#somehow cut the hell out of my wrist up to my hand

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (a Valentino production)

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

Valentino has acquired a living, breathing human in hell. But at the begging of Angel, Alastor makes a deal in exchange for her soul.

tags: Alastor x reader, smut, dubcon, mentions of assault (Val intended to "fuck you to death”), Val's existence, overstimulation, forced (?) orgasms, bondage (shadow tentacles), choking (sexy kind, not murdery kind), cervix wrecked, your aunt is a bitch

(author's note: I've been in Japan for like 7 years and my English has suffered, but your fucking smutty writing on this site has inspired me to write for the first time in years.)

Minors DNI

Angel burst into the hotel lobby, winded. “Please, you gotta do somethin’!” 

To the surprise of everyone, he ran straight to Alastor, tears forming in his eyes.

“Val’s gonna hurt her real bad. I don’t know who else to ask, please. I can't—-“ he cradled his head in his hands, “I can't watch him break any more people.”

Alastor didn’t seem to react at first, but Charlie appeared at Angel’s side and pulled him into a hug, “Angel, take a deep breath. He’s gonna hurt who? What’s wrong?”

“He got a new soul. Some fucking cultist offered her up as sacrifice. But she's not dead yet Charlie—- he dragged her down here alive.” His voice cracked, “He wantsta— he said he’s gonna fuck her to death on camera and wait for her to respawn in hell. He’s convinced he’ll make a fortune off the tapes. Please, for fuck’s sake someone has to do something.”

A human in hell? Well, that was something interesting after all. With a raised brow Alastor spoke, “And how exactly can I help this poor, unfortunate soul?”

“Make a deal or– rip his arms off, I don’t fuckin’ know! There has to be something you can offer Val worth her soul. I’d give you my soul if I could!”

Well that’d be worthless.

But a human? A living, breathing human? Intriguing.

“Alastor you have do something. This isn't right! Hell isn’t for the living.” Charlie’s hair flew upward as her eyes flashed red for a second, “I’ll repay it somehow.”

Well there's no harm in taking a look. 

The demons and sinners who saw Alastor walking into the Vee’s tower oscillated between fleeing for their lives and live tweeting the event. Either a truce or a war would be breaking out and they knew they’d be fucked regardless.

“Alastooor”, Val exhaled,  letting the name drag out lazily, “Come to ruin something, I’m sure.” Val hadn’t seen Alastor since his fight with Vox 7 years ago, and he hadn’t expected to see him in his studio— ever. 

“Ha! No, not today. Word got around that there's a special little guest hidden in your studio.” Alastor’s eyes darted about the room, uninterested in the various parts and bits of the actors changing.

Val glanced at Angel, who’d suspiciously returned some 30 minutes before Alastor appeared. 

“I didn’t say nothing, Val.” Angel’s hands went up in defense. “He came to me askin’ about her.”

“And what exactly do you want with my “little guest”?” Val dropped any pretense of politeness. 

Alastor leaned forward on his microphone, and with a pop of static he practically cooed, “To see the poor creature, of course.”

Val ashed his cigarette into a cameraman’s hair and walked off, “Fuck it, sure. She’s back here.”

The back room was dark, perhaps some would call it mood lighting but what mood exactly it conveyed fell somewhere between dungeon and power outage.

You sat on your knees in the center of a round bed. Arms held above your head by a large clip attached to wrist restraints. Your body swayed slightly, a long rope anchored to the ceiling and tied to the clip above you.  Your body was slightly suspended, knees barely making contact with the bed beneath you. The white nightgown you wore was bloodied and ripped at the collar, causing it to slip down your left shoulder. Jaw clenched, your eyes were covered with a red satin tie. 

Alastor took the scene in. Your lip was cut and swollen, bruises peppered your cheek and exposed shoulder. Yet, you were breathing heavily, like a bull about to rush them. You were clearly defenseless, but somehow still defiant. His smile grew to his ears. It had been decades since he had a human in such a prone state.

“Have you …. broken her in yet?” He asked delicately, eyes never leaving your face.

“Nah, just roughed her up a little. I want to capture her raw reaction on camera when she takes her first demon cock.” Valentino clenched his fist to emphasize the word “first”. 

Your head fell forward as you pulled down on your wrist restraints, a growl rising in your throat.

Alastor felt his breath get caught in his own, your nightgown riding slowly up your legs as you struggled. 

“Hey!” Val snapped his fingers in your direction. “Don’t embarrass me. Our guest came to see you. He’s considering making an offer for you, I’m sure, so say hello like a good girl.” Val rolled his eyes, “Sluts always fucking embarrassing me.”

You tried to gather enough saliva to speak, finding the taste of blood still on your tongue. “Fuck you and your friend.” barely made it from your chapped lips. When was your last drink of water? Last meal? How long had you been unconscious before this all began?

“Not friends.” Alastor was quick to retort, “The name’s Alastor, my dear. It’s a pleasure.”

You sneered, a pleasure? What a sick joke. 

“Alastor.” you repeated it, disdain dripping from your lips.

The absolute contempt with which you said his name did something to him. His eyes darted from your mouth back to your inner thighs, exposed from the rising dress. Your mouth was so rude but your body looked so sweet. A little lamb– no, a doe.  

“Say it again.” It wasn’t a request, Alastor himself was surprised to hear himself say it with such demand.

You thrashed. “Oh is that what gets you off? You wanna hear your name in my mouth?” You said mockingly. “You’re just as FUCKED as him.” The nightgown rode up even further. Alastor’s tongue stuck to his teeth as his mouth went dry. Had you been delivered to Val without panties? Offered to him in just this sheer cotton night dress? What was happening to him…

 Static bit your skin as a low hum filled the room. 

“Say it.” Alastor’s voice dropped an octave, eyes suddenly taking on a slight glow. You couldn’t see the danger before you, but you felt it. Something primal in you knew you were in the presence of a predator.

No, you couldn’t see him, but his presence was pressing in all around you. 

“Alastor.” You seethed, “ALASTOR.” Pulling down on the restraints yet again you tried to find the strength to stand, “ALASTOR! ALASTOR!!” Your legs buckled under you having gone numb hours ago, his name devolving into a gutteral scream. All of your anger and despair ripped from your chest as you shouted his name. The nightgown had now ridden to your hips but you couldn’t find an ounce of shame in you to care. 

You were so full of rage, so defiant still. You were so…. alive.

He felt the blood rushing to his crotch in an all together forgotten sensation, and knew immediately his decision. “Let’s make a deal.” His eyes didn’t leave you, but Valentino knew he was talking to him.

Val let out a laugh, “I have some time to waste while they finish the set. Why not.”

Seated in his personal quarters, Val motioned for Alastor to sit opposite him. You had been left in the dark of that room, only knowing you were alone when the static died down and the hair on the nape of your neck relaxed. 

“Listen, Radio Demon. There’s nothing you have that could tempt me to hand over the little bitch.” His long arms rested over the back of his sofa, a heart shaped puff of smoke leaving his lips. Alastor swatted at the air as it approached. 

“What do you even need her for? You don’t deal in souls, but flesh. Surely you can find another toy to break on camera.” Alastor waved his microphone away.

“Hmm”, Val brought a finger to his chin in thought, seriously considering what Alastor could possibly offer him. “Oooh, I know.” His head lolled to the side,  “People have seen me fuck a thousand times. But no one’s ever even seen you with a partner. ‘Radio Demon fucks human sacrifice’” He motioned from left to right as if reading the words off an imaginary marquee, “Now THAT would make money. Real money. Fuck GOD levels of money.” A red liquid leaked from his lips as they were stretched across clenched teeth, his hips involuntarily humped at the air, “oh fuck. Yes. You do the porn, and I’ll give her to you. Soul and body.”

Alastor was looking at Val but his mind was still in front of you, his name tumbling from your lips. The uninterrupted skin where your thighs met your hips. The desperation in your scream. How absolutely soft and fragile you were. He adjusted his hips, trying to calm the twitching of his cock at the thought of you helplessly before him. 

“What exactly are you proposing?” His fingers came to rest entwined on his knee, one leg over the other.

“First, I have full rights to the video to do as I please.” Val counted out on his fingers, “The porno has to show penetration. No dry humping or some bullshit like that. I need you fucking that whore if I’m gonna sell this shit. Aaand”, A sickening grin grew on Valentino’s face, “She has to cum. And I’ll know if she’s faking it. If you don’t manage all three, the deal is off. I keep the human and all rights to the video for per— no, *in* pep-“ he sputtered, “perpur- forever! Fuck.” 

Alastor’s default grin was now so wide his gums could be seen peeking past his lips, his eyes flashing to dials, “It’s a deal.” He extended his hand to Valentino as he stood. A green light was shining from the open palm but Val shook it regardless, confident the deal's conditions wouldn’t be met. He’d seen a lot of fucked up shit on his set, but the Radio Demon, famously uninterested in sex, wasn’t going to make a battered human cum. How stupid could Alastor be, he thought. And he’ll have the video of Alastor failing to please someone to broadcast all over the pride ring and beyond. “May I have a moment alone with her before the filming?”

Val rolled his eyes, “yeah but don’t fuck her off camera.”

The sudden feeling of a hand on your hip startled you so intensely you let out a yelp. 

“Hello, my little doe.” Hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, then your neck, then your collar bone… “Unfortunately your shoot will still continue today. But if you do as I say, I promise you’ll leave the studio alive.”

You felt the nightgown being tugged back down your hips, hiding your exposed sex.

“I will be taking that pompous moth’s place. I will be as gentle as I can, but he will want to see you suffer. You must still fight me, must act pained. Can you play along?”

Your eyes darted behind your eyelids. He sounded— gentle? His voice was soft against your skin. Maybe he was truly the lesser evil of the two. You nodded. You’d heard all the gory details of what the other demon had planned for you, this sounded infinitely more tolerable. You dare thought you’d suffered worse before. 

“And, one more little caveat, darling. I will bring you to orgasm, so please don’t fight so hard as to delay your release.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until his words punched you in the gut. 

“I-“

“Yes?” Alastor’s mouth was nearly on your neck, his smile ghosting your skin.

“I’ve never—- I mean I can only do that by myself. No one else has managed to-“

A large hand patted your head, cutting your train of thought off. How big was he? His hands could palm a basketball. Could he really be gentle? Was he capable of it? Were those hands going to be on you soon? Your mind was running away with the thought of this strange demon fucking you on camera. 

“Oh don’t worry about that. Just focus on your performance. We have to put on a good show!”

Angel was practically chewing his fingers off as he watched the crew finish the set.

“Alastor what the fuck, I thought you were gonna help her!”

“I am, my effeminate friend. Have a little faith in me.” He adjusted his bowtie and took his place on set.

“I have none. I have negative faith, Alastor. Fuuuuck”, Angel slumped against the wall behind him and sank to the floor. 

The stage was set. A red sigil was painted on the floor of a cabin, candles lit around the room as the only source of light (except the stage lighting hanging above the scene). Of the three walls they’d made, the far left wall had an altar haphazardly filled with flowers, a golden bowl, and small plaid satchel.

Someone — something? — led you by the restraints to the stage. Blindfolded, you were pushed down to the floor, forced to sit on your still numb legs. The leather cuffs on your wrist were unbuckled, allowing you to flex your hands. When you reached for the blindfold a hand smacked at yours.

“No no, keep it. I want you to look exactly how I found you.” The familiar voice of Val instructed. 

Someone handed a script to Alastor, but he pulled his hands away from the demon as if the paper itself was an angelic weapon, “Oh, no thank you. That won’t be necessary.”

“I’ll tell you what to say” Val said, clearly to you.

“It’s—- it’s fine. I’ll just do it like before. I don’t need any help.”

You really didn’t.  There was no improv needed. You could repeat exactly what you said yesterday evening when you awoke on the floor of an unfamiliar place. You’d been visiting your aunt one moment, and alone in a weird room what felt like moments later. Groggy, but alert enough to know something bad had happened. 

You heard “action”, and then silence. You could feel eyes on you.

“Aunt Sara….” You whispered. “I don’t understand what’s happened… Are you still there?” You rubbed your wrists trying to regain some blood flow, readjusting your legs to do the same. 

You heard a strange sound, both yesterday and now. 

“Aunt Sara isn’t here. She’s made an exchange, she gets extraordinary power….and I get your soul.” The way Alastor said it, the way his breath seemed to almost hitch, surprised you. Something cold touched your ankle, causing you to flinch, “But I want more than that. I need more than that.”

You felt that something-unknown snake up your leg toward your center. Crawling backwards on your butt to create some distance you collided with the altar. The golden bowl rolled to the edge and spilled its contents across the table. You could smell the iron tang of blood before you felt the pitter patter on your shoulder. Alastor inhaled quickly before letting the air back out with as much control as he could manage.

“Who are you?!” You’d asked this already. But this time the disembodied voice of your captor replied, “Alastor, the Radio Demon! Pleasure to meet you.”

The right side of your face smacked against the floor of the makeshift cabin as you were dragged suddenly across the room and into the red sigil. The cold appendage on your leg now tightly coiled up your calf.

“No— you have to fuck her with your fucking dick! You can’t use shadow tentacles!” Val shouted, nearly falling out of his chair.

“Now now, the deal didn’t specify with what, only that penetration must occur. Plus, I won’t show up on your video recording device anyway.” Alastor took several steps back, ensuring he was not in frame, “Rest assured, your audience will know it is me.” His words cracked and stuttered like someone had changed the station midway through his sentence.

A small, “fine, whatever.” was grumbled and the scene continued, the tentacle snaking its way up your thigh as Alastor chuckled softly at how you flinched against him.

You rolled onto your stomach and tried to kick off the shadow but it held firm. Letting out a groan you used your hands to drag yourself back towards the altar. Before you could reach the table your other leg felt the pressure of a new tentacle twist around your knee as you were dragged back toward the Radio demon once again.

Your nightgown was forced up, your ass now exposed and in the air as your legs were pulled open. That was as far as you had really gone yesterday, before a flash of light delivered you into the Pentagram City studio. 

Surprisingly, you felt embarrassed, self conscious knowing there were other people in this room. But as if he could read your mind, or perhaps just noticed the tremble in your legs, Alastor softly said, “It’s only us now, darling. There’s nowhere to hide.”

Third and fourth appendages appeared around your waist and neck. Effortlessly your hips were lifted off the floor, your cunt on full display to the man who now owned you. The tentacle on your neck slipped between your shoulder blades and pressed your chest firmly to the floor. You squirmed and struggled against the restraints but only accomplished to draw another chuckle from Alastor.

“Relax. We have forever, after all. We can take our time.”

You felt pressure at your entrance, and your pleas to stop were cut short as a shadow tentacle pushed its way inside you. It was cold, but quickly began to warm as your heat enveloped it. Your body was resisting it, too tight to take it all in one thrust, but you could feel it slick against your lips easily enough to make its way inside.

“Ooh, my dear, your wet little cunt betrays you.” He cocked his head to the side, antlers doubling then tripling in size, “Have my words affected you so much?”

You could feel the tentacle’s shape shift slightly inside you as if it were adjusting to you and not the other way around. True to his word, there was no pain except from the burning stretch of your hole against the girth of his shadow self.

Hissing, you thrashed against the sigil, “get OFF OF ME!” Pushing against the floor you barely got your shoulders an inch off the ground when you felt a nth appendage graze sloppily over your clit. You stilled, suddenly remembering your end of the deal. Your promise to the demon now circling your clit with his shadow. If you couldn’t do this, then the entire filming was for nothing.

“Don’t forget to breath. I can’t have you dying on me just yet, sweetheart.” The static was slowly building in the air around you again, a silent threat.

Your hand shot to your mouth, trying to smother the depraved sounds being fucked out of you. The tentacle in your pussy was now ramming against your cervix, curving and bending as it repeatedly forced its way in and out of you. The room was quiet, except for the slick, sticky sound of the tentacle coated in your fluids pulling nearly completely out of you before smashing back in. The pace was slow and cruel, but the pressure on your clit was fast and hard. Your mind was starting come undone, your thoughts splintering. You couldn’t focus on anything anymore, all over your body was pressure, pleasure, massaging, pushing, and pulling. 

“Ah ah, that won’t do.” Alastor practically sang the words as an appendage pulled your hands from your mouth and brought them to the small of your back. 

You whimpered, trying to find a balance between the overstimulation and the need to not let them see how much you were getting off on this. You needed to hate it more. Hate him more. Your cheek stuck to the wood of the floor as drool leaked from your open mouth, unable to keep it closed any longer. 

“I’ll—” Your strength was nearly gone, but you managed to knock your upper body around the sigil, smearing the still wet blood across your chest. You only managed to whisper into the flooring a quiet, “I’ll fucking kill you for this.”

The tentacles stopped, for a second you felt tears sting your eyes at the loss of friction. A loud screech made you wince, but you had no time to question it as your body was violently flipped. Your hips were slammed down onto the ground, held tightly by a tentacle around your waist. The back of your head ached as it was jostled in the turn. The shadows on your thighs now seemed determined to bruise you as they constricted around your skin. 

“What was that, dear?” The tentacle in your pussy seemed to swell inside you, the force of the thrusts picking up in intensity. He was ramming into your body with such fervor you felt the skin of your ass chaffing on the wooden grain beneath you.  “Speak up, now”, you heard him exhale forcefully, his controlled appearance hanging on by a thread.

“I-”, your mouth opened to continue your resistance when a new sensation stopped you. A second tentacle was trying to squirm its way into your heat, just above the now uncomfortably thick one twisting around inside of you. The pressure on your stomach from the force made you feel sick, but the devoted ministrations on your clit had your legs twitching against the restraints. “Ah–! no, wai-” It managed to slip itself into you, and with no hesitation it was pressing against your g-spot in a matching rhythm to the tentacle swiping over your swollen clit.

You’d never before made a sound like the one that was pulled from your throat. It was ugly and animalistic and took you by surprise. Still struggling to catch your breath, you threw your head back. You were losing control. As your body was rocked against the ground, the blindfold got caught in the friction and slipped down your nose. 

Bringing your head back up, you finally locked eyes with your new master. 

“Alas-” Another chilly tentacle came to your neck and began to lightly squeeze. You could only breathe out the rest of his name as your eyes met with his. He stood some feet from you, just outside of the sigil, barely on the set at all. He seemed nonplussed, antlers looming over you and suit perfectly neat, except one detail. His pupils dilated when you finally set your eyes onto his. The grip on your neck only stopped tightening when you stomped your foot down in fear of passing out. You didn’t break eye contact, a fire burning in you that told him no matter what he did you wouldn’t be broken. That look in your eyes, the contempt mixed with overwhelming pleasure made Alastor shift one foot in front of the other in an effort to better conceal the erection straining against the zipper of his pants. 

“Mmmhhh–” You finally broke contact as your eyes rolled back into your head, the pressure beneath your belly was building, a tightness threatening to snap. But this wasn’t like before, this wasn’t like when you were alone in your bed with your own hand. It felt like too much, your heart was pounding so hard you thought you’d really die. There was no way your body could continue this much longer, your heart would surely give out.

“Please–” You needed him to stop, the ghostly hand on your throat, the two tentacles pressing against your cervix and g-spot, the unrelenting pressure on your clit. It was too much, it was too sensitive. “I’m sorry, please. Pleeea-” you gritted your teeth, thighs twitching as the muscles in your core tightened.

“Going to cum, my little doe?” Through gritted teeth of his own Alastor asked you as if you had any choice in the matter. He forced your knees up to your shoulders, allowing the tentacles to reach new depths. 

“AaaaHH” You convulsed, “I’m yours, Alastor!” You moaned, willing to say anything to stop the overwhelming feeling as the coil snapped, you were orgasming on this demon’s shadow and for the love of all that was unholy he wouldn’t fucking let up. You did what he said, but he wasn’t stopping. His thrusts didn’t slow, your clit was throbbing and your body shaking uncontrollably. All defiance was dead, your fire snuffed out. Your eyes were glazed and unfocused. Your head hit the floor again as you struggled to keep your thoughts straight, “It’s all yours. My soul is yours! Please- sto-” Another orgasm was being fucked out of you, no recovery from the first. “I can’t, I can’t” Your jaw locked, the way your cunt was spasming and tightening around his shadow appendages nearly pushed them out of your body with the strength of your first forced orgasm. The lights in the room flickered and popped, the candles blew out with a sudden gust, static drowned out your voice from everyone but Alastor as you screamed through the second orgasm. A green light erupted from the smeared sigil beneath you, blinding the crew and onlookers. “My body is yours! My soul! It’s all yours. I give you all of me, Alastor! Alastor!!” Your vision went spotty, and your throat seemed to close around your voice. Your face was red with the strain of your orgasm. You’d never felt unrelenting pleasure like that before and in that moment you’d have given him absolutely anything he wanted from you. Everything. It was his. You were his. He owned you inside and out.

The bullying of your cunt finally calmed after your orgasm began to edge away, your breath no longer stuck in your throat. He didn’t stop, but he slowed down to a lazy pace as what few lights managed to survive flickered back to life. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you looked over your wrecked body to Alastor. His eyes were wild, his bangs damp and clinging to his forehead. His smile was manic, sinister almost. He looked truly demonic. A wave of fear carried a chill down your spine.

The tentacles withdrew, the sudden loss making you feel colder somehow now than before. They had taken on your own heat and matched your temperature so perfectly, now your body felt empty. You felt naked. Your cunt was still clenching, but around nothing at all. It felt…like something was missing now. Your body seemed to be upset at the loss of contact. It made your stomach turn.

You flinched when the radio demon approached you, but instead of tearing you to pieces like his grin had promised, he slipped his suit jacket off and laid it over your body. You hadn’t realized the dress was torn and lying beneath you in a wet pile of blood and sweat. The confusion must have been evident on your face, because Alastor’s appearance shifted. Antlers now small, if not tiny between his ears. His eyes a red and pink, lids half closed. His smile was just a line across his face, no teeth at all. He looked like a gentleman, had you not known what he had just done to your pussy you’d have thought him incapable of such impropriety. 

“Good job, my little doe.” He whispered before you were handed a glass of water by a tall stranger. 

“Wow, you’re kind of natural at this babe. I haven’t seen a performance like that in ages.  Are you okay?” You took the water from him but didn’t open your mouth to reply, instead transfixed on his appearance. You’d only seen Val and Alastor until now. “You can call me Angel. We’ll get you home soon. I swear.”

Your eyes flitted to Alastor’s, did he know? He must have, he must have felt it. Of course he knew. In those final moments, you hadn’t been acting. Not an ounce of your pleasured responses were disingenuous. Not a single word a lie.

Alastor helped you to your feet as Angel placed a robe over your shoulders. Alastor hummed as he put his jacket back on, a satisfied sound coming from his chest that almost sounded like a song. 

Val sat in his director’s chair with his legs crossed, mouth open. His cigarette was mostly ash, delicately lingering on the stub.

Alastor placed a hand on the small of your back as you were guided to the door. Looking over his shoulder he grinned to Val, “It seems our deal is done here, Valentino. She’s mine, in perpetuity.”

(Part two)

༻Masterlist༺

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #smut #hazbin hotel smut #alastor smut #radio demon #reader insert #fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel angel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #reader #x you smut #x you #you insert #x reader #smut fanfiction #fanfic

[hotpinkstars]

How about blind!reader with genshin men (you can choose) and she accidentally slipped and somehow managed to mess up genshin man’s important work and he ends up blowing up on her? Angst please and I don’t mind if you do comfort or no comfort!!

Have a great day🌚

-> blinded mistakes

synopsis -> you're blind, and you accidentally knock over a months worth of your husbands work, and it gets ruined.

warnings -> super angsty!!! brief mentions of ayato putting his hands on reader (no hitting or anything) might do a part 2 for comfort part cus i wanted to focus on the main argument w this one...

a/n -> ooooooomg i'm a sucker for these tropes i love angst so much. thx for ur request, this was sm fun to write! 💗💗

w/c -> 1.1k

-> ayato

ayato knew you were blind, and he was as understanding of it as he possibly could be.

but in times like these, where all of this work was to be turned in for city matters by next week, he had no patience for anyone.

he had been cooped up in his office for a while at a time over the past month. these documents were incredibly important to him and how the words written on the paper could impact how festivities were held to be a much easier way for himself and the city. 

basically, his papers were pretty damn important. and you knew that.

you walked in his office one day with thoma helping you through the hallways. you didn’t want to trip, especially with a mug of tea in your hand, and you didn’t want to bring a cane with you. 

but, thoma may have made a big mistake of leaving you in ayatos care as soon as you walked through the door. because you knew ayato was in no way shape or form able to draw himself from his work at the moment.

you were not able to use your cane to feel around the room, so without knowing where the rug was, you tripped.

and the tea you held in your hands went all over his desk, soaking his documents. the ink was splotchy and obviously ruined. you weren’t able to see what happened, but by the way ayato gasped and grabbed your wrist you knew you fucked up pretty bad.

“what the hell were you thinking???” he pulls you up forcefully and pushes you down on his couch, where you started tearing up. you weren’t necessarily used to him yelling at you, for arguments, especially over such as this, were very minimal. he always found a way to come to an understanding with you, no matter what you may have ruined. 

“i’m sorry! i didn’t think thoma was just going to leave-” you were cut off by an angry voice.

“this isn’t thomas issue, y/n. it’s yours. how clueless can you be?” he brings his hands to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose before groaning loudly. 

“i’m sorry that i can’t fucking see, ayato!” you yelled back, slamming your hands on the couch and leaning back. “is that what you wanted to hear?”

he shook his head, but you didn’t know that. he lays his hands on your thighs, squeezing them, before getting close to your face. you could smell his hair, the sakura shampoo he uses being evident. 

“i don’t want a fucking apology, y/n. if these documents are not in by friday, there is no change for inazuma. the change you’ve been awaiting, the change i’ve been awaiting, and the change everyone of the city has been awaiting. you took that away from all of them. because you decided you weren’t going to bring your cane to make sure you don’t fucking fall!” he yells to your face, making the tears spill out.

“i’m sorry! i just wanted to bring you something to drink because i was told you were overworking yourself. gosh, how bad of me for caring for my husband,” you yelled, hands shaking in both fear and rage. you knew talking back to him this way wouldn’t lead to anything good, but you tested your luck anyways.

“remove yourself from my office. i don’t care how the fuck you do it, but i demand you leave,” he said with a low, threatening tone. you knew he was enraged, and you stumbled through the door to the hallway, where ayaka was waiting to take you back to your room.

-> wriothesley

you always felt grateful for wriothesley, and the last thing you wanted to do was to upset him. he was one of the only people to look past your disability and see your heart, see your kindness and purity. 

so when you come up his office stairs very, very slowly with a cup of tea and trip on an uneven plate in the ground, ruining his documents that were incredibly important to him and the palais mermonia, especially to neuvillette, you knew you were screwed.

normally, this didn’t happen. he’d meet you down by his office door after a guard or sigewinne escorted you through the fortress, and help you walk up the stairs with the support of his arm.

he immediately slams his hands down on his table, walking over to where you were. 

you felt his presence looming over you, though unable to see it, you slowly and carefully sit up. he lifts up your chin before speaking.

“why. why would you do that,” he starts in a low tone, something similar he’d use to speaking to misbehaved criminals. “i told you not to visit me today. and what do you do? the complete fucking opposite!” 

you rub your eyes, trying to show no signs of weakness. you stand up, and he grabs your hands, making you feel the mess you made. ripped papers, bleeding ink. a month of progress is officially gone. 

“you feel what you did? that has taken me months! and it’s ruined! if i lose my job because of this-” he starts, dropping your hands as you turn around, your bottom leaning against the desk. 

“i’m sorry! i should’ve either stayed home or have a guard escort me up, i didn’t mean to ruin your progress!” you wipe more tears away, hearing him give an annoyed sigh. 

“you’re right. you shouldn’t have come at all. this would never have happened if you didn’t come. do you understand how much trouble i could be in? if you didn’t visit me at all, i wouldn’t have to go through the embarrassment of asking for new documents, and i wouldn’t have to do hundreds of papers in three damned days!” he says, obviously distressed.

“look, i’m sorry, okay?! you can tell neuvillette and all of fontaine that i was the one who ruined everything if you want to! i’m sorry about the hassle and i’m sorry for putting more stress on you! all i wanted to do was bring you a cup of tea because you left the house stressed this morning!” you yelled back, crying at this point. “if you don’t want the embarrassment, then you can embarrass me. it seems like i’ve done enough to deserve it, so do it! tell the whole world what i did wrong, and how horrible of a wife i was!”

you called a guard in to escort you out, and that was the last wriothesley had seen of you that day.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin x reader angst #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley angst #ayato #kamisato #kamisato ayato #ayato kamisato #kamisato ayato angst #ayato x reader #kamisato x reader #ayato kamisato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader angst

[straykeedz]

day 17: bang chan + bulge kink

©straykeedz

tw: female anatomy; oral sex (f receiving); protected piv sex; dirty talk??; ♡

wc: 2,3k;

this is part of my kinktober masterlist. you can find my regular masterlist here (tho it will not be updated until the end of kinktober) ♡

🔖 (open): @linos-kitten ; @luneskies ; @kxcies-blog ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @cessixja ; @stolasisyourparent ; @kookiesbunny ; @xoxo-xoxo-bunny ; @ivyskzsworld ; @mal-lunar-28 ; @leetaste ; @sunnykynnie ; @channiesgoodgirl ; @seonghwatoothless ; @mrsminho ; @seungminluv3 ; @jin-from-the-block ; @aaasia111 ; @sulkygyu ; @whosanaanyway ; @y-ur--I ; @vixensss ; @nightimescapes ; @freckleboilix ; @dreamingaboutjisung ; @yourbeomiebear ; ♡

to make sure i add you to the taglist, your age must be clearly visible on your profile. also, empty blogs will not be added - add at least a profile picture to your blog so that i’ll know you’re not a bot. ♡

smut below the cut, minors dni.

