He shivered behind you, his lip curling up in a cocky snicker as you listened to the harmony between your bodies.

“Do you hear that, little girl? Your poor little princess pussy is crying, she feels so sorry. What about you, huh? Are you sorry for being a bad girl?” He gripped your face in one hand, turning your head towards him.

The look in his eyes almost made you cum. His gaze was demented, obviously amused by your dazed expression. Your mouth hung open as you panted. You mewled, your hole never escaped his harsh thrusting.

“S-Sorry, Daddy! I’m sorry for being naughty! O-Oh, god!” You finished your sentence with a moan when he lifted one of your legs, holding it up to pound into you even deeper.

You trembled, your body feeling tight. The throbbing in your core accelerated to match your racing heart. You gasped, eyes rolling back in your skull.

He grabbed your throat and leaned forward to press his chest to your back. Your leg was forced higher, inevitability forcing him deeper. You squealed weakly, the sound was broken. He cooed at the noises you let out.

“You poor thing, Daddy sure has fucked you dumb. All you can do is whine and cry as I bust open that pretty cunt.” He hissed.

The filthiness of his words made your toes curl. Your walls involuntarily fluttered around his aching member. You gasped, the tingling in your core increasing.

“Please, please, I can’t. I can’t- M-Mm…” You whimpered frantically while pinching your eyes shut. It was becoming increasingly harder to hold on. You didn’t want to get into anymore trouble by cumming without his permission

“I know, sunshine. You’re so close, I can feel you clenching around me. Cum for me, little girl. Gush all over my fucking cock, you dirty whore.” He snarled, sending vibrations straight to your aching pussy.

You came with a loud sob, heat washing over you as his words pushed you over the edge. Your lips fell open, but you were oblivious to the sounds you were making. Your ears were ringing as you rode your orgasm.

Meanwhile, your husband chased his high with your convulsing pussy. Your sweet moans rang in his ears. His pace stuttered for only a moment before he bottomed out and painted your cervix white. You shuddered in sync with him, his seed hot inside your walls. Clark bucked his hips, making sure to give you all he had as his balls jerked upwards.

He eventually stopped his movements, resting inside you. You could hear him exhale as you stayed bent over the counter, still catching your breath. The sensation of his hands rubbing up and down your sides relaxed you, making you give a satisfied smile.

He chuckled, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek. All traces of anger were gone from his perfectly sculpted face.

“Thank you for that, sunshine. I really needed it.” He hummed as you cooed and nuzzled his palm.

“Glad to help, Daddy.” You preened.

“You still need a real punishment for saying such bad words…” He trailed off as dragged himself out of your tender core. Both of you moaned.

With your legs spread wide, he pulled your cheeks apart, giving him a perfect view of your creampie. He growled with a playful smirk.

“How about a bath for the messy girl and then an early bedtime with Daddy. I’m not done with you just yet.” He chuckled and spanked you lightly on the behind, causing you to jump, more of his cum slipping out of you.

You giggled, bending back up to book it towards the bedroom half naked. He chased after you with a grin that told you were in for a long night of “punishment”.

******

Taglist: @sunshine-with-daisy @leigh70 @islacharlotte @lysarria @kebabgirl67 @pandaxnienke @identity2212 @rach2602

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