☉

You never thought a date with a man you’d met online could go that well. 

But a certain Chris somehow proved you wrong, and now you’re absolutely whipped for him. He feels the same way about you, so you decided to make things exclusive pretty quickly, and have been seeing each other for nearly a month now. The two of you get along really well, the chemistry is definitely there and you can’t keep your hands off each other every time you’re together - making out and touching each other, not in a sexual way tho, you haven’t gone that far yet.

However, tonight you just had your fifth date and you’re now about to do something you never do.

See, you have a rule: you don’t sleep with a man until the tenth date. To somebody, it may sound like a stupid and useless rule, but you’ve never been one who only looks for fun in relationship. You don’t judge who only goes out with people for fun, it’s just not something you can do. You tried hooking up with a couple of guys, but soon found out it’s not your thing, and that in order to be satisfied in bed you need to develop a proper emotional connection with that person. 

So what the hell were you doing on that stupid dating app? Easy - your friend had practically begged you to download it and try meeting somebody there since it’d been ages since you’d last gone out with somebody. 

You did it - for her. And you were pretty skeptical about it, because meeting strangers online is not something you’d usually do. But somehow you ended up meeting Chris - and it changed your life. 

But back to that tenth-date-rule. You now find yourself about to break it, and you’re blaming Chris for that.

Yes, because he looked so fucking sexy on the day you had and you just couldn’t stop thinking of how bad you wanted him to bend you over the next surface and fuck you senseless, or how banter you wanted o just kneel down before him, unzip his pants and suck him dry. And he was not even wearing a sexy outfit or had hinted at something racy or anything - the man was just innocently standing there, in front of the aquarium, explaining something about jellyfish to you and you were staring at him while all kinds of dirty, filthy thoughts involving him were flowing in your mind. 

All you kept doing was stare at his fingers, then his veiny hands, then his wrists, then his strong, muscular arms and suddenly, you were wet. The rest of your date went on like this - him explaining everything about this and that species of fish, and you thinking of him pressing your body against the next fish tank, unbuckling his skinny jeans, lifting your dress, pulling your panties to the side and, finally, entering you. 

When he drove you home and walked you to the door of your place, you decided you just had had enough of being good and following the rules, tonight you wanted - no, you needed to be reckless. 

So, you pulled him in for a hot, passionate kiss, and you now find yourself under him on your bed. His body hovers over yours, lips still pressed together, only pulling away from each other when you have to remove your sweater first, then his. And then, when he unbuckles his pants and slides them off his thighs together with his boxers, you notice it. And it’s big, probably bigger than any guy you’ve been with, and it kinda intimidates you. 

“What’s wrong?” Chris asks, noticing your wide eyes and slightly panicked expression, worried he might’ve done something wrong. 

“Nothing, it’s just…”

“Just?”, he encourages you. 

“You’re big.”, you admit, blushing a little. 

“Oh.”, he looks flustered too, glancing down at his own cock, which looks painfully hard. “It’s not that big.”

It’s not that big, says the guy with an eight-inches dick that’s about to split you in half. You’re about to say something when Chris suddenly lies down on his tummy, right between your parted legs, and you forget what you wanted to say in the first place. 

“Can I take them off?”, he asks, looking at you with big, lustful eyes, fingers brushing the soft fabric of your underwear, making you shiver. 

You nod, and he hooks his fingers on your panties before sliding them off your thighs. You’re feeling kind of embarrassed of being exposed like that in front of Chris, and he seems to notice it immediately. 

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”, he reassures you, caressing your inner thigh with the pad of his thumb. “Okay?”, he gives you a warm smile. 

“No, I- I want this.”, you say, propping yourself on your elbows to look him in the eye. You want him to believe you, because it’s the truth. “I promise.”

Chris doesn’t say anything else, he simply licks a long stripe on your pussy and hums as soon as your taste invades his mouth. It’s intoxicating in the best way possible, and if it were for him - he’d never stop. He laps at your clit repeatedly, expertly, occasionally flicking it with his fingers with delicacy - after all, it’s the first time you’re sleeping together, and he has to experiment a little in order to find out what you like. 

“Can you…” you let out a shaky breath. “Use your fingers, too?”, you ask him, cheeks flushing red. 

“Inside?”, he asks, kissing your clit. 

“No, just - put them on my clit like this.”, you shape a ‘v’ with your fingers.

You’re not used to telling men what you like in bed, but Chris is not men. He nods, then places his digits on your pussy, just like you asked, clit beautifully placed between his index and pointer finger. He spits on your clit to lubricate the whole zone, then attaches his plump lips back on your clit, gently moving his fingers at the same time, providing further stimulation, especially when he delicately squeezes it between his digits. 

Chris seems to be naturally skilled at eating pussy, because he makes you cum in record time with a combination of kisses and sucks on your clit and the movements of his fingers, which has you tugging at his hair and practically pushing his whole face against your pussy as you ride out your orgasm. 

You let your body fall back on the mattress as you pant, releasing the grip you have on his hair. “Shit- sorry, did I hurt you?”, you ask, propping yourself on your elbows once again, scared that you might’ve unintentionally pulled his hair too strongly. 

He shakes his head as a no, then licks his lips, savoring the way you taste, then wiping his chin with the back of his hand. “No, you didn’t. In fact, it was really fucking hot.”

“Now it’s your turn.”, you reach for his hard cock, but when you wrap your fingers around it, giving it a couple of slow strokes that have Chris biting his lip and kicking his head back. “Although…” you suddenly stops your movements, and Chris snaps his head in your direction, looking at you “I’d love it if you came while inside of me.”

Chris blinks a couple of time before his brain finally registers what you’re asking him. Once he processes your words, he nods frantically, climbing off the bed only to pick his skinny jeans up from the floor, taking his wallet out of one of the back pockets, eventually fishing a condom from it. Then, he’s back on the bed. 

“You know, you really shouldn’t keep your condoms in your wallet.”

“I promise it hasn’t been there long. I put it there today.”, he admits, cheeks slightly blushing at the implication of his words. 

“Oh, so you were hoping to get laid?”, you chuckle, but he can see you’re not really offended by the situation. 

“Not hoping, but you know…”, he says while unwrapping the rubber, rolling it onto his length swiftly. “Better to be safe than sorry.” He’s got a point. 

He positions himself between your spread legs and aligns the tip of his cock at your entrance. Then, he spits on his fingers and spreads his saliva all over your pussy to make sure you’re wet enough to take him - little does Chris know you’ve been wet since he picked you up four hours ago. 

“Tell me when you’re ready.”, he tells you, rubbing soft circles on your knee with his thumb. 

“Ready.”, you tell him immediately, and he chuckles - he’s just as whipped for you as you are for him. 

When he pushes inside - the stretch is insanely good and it doesn’t hurt, even though he didn’t use his fingers to stretch you out before entering you. It’s thick and long, and it feels so big inside of you it makes your head spin. It takes a while for him to bottom out completely, mostly because he’s pushing him at an excruciatingly slow pace to make sure not to hurt you - all while rubbing soft circles on your clit. 

Then, once he’s fully inside of you, he lets his body fall on top of yours - chests pressing together as he balances himself using his elbows. He kisses you on the lips as he gives one tentative thrust  inside of you, testing the waters. You moan against his mouth, taking in the feeling of having him inside of you - a feeling that’s overwhelming in the best way possible, and you don’t want it to stop. 

The first thrusts are slow and precise, letting you adjust to his size, and the angle is just right, hitting all the right places with each movement. Then, he starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts all while kissing the corner of your mouth, or your neck, or your collarbone. Kisses, kisses everywhere, combined with his fingers gently caressing your hair and scalp as he snaps his hips against yours quicker now. 

“So good to me.”, he whispers words of praise in your ear, letting out a choked whimper when your hand squeezes the flesh of his ass as he moves inside of you. “You feel perfect around me.”

You believe him, because he does feel perfect around you, too, and you can’t believe you almost missed out on all of this because of that stupid rule. 

“And you feel perfect inside of me.”, you moan. “So deep. Look.”, you intertwine your fingers with his, then drag his hand all over your body, placing it on your abdomen. 

He’s confused at first, but then he feels it. He feels himself. Inside of you. The tip of his cock right below your belly button, moving inside of you. His eyes widen, and he pulls away from you abruptly, but it’s just because he wants to witness it with his eyes.

He continues to fuck you, only this time he’s kneeling between your legs to get a better look of how his cock moves in and out of you. He’s mesmerized by the view, a tiny bulge appearing on the soft, delicate surface of your belly - shaped just like the tip of his cock, making his head spin. He brushes it with the pads of his fingers, feeling himself inside of you, moving slowly, and then halting his thrusts completely. His dick throbs inside of you, and he can see it reflected on how the bulge moves. 

“Do you like it?”, you ask, your voice soft as your knuckles caress his forearm. 

Like it would be an understatement. “I love it.”, he whimpers, and it makes your stomach do a flip. Then, he does the same thing you’d done a couple of minutes before. He takes your hand and places it on your belly, letting your palm lie flat on your skin as he thrusts deep inside of you, allowing you to feel every inch of him sinking in your hole. “Tell me you like it too.”, he moans, and he sounds absolutely desperate and close to his release. You are too. 

“I do.”, you pant, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist, keeping your hand on your tummy. “I do so fucking much. You’re fucking me so well, Chris, I’m so close.”, at this point you’re just rambling, incoherent words falling from your lips as your toes begin to curl. 

“Y-Yeah?”, he whimpers, hissing as he kicks his head back and breathes through his nose, snapping his hips against yours until wet sound start filling the room. “You like my big cock stretching you out? Like it when you feel it in your tummy, baby?”

You can’t believe this is the first time you’re fucking this man - the chemistry feels unreal. 

“I do, I do.”, you whimper, your orgasm is so close your toes are already beginning to curl. “So close, Chris, so close.”

“Fuck, cum for me, baby, please.”

As soon as he feel you clench around him, his orgasm washes all over him too, cock throbbing inside of you and he places his own hand next to yours, wanting to feel himself emptying into the rubber, even if it’s from the outside. It doesn’t matter, the thought drives him wild. He keeps his hand there until he feels his cock start to get limp, and then he’s quick to pull out our you, careful to hold the base of his cock. Then, he takes the rubber off and throws it in the trash can in your room and climbs back on the bed to lie down next to you. 

And as you try to regain your breaths, cuddled up next to each other, you can’t help but think that you really need to thank your friend for making you download that stupid app. 

☉

-> reblog and leave feedback to support me if you enjoyed reading my works and to let me know your thoughts, i love reading your thoughts on my works! ♡

#bang chan smut #bang chan hard thoughts #bang chan hard hours #chan smut #chan hard thoughts #chan hard hours #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you smut #bang chan x reader smut #chan x reader smut #chan x you smut #stray kids smut #stray kids masterlist #skz #stray kids #skz smut #skz masterlist #stray kids fanfic #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids drabbles #stray kids fic #stray kids hard hours #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #stray kids x reader smut #skz x reader smut #stray kids x you smut #skz x you smut #straykeedz kinktober #stray kids kinktober

[mirkoluvs]

★ GETTING INTO AN ARGUMENT WITH MHA CHARACTERS (PT. 1)

characters: midoriya, bakugo, todoroki

genre: angst !!

notes: two parter !! just a note that my request box is still open !! love u all <3

izuku midoriya

- he always tries his hardest to avoid arguments at any cost, but of course, it’s only natural for them to happen within relationships.

- you always looked out for him like he looked out for you, but for some reason he would never listen as he was so determined to living up to people’s ideals.

- so when you saw him randomly phasing out during the middle of a group conversation with the rest of your class, you tapped his hand, causing him to shake out of his trance. you signed for him to follow you as you got up and walked over to a more private area of the dorms.

“is there something wrong?”, he asked. looking at his features, you could see dark circles coming in. sighing you took his hand into yours, holding it before looking at him. “izuku you know how much i love you, and how much i look out for you and everything. i just- do you think you can maybe tone it down with all the training…?”, you hesitantly asked, head hanging low. you could hear izuku sigh as he rubbed a hand over his face. “y/n, you know i cant”, he started, but you cut him off before he could go on his usual rant. “i just don’t get why. i mean, you’re doing all of this but you’re literally draining yourself while doing it which means you aren’t giving it your best”, you tried to reason, looking back at him. he scoffed underneath his breath at your words. “are you implying that i’m not putting in enough effort or something?”, he asked, his tone starting to become a bit defensive. your eyes narrowed at his words, shaking your head in denial and confusion. “no, that’s not- why are you twisting my words right now? i’m just trying to look out for you-“, “you aren’t my mom, y/n! just give it a rest! i know my own limits, i know when to stop. i’m here to become a hero if you somehow forgot, so just quit getting on me about rest and things like that, okay?!”, he quickly interrupted you. his words left your throat dry, your head lowering to the ground as you subtly nodded your head, sucking on your bottom lip. he quickly took notice at your body language and realized the harshness of his words. “baby, wait- that’s not how i wanted that to come out. i just-“, he started, but you cut him off, shaking your head. “no. i get it. it’s fine. forget i said anything”, you quietly responded, your voice somewhat cracking as you walked away, his hand just missing your wrist as he watched you walk off. he cursed at himself underneath his breath, shame taking over.

katsuki bakugo

- it wasn’t uncommon to get in arguments with katsuki considering how stubborn both of you were, but none of them were ever really serious.

- something everyone knows about him is that his number one goal was to become the number one hero, and he never let himself get distracted from that.

- turns out, he was serious about not getting distracted, because due to him training, he somehow managed to forget your one year anniversary all day.

- that’s why when he knocked on your dorm room door and didn’t hear anything back, he was a bit confused.

“y/n, it’s me. open up”, he muttered, knocking on your door again. silence. just when he was about to knock again, the door slightly cracked open. “what the hell are you doing?”, he asked, confused at your behavior. “you cant be fucking serious katsuki”, you scoffed. you pulled him into your room before slamming the door shut behind you, turning to look at him. “what are you so upset about?”, he asked, slightly annoyed at your big mood change. “you really forgot our one year anniversary…?”, you asked, your voice somewhat cracking as you leaned back against the door. his eyes widened. he forgot your anniversary. he got too caught up in his training and hero-related activities that it completely slipped his mind, but once again, his pride and stubbornness was too strong to let him apologize so easily. “is it really that big of a deal?”, he muttered, cocking his head to the side. your eyes widened at his words, anger rushing through your veins. “ok, i get you don’t like to admit when you’re wrong and shit, but can you at LEAST apologize for forgetting?!”, you slightly raised your voice, moving closer towards him. he scoffed under his breath, anger quickly taking over him as well. “it’s just a year, what the hell is so special about that?! it’s not my fault you wanna make everything such a big damn deal”, he fought back. your heart dropped at his words. was this really how he saw your whole relationship? “wow. nice to know how much this means to you katsuki”, you muttered. he cursed under his breath as he watched you start to fall into a sad state. “talk to me when you calm down”, you told him quietly, leaving him alone in your own room as you just wanted to be away from him at the moment. once the door shut he groaned, rubbing his hands across his face as he cursed at himself for being so reckless with his words.

shoto todoroki

- it obviously took him a while to become so comfortable and open around you considering his past, but he managed to do it all for you

- although he was a lot better at being open with you and actually talking things out than he was before, he still struggled every now and then with it.

- and it just so happened that this was one of those days, but it was worse than usual.

- shoto had told you he was going to his house for the day and you knew that usually he’d end up returning in not as good as a mood as before, but when he came back today, he seemed really pissed.

“sho? is everything okay?”, you asked, confused and concerned as to why he came back with such an agitated expression on his face. “fine”, he muttered quickly under his breath, kicking his shoes off as he placed them neatly in a cubby. “clearly not… something happened when you went to visit, right?”, you questioned. it wasn’t uncommon for him to be annoyed in some sort when returning from his residence, but he was never this annoyed. “i told you it’s fine”, he grumbled again. you sighed as you followed close behind him as he took the elevator up to his dorm, where you both usually hung out in together. the elevator ride up was awkwardly silent, you could hear a pin drop even. once the elevator stopped, you both walked out, you following behind him. the silence continued to linger for longer, to the point where it was pissing you off a bit. “shoto, seriously. cant you just talk to me a little bit? i’m not asking you to give me every single detail, i just wanna know if your okay”, you explained, grabbing them hem of his sleeve to make him stop moving. you heard him let out a sharp exhale as he turned around, pulling his sleeve out of your hold. “do you have to be so persistent?! i told you i was fine already, stop shoving your nose in things that don’t concern you”, he snapped at you. you froze at his words, not even knowing how to respond. you quietly cleared your throat, exhaling before responding. “if that’s how you feel… i’ll go. see you”, you muttered, pursing your lips as you slightly nodded, tears glazing your eyes as you walked away, not even giving him the chance to speak. he tried to call after you, but you were already in the elevator, the door beginning to close. he balled his hands into a fist, hitting himself against the forehead as he groaned at his inconsiderate words. he let his anger out at the last person who deserved it and he knew he was in the wrong completely.

© mirkoluvs. please do not copy, modify, or repost on other platforms. thank you !!

#mha fanfiction #mha angst #bakugo katuski #bakugo x reader #mha #mha scenarios #mha x reader #deku x reader #mha imagines #deku angst #todoroki angst #todoroki x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku angst #bakugo angst #bakugo imagine #deku imagine #izuku imagine #todoroki imagine #mha todoroki

[boyfriendstevie]

Idea: bf!!stevie who’s lovesick and has to Jack off after every date, and you who somehow get that information out of him

Something silly but sweet! <3

omg i'm so sorry this took me so long, i've been hella busy. but i finally got around to writing it and it got away from me!!! i hope this is what you were looking for hehe | gn!reader, handjob, kind of slightly subby steve? idk. 1.4k. mdni!!! 18+ only!!!

happy to help

“What were you doing when I called last night?” Your question is totally innocent, completely curious as to why Steve didn’t answer when you called his house, and yet, he flushes, pink crawling up his neck to his cheeks. “Thought you would’ve been home by then.”

“Yeah, I-I was—“ Steve stutters, suddenly nervous as his mind flashes to the memories of what he’d actually been doing. 

You pout so sweetly it kills Steve, your bottom lip pushing out, brows furrowing, “Well then why didn’t you answer?” He knows you’re not mad with the way your fingers play with his as you stare up at him. 

“Uh…” he’s not sure how to answer without revealing that he’d dropped you off at home after your date, went back to his own house, and immediately had to jack off to the thought of you. 

It’s not his fault, okay? You’re perfect in every way — funny, kind, smart, and yeah, so fucking beautiful. The relationship is still fairly new, so you haven’t had sex yet, which is totally okay, Steve would never pressure you to do anything you didn’t want to do, but he’s still a man. He has needs, alright? So, yeah, he has to jerk off as soon as he gets home every time he sees you. 

And last night, he hadn’t been expecting you to call so soon after your date — not that he would ever mind — so he was a bit preoccupied, with his fist around his cock, filthy sounds echoing in his room as he fucked up into his hand, wishing it was you. And then you called, pretty voice crackling over the answering machine, and Steve was done for. He’d called you back, of course, just as soon as he’d cleaned up, so you were none the wiser. 

When he doesn’t answer your question right away, you giggle and tease, “What, were you jerking off or something?”

Steve’s eyes go wide at that, cheeks impossibly pinker as he stumbles over his response, “Wh-what? No, I—“

You quickly sit up from where you’ve been laying in his lap, your own eyes going wide as you giggle again, “Oh my god! You totally were!”

Even though he doesn’t have any reason to be, Steve is thoroughly embarrassed, head tipping back onto the couch with a loud groan, hands pulling from your grasp to cover his face. He speaks from behind his hands, voice weak and muffled, “Shut up! So what if I was. I’m not saying I was, but if I was…”

“Stevie,” you coo softly, fingers wrapping delicately around his wrists, pulling them from his face, “there’s nothing wrong with that! Hell, I got myself off last night, too.”

Steve nearly chokes at that, shifting uncomfortably, “Oh my god, you can’t just say that shit, babe.”

“Why not?” you know you’re being a menace now, but you can’t help it. 

“‘Cause I’m gonna have to do it again!”

“Well, what if I wanna help?” you ask coyly, pushing your lips out into another pout as you lean in closer to Steve. 

“Christ, baby—“ Steve’s chest heaves, eyes darting almost frantically from your eyes to your lips, “I-I don’t… don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with yet, and—“

“Stevie, I just said I want to. If you want me to, that is…” 

“Shit, of course I do, honey, I just—“

“So let me,” you huff, cutting Steve off with a kiss as you shift up onto your knees. The couch cushions dip as you throw one leg over Steve’s lap and settle against his thighs, mouth still on his. 

Steve’s breath catches in his throat at your sudden movement, hands moving to your waist to hold you close as you kiss.  It’s a bit messy, your lips sliding against his as your hands make their way down his torso, fingers playing with the string of his sweatpants. You can feel him hard against your thigh, and fuck, you want nothing more than to touch him. So you do, hand slipping under the band of his sweatpants and underwear. 

This is not how you expected your first time doing this with Steve to go, but you can’t say you’re mad about it. He fucking full-body shudders as your thumb brushes over the tip of his cock, fingertips trailing down his length until you can wrap your hand around his cock near the base. You stroke up towards the tip, though it’s a bit difficult with his boxers still on. 

“Can you… ’s hard to touch you like this, can you just—“ you’re not even finished with your question before Steve is shifting you off of his lap so he can shove his pants down his hips. You know Steve’s big, it’s not exactly a secret, but you’re more than a little distracted at the sight of him, “Fuck, Steve, you’re huge.“

He’s already flushed, but the color travels to the tips of his ears and down his neck. He opens his mouth to say something, or maybe laugh, but it gets cut off when you spit in your hand before curling your fingers around him again. You pump him slowly, nearly painfully so, and he groans, a sound that makes you feel hot all over, “Ah, baby, f-fuck—“

“Like that?” you ask, finally pulling your gaze away from your hand to glance up to his face, and find him with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, eyes fighting to stay open. 

“Faster?” Steve pants, eyes meeting yours for only a moment. He’s mesmerized by the motion of your hand, how it looks around his cock. Your hand is so much prettier than his, and he wants to commit it to memory for when you’re not around. 

You hum in acknowledgment under your breath and do as he asks, picking up the pace of your hand, twisting your wrist as you stroke up towards the head. Steve’s eyes squeeze shut, no matter how hard he’s trying to fight it, a stuttered breath escaping his lips as he presses his head to the couch cushions behind him.

The moles dotting his tanned skin that you love so much are on full display, and you can’t resist the urge to lean in and press wet kisses to the expanse of his neck, trailing them up towards his jaw. Steve whines as your hand tightens around him, thumb rubbing over the messy slit of his cock when your hand comes back up. He really is making a mess, precum dribbling from the tip and down the shaft, smearing across his tensed stomach, near his belly button. 

You watch in awe as his tummy clenches, his cock twitching in your hand. It seems like he can’t help himself as his hips thrust up into your touch, another whiny moan escaping his lips, “Oh god, honey, you’re so— nngh— god, you’re so perfect, y’hand feels so good—“

“Y’gonna cum for me, Stevie?” you ask softly, nipping at his neck and his jaw, your hand trailing down to his balls to fondle them gently, “Gonna cum all over my hand?”

“Yes, oh fuck— fuckfuckfuck, baby, ‘m so—“ he’s babbling nonsense, you can only make out half of what he’s saying, and you have to admit you kind of like the way he’s at your mercy, whimpering and fucking himself into the tight grip of your fist. 

“Please cum for me, wanna see you when you cum, baby,” you murmur, doubling down as you stroke his cock quickly.

When your thumb brushes over the tip again, Steve finally cums with a moan of your name, pearly white as it spills over your hand and onto his tummy. He looks so fucking pretty, too, eyes closed in bliss, cheeks pink and glowing, hair falling into his face as he chases his high. It makes your core burn with want, and you hope Steve’s up to the task after he comes back down. 

You keep pumping him, a slow up and down, the wet, filthy sound of your hand on his cock filling the quiet of the room. Steve all but whimpers as his chest heaves, hand shooting down to wrap around your wrist in an effort to get you to stop, “Okay, okay, baby, christ, you’re gonna kill me.” 

It makes you giggle and you finally pull your hand away, bringing your fingers to your lips. Steve swears he’s died and gone to heaven when he watches your pretty fingers slip into your mouth to lick them clean of his cum. You hum around them before pulling them from your lips with a small pop and give Steve a grin, “How was that?”

“A million times better than my own hand, honey, you don’t understand.” 

“Well, I’m happy to help, Stevie.” 

“Sooo… next time you call and I’m… busy, I can just answer anyway?”

“I’d prefer if you do.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve thots #kit writes #kit answers

[of-cauldrons-and-inkpens]

You Missed My Heart: PART 2

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: 11,305 

Author’s Note: I swear I re-wrote this three different times and all of them were drastically different. I checked for typos, but I’m posting this at four in the morning so there may be a few. 

Content Warning: smut, mild breeding kink, reader is being held against their will, dub-con (if you squint), piv, oral, unprotected sex; Miguel gets injured at one point; 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

I groaned as I opened my eyes. My face was pressed in the crook between where Miguel’s ribs and arms would normally meet. He had moved me there in the middle of the night when I had managed to drift too far away from him. I had tried to squirm and protest, but I ended up caving before he would let go. I knew he was stubborn enough to pin me there out of spite and it wasn’t worth it.

Miguel was still awake somehow. It was dark in the room, save for the faint light that drifted through the curtains. Whatever time it was, it was either too late or too early for him to be up.

“Go back to sleep.” Miguel said. His voice was stern but gentle. I slid my hands down and grabbed onto the edge of the blanket. I hauled it upward, pulling it over my head. He let out a low chuckle as he watched me try to disappear.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Just after three.” He leaned down and pressed a quick peck against the blanket that covered the top of my head. “Get some sleep.” 

I glanced up at the gap between his chest and the blanket. Moonlight streamed through the window, painting his features in soft lines and shadows. He looked angelic. He was focusing on something in front of him, frowning and furrowing his eyebrows every so often. 

What was he doing?

I gently pulled down the blanket so that I could see what he was up to. 

Miguel was propped up on a pillow that leaned against the headboard. His eyes were focused on his hands, which were held out in front of him, spaced apart by about six inches, palm facing palm. Threads glistened between his fingers in the moonlight. His fingers were twisting and weaving new threads around the ones that lay between his fingers. The thin webs had been pulled from his spinnerets in his upper wrists. It was like watching someone play cat’s cradle.

One of his arms rested on my back. It didn’t hurt; it wasn’t even uncomfortable, but it did hold me in place, only allowing me the bare minimum of space for my chest to move as I breathed.

“You should go to sleep, too.” I said. I turned my head back and buried my face in his chest. He smiled, continuing to work. 

“I’m not tired.”

I glanced up at him. His dark eyes were beautiful like this. His face looked peaceful. I was too tired to see if he was lying or not.

“Have you gotten any sleep yet? Any at all?” I asked. He shook his head. 

“I’ll be alright. Just close your eyes.” 

I nodded, too tired to argue with him. I started to say something, but the words slurred together until I fell silent. Sleep pulled me in, welcoming me warmly. 

“I know, sweetheart.” He whispered, never faltering in his work. 

Something clattered to the floor downstairs, ripping me from my dream.

I winced, feeling the sun burn my eyes as it streamed in through the window. I tried to push myself upward, but I was overtaken with a dull ache in all of my muscles. 

Fucking hell.

It felt like I had been in a car crash. Every part of my body hurt. But, the most noticeable ache was between my legs. I swallowed hard as I pushed myself upward. I needed aspirin. 

As I moved, I couldn’t help but notice a divot in the bed on Miguel’s side. It was lined with sheets that had been ripped through. The hole was a decent size; roughly the size of a fist and a couple of inches deep. 

It hadn’t been there last night. At least, I hadn’t seen it there.

I slid my right hand over to touch the edges of the divot. It was the perfect size to accommodate Miguel’s hand. But why was it there?

I winced, feeling a sharp pain shoot through my body. If he was in a decent mood, I could ask him about it. If not, it didn’t really matter.   

I leaned over and grabbed the bottle of aspirin. As I moved, a faint twinkle caught my eye. I flipped my hand over. In the middle of the night, Miguel had slipped something around my ring finger. It was a thin band that had been braided from webbing and then tied off on the front of my finger with a small knot. 

Huh.

I tapped my thumb against the material, expecting it to stick to my finger in the same way that the web had stuck to my ankle last night. But this one didn’t. It had been worn smooth by his fingertips. The material looked almost silver in the early morning light. When I pulled my hand into the shadows, it looked almost like braided moonstone. 

I wasn’t sure whether to feel violated by the fact that he had placed a wedding ring on me in the middle of the night, or impressed by the precision it had taken to make it. 

I turned my hand back and forth, inspecting the thing from all angles. If I had known him for any meaningful amount of time, it would have been a sweet and loving gesture. 

I groaned. It was a gift from the man who had basically kidnapped me from my home, but still, I needed to take whatever nice gestures I could get, no matter how presumptuous. 

I unscrewed the cap and dropped several pills into the palm of my hand. I pushed the first pill into my mouth. As I went to swallow, I couldn’t help but notice the faint numbness that lingered on my bottom lip. It was in the exact spot that his fangs had nipped, either on purpose or mistake.

That’s… weird.

I swallowed the pill and then leaned down to touch my thighs. Bright red marks covered my legs, showing off his handy-work. I quickly slid my fingers along the skin… only to meet the same result. 

The skin was numb. It was almost impossible to move the half centimeters of flesh that had been ever so gently nicked. He hadn’t bit me; not really. Just a graze was enough to do that. 

Jesus.

I winced as I downed the second pill. Then I pushed myself up from the bed and made my way to the dresser. I needed something to wear. But, I wasn’t wearing more lingerie. It already hurt to walk; I needed time to heal before I wore anything close to that again. I sighed as I stepped across the room, looking for something to wear. Miguel had laid his sweatshirt from last night on the dresser. I was sure that he had left it for me after my complaint last night. 

Maybe it was a peace offering. Or maybe the sex had been the peace offering and this was just him being nice.  

I quickly pulled it on. It was long enough to cover my hips and a good part of my thighs. I quickly snagged a pair of underwear from the dresser and pulled them on, as well.

Downstairs, something else clattered to the floor. What the hell was he doing?

As I stepped into the hallway, I noticed the boxes that had been piled up outside of the yellow door. I flipped open one of the cardboard tabs. Inside lay my things. At the bottom of the box, I noticed the sleeve of one of my sweaters. He had brought me my things, just as he had said he would. Did he ever go to sleep last night?

I padded down the stairs, making my way to the kitchen with every step. I figured that that was where he was. He didn’t seem like the kind to just linger around the house, looking for some kind of mindless activity to fill his time. He seemed too serious for that. 

I stepped into the kitchen and was immediately greeted by an unexpected sight. He was standing in front of the stove, pushing around eggs in a skillet. The downstairs was cold from the winter air but he was still wearing only a thin t-shirt and a pair of boxers.

He was a portrait of domesticity. 

I watched him closely as I stepped into the room.

“I made breakfast.” He said. 

“Did you get any sleep?” I asked. I couldn’t help but notice that the shattered plate had been picked out of the sink and had been thrown into the trash. He turned to meet my gaze. The dark circles under his eyes told me everything that I needed to know. 

“Miguel, you need to go back to bed.”

“I’ll be fine.” He frowned as he pushed the spatula around in the skillet. “I made coffee.”

“Thank you.” I made my way toward the coffee pot that rested on the counter beside him. As I did, his eyes never left the stove. I reached for one of the coffee cups that had been laid out for me. As I did, I glanced back at Miguel. God, he looked tired. “Do you always have trouble sleeping?” I asked. 

He scoffed. “I sleep perfectly fine.” 

“Okay then.” I muttered. Guess that was a touchy subject for him. I rolled my eyes as I grabbed the coffee pot. I filled the mug with the dark liquid. As I leaned forward to slide it back into its original spot, Miguel stepped to the side and pulled open the door to the fridge. Without missing a beat, he pulled out a container of creamer and handed it to me, then slinked back to the stove before the eggs had the chance to begin to brown. 

“Thank you.” I said. Warm light from the kitchen caught the ring, making it twinkle again. I considered asking him about it, but I decided not to. Surely he would bring it up if it was something that he wanted to talk about. 

A dark strand of hair fell across his forehead as he focused on the skillet. “Do you need any help?” I asked. 

He quickly shook his head. “What’s on your mind?” I wanted to get even a scrap of conversation from him; I needed some idea as to what he was thinking about. Maybe I should just leave him alone. Maybe he liked to exist in silence. I mean, if nothing else, he seemed used to it. 

“Work. How did you sleep?” He asked. 

“Okay, I guess.”  I added the creamer to my coffee and then returned the container to the spot where he had pulled it from. I carried my mug back to the counter, watching as he lifted the skillet off of the stovetop. I lifted the mug to my lips but then suddenly jerked it back. The glass was hot; it burned the skin of my lower lip everywhere except for the small spot in the center of my mouth. 

“Fuck!” I touched the skin and was met with a familiar numbness. 

Miguel dropped the skillet onto the stove and rushed forward. Within seconds he had cleared the area between the stove and the counter, moving so that he was standing directly in front of me. He towered over me, wasting no time to invade my personal space. “Sorry, I’m fine.” I said. I brushed my fingers along my lip, grazing the burned flesh and then the numbed skin. It felt weird and I didn’t like it. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Let me see.”

“It’s fine. I just burned myself.” He shook his head before reaching down and gently grabbing onto my chin. He pulled my head upward. My eyes met his for a moment before he turned his attention down to the mark on my mouth. 

“Move your hand.” He instructed. I did as I was told and dropped my hand down to the cold stone of the counter. 

“Miguel, I’m fine. I promise.” He didn’t believe me; I could tell from the deep line that had formed between his eyebrows.

“Open wide.” He instructed. His thumb slid across my lower lip. The touch was feather-light; almost too gentle, too caring. 

“Your face is red.” He remarked.

“This is demeaning.” The words slurred together as he inspected my mouth. 

“Is your lip numb?” His perfected vision could see the minute scrapes against my skin; tiny cuts that had been collateral damage in the excitement of the previous night. 

“A little bit.” He winced, but quickly fixed his expression before I could comment on it.

“It should wear off in a couple of hours. You weren’t actually bit so the effects shouldn’t be too bad. Just be careful not to hurt yourself.” He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of my head.

“What if you had bitten me?” I asked. He released my jaw from his hold. 

“That’s not something you need to worry about.” 

“But if it had… let’s say I’m someone else and you bit me, what would happen.” His face twitched. Something flickered behind his eyes as if he was considering it. His eyes didn’t leave my face.

“That’s not… no.” 

“Miguel, it’s a basic question. I barely know anything about you. If you’re planning on keeping me here, then I want to know-” he cut me off.

“And I said no. Damn it, why isn’t that enough for you? What are you wanting from me?” His voice was sharp and cold, like metal. Suddenly, the device on his wrist let out a low chirp. He glanced downward. 

He gave a low sigh. “I’ll get you a plate. You didn’t eat anything last night.” He turned and quickly began to mess with the thing on his wrist. 

I glanced down at the counter. A chorus of beeps came from his wrist as he worked. I gently slid my teeth against my bottom lip; the numbness was strangely fascinating. 

Without a word, Miguel sat the plate down in front of me. Steam drifted off the fresh eggs that covered the plate.

“Thank you.” He didn’t answer me. His eyes lingered on my face for a long moment before he leaned back against the countertop.

He rolled his hand around his wrist, moving his eyes between me and the device. “I have work to do today. But I restocked the fridge so there’s plenty for you to eat. Feel free to help yourself to anything you like. The TV in the living room works, as does the stereo. Most of your books should be upstairs, so you should have plenty to occupy your time.”

“Thank you.” I said. I stabbed a bright yellow piece of egg with my fork. “How long are you going to be gone?” I asked. 

“Are you going to miss me?” He paused, waiting for a response. I nodded, partly because I knew it was the right answer and partly because I thought I would, even if just a little bit. He smiled, proud of my answer. “It shouldn’t be too long. Just a couple of things to correct, then I’ll be right back.” There was something about the way that he said the word ‘correct’ that made me wince. He meant kill; I thought of the blood on his face and knew what he meant when he said he fixed things. 

“Is there anything you think you’re going to do today?” Miguel asked. He wanted to know my plans for the day. Well, gee, Miguel, I’ll probably stay trapped here. 

Then something occurred to me. I was the only person here and I knew more of what was going on now. There was no reason I shouldn’t be allowed to explore.

“Can I leave the house?” I asked.

“And where would you go?” It seemed ridiculous to him to even ask. Why would I ever want to leave when I could sit in an empty house all by myself and pretend I wasn’t his prisoner?

“Out.” I said. “Maybe walk around the block. Is there another block or does it stop after what I can see from the front stoop?” 

“There’s other blocks. But I don’t understand why you would want to leave the house.” 

“Fucking hell, Miguel.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud. I turned my attention to the plate. He ground his teeth together for a moment. He was choosing to ignore what I had said. 

“If you need something to occupy your time when I’m gone, I’ll get you a pet.” That doesn’t replace the fact that I wanted to leave the house. I wanted to pretend that my life was normal, even if there was nobody in Nueva York anymore. I could still act as if things hadn’t changed. 

“Ah, a pet for your pet. Doesn’t that seem a bit redundant?” I muttered. That jab had been entirely intentional. 

It was true, though. I was a pet to him; maybe I received different forms of affection than the standard house cat, but the same rules seemed to apply. He would come and go as he needed; I was to stay where I had been placed, always ready and willing to entertain when he came back. 

He rolled his eyes as he leaned against the counter. He continued to poke at the device on his wrist. “I’m ignoring you.” I rolled my eyes as I continued to eat. 

“It isn’t fair to lock me inside of a house and never let me leave. You ever heard of cabin fever? I’m going to end up going insane in here.”

“I highly doubt that.” His hair bounced as he spoke. He was shaking his head at me while he messed with his device. 

“Miguel.”

“You’ll be fine.” He said it like it was the end of the discussion. Hell, it wasn’t even a discussion; he just kept saying no. 

“Come on!”

“Is there something you’re wanting to say to me?” His tone was harsh. 

“Yeah, you’re really pissing me off.”

“You’ll get over it. You always do.” 

“Just tell me why. If you think I’m going to run away then where would I even go? There’s nothing out there. So why?” 

“It’s for your own good. Just stay in the damn house.” I rolled my eyes as I took a sip of the cooled coffee. 

“You never fucking tell me anything and then you get pissy when I ask questions.”

“I am not being pissy.” He shook his head and muttered something under his breath. There was a long moment of silence between us. 

“Don’t call me pissy.” He muttered. He sounded more annoyed than actually angry. He almost sounded like an annoyed child. I had to fight back a laugh at how petulant he sounded.

A weird silence hung in the air. I began to eat, ignoring how he fixed his eyes on me. Though, any time I would look up to catch his stare, he would glance back down and fiddle with his wrist. 

"I really do believe that you could start to like it here. I think you just need time. Then, you'll start to warm up to me."

He brushed his hair off of his forehead and let out a low sigh. "You do love me. You just need time." He said the first part for me. He repeated the second part for himself.

I did love him, at least a little bit. Even if just for the fact that he looked so much like another version of himself; a sweeter version… a softer one. 

Maybe he was capable of being that way. Or, maybe he was too far gone. 

His eyes moved upward to meet mine and I felt a sudden wave of shame wash over me. 

"You look beautiful this morning." He said. 

“Miguel,” I asked. His features softened at the sound of his name. “Is there any chance that I’ll ever get to go home?” 

He winced. “If you go back to your timeline, one of two things could happen. Either time will find a way to correct itself and you will die or everything will collapse in on itself. If that happened, it would kill every single person you’ve ever known and billions more.” A bright light shone from his wrist. 

It was time for him to go. 

He let out a low sigh. “I don’t…” His voice trailed off. He looked down at the ground for a moment. “I can’t send you back to die. I won’t.” 

I guess that was my answer.

He stepped toward me. His face had softened. “I want you to be happy and safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” I didn’t reply. He moved closer, stopping only once our bodies were almost touching. 

I looked at him, unsure of what he wanted. He leaned down, placing a finger under my chin. It was the gentlest touch he could manage, yet it was backed with unfathomable strength. He lifted my chin up to meet his gaze.

“I love you. I’ll be back as soon as possible. Be a good girl for me. Okay?” I nodded. He pushed a quick peck against my lips before he walked off, heading toward the archway that connected the kitchen to the living room. Once he vanished from sight, I heard him begin to speak into his device.

A pink and orange light enveloped the living room; it was so bright that I winced. The light vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

Then, just like that, he was gone. 

I sighed to myself. Well, no time like the present. 

I pushed myself up, grabbed my coffee mug, and headed upstairs.

He would be gone for hours. There was no harm in exploring, especially since he wasn’t here to stop me. If he didn’t want to tell me anything, then I would have to find it out for myself. After all, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. 

I stared at the yellow door upstairs. Not knowing what was inside was going to eat me alive. I knew it wasn’t an office; Miguel didn’t stay here long enough to do anything but drag me around and then try his idea of a romantic gesture. Maybe it was a storage room, but even then he was entirely too cagey about the whole thing. He didn’t strike me as the kind of person to have some kind of mindless hobby. 

Maybe he was living out the story of Bluebeard and there was something macabre inside. Maybe there was something perverse inside. 

It didn’t matter; I had to know. 

I pushed several of the boxes out of the way. I slid them several feet to the left. I could just move them back when I was done and he would never know. Stepping forward, I reached out and grabbed the door handle. Then, I gave a firm twist. 

It was locked.

Damn it. 

Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? He’s the one who locked me up. He’s the one who said I couldn’t leave the house. He’s the one that did all of this in the first place. 

I couldn’t help but notice that the locks on my door and this door were different. This door was aimed at keeping other people out of the space; mine was aimed at locking me inside, like a princess in a tower. 

I needed some way to get the door open. I was sure that I would understand this all a little better if I could just figure out why he was so determined to keep this a secret from me. 

Then, I remembered my Miguel fighting with the floorboard in our bedroom. Before he embarked on his noble mission to defeat the squeaking sound, he had bought a case of beer and a new set of screwdrivers. If this version of him was so determined to make a perfect copy of my house, then he would have added the set.

I dashed to the hall closet and quickly pulled out the black plastic case that rested on the bottom shelf. Bingo! I plucked the screwdriver from the box and then walked over to the yellow door. I knew that with the old style of lock, I just needed to get the metal inside of the keyhole to move. If it moved, then the door would pop open with no issue. 

I slotted the screwdriver into place and then twisted hard. At first, it didn’t even flinch. Then, after a moment,  the lock groaned and then popped open. I quickly twisted the brass door handle and smiled as the door opened. I pushed the door open wide and then flipped the lightswitch. 

What the fuck?

The room was small. Every wall had been painted a soft yellow; it was a step up from the stark white that the original room had been. A small stuffed elephant lay in the middle of a crib that was pushed against the far wall. A framed ultrasound sat on the bookshelf. Little pieces of a life; of hopes and memories, all packed away to be forgotten.

None of this was from my timeline. In my universe, this was just his office. It was where Miguel would disappear to for most of the night after returning from work. After he died, I locked the door and pretended the room didn’t exist. When the men from Alchemax showed up to take the cardboard boxes filled with his work, I didn’t even have the courage to peek inside of the room. The room was the black hole in the house, eating away at any chance of sleep or happiness that I had. 

At least that was something this Miguel and I seemed to share.

I stepped into the small room, moving toward the bookshelf that rested against the far wall. The shelf was the only thing that looked familiar. 

A box rested on the bottom shelf. I quickly dipped down and pulled it free. I flipped the lid and discarded it onto the floor in front of me. The box was filled with small photos. Some were older than others, each faded and weathered to different degrees. I sunk down to the floor. I moved so that I was sitting criss cross. 

I reached inside of the box and pulled out one of the photos. The picture was weathered, but I could still make out a version of me staring up at him with an adoring gaze. She wore a wedding dress and he wore a suit. 

Jesus.

I sat the photo on the floor beside me and then reached into the box and fished out a small handful. I started to sift through them, viewing little pieces of Miguel’s life as I went. When I reached the last three photos, I stopped. They were pictures of Miguel holding a little girl. She was small and perfect, with his eyes and his smile. 

His child. 

I winced as I looked at the pictures. The last photo was of Miguel and I standing behind her. She was sitting in a small plastic highchair with a cake in front of her. On it, there was a glowing candle in the shape of a ‘1’. Miguel’s mouth was open in the process of saying something as I laughed. It was a moment that was frozen, giving him a small slice of time to keep when it all disappeared.

Fucking hell. I leaned forward and put the pictures back in the box. I didn’t want to look at this anymore. I felt my stomach flip as a wave of nausea overtook me.

However, as I leaned over, I spotted several more photos in the bottom of the box. But, I did know these pictures. I just hadn’t known that they had been taken. In two of the pictures, I was inside of the bookstore that I had worked at. They were pictures of me, taken in my universe. But, when did he take them? After my version of him died, I didn’t go back to work. I was lucky if I left bed most days. So these pictures were older than that. 

Suddenly, I became aware of the footfalls that came from the stairs. 

Miguel was home entirely too early. 

And I was still in the nursery. My head was still spinning from the pictures. I tried to make myself get up and frantically put the pictures back, but I couldn’t make my body move.

I heard him begin to make his way toward the bedroom. But, when he saw that the yellow door had been opened, he picked up his pace. 

I didn’t look back at him when he stepped into the doorway.

I didn’t want to meet his gaze.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” His voice was lined with rage. I stared at the wall. I could hear him swearing under his breath, his tone flickering between pissed to sad and then back again. I glanced back to look at him for a moment. His face was tight and his eyes burned red. 

“This was your office… I’m sorry, his office.” I lifted my hand upward to point at the wall with the small window. The window had been decorated with pink curtains. “His desk was against that wall.” I glanced to the side of the room and then pointed at the left wall. “He kept all of his boxes against the wall. I only ever went inside of the office once and that was when I heard him and my dad arguing about something. But I never… I never found out what it was.” The screaming had happened two days before Miguel died and I couldn’t help but wonder if the two things had been connected. 

“I just wanted to know what was in here. That’s all.” I said. "Are you planning on locking me in my room again?" I asked. 

"No."

The man stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost. His features softened as he watched me. He walked deeper into the room, moving so that he was standing over me. He sat down on the floor beside me. His large frame was only a foot away from me; close enough to touch, but not so close as to scare me. As he sat there, I was once again reminded of how his body had always dwarfed mine. His body was large enough to provide me with either the utmost care or utmost cruelty, depending on which Miguel I got. 

“You had a child?” I asked. 

He winced. “I did.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” My voice was little more than a whisper.

“No.” It was a sore spot for him. It was then that I noticed that he was focusing on the far wall, unable to meet my eyes. 

I was also a sore spot for him. 

I looked down at the floor as he began to speak again. 

“All I’ve ever wanted is to keep you safe.” He said. His face twitched. His eyes began to fade from red to brown. He was reliving all of his failures, past and present. 

“I understand.” I said. He let out a dry laugh. 

“But you don’t. You really fucking don’t. Do you know what it’s like to watch you die in every timeline? Every universe? Either before or after me, there you go. Either you burn to death or are crushed or get killed in a car crash or die in some freak fucking accident… and I’ve had to sit and watch.” 

He shook his head. Several dark strands of hair fell across his face. “I’m not a good man. I’ve done… horrible things.” I flinched at his words. I couldn’t tell if it was self awareness or just simple self hatred. “I just wanted a part of you that was entirely mine. A piece of you that I can love and… keep.”

He said the last part so casually. It was as if it was all just a part of the daily dysfunction of a man with a savior complex and the full power to act upon it. He had everything a man or god could ever want, except for the power of self control. 

What he had done was unfathomably wrong, but the smallest part of me could understand it. The only real difference between us was that he actually could do something about it; when I lost everything, I could only lay in bed and cry. 

However, there wasn’t enough money in any timeline to make me admit that to him. Telling him I understood his actions would only feed into the delusion that this was right… that this was inherently good. 

I nodded slowly as I took in his words. He leaned back against his arms. He pushed his hands against the hardwood as he looked around the room, as if reliving a memory. His face was crestfallen. 

My fingers brushed his. He flinched, but then gave into the touch. I slid my fingers on top of his, pinning his hand between my skin and the cold hardwood. He sat still for a moment, taking in the small crumb of affection. Then, he lifted his pinky, moving it so that it slipped on top of my ring finger. 

He glanced down at our hands. His eyes became fixed on the small ring; he was entranced at the fact that I hadn’t taken it off yet. 

Miguel opened his mouth to say something, but he quickly changed his mind. He closed his mouth, allowing for the silence to overwhelm us. 

We were both kind of pathetic. But, I felt especially so at how I still wanted some kind of closeness with him. 

I didn't want to be alone, even if the only option was with the crazy man. 

I glanced up. My eyes met his.

I leaned forward, moving so that my face was only inches away from his. The room was cold and I was sure that he could see the hard goosebumps that had formed on my skin. His eyes danced over my face before drifting down to my lips. He looked like he wanted to tell me something, but it was as if it was stuck. Whatever words he wanted to say wouldn't come out. 

I filled the last inches of space between us. Slowly, I pressed my lips against his. Our lips moulded together, fitting like puzzle pieces. He let out a low groan.

He pulled his lips away from me, giving me a chance to catch my breath.

He lay his forehead against mine. Then he whispered something that was so faint, I couldn’t hear most of it. But, I could have sworn that the last words were a soft "I’m sorry."

The next few weeks, we existed as ghosts. He barely spoke to me. On the rare occasion that he was home during the daytime, I would often catch him staring at me with a weird mixture of adoration and sadness. He was gone until late most nights. I had taken to crawling onto the couch and falling asleep there most nights. The house was too empty; too quiet. He wouldn’t come back until late and would then, without fail, haul me back to the bedroom. I would awaken every morning to a cup of coffee on the bedside table. He would squeeze my shoulder gently, though he was always gone by the time I opened my eyes. 

My head lay against one of the pillows that I had dragged downstairs from the bed. I sighed as I turned over. The couch wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just weird to try and sleep when there was no noise coming from outside. I had gotten so used to the sounds of the city lulling me to sleep. Now, I would toss and turn for hours until I would turn on the TV for some noise. 

I pulled one of the blankets higher up on my body. The house was freezing. I glanced up at the clock on the wall. 

Just after two.

Where was he? He usually came back around one or so. He was late. Time was ticking on and he was nowhere to be found. 

Damn it. I winced, realizing that I was actually worried about him. 

Suddenly, a bright light filled the first floor. I jerked upright, turning toward the kitchen. “Miguel?” I asked. I quickly pushed myself up from the couch and made my way to the kitchen.

"Miguel?" I repeated. I flipped on the light to the kitchen and saw him standing there. He was doubled over with one hand grasping the back of a chair. Blood dripped from his nose onto the faded tile below. 

"You need to go to bed." His voice was rough. I stepped deeper into the room, ignoring him. He let out a groan as he tried to pull on the back of his suit. He reached for something, but he couldn't grasp it. He dropped his head, trying to catch his breath. I stopped several feet in front of him.

Slowly, he lifted his head. Blood covered his bottom lip. His face was bleeding from a cut on his cheekbone. It was a gash that was slowly oozing dark blood. 

"Oh my God. Miguel!" I rushed forward, filling the distance. 

"It's not as bad as it looks. They’ll heal, they just need a bit of time.” He said. Blood ran down his jaw as he spoke. He looked bad; bad enough that, if he had been the other version of himself, we would have immediately been on the way to the hospital. 

There were several gashes that had managed to cut through his suit, exposing the skin beneath. 

Dear God, what the hell happened to him?

"Go away." He said. He waved his hand, motioning for me to do as I had been told. He leaned over the side of the counter. Bruises were blossoming on his tan skin, painting him in shades of blue and black. 

"Just let me help you. Are there any bandages in the house?" I asked.

"I don't need help."

"Miguel." 

"What?" His voice was harsh; his words lined with actual pain. 

"Stop being so damn stubborn and just let me help you." I said. I walked over the lower cabinet and pulled out a hand towel. I stepped back toward him, hoping that he would soften.

Instead, he scowled at me. "Go to bed. You're just working yourself up over nothing."  

"This isn't nothing." 

He rolled his eyes as he stepped forward. "I'm completely fine." His leg went out from under him. I tried to catch and steady him, but instead, we both tumbled to the ground below. 

I watched as several of the more superficial cuts on his body began to close. 

"Jesus, Miguel. What happened?" He shook his head as he pushed himself off of the floor. 

"It's nothing. That's why I didn't want you to see any of this." He paused. "What the hell are you even doing down here?" He grabbed onto the counter to steady himself. Part of me expected to see him break the counter under his fingers. 

I pushed myself off of the floor and rushed to his side. "Is there anything I can do?" I asked. He shook his head. 

"I'm going to clean up. Go to bed." He winced as he stepped away from the counter. Based on the way he winced as he touched his side, he probably had a cracked rib.

I couldn't imagine anything that was strong enough to do this to him. Unless it had been something, or several somethings, that were all exactly like him. 

"I'm going to help you." I said. I eyed one of the deeper bruises that covered the side of his jaw. He caught me staring at the dark mark. 

"They'll heal, I swear. I can heal relatively fast." He said. Fear tore through me. What if he was wrong? What if he was lying? He hadn't meant for me to see him coming home. He had fully intended on keeping this hidden from me, regardless of how badly he was hurt. "The worst ones are the cuts but even those will be fine in an hour or two."

I had already lost him once…

He glanced over at me. Fear swirled in my eyes as I watched him. Based on the way that his face twitched, I knew he could see it. 

He glanced down at the floor. Then, he leaned to the side and caught my arm in his gloved hand. His touch was gentle, but commanding.

"Come here." He instructed. I shifted toward him, moving until his chest was almost touching mine. I could hear his steady heartbeat and feel the warmth that was pouring off his skin. 

"I love you. I promise I'm okay." His voice was no more than a whisper. 

"Just let me help you." I said. He sighed to himself, giving in to my attempt at kindness.

The downstairs bathroom was quiet. Miguel was perched on the edge of the tub, watching as I leaned over the edge of the basin.

I turned the metal handles to the tub. Warm water spurted into the bottom of the tub. I watched as it began to pool at the bottom. Outside, I could hear the thunder boom. Rain beat against the roof of the house, filling it with the soft sound of water hitting 

"This isn't necessary. You should go back to sleep." He said. He pressed the towel to his face. Most of the blood had stopped flowing. 

"I wasn't asleep." 

"Why not?"

"The house is creepy at night. It's too quiet. I'm used to actual sounds from the city and there just aren't any here."

"I'm sorry." 

"It's fine." 

Soon, the tub was filled three quarters of the way. I leaned over and quickly turned off the flow of water. I straightened my stance and then looked back at Miguel. He offered a soft smile. A bruise blossomed just below his eye, though it immediately began to fade away. 

"I was really worried about you." I admitted.

"I'm okay."

"Are you?" I didn't believe him. He looked rough. It was as if he had been dragged through hell. It hurt to look at him too long. 

"This is all… purely superficial. I'll be better soon." I crossed my arms. Worry and fear covered my face; it was impossible to hide. 

"Sweetheart, there's nothing to worry about." His voice was like warm honey. He lifted his hand upward and motioned for me to come to him. Without question, I did. 

One arm gently curled around my waist. The other drifted upward to ghost the side of my face.

"I'm okay. This all just…" he sighed. He leaned his face forward and gently touched his forehead to my stomach. Warm skin pressed into my shirt. I could feel him slowly inhale as he breathed me in. Then, he lifted his face, peering up at me in the dim room. "This is just how it is." His voice was no more than a whisper. 

"You look tired." He said. He noticed the dark circles under my eyes.

"You're one to talk." He let out a humorless laugh.

His fingers slid across my cheek, wiping away a dark droplet that had landed on my skin. The material on his fingers was smoother than I had imagined. 

"You don't have to take care of me."

"Well, you don't seem to have any sense of self preservation. So if I don't, I don't figure you'll take care of yourself." I said. He looked at my face for a long moment. A soft smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. 

"No, that's not it. I think you care about me." Pride bubbled in his voice. I rolled my eyes. 

"Strip and get in the tub."

"Yes, Ma'am." He taunted. He winced as he reached backward again, tugging at the neck of the suit. His usual gracefulness was gone. He groaned, pulling at the back of the suit to no avail. 

"Are you okay?" I asked. He winced again as he tried to grab onto something that wasn't there. 

"I got hit earlier and I think the thing broke. I can't get it to move." His fingers worked over the material but it was no use.

"Here. Let me get it." I said. He stooped downward, moving so that I could actually grab onto the back of the material. He awkwardly leaned over as I pulled at the metal on the back of the suit. It looked like there had once been a zipper, but the tiny handle had been busted. Below it were several small clasps that had been bent down to cover the path of the zipper. 

"They really did a number on you." I murmured. I pushed my thumb under one of the clasps. I bent it forward, moving it so that I could see the path of the zipper. I did the same for the other pieces of metal that had become deformed. Then, I pinched what remained of the head of the zipper. I pulled the zipper downward, hearing him sigh softly when I unzipped the material between his shoulder blades. His skin spread out between my fingers, warm and slightly wet from sweat.

"There you go." I said. I released him and stepped backward. He should be good to go now. 

I watched as he effortlessly peeled the suit off of his bruised body. The bruises were changing in color, some getting darker as others began to fade before my eyes. 

He pulled the suit off of his arms, then down his muscular torso. As he reached his hips, I looked away, suddenly very aware of the fact that he wasn't wearing anything beneath the skin tight material. 

My face turned bright red. I looked at the door behind us, waiting for him to climb into the water. "You're blushing." 

"No, I'm… just get in the water." I heard him chuckle as he stepped out of the material. He crudely folded the material and then tossed it across the floor. It landed in a pile beside my left foot. I rolled my eyes. 

"Sweetheart, you don't have to look away from me." He said. I heard the water move as he stepped into the tub. I turned around, watching as he sank into the bath. 

I watched a dark bruise on his bare collarbone fade into his skin before disappearing. It was as if it had never been there to begin with. 

He was always full of surprises.

Miguel leaned back against the cold metal of the tub. Outside, lightning shot across the sky. It filled the room with a sudden white light. 

“I’ll clean up the floor in a little bit.” He said. The tiles in the kitchen and bathroom were stained and slick. In the dim light, the droplets on the floor looked almost black.

“No, you’re not. You’re going to go to bed after this.” I said. “And you’re actually going to sleep.” 

"That's what you think." He muttered. 

"Are you always this stubborn?” I asked. 

"Only for you, sweetheart." 

I grabbed a towel off of the counter and gently dabbed it against his cheek. His eyes focused hard on my face as I tried to tend to his fading wounds. He was attempting to read my features. I sat down beside the bathtub.

“Do I want to know what happened?” I asked. It wasn’t a playful or light question. He could hear the weight in my voice as I cleaned his face. 

“You wouldn’t like me anymore if I told you.” It was such an honest comment that I could tell it pained him. If I knew what he did when he was away, then any chance of me loving him would vanish.

Maybe it was best that I didn’t know. 

"Are you in any pain?" I asked. He shook his head. 

Steam from the tub drifted upward, clinging to his strong chest in thick beads.  

"Why have you been ignoring me for the last week?" I asked. His face tensed.

"I haven't been."

I scoffed lightly as I gently wiped his face with a towel. "And you said I was bad at acting." 

"I've had a lot on my mind." He said. I nodded slowly. 

"You can talk to me." I said. He offered a faint smile. He couldn't, because it was most likely about me. 

"Are you mad at me?" I asked. He shook his head. 

"No, I promise." I looked down at the tile floor. I didn't know what to say to him. Something weird hung in the space between us.

Suddenly, his voice cut through the cold air. 

"Get in with me." He said. 

"What? No." I said. He furrowed his brow. He hadn't expected me to refuse. 

"Why?" he asked. 

"Because you're wounded and I don't want to hurt you."

He let out a low laugh, almost as if he was mocking me. "Believe me, it's impossible for you to hurt me. Now be a good girl and get in the tub."

"You know I'm not your pet, right?" He smirked at my words. A pet was exactly what he considered me to be; maybe a darling pet that he seemed to have a steadfast devotion to, but a pet nonetheless. I rolled my eyes and began to stand up from where I had been perched. 

"Come on, sweetheart. Just get in with me. Please?" His voice was warm, much like his eyes. I sighed as I watched him. 

A nagging voice told me to just walk off. Just go to bed and ignore him. He was clearly fine. Everything that he said would happen, had actually happened. He was healing up perfectly fine. He didn't need to be babied; he was a kidnapper, not a stray cat that needed to be brought in from the rain. But still, I couldn't make myself leave the small bathroom. 

"Please?" He repeated. I groaned before I stepped back from the tub. I grabbed onto the bottom of my shirt and pulled it upward. I hauled it over my head and then discarded it onto the floor. My pajama bottoms and underwear followed close behind.

Stepping forward, I felt the cold air bite into my skin. I winced before casting a leg over the edge of the tub. I had picked the opposite side of the tub to where he was sitting, though something told me he had wanted me to climb on top of him. 

I sank into the water across from him. I lifted my hands to my chest and quickly crossed my arms in an attempt at maintaining some sense of modesty. Miguel's eyes traced over me, drinking me in. His gaze was so intense that it made me squirm. 

"Stop staring at me." I said. 

"You're beautiful." His voice was low and warm. I readjusted my arms to make sure I was covered. I wracked my brain, searching for something to say.

"So, what's the thing about this timeline?" I said.

"What do you mean 'thing'?" He asked. 

"What makes it different from my timeline? I mean, there's absolutely no way that everything is the same. And, even with all of the people gone, there's got to be something weird here."

"Firstly, ouch. Bold of you to assume that my work isn't perfect." He lifted his index finger as he playfully chided me. 

"What's the second thing?" I asked. 

"Secondly, aren't we enough of a 'thing'?" We were both here. That was weird, as far as timelines went. We were both alive and okay, regardless of how we had ended up here.

"Come on. Surely there's something weird here. Maybe they call tuna by some other weird name or maybe the movie Titanic doesn't exist here."

"Well, you're the only person here, so you can call tuna whatever you want. I may mock you if you choose something ridiculous, but that's entirely your choice. Also, I don't think that any movies have ever come out here." 

I watched his face as he spoke.

Goosebumps danced across my skin as I sat in the water. "I think I'm about to get out. The house is too cold to be in here." I said. 

He leaned forward and reached out his arms. In one smooth movement, he hauled me upward and he pulled me into his lap, making sure that my back was pressing into his chest. He leaned backwards, lifted his right thigh upward, and promptly placed me there. His other leg spread outward. His warm skin pressed into my back. I could feel the hard outline of muscles as I sat there. I squirmed.

"This isn't fair." I murmured. 

"Sure it is." 

"How do you figure?"

"I dragged you over here, fair and square." He smirked. He pressed a kiss to the back of my shoulder. I rolled my eyes as I turned to look at the window. Rain beat down against the empty city. Clouds drifted across the sky, leaving several patches visible. 

"The stars are different here." I said. 

"Hmm?"

"The stars." I lifted my hand upward. I pointed toward the window to show him what I meant. "Pegasus is supposed to be right there. It's gone. The only one there is Andromeda."

Andromeda. The chained woman. 

The irony was not lost upon me. 

My ring was my chain; Miguel my warden. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to take the ring off or to truly push him away.

He pressed another kiss against my back. This time, I could feel the stubble of his jaw scrape against my skin. 

"You're warm." I murmured. He smiled against my skin. 

"I'm glad." He gently sucked on the soft piece of skin. I gasped, feeling his fangs graze for a moment. Though, by the time the sound had left my lips, he had already pulled back. 

"Sorry." He said. He inspected his handiwork on my flesh, making sure that he had not broken the skin.

I glanced over my shoulder, watching him as he slid his fingers along the skin of my back. He was enjoying getting to touch me. He could still see the novelty in how new it was.

When he shifted under me, I felt the hard shape of his erection brush the back of my thigh.

Without thinking, I glanced over my shoulder again. I leaned backward, moving until my back touched his chest. I looked up at him. His eyes were warm and soft. 

"What?" He asked. Without a word, I kissed him. He sighed against my mouth, moving slowly and carefully. As he did, I felt a familiar want beginning to stir inside of me. Slowly, I pulled away from him. I then tried to move off of his leg and was mildly surprised when he didn't try to hold me down. Instead, I lifted my hips upward and began to rearrange myself in the water, moving so that one leg sat on either side of his hips. 

I slid my legs around his waist and then pushed myself closer to him. The bottom of the cast iron tub was slick beneath us. It was hard to arrange myself in the water, but somehow I managed. Miguel leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against my lips. As he did, I lifted my hands upward and grabbed his shoulders for leverage.

“Careful, careful.” Miguel said. He placed a hand on the curve of my back to make sure that I didn’t slip in the water. 

“Aww, so you can be nice.” 

I smiled as I slid my hands across his strong shoulders. I could feel all of the muscles flex under my fingertips. A soft smirk painted his lips. God, he was gorgeous. It wasn't fair for one person to look this perfect.

But, looking at him, he looked like he was bone tired.

He leaned in for another kiss, but I bobbed backward. He already looked clean enough; I wanted to tell him to get out of the water and go to bed.

"What's wrong?" He asked. He looked hard at my face, searching for something in my features. But, before I could speak, he followed it up with another question. "Are you scared of me?" He asked. 

"What?" It caught me off guard.

"You heard me. Are you?" 

A little bit. 

"I don't think you would hurt me." I said. It wasn’t a lie.

“I would never hurt you.” His hands drifted to my face. Gently, his traced his fingers along the curve of my jaw, taking in every feature. “But, are you scared of me?” 

I knew exactly what he was referring to. The eyes, the fangs, even the sheer size of him was intimidating. But, under all of that, he was still just Miguel. Even if he wasn’t my version of him, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. 

“No.” I said. He offered a faint smile that didn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t believe me, but he seemed grateful that I would be willing to tell him what he wanted. 

“I love you.” He said. 

“I love you, too.” He smiled at my words. I knew that it would make him happy to hear them. They were only three little words, yet they seemed to mean everything to him. 

As I watched his face, I couldn't help but notice how exhausted he looked.

"You look tired. You didn’t sleep last night. You haven’t slept any of the other nights, either. I woke up to go to the bathroom around four and you were still awake. " I said. 

“Yes, I did sleep.”

“I saw you… Please just be honest with me.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“No, you never are.” He rolled his eyes at the accusation. “Why don’t you ever sleep?” I asked. Rain continued its assault on the roof, growing louder as the storm reached its peak.

“I usually can’t.” Thunder rolled so loud that I looked toward the window. 

“Bad dreams.” A dark tendril of hair fell across his forehead. I reached forward and gently brushed it out of the way. 

“About what?”

He shook his head before he pressed another kiss against my lips. That was his way of changing the conversation. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to talk about it.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered. His hand snaked between our naked bodies. Without hesitation, he grazed my clit with the pad of one of his fingers.

I gasped at the sudden touch. But, I didn’t move away. His index finger swirled over the bundle of nerves, forcing my toes to curl. I inched my body closer to him, begging for him not to stop. 

He rubbed faster and faster. I could feel myself getting closer to finishing. Miguel watched me with a burning intensity; his eyes were dark lust as he worked. I ground my hips against his fingers, feeling the pleasure beginning to grow in my lower stomach.

Suddenly, it overtook me. I gasped and almost fell forward from how suddenly a blinding warmth shot through me. Each touch was too much; it felt like I was on fire. Miguel caught me before I could tumble off of his body. He held me as I twitched on top of him, spasming from his gentle touches.

As I began to drift back down from the orgasm, I could feel his cock as it lay against his stomach. He was painfully hard. Every time I would bob a little too far forward in the water, I would brush into it, feeling just how desperate he was. 

“I think it’s time to call it a night.” I whispered.

“You don’t want to stay in here with me, sweetheart?” His voice was velvety and sweet; his little nickname for me was lined with lust.

“No, because I’m not on birth control. You’re going to end up knocking me up.” I said it partially as a joke. 

He didn’t laugh.

Oh.

“Miguel.”

“We have children in every universe.” He said it so softly and calmly that it was as if he was saying the sun was yellow and the sky was blue. It simply was the way of the universe; it was how things were and always would be. 

“We didn’t in mine.” I said.

“Because he died. Besides, it wasn’t for a lack of trying.” My face turned bright red. There was something in the way that he said the last part that raised a suspicion I hadn't had before.

“Were you ever watching?” I asked. 

“Not from outside of the window or anything like that, but I did catch… glimpses in your timeline.”

“Miguel!”

“I was working!” He defended himself. “I never watched went out of my way to watch you two when you were… intimate. The only times that I ever spied on you were when you were alone.”

“What do you mean when I was alone?” I remembered the photos of me that I had found in the box. 

“When he was at work and I thought something would happen to you; when I was worried about you.”

He was telling the truth, at least as far as I could tell. 

“Why didn’t you ever spy on him and I?” I asked. I expected him to say that he respected me too much to do that. Then again, he treated me like a pet, so it was rather questionable how much he respected me.

“Jealousy, mostly.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve been alone for a long time, sweetheart. He had you and he was always working; he was always gone.” He said.

“You’re always gone, too.” He frowned at the statement. 

Maybe all of the versions of him truly were the same. Based on how he winced, he seemed to be considering that fact.

“He couldn’t protect you because he was never there.” He said.

“Nothing happened to me. There was nothing to protect me from.” 

“But there could have been.” He was obsessed with the idea that I was fragile. Which, I mean, compared to him, I was. But he still didn’t have to be this worried. 

He was haunted by the idea of me dying and obsessed with the idea of saving me. Maybe it was to make up for his past failures.

“I’ve lost you in countless timelines. I could never risk it.” He winced. “But, you’re here now and you’re safe. You’ll always be mine and I’ll always be yours.” He said. We belonged to each other, whenever or wherever we were. The notion both charmed and chilled me. But, one of those feelings quickly won over the other. Or maybe it was just the lingering effects of the previous orgasm.

“Do you want me?” I asked. I was hoping to sound sexy; I just sounded pathetic. 

“More than anything.” 

I leaned forward and gently grabbed his cock. He groaned, lifting his hips  upward so that I could have better access. I slid my hand up and down several times before I moved my body closer to him. As I moved, he held onto me, making sure that I didn’t slip in the tub. I carefully lined him up with my entrance, feeling another wave of want wash through me. I curled one arm around his shoulder. 

“Ready?” He asked. I nodded quickly as I clung to him.

I whimpered when he slid inside. My fingers dug into his shoulders. He groaned as he sunk all the way in. I felt my body stretch, trying to accommodate him. 

After a moment, I pushed my legs into the tub and lifted myself upward. He curled one arm around my waist, watching me in wonder and awe as I slid down again, making us both groan. 

I lifted one hand off of his shoulder. His body had been through enough tonight. I didn't want to risk the one-in-a-million chance that I grabbed onto a sore spot. I gripped the cold edge of the tub to balance myself. But, just as suddenly as I had placed it there, it was pulled off. Miguel pulled my hand into his, lacing our fingers together. 

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against my lips. I smiled, giving into his mouth. The kiss was brief; it was broken when I gasped against him mouth, feeling a warm pleasure begin to grow inside of me.

I bounced my hips, feeling him hit deep with every movement. I moaned. My stomach was beginning to tighten. 

He tightened his hold on my hand. One of his fingers brushed over the ring that I was still wearing.

I was his. I belonged to him. 

As if he could read my mind, he pressed his lips against mine again. 

When he pulled away, he said "Open your eyes."

I did as told. My eyes met his as I slid downward on his cock. Then, before my body could meet his, he thrusted upward, making me gasp.

"Keep looking at me." He said. I nodded as I lifted my hips upward. He groaned, quickly burying himself deep inside of me. He wanted to watch the way my face twitched with pleasure when he fucked me. He wanted to see what he did to me; what power he had over me.

I tightened my hold on his hand. If he was a normal man, I was sure I would have accidentally broken one of his fingers from how hard I was gripping him. 

I lifted my hips, then brought them down on him just as he slammed inside of me. We did it over and over again, forcing out gasps and moans from each other. 

“Miguel, I’m close! Don’t stop!” I moaned. I was so damn close. I could feel the tightening in my lower stomach every time he sheathed himself inside of me.

Then, all at once, I felt a wave of heat wash over me.

I gasped, clenching around him as I came undone. Pleasure coursed through my body, making my toes curl and my head fall back. Miguel pressed a kiss to the base of my throat as he hammered inside of me, not stopping his pace.

After a moment, he let out a low groan. He moaned my name and I was suddenly very aware of the warm fluid that filled me. It was leaking down my upper thighs and into the water around us.

The pleasure began to fade away. I gasped, trying to catch the breath that I had been holding. Miguel smiled and leaned back against the tub, his body tired and spent. A mixture of sweat and water glistened against his skin. 

It was around three in the morning. I could feel the exhaustion beginning to sink into my bones.

I moved to climb off of him, but just as he had last time, he held me in place. One hand held my hips in place, pinning me on top of him. I sighed, giving up any notion of fighting. It was useless; his grip was ironclad.

"Let me hold you... just for a little while." His voice was soft. His other hand drifted to the curve of my back. He pulled me forward, moving me until my chest lay against his. 

"I'm tired." I murmured. 

"I know, sweetheart."

I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could hear his heart in my ear. Its strumming was low and steady. His skin was warm. "I missed you." he said. 

I wasn't sure if he was talking to me directly, or some distant memory of me. But I would take what I could get. 

"I missed you, too." 

He pressed a gentle kiss against my damp hair. Outside, lightning cut across the sky. 

@levisbebe @amplsblog​ @spider-biter​ @taleiak​ @ladyfairenvale​ (I tried to tag everyone who asked! I’m sorry if I missed 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 fan-fiction #Miguel ohara fanfiction #spiderman99 smut

[drabblesandimagines]

Cuffed

Leon Kennedy x reader, Valentine's Day nonsense

I just really liked this gif*

You let out an annoyed huff, craning your neck back as far as humanly possible in the hopes that somehow this time you will be able to see the lock on the handcuffs you’re trying to pick.

It’s embarrassing – taken down by a scientist with a metal suitcase who’d swung it wildly in defence, rather than putting his hands up above his head as you’d so kindly requested. His antics had sent your gun flying out of your hand and skidding across the linoleum floor and by the time your fingers had grazed the handle of the dagger holstered at your hip, the suitcase had met the side of your skull, sending you toppling down, ears ringing.

You don’t think you fully blacked out, but it was enough of a blow to stun you, knock your earpiece out – all topped off with the scientist taking the handcuffs from your side and locking your wrists above your head, around some sort of metal grill.

He’d even had the gall to say sorry as he did it, before picking up the suitcase and running out of the room.

It’s fine, you’d reassured yourself once the room stopped swimming as much, you’ve got a lockpick hidden away in your watch. That first step had been hard enough – feeling blindly for the small dial on the side with your fingers to pull out the thing but you’d succeeded in the end, so surely you’d triumph here as well… right?

You don’t know how long it takes, but eventually you feel resistance, indicating you’ve finally managed to locate the lock itself. Great - now all you need to do is get through the pin mechanisms and you’ll be free, and you won’t even have to mention any of this to Leon-

Dink.

The sound of the lockpick hitting the floor as it slips from your grip is a kick in the teeth.

You aren’t granted time to commence a pity party as a beat later the door opposite is kicked open to reveal Leon, gun poised, finger on the trigger, looking mad as hell. His face relaxes a little at the sight of you, but he’s still sure to scan the area before he deems it clear, clicks the safety on and holsters his weapon. He holds a finger up to his ear and you hear a faint beep.

“Condor One to Roost. Hummingbird acquired – we’ll head to the evac point shortly.”  

Leon strides over as he speaks to HQ, before finally crouching down in front of you with a smug grin and a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Hi…” You trail off, embarrassed about your predicament.

“Well, this isn’t exactly where I was expecting to receive my Valentine’s Day gift, but you’ve definitely surprised me.”

Your face burns at the implication – you two keep it as professional as possible when on assignment together, but something about your current situation has Leon unable to resist. You attempt a half-hearted kick out at him in protest, but he stills your thigh easily with a hand.

“It’s not funny, Leon!” You retort, tugging at the handcuffs in frustration. “The target got away with the suitcase and-“

“Easy, I got him. He’s in custody, goods secured – much like you.”

“I’m not going to hear the end of this, am I?”

“Uh-uh, sweetheart.” He shakes his head, before grasping your chin with gloved fingers and begins to check over you for injuries – a purple bruise already blossoming on your temple. “How many of me can you see?”

“One.”

He holds up his other hand. “And how many fingers?”

“Three. Look, can you just get me out of these now – please?” You pout, but he’s enjoying being the tease a little too much to concede just yet.

“It’s on the agenda. What’s the date?”

“14th February.”

“Good. Otherwise known as?”

You roll your eyes. “Valentine’s Day.”

“And who’s your Valentine?”

“Well, he won’t be if he doesn’t uncuff m-“ Leon cuts you off, pressing his lips to yours – a soft, slow and sensitive kiss. You don’t even realize his hands are now above your head until there’s a soft click and finally your wrists are freed from their confines.

“You were saying?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Neither was you scaring the shit outta me when you dropped off comms, sweetheart. Come on.” He wraps an arm around your waist and helps you to your feet. “We need to get you checked for concussion.”

“Really?” You frown, though you do feel a little light-headed now you’re standing. “It wasn’t that hard of a hit.“

“Well, there’s a definite dent on that suitcase we confiscated, so I think we should play it safe.”

“Fine.”

He presses another kiss to your lips - this one a little more fierce, and pulls away only slightly, resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Leon smiles and retreats, but keeps a hand on the small of your back as he bends down to pick up your discarded gun and handcuffs. He proceeds to offer the gun back to you and you murmur a thanks and holster it, expecting to be handed the cuffs next, only for him to tuck them away into one of his many pockets on his pants and start to usher you out of the room.

“Wait, those are mine too.”

“I know.” He replies in an amused tone.

“Then why are you keeping them?”

He laces his fingers through yours, brings it up to his lips to kiss. “Let’s just say they’re going to come in very handy for my Valentine’s Day gift later.”

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

[hoaxriot]

WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW

pairings. sirius black x fem!reader

summary. you and sirius became friends that were soon best friends, everyone saw the love between you two— they truly saw how in love the two of you were, except you didn’t.

notes. this is a muggle au! very much a lottt of fluff:))

sirius black was truly your best friend, he was your other half. he fit you so well, as you fit him. it was an instant click between the two of you, you guys shared so many of the same interests and so much more.

over the past years, he has gotten very comfortable with you, more than he was with his other friends— which have accepted you with open arms. they loved you, you had such an angelic personality to them. somehow always having a smile on your face, making them laugh until their stomachs hurt.

which was happening right now, you had busted your ass walking into the living room where an annual hangout session was happening with the group. you stuck your middle finger up as sirius helped you up, they were used to it— you falling, you were very clumsy.

finding your way in between sirius legs as he sat on the couch, you on the floor as everyone’s laugh died down.

sirius hand’s quickly fell into your hair as a conversation started to flow, soon enough he was braiding a piece of your hair. remus who was sitting beside him, caught on very quickly. he lightly chuckled catching the other’s attention.

“what?” james questioned, remus jerked his head to sirius, you couldn’t see what he was pointing at but sirius did who was now tying a hair tie at the end of the braid. he always has at least two on his wrist, one for him in case his hair annoys him and one for you.

you were very confused when james told you to turn around but nonetheless, you did. he let out an ‘aww’ making sirius reply with a “fuck you.”

“woah, sirius.” you looked up at him, you knew what the fuss was about, you knew the feeling of sirius braiding your hair.

“yeah. woah, sirius. it’s cute is all i’m saying.” james said at sirius’ mean glare. you laughed at the two leaning back between sirius’ legs.

the rest of the night, sirius hands were on your shoulders as your hands caressed his skin.

the next week, the group couldn’t hang out at james’s house because he had the flu so you were lying in your bed— bored as hell. wondering if you could call sirius to come over but figured this was a rare friday night where he could go out.

groaning as you stood up deciding to make brownies, walking through the small hallway of your apartment, into the kitchen you began to grab everything you needed.

after setting everything on the counter, before you could open the box you heard knocking and then the door trying to be opened. “love!” you heard sirius muffled voice.

“let me in!” he continued to yell your name as you walked towards your front door, “hold on!” you yelled back, finally opening the door you saw sirius holding flowers with a bright smile, his hair was wet and a small cut was on his face.

“sirius, bloody hell. what happened to you?” you grabbed his free arm and dragged him into the house, pulling him into your home and into the kitchen.

he smiled leaning against the counter as you started digging through all of your cabinets, grabbing things. you stood in front of him with a worried look as he held out the flowers out for you.

you grabbed them and put them on the counter, he gasped, “you need to put them in water.”

“they can wait,” you spoke grabbing both of his arms and turning him as you now leaned against the counter putting yourself on it, pulling him in between your legs. his hands finding them on the outside of your thighs.

you started to work on the cut that laid on his cheekbone, “sirius, what happened? why do you reek of beer?” questioning him as your eyes found his for a split second, he winced as you rubbed his cut.

“just some bar fight, the cracked a bottle over my head.” he answered so simply like it was nothing, you scoffed finishing his cut. setting the napkin by your side, you felt his hand lightly rubbing your thighs.

you pushed him softly so you could jump off the counter, you grabbed the flowers and a vase, filling it with water and placing the flower in it.

“love,” he lightly said as you turned around and leaned against the counter. “what?”

“are you angry with me?” he asked, you laughed at him as you shook your head, “why would i? you just worry me sometimes.” you answered him, he tilted his head but said nothing.

“so… brownies?” you cut the silence and he smiled, “unless you plan to go off to another bar and get into a fight.” he laughed but grabbed your hand to drag you close to him.

“brownies sound better.” he said grabbing the box and opening it.

the two of you began to bake the brownies, as you mixed the batter, sirius dipped his finger into it and dragged it on your nose.

“sirius!” you laughed leaning away from him, he chuckled as you wiped your nose, not getting everything, sirius wiped the rest of it. you froze realizing how close he was to you and him staring into your eyes.

you stared back, your eyes betraying you and flickering to his lips. clearing you throat you went back to mixing the batter as he stood beside you.

later, the two of you were laying on the couch waiting for them to be done. you were talking about your newest painting you had done, he wanted to see it but you weren’t finished.

“so what? i sit and watch you nearly every time you paint, now i can’t see an unfinished one?” he said, you laughed, “yeah.” you spoke, lucky for you, the timer went off and the brownies were done. you stood up and grabbed them out of the oven, setting them on the top to let them cool. sirius was quick to put his hand out.

you slapped it with yours, “idiot, it’s hot!” you said looking up at him, he was leaning his head over your shoulder so he was practically in your face, again. he was smiling at you, and his eyes flickered to your lips. you had to be losing your mind. he smirked, not his usual sweet smile with you, before backing away.

blinking quite a few times as you turned back towards the brownies, “can you, um, hand me a knife?” you asked him, he got it for you so you started to cut the them.

after letting them cool sirius put the sweets on a plate, without saying anything he started to walk through your home. without questioning, you followed him and there he was lying on your bed already clicking on your remote and snacking.

you laughed, making your way to the bed and laying beside him. “delicious brownies we made.” he spoke with his mouth full.

“gross.” you said grabbing your own, “oh! stop, let’s watch this.” you said seeing a movie you’ve been wanting to watch, so sirius stopped and started playing the movie.

after way more brownies the two of you should’ve eaten, sirius was curled into your side as your fingers played with his hair. the movie was nearly finished and you were almost falling asleep.

sirius moved away from you, looking towards him he began to stretch his whole body. his shirt rode up slowly and your eyes trailed above his pants, you squeezed your eyes shut shocked at yourself.

“you okay, love?” sirius said, opening your eyes to see him watching you.

“perfect!” your voice was all high with the one word making him laugh in confusion.

you sat up in the bed as he did, “you sure?” he leaned closer, what the actual fuck. your mind was going everywhere. without thinking, you leaned in too.

sirius leaned in all the way, capturing your lips with his. at first, you were into much of a shock you didn’t kiss back. sirius pulled away as soon as he realized you weren’t kissing him back.

“fuck— i didn- i don’t know—“ he began to trip over his words, you smiled as you watched him freak out, one of your hands grabbed his neck and pulled him in, kissing him— harder than you expected too.

he kissed back immediately, grabbing your face with his hands. the kiss got messier as you two realized— you were kissing your best friend and you liked him. by the looks of it, he liked you too.

his hands traveled down to your waist, grabbing you and putting you on his lap as he leaned against the headboard. his hands found back at on your cheeks as one of yours was in his hair.

the both of you pulled away for air, he leaned his forehead against yours with heavy breathing.

“holy fuck.” you let out with a small laugh, he laughed also.

the two of you stayed there for a few moments before sirius brought up staying the night, saying how remus (who he lived with) was having someone over. you of course said yes as you got off of his lap.

“you know where your extra clothes are.” you said as he stood up and walked towards your dresser where he had his own drawer seeing how he stayed over so much.

you were already in your pajamas so you got under your covers grabbing another brownie from your nightstand as sirius went into the bathroom.

he came back as quickly as he went in, quickly he found his way on your stomach as your hands went onto his head scratching it. you put on a random movie as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

after thirty minutes of the movie playing you both fell asleep.

ever since that night, sirius had stayed the night for a whole week until the next hangout where james sent an address for everyone to meet up.

you were currently getting ready in your bathroom playing music as sirius sat on the closed toilet watching you do your hair singing along to the fleetwood mac song.

after almost an hour, you were done and walking out the door with sirius hand in hand. your car was in the shop and all there was, was sirius’ bike. you had ridden with him countless times. the first time you felt like you were going to pass out from being so scared but after a few minutes, it was fun.

sirius handed you the extra helmet for you, putting it on and getting on the bike, sirius took off.

when arriving, sirius grabbed your hand as quickly as he could and started searching for your friends. the address where james told y’all to go was just a field full of hundreds of people holding something in their hands.

“there’s rem.” you pointed out your friend, now seeing the others. you started to make your way towards them, dragging sirius behind you.

“sirius, there you are.” remus said getting everyone’s attention, “i’ve began to think you ran away.” he said, pointing out how his best friend hadn’t been home in a week.

“sorry, lad. been at her house.” sirius pointed at you with his free hand, you shrugged with a smile.

“whatever, on with it!” james handed the two of you whatever the others were holding. taking it in your hands confused, looking up at sirius with furrowed eyebrows but all he did was shrug.

“alright, follow me!” james yelled as he opened up the thing, everyone watched him with confusion but did what he did. you looked up at him seeing what it finally was behind him, “sirius, look.” you nudged his arm, he looked down at you than following your eyes.

“woah.” he simply said, “i know, right?” you said looking at him.

everyone had followed james’ instructions, “okay, now just have whoever light it.” he said, sirius put his down and lit yours and it began to float up. it was beautiful with everyone’s flying up too.

you then did sirius’, after everyone did theres, they were watching it— except sirius, he was watching you.

“this is beautiful.” you noted, looking at sirius but he was watching you. he smiled down at you.

“i really wanna kiss you, love.” he whispered, not saying anything you kissed him.

“oh my fucking god!” marlene randomly yelled, everyone turned towards her, then turning to see what she was yelling over. everyone gasped or yelled in suprised at the sight of you and sirius kissing.

james and remus began to whistle, you and sirius pulled away and flicked them off with a smile.

“finally.” lily spoke walking towards you, “took you two long enough.” she said as the boys walked towards sirius and the girls to you.

“ha ha!” you faked a laugh, “seriously?” you said looking towards remus who was giving james a twenty.

“what? it was getting hard on figuring out when you two were going to get together so we made a bet.” james shrugged putting the money in his pocket. you and sirius rolled your eyes.

the rest of the night, the group was walking around the city instead of sitting inside. you and sirius were walking in the middle of everyone, his arm was around your shoulders as your arm was around his waist.

james finally found the destination, a park. it was near midnight so no one was there and he quickly ran towards the slides as everyone started to run towards places on the set.

you and sirius went to the swings, lightly rocking. your hand was on the chains as your head leaned against your hand looking at him, he was thinking hard.

“what’s going on?” you broke his thoughts, he turned towards you.

“hmm, just wondering if i should ask you to be my girlfriend right now or not.” he spoke so casually you almost missed what he actually said.

“what?” you snapped your head towards him, he laughed at the shock on your face. “you heard me.” he said.

“and well?” you said with a smirk, “eh, i don’t know.” he shrugged, you knew he was joking because he was trying so hard not to smile.

“well than..” you looked away, then standing up and making your way in front of him.

“sirius black. will you be my boyfriend?” you said trying not to smile too hard, it was not working, you were grinning ear to ear. he chuckled, pretending to think.

“yea, yes i will.” he answered making you lean down and kiss him again. smiling into the kiss as his hands went to your neck.

“oi! we are at a children’s playground!” james yelled causing lily to hit his head, “ow!” he whispered yelled.

“fuck off, we’ll be leaving then.” sirius said standing up and grabbing your hand.

“have fun!” marlene yelled, you looked over your shoulder to seeing her wink. you laughed looking forward again.

“home?” sirius asked, you smiled hearing him call your home his. you nodded untangling your hands and hooking your arm in his.

#marauders era #sirius black x you #sirius black #sirius black x female reader #sirius black x reader #marauders #james potter #lily evans #remus lupin #marlene mckinnon #peter pettigrew #mary mcdonald #marauder era

[astroboots]

EYEM #13

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You meet another version of the man you love and finally find out why the Universe is trying to kill you.

Word count: 5,800

Warning: violence, pain hurt and angst. Be prepared.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

Everything hurts. You don’t know where you are, you’re disorientated and queasy.

The first sight that greets you is the glow of scarlet eyes so piercing they cut through the blurriness of your vision.

They're familiar, but also different. Even though they’re identical to his, you know this is not your Miguel.

It takes you a while to make sense of your surroundings. Long moments for the nausea to dissipate enough that you can take in the dark moody blues of the space and recognize that you’re in the same sparse room as before.

Takes a few longer moments still before you register that your wrists and arms are restrained by strange threads made of an unknown material that glow up in an alarming neon red and you’re strung up and suspended in an intricate web from the ceiling.

You try to pull against your restraints, but it’s useless, your body won’t listen to you. You can’t even get your little finger to budge. You can’t fucking move.

“You’re alright,” The man who looks exactly like your Miguel says. “Try not to move. It’ll be better that way.”

You don’t listen to him, because why the hell would you. This is not your Miguel. You try again and pain sears through your muscles.

Shit! He bit you and now you’re paralyzed.

Panic races through your spine. You need to get out of this situation, now. Need to get out. Need to get to Miguel. Even if you can’t move, there has to be a solution somehow.

Lyla is meant to protect you right? She was built for that purpose. If you summon her then surely, “Ly–”

You can't get the second syllable out. Sharp pain stings inside your throat as you try to speak.

“Lyla’s not going to attack me," he says as if he can read your mind and knows what you were planning to do. "It’s a safety feature built in to make sure she doesn’t go rogue. The only time that gets overridden is if I’m a threat to your life."

Irritation crawls under your skin.

Fuck’s sake Lyla. Does this not count as a threat? Do fangs poised against your throat and taking a chomp out of you not qualify? The man bit and paralyzed you!

Despite two failed attempts, you try to move again, straining against the impossible heaviness of your numb limbs. Another jolt of pain shoots through your limbs as you do.

Miguel flinches at the sight of you as if there was an invisible thread connecting your body to his and he was able to feel every ounce of your pain.

His hand reaches up to cup your cheek to stop you.

“Don’t move,” he tells you again. “My toxins have paralyzed you and it will hurt you if you try to move. Stay still, nena. Please. You’re safe.”

If this was your Miguel, he would have been curt and snappy with you for being so stupid to move when it hurts. But this Miguel says it like a plea. Soft and gentle all at once.

His other hand comes to your collarbone, thumb gently wiping away the dried blood that’s pooled there. There’s an unreadable expression on his face as he stares at the dark stain of red on his fingers.

“This is the last time you’ll be hurt. You’re not going to die this time. I know how to fix this so you won’t die ever again."

Fix...it? What does he mean? Like make the universe stop trying to kill you for good?

You blink up at the man, unsure of what to make of his words. You don't trust this version of Miguel any further than you can throw him. The man knocked you out and tied you up...

But if he can fix it, even if the chance is small and far-fetched, what would be the harm in listening?

Your tongue is heavy and dry in your mouth and it feels like you’ve swallowed fistfuls of sand when you try to speak again. “Ho-how?”

“I just have to eliminate the root cause of why the Universe keeps trying to kill you.”

You prepare yourself for the pain that’s going to come again to ask him what he means. But luckily you don’t have to, this Miguel spares you of that.

“You’ve encountered another me in your dimension, right?” he asks.

You don’t answer him. But it doesn't seem to matter, because he already seems to have decided on the answer as he continues.

“It’s his fault,” he says with anger, his red eyes burn with an unnatural glow that sets your teeth on edge. “It’s his fault that this keeps happening to you. He’s the reason the universe keeps trying to kill you.”

No. No that’s not– You don’t know what he’s getting at. Don’t know what has happened to this version of Miguel that makes him believe this.

But you do know one thing. You don't need to listen to the rest of it to know. He is wrong.

Your Miguel has saved you. Protected you again and again. Put himself in harm’s way and nearly died to keep you safe. He would never hurt you.

“No,” you ignore the spasm of pain across your diaphragm as you speak. “He s-saved me.”

His mouth furls into a feral snarl, flashing the corner of his fangs. “You wouldn’t need to be saved if it wasn’t for him.”

“That’s not–”

“He’s an anomaly! Every Miguel O’Hara is!”

You blink up at him at loss for words. You don’t understand what he’s trying to tell you.

In front of you, this Miguel visibly grits his teeth, grinding down on his jaw, as he continues to speak in that low tone that simmers with fury.

“Humans are not meant to travel between dimensions. When I invented inter-dimensional travel, I violated that natural order without knowing it. Everyone I come across, everyone I saved, I’ve doomed, because that event was never supposed to take place.”

“You– you don’t know–”

He cuts you off before you can finish, “I’ve seen it!” he shouts. His hands curl into agitated fists at his sides. “After I lost you, I–I...”

He looks back at you and the words seem to die on his tongue.

As you hold his gaze you begin to see what you missed before. You were too focused on this Miguel’s anger to notice the grief pouring out of every inch of him.

“I lost myself,” he says, quieter now. “Lyla showed me a version of us in another dimension and it was the only thing that kept me going. We had a life together there. A daughter. You were happy there... Then that version of me died.”

He pauses again, lost in some memory that you are not a part of. Shame sinks into the hollowness of his sunken eyes and he looks away from you again.

“... And I replaced him. I thought it was harmless, that I was just replacing a version of me and the universe wouldn’t know any better. But I was wrong. He was never supposed to be in that dimension either. That whole universe collapsed because of me and our daughter and you died with it.”

Making a broad gesture through the empty air, amber light brightens up the space.

From behind him, a myriad of holographic screens flicker into existence, and you see images of yourself repeated and illuminated in all of them. You with pink hair. Another you with piercings. A you with tattoos and shaved cuts. Hundreds of variants of you wearing pieces of clothing that you’ve never owned. All of them, a different you, living their everyday life.

“Since then I’ve observed hundreds and thousands of versions of you in every dimension,” this Miguel tells you, as he gazes longingly at the screens that float above.

“All of them get to live full and healthy long lives. Do you know what every one of those versions of you have in common?”

He turns back towards you, closing the distance between you. “We never met. The reason you keep dying is because you meet me.”

His face is so close that a lock of his curl falls on your temple. Had this been your Miguel, you’d been tingling with warmth and excitement, now all you feel is a cold shiver.

“Every time we meet is because something I did inadvertently puts you in danger, and then I save you from it, starting the chain of events.”

Your mind flashes to that first moment you fell out of the Chrysler building. The blur of blue and red that came crashing into your life in pursuit of a villain and knocked you out of a skyscraper window.

“The universe is trying to erase your existence because of me. To try to correct the balance.”

Your face feels numb. Your mind is reeling from the revelation.

The question that you’ve had since this all began has finally been answered. Why this universe seemingly has it out for you. Why it has repeatedly tried to kill you. Why your world literally was about to end after you kissed him… It all makes a tragic sense now.

It’s because of Miguel.

You don’t know how long you remain frozen, crushed under the weight of the realization, before the sound of footfall joins the room, echoing in this empty space.

You hear him before you see him. Your Miguel. He calls your name and the familiar tone of it sends warm shivers through your spine.

Searching the space, your eyes land on his familiar silhouette in the dim light.

Miguel is struggling to walk, hunched over and limping forward despite his injuries. He looks so much smaller than what you are used to. There's blood dripping down his face and ugly red gashes ripping into his protective suit where one arm is clutching to the gaping raw wound.

Parting your mouth, you desperately try to warn him and scream that he needs to run. But the noise is garbled and choked. Nothing remotely close to a word comes out of your mouth. Even if it did, it wouldn’t have helped.

Miguel is too distracted by the sight of you. Too focused on reaching you that he barely registers the sight of his other self standing beside you, and then it’s too late.

It happens so fast, your eyes aren’t able to register it. One second his cosmic Doppelgänger is beside you. The next he is gone.

He leaps into the air with a ferocity that chills your bones. His claws slashes through the air and he pounces on Miguel with the entirety of his body weight.

Miguel doesn’t stand a chance. He’s already wounded and weakened. There’s been no time to heal. He’s still heavily bleeding from his abdomen and the bone-deep wounds where the damage meant for you had torn through him instead.

His body lands on the floor with a painful heavy thud. Even from this distance, you can hear the air rush out of his lungs with a pained and choked wheeze.

“Do you know what you have done?” His voice drips with venom as he fists his hand into Miguel’s hair, yanking his head upwards, level with his. “Why couldn’t you just have left her alone?”

Miguel snarls with an ugly grimace as he tries to wrangle himself free to no avail, pinned as he is on the ground. He meets the man’s stare without cowering even as he is unable to stand upright, wounded and bleeding out.

“The fuck are you on about?” Miguel spits out. He surges forward, ramming his forehead into the other man.

The blow of it sends the Doppelgänger reeling back. But it doesn’t last. He snarls in anger before he lunges forward, grabbing for Miguel’s head to slam it back down into the ground.

All you can do is helplessly watch the scene unfold before you.

“You still don’t get it do you?” he growls, raising his arm in the air to deliver another forceful blow.

There’s a nauseating bone-crushing sound that makes you sick to your stomach when his fist connects to Miguel’s jaw.

“You should never have gone to her world. You didn’t belong!”

He clasps around Miguel’s throat in a painfully hard hold, pinning him there against the ground.

Miguel’s tanned skin bleeds white around the dented imprints of that talon grip, cutting off blood circulation until you’re sure he can no longer breathe.

“She died because of you!”

The words make Miguel freeze. The whole of his back stiffening.

A fisted hand hammers down on Miguel’s face and you squeeze your eyes shut before you see it connect. All you hear behind your closed eyelids is a sickening crack that you know means something is broken.

Silence follows, and you barely dare to squint your eyes open, terrified of what you will see. Even though you’re bracing yourself, you’re still not prepared at the sight that greets you.

Miguel's body is slumped and motionless on the ground. The other him towers over his defeated form. There’s an eerie calm to his movements as he gets up and steps back.

On the ground, Miguel looks so much smaller than when he's lying in bed next to you under the covers and your heart beats painfully fast in your chest, unable to intervene.

The other man raises one leg above Miguel’s still form, poised like a sledge-hammer and holds there.

His foot comes down, delivering a shattering stomp that reverberates through the space. You swear you can feel the suspended webs holding you, shake and tremble against your skin from the after shock.

The air thins in your lungs. Hot, wet tears spill down your cheeks. For a long and dreadful second, you’re not sure if Miguel is still alive.

Then you hear a tiny, pained whimper, from the ground.

You don’t know what you feel anymore. Fear. Sadness. Anger. Relief. Everything inside you is drawn in a tight knot and aches at the pitiful sound of how much pain Miguel must be in. But there’s also the tiniest of hope, because as doomed as this all may seem, at the very least he’s still alive.

That's all you care about right now.

In front of you, his other self cocks his head to the side. He narrows his eyes as he looks down at the defenseless body on the ground with a disdain that you've never seen on those features before.

“You disrupted the canon when you jumped into her dimension. Do you understand?” he says with a quiet barely contained anger. “The universe keeps trying to kill her, because you, an anomaly, entered into the picture and altered the course of her life."

Something sharp protrudes from the back of his arms, as he speaks.

"But I can make it right," he says and you see the sharp long appendages extend from both sides of his upper arms.

You stare at them with a growing fear, as they grow sharp and menacing, into blades that glow ominously red.

No. Nononono.

This can't be happening. This can't be real.

You wrench against the restraints around your limbs and pain sears through every single cell of your body. But right now it doesn't matter. You have to move. Because you know what’s going to happen if you don’t.

"I can save her. If you die, she gets to live. All you need to do is stay down,” he says.

To your horror Miguel does. Miguel doesn’t move. Doesn’t resist. Doesn’t fight back. The tight tension in his muscles go slack, and his arms drop at his sides.

The most stubborn man in the universe has stopped fighting. He’s given up.

That man is going to kill Miguel. You can’t stay still and let it happen. You have to move. God, please please, you need to–

“I have to do this to keep her safe,” the Doppelgänger says, “You want that too. It’s all we ever wanted.”

Pain tears at the seams of your skin, sharp and fractured like broken shards and glass splitting through your skull until you’re sure you are going to vomit. You ignore it.

In front of you, he raises his arm above Miguel’s head until it looms over him like a reaper's scythe.

Ripping through the last of the hindrance holding you down, adrenaline and pain mix into a sickening concoction until you lose sense of your surroundings.

It's only a few feet away.

You can’t stop, even if it hurts. Can’t stop even though your vision flickers white with bright dotted spots. Can’t stop, because if you do– you’ll lose him.

You leap, throwing yourself in front of Miguel's slumped form on the floor.

Everything hurts. Pain sears through your insides, scraping every inch of our flesh. It burns and crackles in the marrow of your bones.

You spread your arms out in an attempt to make yourself bigger, trying to shield as much of your Miguel as you are physically capable of.

“Nena…” the man above stares down at you, wide-eyed and frozen.

He's stopped, the sharp blade protruding from his arm suspended inches from your face.

“Cielo! Move,” Miguel barks from under you.

“No!”

There’s no fear in this moment as you say the word. Even with the honed blade looming over your head. Even though all it’d take is one swift downward movement to end it all, you’ve never felt surer of your safety.

Because this close, you can see it now.

This other Miguel, different as he may be, is still Miguel. If there’s one thing you learnt in these last few months it's that more than anything, no matter how hard-headed and wrong he might go about it in his methods. This man will always choose your safety over everything else. Your survival. Your life.

That’s why Lyla still hasn’t overridden her safety protocol. Because your life is not in danger, not by his hands.

If he has to go through you to get to Miguel… He wouldn’t. You can tell that much.

And if your life is the only shield you have to offer the man you love, then you’d gladly lay it down under the guillotine.

“I won’t let you lay another finger on him,” you say as you stare up at the other Miguel defiantly. “Not as long as I’m alive.”

The man narrows his eyes, seething with an anger that radiates from every inch of his body as he spits out the syllables.

“He is killing you.”

His lips quiver, hands trembling as he looks down at you. You recognize that expression. It's the same one Miguel held when he was looming over you, vowing to eliminate the Avengers in order to protect you.

The same pain in his eyes, whenever he fears for your survival... because he's already lost you once.

That's what this is...

You see this for what it is now.

Despite the fact that he’s a stranger, in spite of all the differences, you see him for who he is. The anger, the blame on his own other self, on your Miguel. The haunting guilt he has towards himself.

When he says, ‘he,’ he's not just referring to the man behind you. He's talking about himself.

Kneeling upwards, you move towards this man, ignoring the burning pain that shudders through your trembling arms as you reach up to cup those all too familiar sharp cheeks. He flinches at the touch, as if he didn’t expect it.

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. You didn’t kill me,” you tell him.

His eyes widen and he turns his face the tiniest fraction into the palm of your hand, chasing after your touch.

“Maybe you and him are the reason the universe tries to kill me. But I’m still glad I was able to meet you."

At your words, you can see the determination in his eyes waver. The way something in him cracks open and falls apart at your words.

"I'm sorry," he says, and the words bleed with guilt. "I'm so sorry. It's all my fault."

“It's not your fault," you tell him again. "It’s okay, Miguel, I don't blame you. Even with all the near deaths and the end of the world, meeting you is the best thing that happened to me."

He’s not your Miguel. You know that. But despite everything that preceded this moment, your heart still hurts for this man.

All you know is that you want to make him feel better. You just want to make his hurt a little bit less painful.

“If it was my choice. If it were for me to decide. I would still want us to meet. I’m going to choose that every time. And I think that’s what she would’ve done too."

A glossy wetness shines over his scarlet eyes that threatens to spill and you ache for him.

Even if the man in front of you is not your Miguel. He’s still Miguel.

You will always recognize him, not in the identical physical features of his face. Not the stubborn angle of his ridiculously sharp jaw. Nor his obscenely large build.

No. It’s in the sadness of his eyes. The longing that he holds for you whenever he looks at you. The love you can plainly see there, no matter how hard he tries to hide it from you.

You are the woman he loves above all else. In every universe.

You can see that now.

“I think that’s what I’d always choose, Miguel. There are many versions of me but I know that every me will love every you in every universe if given the chance.”

His shoulders slump, the burning anger in him dims as his chest visibly deflates in front of you. Then he stands there, staring down at you with that aching defeat etched into the corners of his weary eyes.

“If I let you go,” he starts, voice so quiet it almost sounds like a whisper. “Where would you go from here?”

You stop to consider his question.

If you leave here with Miguel, your life as you know it is never going to be the same.

The comforts of your everyday life in New York will be lost. No more Netflix, or fancy lemony cupcakes, or the barista that knows your order before you open your mouth.

You will never know what your life will look like from one day to the next. What the world itself is going to be, jumping from one foreign universe to another. That should be terrifying to you.

But somehow it isn't.

What's scary is the thought of going back to the life you had without Miguel there. The life that was so painfully mundane and ordinary that you had no moments of importance worth remembering seconds before falling to your death. The life you spent that was trapped in the machinery of habit, without a speck of color and excitement in your life.

As confusing and downright scary every day has been since you met him, you’ve never felt more alive. Never felt safer than when Miguel is by your side. You wouldn't give it up for anything.

In your mind, there’s only one choice you want to make.

“I am going to leave my dimension with him,” you say. “The world won't have to end and we’d be together.”

He shakes his head, disbelieving. Those sad eyes, still pinned on yours.

“No matter where you run to, it would start up all over again," he says, biting down on his bottom lip with worry. "The universe will eventually try to erase you because it thinks you're an anomaly. That would be the rest of your life, running from dimension to dimension.”

He throws a look behind you where Miguel is lying on the ground, the disdain and anger coming to life again, before he continues. “If he dies, if I kill him, then that connection is severed, you could go back to your normal life.”

You turn behind to look at your Miguel. He has an expression on his face that mirrors his other self. One of defeat and sadness and disbelief.

“I don’t want that. I don’t want a life he’s not a part of.” You turn back to the other him, squarely meeting his eyes. “Please.”

Other Miguel looks like his world is ending as he looks at you. For the longest moment he doesn't say anything, and you aren't sure what his answer is going to be or what he is going to do. If he's going to hold you here against your will and kill Miguel despite your pleas.

Then he drops his gaze to the floor and you can see that he’s holding back tears.

“Go,” he whispers.

He steps back from you, retreating step by step to widen the physical distance between yourself and him, and turns away with his back towards you.

You immediately scramble towards your Miguel, arms reaching for him. It’s not graceful, your limbs still hurt and your movements are clumsy. But you try to ignore it so you can loop Miguel’s arm over your shoulder and try to haul him up on his feet.

Predictably, Miguel is already starting to protest and scold you, “Cielo, you can’t–”

“Not now, Miguel,” you cut him off, and for once he listens.

His mouth presses into a firm line as he strains to stand upright, trying not to lean on you for support to get up, but failing to do so, leg buckling under his own weight.

Your hand shoots out around his waist to hold him steady, the slick blood from his wounds painting your fingers a bright red. You swallow down the worry, prioritizing getting away above all else for now.

“Let’s go,” you tell him, and he gives you a curt, almost compliant nod as the two of you move together with clumsy steps and rely on each other for support.

Behind you, the other Miguel is still standing turned away from you. You stare at his wide back as you walk away.

With each step that broadness looks smaller and smaller in the distance. The lonely and grief-struck silhouette of another version of the man that you love, that so clearly loves you, disappears out of sight as you leave him behind.

Miguel is quiet. He won’t look you in the eye as both of you try to hobble your way to the corridor you had landed in when you first came to this dimension.

It takes you both an eternity. It's nothing short of a miracle Miguel is still alive and even though the toxin is wearing off in your system, you still feel sore. Every muscle in your body is cramping, worse than any time of the month you’ve had to endure so far in your life.

You gain an entirely new appreciation of what Wong must’ve gone through and if there is a way to send interdimensional gift baskets, you remind yourself you should get one for him as an apology.

“This should be safe enough,” Miguel tells you as you reach the secluded space.

You both slump down to the ground, catching your breath with your backs leaning against the wall behind to hold you upright.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, which is a silly question for a man that probably has at least half a dozen broken ribs, internal bleeding, and a fractured jaw from the looks of it.

Despite all those bodily injuries though, Miguel is acting unbothered.

“Yeah, give me a minute and I’ll get us out of here.”

He wastes no time as he reaches over for your wrist and fiddles with the dials on your watch,

A hologram appears above, but there’s no sighting of Lyla. He hasn’t summoned her and as far as you can see it’s all just gibberish coding that he’s inputting. You have no idea what he’s doing but if you had to take a guess, it looks like he’s manually inserting the programming of the next jump to ensure it’s the right location this time.

He’s quiet and concentrated like always, eyebrows furrowed, as he works. Then out of nowhere, without looking up from what he’s doing, he speaks.

“What do you want to do once you get out of here?”

"Sleep,” is your immediate answer and Miguel laughs quietly at that as you continue. “Recover, just... rest, for a while, I guess"

"Sounds nice.” He shuts down the illuminated screen, presumably already done.

Then he’s quiet for a long moment, just sitting there next to you.

“...and after that?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“I guess since I’m going to be traveling different dimensions now for the rest of my life, I’d want to go to all the cool places? Like one where there’s talking raccoons. Or a dimension where we all have sausages for fingers, or one where all life forms are rock based.”

He pays close attention to you, face resting in the palm of his hand, as you tell him of these made up otherworldly dimensions.

“If we happen to jump into another dimension that’s similar to my old one I wouldn’t turn down Beyoncé tickets, provided Lyla could get them or we could just have her hack into restaurant booking systems and get us into all the exclusive places.”

There’s a small smile on his face as you speak, and your chest feels warm at the sight of it. Somehow after the day you have had, barely escaping the end of the world, going through an assassination attempt by the Avengers, being ambushed by another version of Miguel, you both made it through.

That tiny smile of his feels like a prize at the finishing line.

You slide your fingers across the space between you, until you find his knuckles, interlacing his fingers with yours.

"Anything would be okay, really. As long as I get to be with you," you tell him.

His smile turns wistful, as he nods back at you, squeezing your fingers back between his. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

There’s a lingering moment that you share in the comfortable silence. It’s unlike him. The Miguel you know would have wanted to make the jump five minutes ago, but you figure he must be tired.

He’s been shot at, thrown off buildings and beaten half to death by his own Doppelgänger today. He’s more than earned a minute or two of rest.

His head tips up staring into the moody blue ceiling above. “I love you,” he says.

It’s sudden and a bit out of nowhere but your face tingles. Warmth fills your chest until there's so much of it you're not sure you can contain it inside you. Then he continues.

“If there was any doubt. I love you, this you. Even if I find you to be absolutely batshit insane sometimes.”

You can’t help the silly grin tugging at your lips. The dopey feeling that buzzes bright in your veins. You feel slightly lightheaded and you aren’t sure if it’s a side effect of the toxins or just his words.

“Miguel, I lov–” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I know,” he says, turning his gaze to you, as he squeezes your hand gently in his. “You don’t have to say anything. Let’s just stay here for a while. Just like this.”

He doesn’t say anything after that.

The two of you stay like that in the moody darkness, his thumb smoothing over the front of your hand in soothing motions, as he looks down at you like he doesn’t want to take his eyes off of you. It’s a while longer still, before finally Miguel seems ready. He takes your hand that he’s holding and brings it close.

“Lyla,” he summons. “Take us to the next location.”

At the command, there's a bright burst of strobed colored lights surrounding you. It’s blinding your vision as it throws you into motion even as you’re sitting still.

Then before you know it they fade into a bright sterile whiteness. You wait for your surroundings to reform. To see a skyline and buildings and city lights.

But there’s nothing.

“Wait, where are we?” you ask.

Everything is blank and white and endless here. Empty space as far as the eye can see. Dread seizes you. You’re in the void again.

Why are you here?

How… Is the watch broken? Did the two of you fail? But it worked before. You shouldn’t be here, how–fuck, your vision starts to flatten. The ground underneath you is unsteady. Everything blurs. You can’t breathe.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” Miguel says, taking your hand in his as he squeezes down. “I sent us here.”

He says it so casually, your brain doesn't quite register the meaning. What does he mean he sent you here? On purpose, why would he–

“What do you mean? I don’t understand, Miguel, why would you–”

He hushes you soothingly. One hand comes to cup the back of your head, stopping you mid-sentence. “You’re not going to stay here. We’re just doing a drop off.”

“Miguel, what–”

He leans down, forehead pressing intimately against yours, there’s a sad smile on his face as he meets your eyes. They’re soft and gentle, and your chest squeezes painfully tight just looking at him.

“I already told you, didn't I?” he tells you, both hands coming to cup your cheeks. “I’m not going to let you die.”

Without missing a beat, he’s already moving on before you even have a chance to retort.

“Lyla,” he calls, and you hear the ping from your wrist. Can feel the slight vibration as the hologram takes form. “Run the updated protocol."

There’s a bright glow that forms all around you. Bright light crackles at the edges of your vision and there’s a delayed reaction in your brain as you try to process everything that’s happening around you.

He lets you go, taking a step back. “I love you, Cielito. I will always love you.”

Shit! He wouldn’t. Why?

“Take her home for me,” he orders.

You step forward trying to grab hold of him but it’s already too late. Your fingers grasp for him, but it sinks into nothingness, Miguel is already gone and so are you.

You find yourself inside a small studio apartment.

There’s no one besides you.

There’s a sole window sill where the view of New York City is entirely obscured by the neighboring building and its ugly brick wall. Not an inch of the skyline is visible.

You’re surrounded by clutter and second hand furniture that is all too familiar. A cheap IKEA Ingatorp dining table. Laundry still piled up on the bed. Dirty dishes stacked up in a tower over the sink.

You know this place.

You’re home.

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: To my favorite moose @thirstworldproblemss. Thank you as always for listen to my insane ramblings and machinations, even though you literally do not even go here.

To @guruan who I have been dying to share this chapter with for so long! Thank you for all the amazing art, thank you for your help looking through dialogues to make sure the Spanish used reads right. Thank you for crying about this man with me.

And last but not least big hug loves and smooches to @djarinsbeskar who gave this a second pair of eyes in the eleventh minute when I was freaking out about the copious use of Doppelganger, her advice was invaluable to me and without her I probably would've put this on ice over the weekend. Please send her all the loves! cause she is amazing and beautiful and gorgeous. Also do you know that she has her DEBUT NOVEL SENSUAL SUMMONING coming out soon? please check it out and sign up to her newsletter.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse #marvel mcu #marvel #miguel ohara fic #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #spiderverse fanfiction

[mypoisonedvine]

𝕴'𝖑𝖑 𝖆𝖑𝖜𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖙𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚 | dark!eddie munson x reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 | you always believed that Eddie would return... that he would escape, somehow, from the Upside Down and hold you again, tell you that he would never leave without his girl. well, something came back, that's for sure.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 6.8k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 | smut (dubcon/noncon, really it's more like... noncon turned con?), extreme gore/violence, blood, vomiting (emetophobia tw), minor character death, vampire shenanigans, dark-ish eddie but it's complicated?, kinda stockholm syndrome-y, the most fucked up take on a "fix it fic" because it's me we're talking about here

this is a dark fic, do not hit 'keep reading' if any of the warnings would be triggering for you and/or if you are not 18 or older, thank you

You couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes how many times you’d pictured this: him, here; Eddie, on your doorstep, alive.  It hadn’t even been two days and you couldn’t count how many times you’d pictured this.  

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “tell me— tell me I’m not dreaming, Eddie—”

“I’m here,” he breathed, like he’d run all the way to your door— maybe he did.  “I’m here, baby—”

You cut him off as you jumped on him, sobbing as you wrapped him up in a hug.  You didn’t believe it when Dustin told you that Eddie didn’t make it out, and they all thought you were just in denial because you loved him so much.  But you knew… he wasn’t gone.  You would’ve felt it, the moment he left.  You knew he was alive, and you held him so tightly, making sure it was real and not just some delusion of yours.  But he felt real, he felt soft and hard in all the right places, his shoulders were strong and broad as you rested your weight on them— he even smelled the same if, maybe, not quite as good… running around in hell for a few days will do that to you.

There was one thing different that you noticed right away, though.  He wasn’t warm.

“You must be so— oh god, come on,” you stammered, letting him out of the embrace to drag him inside.  “You must be freezing— and so tired— have you slept?”

He shook his head.  He still seemed a little dazed, and you guided him to your kitchen, pulling out a chair for him to sit in.  He collapsed into it, leaning on the table slightly.  His clothes were stained with blood, and you couldn’t decide where to start— should you go for a blanket first, or your first aid kit, or just a glass of water— or would he let you start cleaning his face a bit?  Maybe you could run him a bath?

“Sweetie,” you whispered as you knelt down before him, holding his face in your hands.  His eyes were bloodshot and glassy; he still had blood on the corners of his mouth.  “I can’t believe you’re— you’re here.”

He turned his face as your fingers brushed over his cheeks, and started staring at one of your hands closely.  Slowly, he reached up to it, holding it as he leaned in and pressed his lips against your wrist softly.  You melted inside, and watched him take a deep breath against your skin.

“I-I’m gonna get you a blanket,” you decided, feeling how icy his grip was on your hand.  You stood up, but he held on too tightly for you to get away.  “Lemme go, Ed, I’ll be right back, okay?  I swear— just let me get you the blanket, and then some water.”

He relented, releasing your wrist and watching you cross the room, ducking into the hallway to grab the thick wool blanket you kept there.

“Here you go,” you smiled as you ran up to him again, draping it around him as he stared up at you.  You took the opportunity to give him another tight hug, but jumped back when you heard him hiss.  “Oh, god— am I hurting you?  Fuck, of course I am, you’re still injured— I’m sorry, let me give you some bandages, okay?  I don’t want anything getting infected…”

You trailed off as you spun around helplessly, trying to remember which cabinet had the antiseptic— eventually, you got down on your knees and found it on your second try.  There were bandages and gauze nearby, and you snagged those along with a rag to clean up the extra blood and some hydrogen peroxide while you were at it.

His eyes followed your hands as you set everything on the kitchen table, kneeling in front of him again and wetting the rag with some antiseptic to start.  “Okay, I’m just gonna… lift your shirt.  Really carefully, and you let me know if anything hurts, okay?”

He didn’t actually respond, or even nod, but you went ahead and gently peeled up the bottom of the shirt— the dried blood stuck to his skin, and you winced in fear that you’d made it worse.  But, when you glanced up at his face, it didn’t show any signs of pain… his stare was blank, and focused in on you.

You managed to get the shirt up, seeing more dried blood all over his torso.  “Oh, Ed, they really ate you alive, huh?” you whispered under your breath.  “This might sting a little… but it’ll hurt a lot less than these did.”

You swiped the rag over his skin, watching the stains of blood eventually start washing away.  You kept wiping and wiping, cleaning more and more, waiting to find the bites and open wounds that all of this must have come from…

Looking up at him, you tried not to show on your face that anything was wrong.  His face was still mostly expressionless; you shivered.

“Eddie…” you breathed, cleaning his entire stomach until there was nothing left to do but sit back and look at it— look at the impossible.  “Eddie, there’s no… there aren’t any…”

His torso was clean, all the blood washed away and only skin left— no wounds, no bites, not even a scratch.  Just the tattoos you remembered, the trail of hair leading to his belt buckle, that little scar he’d had as long as you knew him.  But no signs he’d ever been attacked at all.

As much as you never even thought to question Dustin, you wrinkled your brows together and looked up at Eddie quizzically.  When Dustin told you Eddie was dead, you knew he was wrong, but you didn’t think he was lying.  Dustin never would’ve left Eddie behind if he thought there was a chance to save him… right?  But you were forced to wonder how it was possible that Eddie was here, covered in blood and very much alive, if Dustin swore he’d died in another dimension.  “Did… did they…?” you began to ask gently.  “Did they leave you?  Did they try to hurt you— did something happen?”

Eddie shook his head.

“Then… what did happen?  Did the bats attack you?”

He looked confused now, too.  He thought about it for a long time.  “Yeah… yeah, they bit me.  A lot.  And I was bleeding.”

Okay, so it was his blood he was covered in.  But where did it come from?

“And I passed out.  I thought I was dying.”

“But you woke up?” you assumed.

He nodded.  “Yeah— they were gone, and I… I felt really sick, but I was awake.  And I tried to remember where the gate was… and I found it, and then I found you.”

Well, that made a certain amount of sense, but not quite enough.  “L-let me get you some water,” you offered, standing up quickly.  As you turned away, he grabbed you at the wrist again.

“No,” he blurted out, and you sighed with heartache as you moved close to him again. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” you whispered.  “What do you need?”

“Hungry,” he finally said, “I’m hungry.”

You smiled, because you knew how to fix that.  “Okay— I’m gonna get you something to eat, alright?”

You opened the fridge and examined the contents under the yellow lightbulb’s shine.

“I’ve got fettuccine alfredo,” you listed, “and, uh, shepherd’s pie… half a cheese pizza… strawberry jell-o?”

You glanced over at him, waiting for something to work with.

“What sounds good?” you prompted him.

“Meat,” he answered flatly.

“O-okay…” you stammered, looking back into the fridge.  “I’ve got a chicken breast in here— I’ll cook that for you, okay?  It won’t take long.  I’ll slice it thin and it’ll cook fast, okay?  Does that sound alright?”

He hesitated, but nodded.

It made you feel better knowing you could finally do something for him; you offered for him to lay down or get in the shower while you cooked his food, but he just waited— you sliced the chicken and seasoned it while the pan heated, glancing over at him every couple of minutes.  Thankfully you’d convinced him to drink some water in the meantime, but he nursed it surprisingly slowly considering how long he must have gone without.

“You’re sure you don’t want anything else with this?” you asked, seeming to tear him out of a trance.

“Huh?” he mumbled.

“You know— I could boil some pasta, chop some veggies, something to eat with this?”

“N-no, just the chicken is fine…” he insisted.

“Well, it’s almost ready,” you smiled.  “Smells good, right?”

His nostrils flared for a second, and his eyes darted away.  You knew a no when you saw one… he reached up and covered his nose and mouth for a second, wiping the blood off of his mouth and chin— seemed like a good thing to do before he ate.

Sliding the food onto a plate, you waved a hand over it to hopefully speed up the cooling-off process; you cut one of the pieces of cooked meat in half, to make sure it was white all the way through, and sighed in relief when it was.  Last thing Eddie needed now was salmonella…

You felt like a proper housewife, setting the plate in front of him with a smile, taking your own seat.  “Here you go, bon appetit,” you beamed, placing the fork next to him just in time for him to snatch it up and dig in.

You brought your elbows up on the table and rested your chin on your fist, and watched him eat— maybe a little too closely… but you just wanted to see his eyes light up again!  You wanted to see him acting a bit closer to normal, and you knew how getting some food in your belly could do so much for your energy… especially after this long.

He carefully chewed each bite, swallowing thickly, like he could barely get it down.  You winced.  “It’s not too tough, is it?  Oh god, Ed, you know I’m not a great cook or anything— is it dry?  It’s dry, isn’t it?”

He shook his head, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Don’t spare my feelings,” you chuckled, “you like to lie about liking my cooking— but not right now, Ed, I can make you something else, I can go pick something up—”

You reached onto his plate and grabbed a cube of chicken, holding it with two fingers as you took a bite to prove that he was, in fact, flattering you and it tasted like shit.

But it was fine, actually; sure, not the most compelling dish, but not bland per se and not incorrectly prepared.

As you wondered why he was having so much trouble with it, he started coughing.  You leaned closer, reaching to hold his shoulders, but he brushed you away, turning to keel over towards the floor and cough harder and harder—

When he vomited the first time, you hadn't even noticed yet that it wasn't bile— you cooed at him sympathetically, squeezing his shoulder and trying to hold his hair back, and then froze when another stream of fluid finally caught your attention: black, nearly pitch black.  The puddle on the floor, you realized, was tarry and thick.  You fought the urge to grimace as you yanked your feet away; you didn't want him to feel self conscious, he'd been through enough, but…this wasn't right.

Vomiting on a near-empty stomach is bad enough… it shouldn't have been this dark, nor this plentiful.  He convulsed as another rush came out of his mouth, and you started to cry a little as you grabbed his hand and held it tight.  Your heart hurt to see him like this, but your gut sank with the knowledge that something was absolutely, horribly wrong… 

"What happened to you?" you whispered, not much of a genuine question because you knew he couldn't answer.  You didn't know much about the place he'd been— no one did— and he'd apparently been there for days.  You decided not to ask him what he did to survive, because it didn't matter: he was here.  You almost lost him, and you'd do anything to keep him here with you.  You weren't ready to lose him again.

“I’m sorry,” he finally choked out when he stopped, catching his breath and sitting back up.  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and when his eyes fell on you again, a chill ran over your spine.

“Eddie, don’t apologize— you don’t have anything to apologize for,” you assured.

“Not yet,” he replied, and you tilted your head.

“What…?”

You stopped yourself, because you saw his eyes fall on your exposed neck.  His mouth fell open slightly, his eyes went glassy again.

“Eddie,” you breathed— because you knew, somehow, that you needed to call for him.  That he wasn’t quite… here, even though he was right in front of you.  “We should go to the hospital… you’re sick.”

“I’m not sick,” he promised, “I’m just hungry.”

He leaned a little closer to you, and you stood up quickly.  “I’ll make you something else,” you decided, turning and walking to the fridge again— but then he was behind you, in an instant, so fast that you yelped a little when he pressed up against you from behind.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again.

“I told you not to—”

He grabbed you tighter, and as much as you’d longed for him to hold you again, you instinctively tried to squirm away— but he was too strong.  He’d always been stronger than you… this was different.  This was too strong.  “I’m hungry— I’m so hungry, just… just stay still,” he pleaded.

You whined when his fingers dug into your shoulders, his nose running over the skin of your neck.  “Eddie, I-I don’t… I don’t understand,” you whispered.

“I can feel your heartbeat, I can hear it,” he informed you, “I can… smell you.  You smell good.”

His mouth traced along your pulse, and you knew that this moment could easily be interpreted as foreplay— the compliments, the mouth on your neck, that was all pretty typical for Eddie when he was ‘in the mood.’  The thing was, it was so clearly not that, just from the way his voice sounded, from the way he held you against him painfully tight.  “You’re hurting me,” you whimpered.

“I’m sorry,” he said one more time, “i-it’s gonna hurt less if you stop moving, baby.”

You gasped as he started to bite down on you, much too hard already.  “N-no, Eddie—!”

Your voice broke and fell into silence when his teeth pierced your skin.  The pain shattered over your body like a crack in a windshield; it stole your voice, and when you tried to cry, there was only a silent tear that fell down your cheek and onto the tile floor.

His arms wrapped around you, and you went limp in them.  He stopped suckling at the wound he’d created for a moment, in order to let you fall just enough for him to catch you; he dragged you into the hallway where he knelt down and cradled you, holding the back of your head to keep your neck tilted just the way he needed to make the blood flow fastest.  He lapped at it voraciously, breathing heavier, but slower, than he had before.  Your body naturally tried to fight him, your weak arms pushing at his shoulders every time the pain throbbed in your neck, but soon the energy was quite literally drained from you and your arms fell limp at your sides.

It felt like it went on forever, your vision going blurry from far more than just the tears that filled your eyes, your fingers twitching through the pins and needles as you longed for the strength to push him away and run— but you were paralyzed, everywhere except your heart, which kept beating faster yet weaker by the minute.

“E-Eddie,” you croaked under your breath, the best you could do to beg for your life.  Amazingly, for how little it was, it seemed to work.  He broke away from you, and you saw his face appear above yours— his mouth and chin were soaked in blood, drops that had run down striping his neck.  He swallowed and started to catch his breath.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he panted, “I didn’t— fuck, I’m sorry… you’re gonna be okay.”

You blinked quickly, trying to reach up to hold his collar— to tell him it was okay, you still loved him, even if you were terrified of him.  He looked like your Eddie again, he had the light in his eyes, the sweetness in his voice you were used to, and you fought through your exhaustion to smile weakly and blink the tears away.  “I’m… so tired…” you let out with each heave of your chest, too weak to really speak— all you could do was make the right movements with your mouth as you panted to shape each breath into words.

“That’s okay,” he nodded, “fall asleep.  I’ll be here when you wake up, and I’m gonna… I’ll explain everything.”

You sighed slowly, feeling your head roll to the side as you went totally lifeless— slumping onto the floor just in time to slip into darkness.

~

You startled awake, grabbing your neck instinctively.  It all felt like some horrible dream…

Until you turned and saw Eddie sitting at the foot of the bed.  “Hey,” he offered sympathetically, leaning closer; you scooted back slightly, and he sighed.  “D-don't be scared of me, please,” he begged, looking heartbroken, which broke your heart, too.

“I’m not scared of you,” you assured, “I just— is it really you?  You’re my Eddie, right?  Not some Upside Down version of him?”

He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.  “Uh— honestly, babe, I don’t know for sure.  I think we can both agree some things have changed for me in the last few days.”

You nodded.  “Just… tell me what happened.  Or what you remember.”

“Well... after I found the gate... I wandered in the woods, I was so lost and— baby, you can’t imagine how hungry I was,” he explained, pleading with you to understand.  “It hurt, I felt like I couldn’t even walk, it was like something was inside me trying to claw its way out… and there was this, um, deer.”

You choked on your own throat, because you already knew where this was going— if he asked you to guess what happened next, you wouldn’t be able to say it, you would say that you didn’t know… but you did.  You knew, deeper inside yourself than you were willing to look.

“I’ve never even shot a deer before or anything,” he reminded you, “but I caught it with just my hands— I chased it, and it wasn’t even that hard, really… I don’t remember it all that well… I just remember, um, feeding on it for a while.”

“Did it help?”

“Not as much as I hoped it would… I knew, by then, what I really needed.  I wouldn’t let myself believe it, I wouldn’t say it, but… I swear— I came here because I knew you’d know how to sort this all out.  I wasn’t going to… I didn’t want to do that to you.”  He whined slightly, letting his head fall into his hands as he hid his face.  “God, baby, I’m so sorry—”

“Eddie,” you stopped him firmly.  “Did doing that to me… help you?”

Even before he nodded shamefully, you knew the answer, it was obvious: he was acting normal again, acting like himself— if a little more serious than usual.  You recognized this Eddie, even when you were half-dead from the blood loss and knew that he was responsible for it… even then, it was him.

“You’re not hungry anymore?” you continued.  He shook his head.  “Then it’s okay… I told you I’d do anything for you, Eddie, that I’d die for you—”

“I won’t kill you,” he insisted.  “I can’t believe I ever hurt you— I didn’t know how to stop, babe, I really could’ve—”

“Shh,” you soothed, reaching up to stroke his face as his eyes started to water.  “It’s okay, what’s mine is yours.  Even my body— even my… um, my blood.”

It felt weird to say it like that, but it was true.  “I don’t know how long it’ll last,” he whispered.  “I don’t know if I’ll be that desperate again… what if I can’t stop myself next time?”

“We’re going to find you a real meal, Eddie,” you promised, “and maybe there won’t need to be a next time.”

~

“Guess you’re lonely without that freak boyfriend of yours, huh?” Greg snickered.

You looked away, holding your arms tightly across your chest.  “Y-yeah— I should’ve… left him sooner.  I didn’t know what he was doing— him and his, uh, cult…”

“Weren’t you in Hellfire?” Greg wondered, crossing his arms to match yours, which made the puffy sleeves of his letter jacket look even more ridiculous.  “We all thought you were his second-in-command— you helped hide him from us, didn’t you?”

“W-well, that’s why I asked you to meet me here,” you explained, “to apologize… for everything.  I wouldn’t have protected him if I knew he was killing people.”

You hated the taste of those lies in your mouth.  If this all went according to plan, no one would ever have to know you said those things about your Eddie, your angel— but could he hear you now?  It was so dark in the woods at night, so you couldn’t tell if he was in earshot.  If not, that would be in part a relief, but it would also be a problem since he wouldn’t be here to save you when the time was right.

“So, I’m sorry,” you concluded.  “I hope we can… be friends.”

You were looking down at the ground sheepishly, but in the edge of your vision, you saw Greg stepping closer.  “Now, what do you wanna be friends with me for?” he purred.

“U-um,” you choked, fighting the urge to step back as Greg stalked closer.  

“I think you might have a little crush, freak.”

Greg was right in front of you now, his sneakers just beside yours, and you found the courage to look up at him.  He had the most horrible smile on his face, raising a hand to stroke your cheek.  You weren’t much of an actress, clearly, because you couldn’t help but jerk away.

“Aw, don’t be shy now,” Greg frowned, “you’re the one that asked me to come see you tonight… at Skull Rock… alone.  I wasn’t born yesterday, sweetheart, I know what that means.”

You wanted to scream at him, I’m not your fucking sweetheart, but you couldn’t; instead, you stayed still and let his hands reach around to your waist.

Now, we need to establish some… ground rules, you heard Eddie’s voice in your head, memories from yesterday still clear in your head.  First rule is, you give the signal, and it’s over.  You don’t have to be a part of this if you don’t want to.

You were just as sure now as you were then that you needed to do this, even if, yes, it was revolting to have Greg Willis pull you closer and slip his hands far too low on your back.

"You know, I always thought you'd be pretty if you dressed more normal," Greg informed you.  "You know, ditch the ripped jeans and get a dress or something?  You could even be popular… if you went out with me."

Shuddering, you yelped in shock when he grabbed your hips and yanked them forward into his own.  His grin was shining in the moonlight, those perfect teeth in that megawatt smile.  You hesitantly reached your hands up to rest on his chest.

"What do you say?" he pressed.

"U-um, well, Greg," you stuttered, "the truth is, I'm not really interested in going out."

He laughed, and you blinked quickly.  "Damn, alright," he purred, "if you just wanna hook up, I'm not gonna say no to that…"

Second rule, don’t let him touch you too much… or I might try to kill him too early, and then it all goes to shit.

Your hands balled into fists when he kissed you; he tasted like toothpaste and coffee, and you were trying so hard not to grimace or shove him back so you could deck him.  He slipped his tongue in your mouth, far too aggressive, far too soon— you whimpered and pulled him back, the two of you stumbling together until your back was pressed up against the tree.  His hands squeezed your waist, then slipped down to grope your butt; you gasped and broke away, disgusted.  He didn’t seem to notice your disdain, or simply didn’t care, and reached up to brush your hair out of the way so he could kiss your neck.  Of course, when he saw the fresh scar there, he moved his head back.  “Wh… what happened to you?” Greg whispered.  “It was that cult, right?  Did they try to… sacrifice you, like they did to Jason’s girl?”

You pushed his hand away, but he just grabbed you again, tighter— you whimpered slightly and tried to writhe out of his grasp.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he cooed, “I’m gonna make it all better…”

He grabbed your jaw, about to force you to kiss him again, when a loud thud beside you made you both turn to the side; Eddie, finally, had jumped down from the tree and was standing there glaring at both of you.

“Sorry, Greg, but she’s spoken for,” Eddie grunted, pouncing on him.  Greg was well over six foot, star quarterback for the Tigers football team; Eddie knocked him down like it was nothing, sending them both flying back nearly two yards and pinning him easier than if he were just some puny kid.  You yelped and covered your face, shrinking down to sit on the ground.

Final rule, you remembered as you swallowed and forced your eyes shut tightly, when I… do what I do… don’t look.  I don’t want you to see me like that.

Memories flashed in your mind, against your will, of that look in Eddie’s eyes just before he bit you, of the way his voice sounded when he told you how hungry he was.  They were interspersed with memories of your Eddie, the way he used to be— when he would make you laugh and hold you close and make all your fears go away.  You’d been holding onto your dream that that Eddie would come back, but you could hear the sounds next to you— the muffled whimpers, the voracious growls, the… gulping.

You took your hands down away from your face, slowly; you had to look.  You had to know.

It was so dark, it was just shadows on shadows; you were able to make out Eddie’s wild hair first, then the general shape of him— he was straddling Greg, on top of him, and you realized then that the movement was Greg’s legs shaking.  Eddie’s rings glistened in the moonlight, his hand covering Greg’s mouth to stop him from screaming— all just below where Greg’s wide, white eyes suddenly met yours.  You’d never been horrified to the bone before by just one look from a man; you’d never seen a man begging for his life before, either.

Eddie suddenly sat up, tossing his head back, gasping for a breath.  He let his hand fall away from Greg’s mouth.

“Please,” was all the jock was able to weakly choke out, blood sputtering out of his mouth as he spoke.

Eddie leaned down again, and you heard two horrible things at once: Greg’s final, pathetic cry; and the sound of ripping flesh.

The only thing more horrible than that was the silence.  The heavy, abyssal silence of the woods— death didn’t make a sound.  Instead there was just the absence of sound, and the absence of life.

Greg’s throat was still between Eddie’s teeth, but Eddie was sitting up again, flesh dangling from his mouth.  He spit out the piece of viscera, bending down to lap and slurp at Greg’s gushing open wound.  Your eyes refused to tear away, even as Eddie feasted for what felt like hours, even when he wrapped his arms around Greg’s lifeless carcass and pulled his torso up so he could eat without leaning down onto the ground; he pushed Greg’s head back, until there was a horrific crack and his whole head was dangling off of what was left of his neck— Eddie nearly unhinged his jaw to drink from where he’d torn the boy open.

It was finally over when Eddie groaned loudly, a satisfied sigh, and dropped Greg’s body unceremoniously onto the ground again.  Only then did he seem to sense your eyes on him, and he turned around to look at you.  The lower half of his face, even his nose and cheeks, were dripping in blood that looked black in the dark of the evening; his eyes dilated, blown out until they were almost all black— actually, maybe there were all black… you couldn’t find any of that warm brown you were used to.  Even without irises, you could tell that those eyes were piercing right through you, and you froze under their weight.

“Thanks,” he smiled at you.  “You were right, that helped a lot.”

When you said nothing, only starting to cry, Eddie pouted slightly and tilted his head.

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

You dared another look at Greg’s body, his head at an impossible angle from being nearly decapitated, and back up to Eddie; he frowned and let out a disappointed sigh.

“I was afraid this would happen,” he admitted, “that’s why I told you not to look.  It was hard for me to believe that I could do this, too.  But this is who I am now.”

You shook your head, starting to crawl backward along the ground— sharp leaves and sticks poked your hands as you clambered across the forest floor, but you were ignorant to the pain.  “Then you’re not who I thought you were.”

“Don’t do that,” he warned, seeming frustrated as you kept trying to move back.  “Babe, really?  Are you gonna run away from me?”

I’m gonna try.

You fought to get up on your legs again, but they were shaking and your knees gave out instantly.  Resorting to attempting to crawl along the ground, you obviously didn’t make it far at all before he jumped on you; he was so fucking fast, how was he so fucking fast?

You cried loudly and kicked your legs to try to get him away, but he turned you on your back in a second and pinned you down by your shoulders.

“It’s still me,” he promised, but when he smiled at you, his mouth was still coated in blood.  “Baby, it’s still me!  Don’t be scared.”

You shook your head, tears already flowing down your cheeks.  “N-no, Eddie, it’s not.  You’re not a killer— you wouldn’t hurt anyone, ever.”

“Not if I didn’t have to,” he corrected sternly.  “But Greg was a piece of shit anyway—”

“He was a person!”

“You’re the one that picked him!” Eddie reminded you sharply.  And yes, that was true.  You’d seen Greg’s eyes on you more than once at school before, even though you were a freak and he was a quarterback; you knew he would meet you here alone if you asked him to.  You knew he was kind of an asshole— but you hadn’t really appreciated before what it would do to you to send him to his death.  That was your mistake, clearly; you thought you knew what you were doing, but you couldn’t understand it until you saw it.

“Eddie, this isn’t you,” you insisted, “you’re not you— I believed it, because I wanted to so much, but—”

“Stop,” he barked, glaring at you as his nostrils flared.  You shut your mouth quickly, afraid to anger him further.  “Do you need me to remind you?” he breathed.  “Do you need to remember how it used to be?”

He reached down to his belt.  “N-no,” you sputtered, “Eddie, please—”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, ignoring you, “I haven’t been taking care of you since I got back.  I’ve been… distracted.  I’m thinking clearly now, on a full stomach and all.”

When you reached up and tried to push him off of you, his hands pinned yours down at the wrists, and you shivered as he squeezed them tightly.  “Eddie,” you panted, “y-you’re so cold…”

“You miss when I was warm, huh, princess?” he spat.  “I was so weak then, so… fragile.  Like you are now.”

He roughly jerked your arms up, holding both your wrists in one hand so his dominant hand could run down your body; it settled on your neck, squeezing it just enough to make you tense up and stop struggling.

“I mean, look at you, such a tiny little thing,” he cooed, “you could just… snap.”

You choked on a sob as his hand tightened on your throat.  He growled, low in his chest, and shut his eyes as he took a deep breath.

“I can feel your pulse, you know, I can hear it a mile away,” he informed you.  “It’s so fast now, is that because you’re scared, babe?  You don’t need to be.  I’m not hungry anymore… I think Greg’s gonna hold me for a while.”

He leaned in closer, taking a long inhale right beside your face as you bit your shaking lip.

“But it’s okay,” he whispered, “it’s okay to be scared.  I like it, actually… makes you smell even sweeter.”

His free hand moved lower down again, and roughly ripped your jeans to shreds— and only a split second later, carefully spread your legs, in a bizarre shift to delicacy; you didn’t resist anymore… there wasn’t much use.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, “see?  You remember better than you think.  Maybe it’s me that’s forgotten— it all feels so long ago now… but I’m gonna remind us both how much you need this.”

He wasn’t touching you anymore, he was opening his jeans and pulling out his cock, tugging on himself loosely a few times to make sure he was hard enough.  His tongue darted out over his lips as he looked down at you writhing under him— that, funny enough, reminded you of how it was before… except, you know, for all the blood and that you were in the fucking woods and that you just watched him murder someone with his bare hands— and teeth.  You cried a little harder as he pressed himself up against your opening.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, princess, okay?” he laughed— like it was funny that you were terrified.  “I’m gonna make you feel good, just like I used to.”

But good isn’t quite what you’d call the sharp sting of him pushing in in one go, splitting you open on his cock.  “Eddie!” you shouted; he usually got you ready first, helped you warm up so you could take him— it wasn’t exactly an optional step, with his size.  Your pain didn’t bother him much anymore, apparently.

“Ahah, fuck,” he laughed lightly through a sigh, “I remember this, actually— remember how fuckin’ tight you always were.  Like you never wanna let me go… sweet little cunt holding onto me so tight…”

He gave you another rough thrust with a grunt, and you whimpered, tightening your fists above where he was holding you down.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he purred, “my pretty girl, so beautiful when you cry for me.”

“S-stop,” you gasped out, even though this was what you thought you wanted— even though your toes were starting to curl.

“I’m not gonna stop,” he panted, “I’m gonna fuck you, and fill you, again and again, until you remember—” he groaned and gripped your wrists tighter— “that you’re mine.”

And you hated that your back arched, that your body still responded to him in a time like this; he moaned proudly, watching you with those impossibly-dark eyes.

“I bet you thought about this while I was gone,” he assumed with a growl, “I bet you touched your lonely little pussy while you waited for me, huh?  Wasn’t enough, was it— ‘cause you need me, don’t you?”

This monster had all the memories of every time you and Eddie were together, of everything that you ever said, everything that made you fall apart, and he was using it to manipulate you… but fuck, he was right.  You used to say it all the time.

“This is how you like it,” he recalled, “nice and deep, right?  You like to still be able to feel me in the morning.”

He held his hips close to yours and grinded against you, forcing the tip of his cock to hit so deep it was like he was in your throat; your eyes rolled back, and he dipped down to lick a stripe up your neck.

“Sweet girl,” he cooed, “my needy little princess— are you feeling better now?  Not so scared, now that you know it’s really me?  Nobody but me could fuck you like this.”

Yeah, he used to say that, too, but it used to mean something different.  He pulled back and gave you a long but fast stroke, and you choked on a cry as your insides clenched.

“Y’wanna come, babe?” he encouraged.  “You’re close, your heartbeat’s getting fast again…”

It was so close, too close, and you wanted to fight it off— but your pleasure was so much stronger than you, just like he was now.  It kept your mind blank and your body weak as you started to convulse rhythmically, fighting against the words trying to escape your throat: the thing you always used to say when you came.

“Say it,” he teased— he remembered, too, what you always used to say.  You hissed through your teeth, but kept it down, even as the feeling started to make you shake uncontrollably and go blind for a split second.  “I wanna hear it, princess, just say it for me.”

You went limp beneath him, the sensation pulling away as fast as it had came, leaving you numb and lifeless— so to speak— as he fucked into you harder.

“I know you love me, baby,” he sighed, “c’mon, just say it.  Isn’t that what you wanted?  To tell me you loved me one more time?”

I’d do anything to have him back, you remembered praying, to anyone or anything that would listen, anything, I’ll give anything, just please bring him back to me.  It all came into perspective then, and your fear abated.  You sobbed harder, struggling under him more— but for a new reason.  “Eddie,” you cried, “please, let me go— please…”

He must’ve known it was different, because his expression changed as he carefully let your wrists go; you reached up and grabbed his blood-soaked shirt, pulling him down into you.

“I love you,” you told him, “I love you, I love you so much…”

“Shh,” he soothed, slipping his arms under you and hugging you, “I know, princess…”

“Don’t ever leave me again,” you begged, “never, ever ever—”

“Hey, hey,” he stopped you as your pleas became incomprehensible from your crying.  “I’m not leaving you, okay?”

“Ever?” you added, sniffling, and he released you partially from the hug to smile down at you softly.

“Ever,” he agreed.  “I’m so sorry that I had to go away before… but I came back, didn’t I?  I’ll always come back to you.”

You looked up at him, beaming even through your tears, and reached up to hold his face.  As your palm held his cheek, he looked at you and his eyes were his again, those same eyes that always made you feel so safe.  Your thumb stroked over his skin and he turned his face to give you a small kiss on your wrist; you gently grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him down into a real kiss— sour and metallic with blood, which you chose to ignore.

“I love you, too,” he mumbled against your lips, “and I missed you so much.”

“I thought I was gonna die without you,” you admitted, and he stopped kissing you to laugh.  “What’s so funny?”

“I thought I was, too,” he replied, looking into your eyes again, “and babe— I think I did.”

#dark!eddie munson x reader #dark!eddie munson smut #vampire!eddie munson #vampire!eddie munson x reader #vampire!eddie munson smut

[rius-cave]

Ok but imagine adamsapple in bed and Adam is like " why don't i top for once"

And Luci raises his eyebrows

Adam " I'm the original dick, i know how to use it!"

Luci " considering I've stolen both your wives, i severely doubt that" adam huffs. Luci sighs. " You've been bottoming for a while, would you trust YOURSELF yo top you?"

And Adam blue screens

( does this lead to angsty self introspection or to luci riding him? Who knows)

Anon I hate myself. Somehow my response to this turned into a full on drabble 🙈 I'm so sorry I don't know how this happened. Here it is I guess. I'm putting it under a cut because the language gets a little explicit skfjdgfd

"Come on. What? You think I really couldn't do it? Do you not want me to fuck you that badly?"

Lucifer glared at him in judging silence, an eyebrow raised.

"Would it really kill your ego to let me do it just once? I mean seriously I'm sure I could have you screaming in no time." Adam stated, anger obvious on his voice.

"Mm-hm," Lucifer hums, reclining his back on the headboard and closing his eyes. "You could."

"Oh please! You haven't even let me try! If you gave me the chance to- wait what did you say?" Adam's mouth gaped, his brain just now catching up with his ears.

"I said you could," the hellborn replied, a smug smile on his face. "We've been doing this for weeks now, haven't we? You think I've never wanted to feel your cock inside of me?"

Adam choked on his own saliva before sitting up on the bed, astonishment plastered across his face. It wasn't weird for Lucifer to talk directly like this, but hearing him just… admit that he wanted it was not something Adam ever expected to hear. To be frank he was half waiting for Lucifer to chuck him out to the next ring.

"Wait really?"

"Really," Lucifer affirmed without a tint of shame in his voice. "I may be more skilled than you," he began again, earning a brief glare from Adam. "But I could teach you how to do it, show you where I like it, actually top someone properly for once."

"I…" The sinner began, still not believing his hearing. Suddenly, a smile crept up his face, excitement pouring from his eyes as well as starting to fill up his cock. "Oh! Okay! Fuck yeah, let's go!" He cheered in anticipation, already lifting up the sheets from both his body and Lucifer before his wrist was firmly stopped.

"Uh, what?"

"Not now, you idiot. We just did it. I'm tired and we need to get to the hotel early tomorrow," Lucifer explained with a little sharpness in his voice.

"What? But I… we… you…" He fumbled, a rapid sequence of anger, frustration and disappointment flashing across his features.

"That's not fair! Come on, I…!" He couldn't come up with any good reason. They did have to meet up with Charlie tomorrow (or today, at this point), and they did go at it for about an hour and a half that night. He couldn't say that his own eyes weren't closing before the conversation started.

He growled in frustration like a kid having been promised a candy only for it to be snatched from his hands right as he was about to take a bite. His wings fell to his sides and his mouth closed in a tight line.

A chuckle caught his attention once more.

"Aww, don't be sad, love," the king cooed as he leaned forward, taking one of Adam's cheek in his hand. I promise the next opportunity we have, that'll be the first thing we do, okay?" His voice was soothing and alluring, calming down Adam's anger immediately.

"… Fine," Adam finally grumbled, a small blush creeping up his face at the intimate touch. Those kinds of gestures still threw him for a loop every time. He was used to bites, scratches and pulls from the King of Hell, but any time the demon showed his softer side to him, Adam couldn't help but feel his brain short circuit.

"That's a good little lamb," Lucifer grinned, before leaning in to capture Adam's lips in a soft kiss, meant to seal the promise that he just made.

The recently fallen angel melted into the kiss with a sigh, all his frustration completely gone now. It was still embarrassing how he would just turn to putty under Lucifer's touch. If his soldiers could see him now his reputation would never recover. But still, it felt good to let go of his control when it was Lucifer who slowly, methodically, stripped it away from him.

"Mhm, very well. Let's go to sleep now," Lucifer gently broke the kiss, holding Adam's cheek lightly and dedicating him a smile.

"Okay," Adam replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't worry sweetheart. I'll make sure to prepare my little ass so well for your cock, so that you can slide in easily. I'll ride your dick so good and milk it so hard that you won't be able to feel it by the fifth time I make you cum inside of me."

Lucifer grinned innocently, patting Adam's cheek before finally laying down again and getting comfortable under the covers.

With each word Adam felt his insides get hotter and hotter, to the point that by the end of Lucifer's promise, there was no doubt that he was properly hard now.

A couple seconds later, he could hear the quiet snores coming from the demon next to him.

Adam growled loudly. The frustration was back a hundredfold.

#i have brainrot I'm so so so sorry #hazbin hotel #adamsapple #ask

[thisisourlovestory]

Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Word count- 2.8k

Notes: Merry Christmas! Thank you to everyone who’s read this so far and to my beta reader who has hyped me up about this whole thing. I’m going to try and update once a week but occasionally it may take a bit longer or less depending on how much I work on it since I am writing it as I go. Hope you enjoy! Also who here knows how to make the masterlist thingymajobs? Because I don't and I want to make one

Chapter 2

A scream shattered the silence and my hand was up in the air before I even knew what I was doing as I uttered those four dreaded words.

“I volunteer as tribute!”

The second I said them Lysander was practically jumping in delight, a grin spread across his face as wide as can be as he proclaimed loudly.

“I believe we have a volunteer.” I stepped forward, ignoring the shocked looks Annie and Mags were throwing my way. Lysander babbled on and on for a few minutes about ‘how exciting for a victor to volunteer’, how ‘he was sure none of the other districts would have tributes’. I felt like throwing up, looking out into a sea of faces, most of them open mouthed, a few simply confused as if wondering who the hell I even was. I saw a couple of people who I used to know, refusing to meet my eyes. My ballet shoes hung by my side, a heavy weight pulling down, anchoring me to reality as my mind drifted.

I turned to Lysander and gave him a pathetic attempt at a smile, lips tilting upwards slightly, a flash of white teeth for a second. “Please,” he said, “Shake hands.”

I didn't realise what he said until Finnick stepped forward and held out his hand to me. My eyebrows furrowed and I bit my lip, twisting the sleeves of my cardigan again, holding out my other arm to hold his hand loosely before pulling it back quickly as I felt my mark burn slightly. He looked confused for a moment before his expression cleared and he put on a charming smile, waving to the crowd. As for me, I stood there silently, chewing on my lip worriedly, wondering why I volunteered, why I didn't even hesitate.

“Your tributes for the 75th annual Hunger Games!” Lysander yelled to the crowd over their obedient clapping as peacekeepers pointed guns at them, threatening to shoot. All of a sudden we were herded off stage and I was dragged to the same room I had been in all those years ago, the paint still peeling, a splintered chair and table on dusty stone. I took a few steps in and collapsed on the floor, chest heaving as I tried to take in deep breaths. I curled my hands into fists, nails cutting into the soft skin of my hands, a few tears dripping down my face but I heard heavy footsteps down the corridor and quickly composed myself, brushing away the tears and standing up, elegantly sitting down in the chair as the door opened. Mags walked in, escorted by a guard who muttered.

“Five minutes.” And closed the door behind him. Mags stared at me for a second before walking over and placing a hand on my shoulder. I looked up at her and she mouthed one word. Why?

I smiled slightly as I answered.

“She doesn't deserve to die. She needs to live and I'll do everything I can to get Finnick out and back to her.” Mags looked confused so I rolled up my sleeve and showed her my wrist. “He's my soulmate,” she blinked quickly and I continued,”And he doesn't love me but he loves her and they deserve to live.” She looked angry and somehow managed to croak out a few words.

“What about you?” I patted her hand, standing up and looking out the window.

“I don't matter, I just want him to be safe and sound. I want him to be happy, even if it's not with me.” She looked at me pityingly, brown eyes filled with emotion as she folded me into her arms; I broke down, sobbing silently into her shoulder, tears soaking the fabric. “I just can't let him die, not if I can do something about it.” I managed to get out between hiccuping sobs and sniffles. She comforted me gently, stroking my hair with wrinkled hands and all too soon it was time for her to go.

The door swung open and Mags scurried out before they could drag her away, the last thing I saw of her was her long grey hair before another person walked in and the door was slammed shut behind them. Annie stood in front of me. Long auburn hair tangled, sea green eyes gazing at me curiously. She took in my puffy eyes and red face streaked with tears saying nothing as she kneeled down and took my hands in hers.

“Why did you do that?” She asked quietly, not looking me in the eye, “Why would you give up your life?”

“We aren't so dissimilar you and I.” I spoke, removing my hands from hers and laying them on my knees. “The games,” my voice cracked,”The games left us both broken beyond belief. The difference between us is that you had someone there to build you back up after you came out. I didn't. Or I did, but they didn't care enough to stay. We've both been dropped and shattered on impact but you've been fixed, mostly, the cracks are still there and with the right push it'll all come crashing down. But me, I've got nobody and nothing left, everyone left me to crumble to pieces as if I would just be fine, but I'm not, I'm just a pile of broken glass waiting for someone to finally care and put me back together. So I volunteered. Because you have everything to lose; I’ve got nothing left.” Annie said nothing, just watched me carefully,

“I'll get Finnick out for you,” I whispered,”You don't have to worry about him. I promise.” The door opened and she was led out, throwing a last glance over her shoulder at me, a strange look in her eyes as if she knew something I didn’t.

I was left alone to my thoughts again. Wrapping the ribbons of my shoes around my hands repetitively. Wondering what it would be like this time around. Would I even have a chance at survival? I dismissed that one immediately, with victors like the ones from districts 1 and 2, plus Katniss and Peeta from last year, I wasn't getting out alive. I was good but not that good. I could throw knives perfectly, fight in hand to hand combat and tie complex knots with lengths of rope, I was even half decent at using a bow and arrow. But compared to others I was weak.

The door creaked open again but this time no one entered except some peacekeepers in their white uniforms and masks, they dragged me out, gloved hands twisting my skin. I shook my arms out of their hold and glared at them, they let me loose and marched me along the corridor to the exit where a car would be waiting. They opened the side door and pushed me in. My head knocked against the metal and I hissed in annoyance but said nothing. The car pulled away from the justice building and I stared out at it for the last time, the carved marble flawless and perfect but oh so cold. My eyes trailed over the shapes of people outside, cheering my name; screaming for the games to stop. They hadn't even known who I was before, why did they care now? Why did they care just as I was sent off to my death once again? Why did they care when all they had ever done was pretend I didn't exist?

How could they stand there and scream my name, their beloved victor, when they had never before known me? How dare they pretend to care about me. How dare they think I wanted this. How dare they congratulate me on my actions when the choice didn't even exist to begin with. In those moments I was filled with nothing but disgust for the people of my district. We were supposed to be united against the Capitol yet here they were excited for me to go back in. Granted there was the idea that if they didn't then they would be made an example of by peacekeepers for not complying with orders. But behind every forced action there is a planted seed that was simply nurtured to form the fully fledged evil.

I sighed, propping my head up on my hand as we entered the station, reporters from the Capitol waiting for the chance to get a shot of Finnick or I. We jolted to a stop and Finnick stepped calmly out of the car in front, waving to people, giving them his charming smile, playing up to his persona as the Capitol darling. I took a deep breath as he disappeared from sight, people screaming for one last look at him, and pushed down the handle to open the door. I stepped out and was immediately assaulted by loud noises, too loud. They ripped through my skull and I flinched while I walked along the pathway that was cleared for me. They screamed my name and they wouldn't stop, it echoed in my head, their voices like nails as they raked down the walls I had built up in my mind to block out the bad and keep the good close. The peacekeepers surrounded my shaking form, tiny compared to the crowds gathered; herded me to the platform where the train was waiting. Sleek and silver, like a bullet, and just as fast as one.

I stumbled over the gap where the platform ended and the train doors opened, allowing me to topple to the floor in a graceless heap. I groaned and sat up, pressing a hand to the side of my head and frowning in annoyance as I felt the slightest of bruises there. My feet slipped out of my sandals so I picked them up in one hand alongside my pointe shoes and pushed myself to a standing position leaning on the wall of the train. I took a minute to calm myself, mentally preparing for the interesting conversation that was sure to come when I walked into the next compartment. I dropped my head forwards and wiped a hand over my face before sighing and reaching out to the handle, pushing it down.

I stepped in and three sets of eyes locked on me, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Hi.” I cleared my throat and they resumed their conversation. I relaxed in relief and dropped into a chair at the table, immediately reaching out for a plate. I filled it with all kinds of foods, meat, pasta, vegetables and more. A luxury I couldn't bring myself to afford with the money I had won, food I tended to steer clear of because in my mind it belonged to the Capitol and eating it made me one of them. But I figured I was going to die soon so I might as well indulge while I could. I speared a piece of fish and potato and it was halfway to my mouth when I noticed eyes on me again. Lysander was giving me a look of wonder as he leaned forwards onto his hands.

“So Y/N, tell me why did you volunteer? We need to know so we can spin this story to give you the best chance of winning that we can you see.” He smiled and bit into a leg of chicken, tearing the meat away with his teeth. My mind blanked, I couldn't exactly tell him the real reason I volunteered, that would not go down well with the current company, I glanced over to Finnick and my eyes widened as our eyes connected for a split second before I snapped my gaze back to my plate. I shrugged my shoulders and shoved the food in my mouth. Lysander’s mouth twisted into a scowl at my disregard for him and Mags, seated next to him, smiled down at her plate.

I swallowed my food and sipped on water in a glass next to me before I answered his question

“I didn't want her to die.” He spluttered in delight.

“I can work with that. A story of two best friends, one worried for the other's safety so she volunteers to save her from certain death.” I shook my head at his words.

“No. We aren't friends. I just didn't think she deserved to die and that's the only story you're going to tell.”

“But, but, but,” Lysander stammered under my glare.

“But nothing,” I said calmly, “There is no story, I volunteered because I felt sorry for her, nothing more nothing less. Now if you'll excuse me,” I shoved the chair back and stood up, “I'm going to my room and I don't want to see you, until morning.” With that I stormed out of the compartment, slamming the door shut behind me, rattling the ornaments and pictures hanging on the walls. My footsteps were heavy as I almost ran along the corridor, I finally reached the door I wanted and stared at it, remembering how seven years ago I had stood in the exact same spot.

My thoughts were pretty different about being in the Hunger Games now. Back then I had had no choice so it was just an unfortunate circumstance I found myself in with the added threat of death. Now it was more of an actual game and I suppose that was the point, throw previous victors into an arena together, seasoned killers, guaranteed chaos would ensue. They'd have the perfect show, death upon death that would look interesting and be absolutely brutal because the executioners would all know what they were doing. It would be the most viewed year of the games in history. They’d be making hunters into performers, fighting to stay alive for the cameras. Doing anything to gain sponsors. It wouldn’t surprise me if some people went too far. But most of all, we’d be angry. Angry that we had to go back, they’d promised we were done and now it seemed they lied.

I pushed the door open and stepped into the room. It smelled of fresh peaches and vanilla, the white bedsheet pulled tightly across the mattress, light green comforter spread across the duvet. I gently closed the door behind me and threw my sandals on the floor. I leapt onto the bed, sinking into the mountain of pillows piled up near the headboard. A headboard engraved with swirls of waves and shells to represent district 4, I looked closer and on every wave was a set of initials and a date, the initials of every other district 4 tribute in the history of the games and the date they were reaped. A tradition upheld by every new victim. I traced over my initials on one of the waves and picked up the knife I had taken a few minutes ago, I picked a new wave and ripped into it, my initials carved as deeply as possible. A message that I was not going easy. I would go but I would fight every step of the way.

I chucked the knife down and admired my handiwork. I was no artist but if I were this would be my best piece. Rolling over I stood up and made my way to the wardrobe. Opening it I found an assortment of clothes and night dresses. I picked out a white one that fell loosely to my knees and pulled my pointe shoes on, tying the ribbons around my ankles and standing up. Humming a song, I rose onto my toes, hands lifting above my head as I twirled around, the skirt floating around me. I kicked one leg into the air, leaning to the other side and bringing my arms close to my body, curving them in. I danced for what seemed like hours, lost in a world of my own as I spun around in circles, sweeping my arms above my head and out in front of me. Finally growing dizzy I stopped, one foot turned out in front of me, the other pointed behind me as I let my arms drop slowly to my side, my humming stopped and I opened my eyes. Remembering the reason I was here, to help Finnick. All urge to dance left me as I quietly undid the knotted ribbons, pulling the shoes off and staring at my feet, blistered and bruised. Plasters taped on them to stop the cuts being infected. I climbed into the bed, pulling the sheets over my body, shivering as the cold fabric touched my skin and then burrowing further into the warmth it provided. I yanked the comforter closer. Rubbing my cheek on the fluffy material, hand reaching out to turn off the lights, switch just in reach making a sharp clicking sound as I flipped it. My eyes started to drift closed in the darkness, my limbs tired from the exhausting day and I fell into dark oblivion.

Taglist:

@nekee-lilac02 @hinata7346 @bambikitten @the-lonely-abyss @mxacegrey @m-maxie-ie @not-aya @camatchoum @maw1dk @avoxrising @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @somdreamy @thehairington86 @millzluvrs @val-writesstuff @erindiggory @reader-bookling123 @elisa20beth @maxinehufflepuffprincess @user123453226780536 @littleanubis21

If the tagging didn’t work or you want to be added to the taglist just let me know!

#finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick odair x you #catching fire #angst #the hunger games #thg x reader #thg series #implied finnick x annie

[002yb]

Gimmie a jason who is utterly unaware of his own sex appeal and a dick who is absolutely committed to being the first one to rake his nails down and fuck between jason's thighs.

It's never a stretch for Dick to figure out why Jason shuts down on them. For as emotional as everyone accuses Jason of being, it's never without reason. It's why when Jason suddenly starts to pull away from Dick in the middle of a briefing, he knows he fucked up somehow. A feat, given this exchange has been nothing but professional.

Even still, it happens and Dick scrambles to figure out why.

He carries on with the conversation, but not without running the entire thing through in his head - start to finish. Regardless of what angle he looks at it though, Dick can't fathom what there is for Jason to be upset with.

They have a case. They need bait. Someone beautiful, someone alluring, someone capable: Jason.

Again and again Dick tries to pinpoint what it is that set Jason off, but there's nothing. Dick has done nothing but unwittingly sing Jason's praises this entire exchange, but the more he talks the deeper Jason's scowl becomes until, abruptly, he cuts Dick off with a sneer.

"Hah, hah." Jason scoffs, arms drawn tight around himself. With a snarl, he snaps, "Stop fucking around, dick. We need someone with a modicum of sex appeal for this."

Dick furrows his brows, head tilting slightly in his confusion as he meets Jason with an inquiringly drawled, "Yeah?"

It's the wrong response, given how Jason flushes red, angry and embarrassed and oh. Dick realizes it a moment too late - Jason thinks Dick is making fun of him. Just the notion baffles Dick enough that he's flabbergasted, helpless but to watch in dumbfounded horror because what!?

"Wait! Wait, wait--" Dick sputters, chasing after where Jason storms away. It doesn't take long to catch up to him, to catch Jason's wrist and hold him back and pull away when Jason turns on him - puffed up and spitting vitriol because 'you're not fucking funny, dickwing; go to hell,' but Dick is unperturbed, hands raised in placation while talking over Jason because, "Just wait, okay?"

Jason is steaming. Dick might be, too.

"The hell would I be making fun of?" Dick asks, just to make sure.

Jason scowls at him again, "I'm not bait. I'm not a hook. You have eyes--"

"Yeah, and I'm looking." Dick gripes back, shoving Jason first in the shoulder, then prodding at his pecs, waist, hips, all while badgering, "Sex appeal, sex appeal, sex appeal--"

"Oh my god, shut the fuck up," Jason complains, smacking at Dick's hand. Dick slaps Jason's thigh in retaliation and persists with his barrage of, 'sex appeal,' until Jason relents with a defeated groan.

Unconvinced as Jason still looks, Dick still offers him a small smile while pinching Jason's cheek between thumb and forefinger, laughing under his breath at how Jason scowls and saying anyway, "Sex appeal."

"Cut it out." Jason grumbles, flush still high on his cheeks.

Dick's hand drops from Jason's cheek to the curve of Jason's neck, the heel of his palm rested over Jason's fluttering pulse. There's an appeal in that, too. In the blood that rushes to Jason's cheeks and burns across the tips of his ears, in the ways he's vulnerable to contrast everything else Jason has built himself up to be.

"I wasn't joking." Dick tells him, earnest.

And Jason's pulse skips beneath his hand, his breath catching. Dick is always attentive with Jason, so of course he notices when Jason shuts down on him; he catches on just as quick whenever Jason opens up, too - whenever Jason makes a leap and needs to be caught.

Dick thumbs over the cut of Jason's jaw, the barest of smiles pulling at his lips. Tentative and small so as to not scare Jason off; timid and enthralled because Dick meant it: Jason is beautiful, alluring, captivating and breathtaking. Dick's most genuine smiles have only ever been biting and he's helpless to how he bares his teeth or how his heart skips a beat in time with Jason's own.

#dickjay #jaydick #dorks in love #prerelationship vibes

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

New Faces in New Places

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: none really, just run of the mill teen wolf dangers lol

Genre: fluff I'd say

Summary: After a few signs from your familiar you're moving to a new town and you find out very quickly that it is anything but ordinary

***

You cross-reference the address your mom gave you with the building you're currently parked in front of. It looks like the right place but man, moving to a new town is always a hassle.

"We finally made it Ellie. You almost burned down my old apartment to get me here but- we made it. You'll have to wait here though, okay? I know mom trusts this guy but I'm not too eager to bring you into a vet's office for no reason." You say to your bird before you get out of the car. You make sure to leave the windows down because heavens know how long you'll be here. You walk into the office, startled slightly by the sound of the bell over the door. A Black man walks out of the back room wearing a lab coat over his maroon colored button-down. He's bald and has neatly trimmed facial hair.

"Hello. How can I help you?" He asks.

"Hi, Dr. Alan Deaton, I'm guessing?"

"Excuse me, do I know you?"

"Not me. But you do know my mother."

"And who is your mother?" He asks, an eyebrow quirking up at you. You wave a hand over your wrist, exposing your family crest marked into your skin, and show it to him.

"My goodness." He gasps stepping back. He swings open the door by the counter and gestures for you to follow him through the doorway he originally came through. "It's like seeing a ghost. I never thought I'd be seeing that crest again after your mother and I went our separate ways. Wait is she-"

"She's fine. Living her best life in Europe." You say, eyes shifting around the room to take it in as you lean against the metal exam table.

"That's good. What brings you here then?"

"Actually, my familiar. Kind of. She knocked over a candle that burned this spot on a map and when I did some digging, spoke to my mom and she told me it had to be here. Also that I'd find you at this place."

"I wasn't aware your mother still knew where I was but honestly leave it to her to keep track of her associates." He chuckles.

"Yeah, she told me if I was coming to Beacon Hills I had to find you first. So what do I need to know about your little town?" You ask.

"Oh well, we definitely get a lot of strange activity here. Beacon Hills has a nematon."

"Beacon Hills has a nematon?" That gets your attention. You had no idea.

"It was cut down many years ago so it's been dormant for quite some time until recently when a group of teenagers accidentally reactivated it."

"A group of teenagers reactivated a nematon?! What the hell kind of teenagers are running around here?" You blink at him.

"They weren't trying to. They were only trying to track down their parents and stop some human sacrifices."

"And they somehow reactivated a nematon? And they did that accidentally on their own?"

"I didn't know it would reactivate a chopped down tree but we also didn't have many other options at the time."

"So I take it you're quite involved with this group of teenagers?" You ask.

"Their ringleader works for me." He shrugs.

"Their ringleader works for you? So you're the adult to our resident Scooby gang." You laugh.

"What?"

"A Scooby gang is the term I use for a group of teenagers who have a knack for getting into shenanigans they have no business getting into." You shrug.

"Well, you know. Druids are advisors by nature."

"Sure- to supernaturals usually. Is this group of kids supernaturals?"

"Not all of them."

"Not all of them?! Are there a lot of supernatural kids around here?"

"Relatively?"

"What does that mean-?" You shake your head.

"Deaton! We need your help! It's Isaac- something's wrong he's not healing!" The frantic yelling along with loud movement from the front of the office turns your attention from Deaton to the doorway, your question forgotten as a man with dark hair comes barrelling in with a younger boy behind him carrying another. They all halt at the door when they see you standing there and you're smart enough to pivot so you're standing next to Deaton, out of the way assuming they intend to lay the half-conscious one on the table.

"Well don't just stand there bring him here. What happened?" Deaton asks. The man steps to the side boy carrying the other can lay him on the table.

"Wolfsbane." You say quietly, immediately picking up its signature with a magical scan of the boy.

"What?" Deaton's gaze snaps to you.

"It's Wolfsbane, we have to get it out of his system if you want him to heal himself. Do you know what kind? How it got in his system?"

"Does that matter?" The man asks staring at you from across the exam table.

"Kind of. All of that stuff affects potency and subsequently the best solution to-"

"Y/n." Deaton says gently.

"He's a bit old for your Scooby gang but I take it he's part of it?"

"I should've prefaced. They aren't all teenagers."

"Noted. But he is. And he's dying." Your gaze shoots down to the kid on the table again. "How do you want to go about this?" You ask crossing your arms.

"Can you tell me if it's yellow wolfsbane?" He asks.

"It's not." You say after a moment of your eyes flitting across the gash in his side.

"Good. So we can burn it out of him."

"You're going to induce a fever?" You ask and Deaton shakes his head.

"He's bleeding too much too fast. You'll have to burn it out."

"Me?" You blink at him.

"You know how to right?"

"Of course I do." You say.

"Well I don't keep a torch in the office so yes you'll have to do it." Deaton nods. You hardly notice the other two watching your conversation like it's a tennis match, both sets of eyes darting back and forth between you as you talk quickly with Deaton.

"Very well." You sigh rotating your neck and cracking your knuckles in preparation. You grasp the young boy's hand.

"What is she doing?" The man asks, almost growling as he shoots a glare.

"Saving Isaac's life. Back down Derek. You came here for help." Deaton says.

"Hi, Isaac. My name's y/n. I'm gonna do my best to make it quick but this is gonna be uncomfortable for a little while so- feel free to scream or break my hand." You say gently to the boy on the table, Isaac you presume, before closing your eyes. When they open again your irises are literal flames that shock the two people watching you carefully as their friend's life is in your hands. Isaac groans, his back arching off the table and his fingers squeezing around your hand with a strength that would probably crush it if he wasn't currently bleeding out on the table. It takes longer than you expect, seeking out and burning the wolfsbane coursing through his blood, but after a few minutes his blood starts to boil and you know there's no more of the deadly plant in his system. You close out your spell and wait for his grip to loosen before releasing his hand.

"I think you should wrap that gash. He's clear now but- there's no way of knowing when his healing will kick in." You tell Deaton. Deaton nods and grabs a gauze pad and medical tape.

"He'll be okay?" The other teenager looks at you and Deaton.

"Yeah he'll be fine." Deaton nods.

"What are you?" The teenager looks at you curiously.

"Who are you?" The man asks, his gaze is still skeptical but much less hostile, there's something in his eyes that you can't quite identify. Akin to awe but not quite.

"Scott, Derek, this is y/n. She's new in town. Y/n, this is Scott McCall and Derek Hale."

"Members of your Scooby gang." You say.

"Why do you keep saying that?" Derek asks.

"Before you walked in here Deaton was telling me about a particularly atypical group of teenagers that had a knack for getting into shenanigans."

"I'm not a teenager." Derek says.

"You haven't already met Stiles have you?" Scott asks. You turn to Deaton with a confused look on your face.

"Scott's best friend. Shenanigan might as well be his middle name. He's quite the erratic kid." Deaton explains.

"Ah- well, no. You, four are my intro to Beacon Hills." You say. Isaac groans as his eyes finally start to open. His half-lidded gaze turns to you and his brows furrow as he tries to identify the stranger in the room.

"You saved me." He mutters. "Are you an angel?" He asks suspiciously making you giggle at the question.

"No sweetie. In fact, some people would call me the opposite."

"Y/n don't freak him out." Deaton chuckles.

"No angel, just a witch. But welcome back. Whoever did this knicked you real good." You tell him with a soft smile and gentle squeeze of his arm.

"Well- thank you." Isaac says.

"A witch?" Scott blinks at you.

"Yep. I don't understand how this kid got wolfsbane poisoning. Are there hunters in Beacon Hills?" You frown at Deaton.

"Sometimes." Deaton says.

"One of them's an ally now though. He helps us a lot." Scott says.

"Hunters and werewolves working together. This is one interesting little town." You muse.

"You'll get used to it pretty quick." Deaton chuckles.

"Oh I'm sure. I'd hang around but Ellie will start to get antsy if she doesn't get out of her carrier soon so I have to find my house. I'll be in touch Deaton. I have a feeling this conversation is far from over." You say.

"You can call me when you get settled if you have any immediate questions. Or swing by later." Deaton says writing his number on the back of a card.

"You rest up Isaac at least a few hours before you do anything strenuous. And watch that gash, if it doesn't start healing within the hour come back to Deaton. And I assume you two will look after him. Nice to meet you all." You say to the trio of wolves before taking the card from Deaton and leaving the office. You don't notice the way Derek's eyes follow you but Deaton does, and he has to make a conscious effort to stifle his smile.

A week later and you're mostly settled into your new home. Ellie is also pretty well acquainted with her new space, which is great because she can be quite particular.

"Something interesting out there Ellie?" You ask when your bird perches by the window, staring outside as intently as a bird can. Her wings flutter fiercely for a moment and she attempts to pry open the window with her beak. You quickly stand from your couch and whistle at her, tapping your finger to guide her over.

"I take it we have to be somewhere? Now when I take you out there wait for me to get on my bike before you start rushing off to whatever danger you're chasing." You warn her as you put on your shoes. She coos at you with her head tilted slightly and you roll your eyes before leaving your apartment. Outside you barely manage to get the bike running before Ellie flies off down a street.

"Dammit Ellie." You huff, speeding after her on your bike, looking up every so often to check her flight path. She eventually perches on a perches on a light by a warehouse and you take off your helmet ready to curse her for being so frantic but the sound of voices inside grabs your attention.

"I told you not to rush off you silly bird." You hiss at her when she flies down to sit on your shoulder as you approach the door curiously. You can see two people standing to the side but ready to jump in along with three, no four, people circling each other and you can hear growling, which is cleared up when one of the faces is revealed to be Scott from Deaton's office. You've had a couple more conversations with Deaton since your first one and have since learned that Scott is the ringleader he'd mentioned that first day and that he's got a whole bunch of supernatural friends. You whistle loudly enough to get everyone's attention and six pairs of eyes snap to you. You recognize Isaac in the bunch too. The two other guys they were growling at don't match any of the descriptions Deaton's given you so, process of elimination tells you the other two people looking at you must be Stiles and Lydia.

"Whatever you think you saw, you didn't we were just teens doing- teen goof things." Stiles, you're pretty sure, frantically says.

"You know Stiles I'd have expected a better excuse from you." You say. "That is Stiles right?" You ask Scott. He and Isaac nod which causes Stiles to look frantically between the three of you.

"How do you know my name?! And you two know her? Why don't I know her? Who are you?" Stiles asks.

"I'm gonna ask that you hold all questions briefly." You tell Stiles before turning your attention to the two unidentified individuals who still look to be on guard. "You two, I'm guessing, do not belong here." You address them only to be met with a growl that you immediately counter with a command. "Ciúin." You say sharply and their aggression dwindles. "I suggest you both return to where you belong of your own free will while you can. This territory is not up for grabs." You say sternly, flashing your magic in warning. The boys glare at you as if they are planning to challenge your demand but neither seems willing to take the risk when they meet your warning gaze. After a stretch of silence, they let out another growl at Scott and Isaac before leaving.

"We totally could've taken them." Isaac huffs.

"What did you do?" Scott asks.

"Nothing really just- a scare tactic I learned some years ago." You shrug.

"Well thank you." He nods.

"Can I ask my questions now?" Stiles asks.

"Stiles, Lydia, this is y/n. She's new to Beacon Hills." Scott says to his friends.

"So how do you already know her?" Stiles asks.

"She knows Deaton. And, she saved Isaac's life." Scott says.

"Yeah." Isaac nods. "Hi again." He says to you with a shy smile.

"Hi, Isaac. You look much better than the last time I saw you." You return his smile with one of your own when he straightens up at your attention.

"So do you! I- I mean, now that I'm not like half-conscious or whatever." He says awkwardly shifting his gaze from you.

"Hey, how did you even know we'd be here?" Scott asks you.

"Ellie." You say lifting your shoulder slightly to show off the bird still perched there contently. "She flew right to you." You add, handing her a treat you conjured.

"That's a pigeon." Stiles says.

"She's my familiar." You correct him.

"You have a familiar?" Lydia asks.

"Correct." You nod.

"What does that mean? Is she not human?" Stiles asks Lydia.

"I'm a witch. Think druid but cooler." You wink at him. "Don't tell Deaton I said that." You add in a stage whisper that makes the others laugh.

"So is that how you knew my name?" Stiles asks.

"No. Deaton's just been giving me the 411 on everyone I need to know about so I made a guess based on the names and descriptions I have." You say.

"Scott we've gotta have a talk man. When you meet people who might be of significance like witches you're supposed to tell me!" Stiles says.

"I figured you'd meet her yourself soon enough." Scott shrugs.

"Before this continues- because I'm sure it will. What were those guys doing here anyway?" You ask interrupting the couple's quarrel that's about to start.

"They were- sending a message." Isaac says.

"A message? To whom?" You frown.

"Scott. Looks like word's gotten around that he's an alpha."

"It's a good thing you showed up when you did because I had a really bad feeling about them fighting." Lydia mutters.

"I guess Ellie's taken a liking to you all. She's the one who sensed there was trouble."

"Thank you Ellie." Scott says nodding at your bird.

"You all should get out of here and head home before any more trouble comes looking for you." You say.

"Will you be alright getting home?" Isaac asks you.

"I should be asking you all that." You chuckle.

"Stiles will drive us." Scott tells you.

"So?" Isaac prompts.

"I appreciate the concern hon but I am an adult, with enough magical power to level a city. I'll be fine on my bike." You laugh. "Now you guys get going." Everyone starts to move towards the door except Stiles, who starts to object when he sees his friends leaving.

"Hang on now just because you stopped a fight doesn't mean you can- woah woah hang on!" Stiles loses his train of thought as Scott drags him towards the warehouse entrance and you chuckle.

"Come on man don't be an ass." Scott mutters to his friend.

"I just want you to know I have more questions for you that I will be asking at a later date!" Stiles calls to you even as he's being removed.

"Deaton has my address! Have him give it to you and you can come by and ask as many questions as you want!" You shout after him.

"I will do exactly that!" He points just before the group exits and you laugh to yourself in the empty warehouse.

"You brought me across the country to protect this group of teenagers?" You ask Ellie. "I hope you know we'll have no more peace." You scoff at her before the two of you leave the warehouse yourselves.

A few hours later a knock on your door pulls you away from the movie you're watching. You place your mug of hot chocolate on the table before walking over to your front door and checking the spyhole to find Derek on your porch.

"Derek?! What are you doing here?" You ask with a frown. You haven't seen him since you met last week and quite frankly you weren't sure you would. He seemed rather apprehensive around you all in all.

"I- heard you helped the kids out of a jam earlier. I wanted to thank you." He says.

"Oh- no need. They probably could've sorted it out themselves honestly but Ellie really felt we had to step in."

"Ellie?"

"My bird, familiar."

"Familiar- that's right, you're a witch."

"I am indeed." You chuckle. "You- said you came here to thank me? I don't want you to feel like you have to do-"

"Oh I don't! Didn't. I'm not here out of obligation I wanted to come. It's not every day someone as pretty as you moves to Beacon Hills."

"Are you flirting with me Derek Hale?" You ask, surprised at his direct line.

"Depends on if it's working." He says.

"Are you here to ask me on a date or not Derek?" You ask. There's a moment of silence before he replies.

"Will you go on a date with me?" He asks.

"I would love to." You smile at him.

"I've been trying to work up the courage to ask you that all week." Derek breathes out.

"How cute. Do you have a phone?"

"Of course I do."

"Do you have it with you?" He hands you the device eagerly and you input your number for him. "You can call me when you've figured out the details." You say handing it back to him. "Okay?" You prompt when all he does is give you a goofy smile.

"Okay." He says still giving you a pleased look that makes you want to laugh at how cute he is. You jolt suddenly when your own phone rings on your coffee table.

"Oh shoot- one second." You say rushing to grab it. Unknown number. "Hello?" You answer walking back over to your front door where Derek has his phone pressed to his ear, looking at you cheekily as he speaks and his voice comes through your device.

"I'll pick you up at 7:30 on Friday?" He asks and you laugh before you give him an answer.

"Didn't realize you already had a plan."

"Oh, I've been planning all week. If you said yes I wanted to be ready."

"Then I will see you Friday. For now, you should go home, looks like it's going to rain." You say noticing the clouds obscuring the usually starry night sky. Derek looks up as if he didn't even realize.

"Right. I'll see you Friday." He says with one last smile before he takes off. You smile to yourself as you return to your movie and hot chocolate. Friday just can't come soon enough. Maybe moving to Beacon Hills was a more perfect idea than you gave Ellie credit for.

***

#teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #derek hale x reader #derek hale #derek hale fanfiction #derek hale fluff

[void-wolfie]

The Moon & Saturn

summary: Jenna comes home early one day to find a heartbreaking sight. The two of you work through your problems together.

pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem!Reader

tw: self-harm, depression (?), mental instability, angst...

words: 1.26k

a/n: I'm a terrible writer, and it's my first time posting something like this, don't judge me too much.

**if you're easily triggered or upset by things (ie, talk of self-harm), I recommend not reading.

Jenna stood in front of you defeated, tears pooling in her eyes despite her attempts at remaining strong. She seemed desperate to reach out, yet afraid the smallest touch might break you.

You sat curled into the corner. The tear tracks would've been dry if it weren't for the fresh wave running down your face.

It would've been fine if she hadn't been home. She wasn't supposed to be, but she came home early to surprise you. When she walked in on you in the bathroom all hell broke loose.

As a kid, you always felt different from others around you, and adulthood was no different. The thoughts in your head ebbed and flowed like the waves of a tsunami and the ups and downs often pulled you under. One week you'd be fine, feeling like life couldn't get much better, then the next you'd hit a major depressive episode for seemingly no reason.

When you met Jenna you learned to hide all that. Or at least mask most of it. Eventually, you couldn't hide everything, and she met a side of you that you never wanted her to see. Late-night crying sessions, temper tantrums out of frustration, days where you were so numb you couldn't even manage to leave your bed... She saw all of it. Well, almost all of it.

A year of dating and somehow you had still managed to hide your biggest vice from her. Cutting. As far as she knew you'd never done it and you never would. It was the only lie you'd ever told her in your relationship.

The blade sat on the edge of the bathtub from when you had used it mere minutes ago, the edge still stained red.

You pushed yourself further into the corner, almost hoping the floor would crack open and swallow you whole. Anything to avoid Jenna's disappointed and heartbroken gaze.

She didn't say anything. Not yet at least. She picked up the washcloth sitting on the bathroom counter and wet it under the sink. She kneeled in front of you slowly, as though any sudden movement might scare you off.

Waves of guilt were flooding your veins. You couldn't meet her eyes, settling on watching her clean the red lines on your thigh instead. The blood had rolled down the side of your leg, creating a small puddle underneath you.

She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve you. She shouldn't have to come home and worry about her girlfriend having some kind of mental spiral. She shouldn't have to deal with you on top of all the other shit she deals with on a day-to-day basis.

She finished wiping the blood away and used the cloth to put pressure on the slits, attempting to slow the bleeding. She grabbed the blade from beside you, moving it to the counter instead, just out of reach.

It was silent. Deadly. Both of you watched as she tended to the cuts. Neither of you wanted to make eye contact.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She finally broke the silence, her voice cracking mid-sentence.

"I'm sorry." It was all you could muster up, your voice hoarse and weak from all the crying. The lump in your throat made it all worse, like trying to swallow sandpaper with cottonmouth.

She grabbed your hand gently, waiting to see if you'd flinch away. She'd never admit it, but she was thankful you hadn't. She set your hand where hers was on the washcloth, "Hold this."

You did as she asked, holding the cloth in place, trying to use about the same amount of pressure she had.

She went to stand up, but before she could move away you grabbed her wrist, stopping her in place. "Please don't go," It was barely above a whisper.

Now that she had seen you here, in this dark head space, you were terrified. Terrified that if she left, even for just a second, it just might be forever. You couldn't have that; you weren't ready to lose her. It might seem selfish, but you needed her.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby," She cupped the sides of your face, wiping away the tear tracks with the pads of her thumbs. She placed a small kiss on your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling away.

The reassurance made you melt. She wasn't leaving you. Not yet.

She grabbed the first-aid kit from under the bathroom sink. When she moved the rag away from the cuts it was a lot clearer how long this had been going on. A sea of faint white lines and faded pink scars littered the surrounding skin. She wanted to cry just looking at them. How could she have missed this? How could she not notice that one of the most important people in her life was suffering?

When she finished patching you up, she led you out of the bathroom and over to the bed, sitting down beside you. All you wanted was to curl up and sleep beneath the warm blankets, but the look on Jenna's face told you she wanted to talk.

"Why?" It was only one word, but a loaded question.

You shrugged, not giving her the answer she wanted. The disappointed look on her face was enough to make you rethink everything.

"And this time using words?"

"When I get... overwhelmed, I feel like I'm gonna explode. Sometimes, doing that is the only way to make it better."

"How long?"

Your silence was all she needed to know. Long enough.

"Baby, why didn't you tell me? I could've helped you," Her voice crackled as she spoke, silent tears rolling down her face. You had done the one thing you were hoping to avoid. You hurt her.

A numbness washed over you at her words, the voices coming back louder than before. She deserves better. Why would she ever love you? All you are is a burden. All you do is hurt people. Loving you was is destroying her.

"You should leave me," the words slipped out without a second thought. You knew why you had said it, you needed to protect her from your fucked psyche, but that's not what you wanted. God, Jenna was one of the best things to happen to you if she left you... well, you didn't wanna think about that.

"What?" The question caught her off guard, her eyebrows furrowing as she tried to find some sign you were kidding. "Why would say that?"

"I'm a mess, you shouldn't have to put up with me all the time-"

"Hey, no." She put a stop to your rambling before you could even get started, "I don't put up with you, ok? I love you. Every single fucking part of you. The late-night fights over stupid shit, the midnight tears followed by way too much ice cream, the way you put everyone before yourself, how you laugh at every single joke you hear, even if it's completely ridiculous. I come home every night and I think about how lucky I am to have you in my life. I love you so much it hurts. To the moon and Saturn, remember?"

That was your thing. Some couples had traditions or inside jokes. You and Jenna loved each other to the moon and Saturn.

"To Saturn."

It was a simple reply. But it didn't need to be anything more. Jenna knew that you loved her just as much as she loved you. So much so, that just the thought of losing one another was physically painful.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega imagine #void-wolfie

[ilydottie]

| I Wanna Make My Murder Look Like A Suicide | 

Pairing: Diluc x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Dark content, Yandere, Yan!Diluc, Fem!Reader, Reader wears a dress, Diluc is your husband, Abuse, Manipulation, Reader is disabled, Reader uses a cane, Reader is referred to as Diluc’s ��Wife’, Mentions of past forced feeding, Arranged Marriage, It is implied that reader’s family was abusive, Scratching (Reader), Diluc is very cruel in this, Kaeya appears towards the end, Dissociation, Reader has a mental breakdown, Stockholm Syndrome (? I’m unsure about this one ?), 4.6k Words. 

A/n: Reupload because I deleted this foasijfasodi but yeah idk I really just think yandere!Diluc is neat. Also, the title are lyrics from the song Cotard’s Solution by Will Wood and The Tapeworms.

Summary: When your family arranges a marriage with the wealthy owner of Dawn Winery, you jump at the first chance you can to escape your cruel family, but what new hell awaits you on the other side?

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked in a cold tone. 

It threw you off for a moment but only briefly, because if there’s one thing you could promise yourself it’s that your husband, Diluc, would never harm you. But somehow you couldn’t help but clutch onto the fabric of your dress, the same one he gave you on your first wedding anniversary, hands shaking for some unknown reason.

“I was just going for a walk. Would you like to j-” He cut you off mid sentence, snapping at you in response.

“No, I don’t want to go anywhere and neither should you. It’s”— He checked his pocket watch before quickly tucking it back into his pocket— “Three in the morning and both of us should be heading to bed.” 

“But-” Before you could get another word in he’d grabbed your wrist and pulled you forward.

That was your cue that it was indeed time to end the night, in bed… with your husband. Your beloved husband who would never steer you astray. So, then why did you have this feeling in the pit of your stomach that something was terribly and unmistakably wrong? 

Soon the sun rose and pierced through the window of your bedroom, waking you up with its warm rays and urging you to get ready for the day. You didn’t have anywhere to go or anything to do exactly—to be fair you never did—but that never stopped you from looking your very best. So, you quickly put on a decent looking outfit, brushed your hair, and grabbed your cane. And just as you were about to descend down the stairs you saw the flower embroidered basket out of the corner of your eye. It always tempted you, or maybe taunted is the more appropriate word, and you decided against fighting your desires and instead hooked it over your free arm. 

You checked both ways before tip-toeing downstairs, hoping your walk was closer than it was last night. Closer and closer you came to the front door, you knew it was silly but you really wanted to take a walk and you couldn’t understand your husband’s rejections towards it. Your hand was on the bronze knob and you were just about to turn it when a hand placed itself on your shoulder. You jumped and looked to see who it was and to your surprise and relief, it was Adelinde. It made getting caught a little less scary and a lot more tedious, because you knew there was nothing you could do to keep her watchful eyes off of you. 

She smiled fondly, too fondly, and finally spoke. “You’re supposed to be resting. Come on, let’s get you some breakfast. Master Diluc is expecting you.” She led you into the dining area.

Pulling back an open seat, Adelinde helped you into your seat, pushing your chair closer to the table while the both of you waited for Diluc to arrive. And once he did she did the same for him and walked outside as he dismissed her. Not once did she look back and it made you nervous for reasons you weren’t sure of. The both of you waited in thick silence for the food to arrive, and once it had he took a few bites before he ordered everyone in the house to give you two some privacy.

It was that moment, that moment right then and there that made you question just what exactly your husband would say or do. Maybe an answer to last night’s little event, or something truly dreadful instead. It was the very minute you happened to look at him that he set down his utensils and spoke at last.

“Are you unhappy?” he said casually, as if he hadn’t just questioned the very existence of you in his life. 

You were stunned, but not too much that you couldn’t speak. 

“Of course I am! What kind of question is that?” you replied defensively. 

Your heart began to pound harshly against your chest, and you could feel the sudden drop of your stomach. Clenching the fork in your right hand you tried grounding yourself, controlling your emotions, but the feeling was so strong you started to cry. 

Diluc reached over and gingerly wiped away the stray tear on your cheek. “Please, don’t cry.” You were silent aside from the hurtful whimpers you let out. “I’m not mad.” 

Diluc slowly made his way out of his chair and knelt beside yours in an effort to comfort you, but that did quite the opposite. He gently held onto your left hand and looked at you with softened eyes, except for the fact that they were grey and empty. You tried to stop crying but your tears became uncontrollable, and soon you were sobbing into the crook of your right arm’s elbow. It felt like your world was caving, as if your heart stopped and the air was stripped straight from your lungs. The worst part was how you had no clue what was the real problem, that was until you said that loathsome phrase you always did end up blurting out.

“Are.. Are you leaving me?” you asked timidly.

The fear in your voice was evident but you couldn’t find the strength or courage to pretend otherwise. Sometimes when you blurted it out you hoped he wouldn’t answer, just so that there was no choice for rejection. It was better that way you told yourself, even though he had never rejected you. To be frank, if he hadn’t put that worry in your head in the first place, then you wouldn't have reacted this way. But if there’s one thing you learned from this marriage it was that Diluc would show you only what he wanted you to see. So, to the world he was an honest man, a doting husband, and above all, kind, but that was not the reality you lived. 

Diluc took both of your hands now and gave them a tight grip, looking you deep in your eyes. “I will never leave you. Okay, sweetheart?” 

His words felt less like a promise and more like a threat. You used to have so much more fight in you, but these days you barely had any left. So, you nodded and allowed him to give you a hug before the both of you finished up your breakfast. The remainder of the day was spent watching out the windows of your regal prison, dreaming of the day you could finally feel the sun on your face again. This was the pattern of your every day, from the moment the sun went up and till the very time it fell below the ground; wishing and praying that someday your fate would change. Perhaps that day was closer than you presumed, but you were doubtful. 

The pattern continued for weeks, you had constant flare ups and Diluc would consistently refuse to let you leave the house. Until, one day ,the pain had lessened enough to the point where you didn’t need your cane or wheelchair, and instead could truly stretch your legs for once. It was by no means a permanent thing but you wanted to celebrate this small relief, and with what you might ask? A nice walk through the outside breeze of course. Today was the day you were so sure that Diluc would let you outside, or at the very least walk with you. 

So, you found a comfortable outfit to wear, looked at your aid with a triumphant smile, and carefully descended down the stairs. You were proud to be able to have a day free of your mobility aid, it was liberating, but you knew once you saw Diluc at the bottom of the steps that something was wrong. Something was very wrong, indeed. Slowly you walked down the staircase and once you were face to face with your husband, you could see his face was that of a truly frustrated and fed up man. 

He knows, you thought to yourself. 

“You’re late,” he said in a cold tone as he pulled out a chair at the table for you, and helped you into your seat. 

You kept your sights on your food as much as you could, because you knew damn well that Diluc could sniff out your true feelings with ease. Making sure to hold eye contact with Diluc as much as you could stomach, you took deep breaths as you readied yourself to ask the question you’d been dying to ask. This all depended on how healthy you appeared, if he caught even a whiff of pain or weakness it was all over for you. 

“Sorry,” you said weakly. 

Already your heart was banging hard in your ear drums, causing chaos before the eruption had occurred. You both waited patiently, and you, silently, for the remainder of the food to be served to you. Once you had been served the usual meal you were given, you stared at it for a good moment while Master Diluc began digging in almost immediately. Maybe he was in a better mood today, you thought to yourself. Maybe, or maybe not. He soon noticed you hadn’t touched your food and ushered for you to eat. 

“Eat,” he demanded, a hint of urgency lingering in his voice, but the overall tone was still harsh. 

It was when your teary eyes were long focused on the meal with no urgency to touch it that he raised his brow in suspicion and watched you with an angered expression. It was one thing to try to run away from his hot and cold exterior, but it was another to avoid his good deeds entirely. He set down his utensils with a loud clank and looked straight forward at you, trying his best to contain his rage. 

“I said, eat.” He demanded through grit teeth. 

This was the side of him that many– no, everyone missed completely. Those close to him didn’t see how cruel and unforgiving he was behind closed doors. They didn’t know that if all your food was not eaten how Diluc would sit there to make sure you ate even just a little more than you could stomach, against your begging wishes, of course. No one, and I mean no one except those that resided in the home, knew about his harsh tendencies. And that meant that not a single soul knew just how horribly he treated his sweet angel of a wife, but maybe it was better that way. After all, if someone like you was stupid enough to stay then maybe you really did deserve all the torture he’d constantly put you through. And you’d think that after his hardened voice demanding you to eat that your fear would kick in and force you to shovel down your food, but you’d be wrong. 

“Is there something wrong with the food, my dear?” He asked through grit teeth, again. 

You shook your head and tears fell into your food. 

Diluc stood up from his seat and stared you down. “Then what is wrong?”

You said nothing. Instead, you continued to cry into your food as Diluc stared down at you like a troublesome child. You just couldn’t stop, no matter how hard Diluc told you to calm down, relax, or ease yourself, it was all to no avail. It only furthered your pathetic tears. Diluc wanted to know the truth, just for you to tell him why you refused to eat, but if you told him the truth he’d only become more angry and you weren't sure you could handle that at the moment. You weren’t sure you could handle this life a moment longer, but unfortunately you didn’t and never had a choice. It was tragic really, but that was life for you. 

It wasn’t that you hadn’t tried to leave him before, trust me, you tried, but it was all to no avail. You could hardly make it downstairs without some help, so what made you think you could escape all on your own unscathed. When your family arranged the marriage you blindly accepted, thinking escaping your heartless family must be a better life than if you were to stay, but boy were you wrong. Diluc was sweet at first, kind and gentle just as he is in the public eye, but it wasn’t till the honeymoon that you realized something was terribly wrong. And by time you realized your mistake it was far too late. 

“I-” You started to speak, but were quickly cut off by your choking tears. 

You tried your best to speak up, say something, anything, but each time you were silenced by gut wrenching cries. The one time you attempted to look up to address the situation you were met with cold, unfeeling eyes and averted your gaze with hiccuping sobs. 

“Ugh, will you just spit it out already?” Diluc groaned in frustration. 

That only furthered your sobs and worsened it. Your hands tangled into your hair and began to scratch at your scalp for relief, but you only ended up with a sore scalp and traces of blood underneath your fingernails. Your tears grew bigger, your cries louder, and all sense of rationale left your body. The atmosphere was foggy and unclear, like looking into a cloudy looking glass for reasoning and coming up with absolutely nothing in return. You swore you heard a voice through the thickness of it all, but even as you were dragged from your seat in the dining room and led back into the privacy of your own room, you held no grasp on reality. It must’ve been hours, maybe days, or so it felt like, before you started to come to. A strong grip held you close to something, something warm, and rocked you comfortingly as small shushes could be heard near your ears. 

It was only moments later that you began to recognize the world around you, and the familiar figure holding you close. Too close. It was none other than Master Diluc. Why he was holding you in such a tender and intimate position, you weren’t sure you knew, but you one thing was for sure, it felt extremely uncomfortable. You writhed in his holding, trying your damnedest to squirm out of his hold, but he was much stronger than you. A pins and needles sensation spread from your hips to the tip of your toes, and you could barely move from your position. Your hands were free aside  from the vice grip Diluc had on your arms, almost crushing them as he held you closely. You felt the need to cry all over again, but suppressed it as hard as you could. Thankfully, your attempts worked and this time you remained strong.

You tried to remain quiet and confident, but your confidence was shattered the moment you heard his sweet yet poisonous voice ring through your ears. “You’re awake.”

Unfortunately

“Y-Yes. What happened?” You asked, trying to put the pieces together. 

Diluc shifted into an upright position and prepared to tell you some of the truth. He couldn’t have you trying to run off, again. Unfortunately, what Master DIluc didn’t know was that your determination far outweighed any punishment he could potentially give to you. After he explained it to you in his own version, you nodded in agreement and expressed your exhaustion. You wanted to go to bed and forget all about this day., even though it felt like it had just begun. Sure, Diluc had his suspicions as to why you so suddenly wanted to sleep after such a conversation, but he brushed it off as his own paranoia. After all, he’d curated a life that he made damn sure you could never run away from. At least, not without some help. 

That night was spent with eyes vigilantly open, wide and observant as you rested your head on the pillow, keeping out for when Diluc would come to bed. If he caught you in bed awake right now he was sure to have a few words, but you’d simply lie and say the pain kept you awake, which wouldn’t exactly be far from the truth, but it wasn’t the truth. You watched out the only window you had in your room, gazing at the open sky full of stars and the full moon and wondered what was taking Diluc so long. What was taking him so long? He should’ve long been in bed by now. So, why was he still hard at work in his study? Regardless of the reasoning you calmed yourself down, trying your best to satiate your impatience, because if you weren’t careful it could very well be the thing that led to your downfall. 

It must’ve been about an hour or so later when you heard the heavy footsteps of your husband head up the stairs and then quietly trail into your shared room. You could vividly hear him discard his clothes and climb into what you guessed were more comfortable ones. He kissed you softly on the forehead, foolishly believing you were asleep, and climbed into bed with you. Feeling his hot breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine, you couldn’t remember the last time you slept without him breathing down your neck, literally. It was awful. Although you were thankful that tonight his vice grip wasn’t holding you in place —making it perfect for your little escape plan— there was still a heavy feeling of discomfort floating throughout the bedroom. 

You were patient, and all that patience of yours finally paid off when you heard the light to heavy snores of Diluc behind you. It was time, time to make your escape. It would be tricky getting out of the bed with him in it, but thankfully Diluc was a heavy sleeper. Slowly and very very carefully you removed the blankets from your body and started to slide down to the edge of the bed. Closer.. Closer.. Closer.. Until finally, your legs hung off the edge of the bed. Diluc shifted in his sleep and let out a loud snore which caused you to jump in your own skin, but looking back you saw he was still fast asleep. Letting out a silent sigh of relief you steadied yourself with both hands as you placed both of your wobbly feet to the ground. Now, the next part would prove one of the most difficult tasks, getting your cane. It currently sat in a cage with other canes and umbrellas you owned (not that you ever actually left the house) and could potentially make a lot of noise if you weren’t careful. 

Cautiously you tiptoed to the cage and took a slow, deep breath before reaching inside and slowly pulled it out. It was a wooden cane so if hit at just the right amount of speed it could make quite enough noise, not as much as it would if it were metal, but it would be just enough to awaken the young master. With extreme caution you began to pull it out, further and further, until it was almost fully out, but in an unfortunate turn of events your hand began to grow weak and numb and you dropped it. Thankfully, you were able to grab it with your other hand before it could wake up Diluc, but not before it banged against the cage in a painfully loud manner. You froze in place, not moving a single muscle until you heard the light snores of Diluc once again. Carefully pulling out the entire cane you then positioned it as you usually would for the day and used it to help you hold your weight upright, as you gradually turned the doorknob and opened the bedroom door. 

Peeking out the door you could so no one and nothing except for the moonlight illuminating the hallway. Now was as good a chance as any to make a run for it, and so you quickly tiptoed down the stairs with the help of your cane to steady you, eagerly walking towards the door the moment your feet touched the first floor. Your hand hovered above the knob as you stopped in shock. Was this it? Were you finally going to leave this miserable and pitiful life to live one full of joy and freedom? It is what you deserved after all, you thought. It’s what you had always wanted and needed. Without wasting a moment sooner you turned the knob and braced yourself for whatever waited for you outside those doors, and stepped outside for the first time in a long time. 

It must’ve been summertime because the heat was thick and the air was muggy. If you had been out on a daily or constant basis you were sure you would’ve hated it, but in that moment you loved nothing more than to feel the heat and thick, muggy air. You never realized how beautiful the Dawn Winery was from the outside until just now. Crystalflies flew through the air and around the grape vines. The moon was full and the stars shone brightly in the nighttime sky. It was beautiful, everything you’d always dreamt of and more. The flowers were even more beautiful than you had remembered and they smelt even better than you could’ve ever dreamt of. Everything was perfect, absolutely perfect. That is until you saw the mansion lit up with lights and realized that he and possibly everyone else was awake. 

You tried to make a run for it as best as you could but you were stopped by a hand on your wrist pulling you backwards and down onto the ground. You fell into a puddle of mudd, soaking your nightgown as you looked up in horror at the man that was supposed to be your husband. His face was cold and full of fury, you’d never seen him look like this before. This wasn’t like those other times when you tried to take walks, because this time you had actually tried to leave him. Leave him all alone with only his wounded pride and broken heart for comfort. He was seething with rage and all you could do in reply was cry, cry like a child that had been caught with their hands in a cookie jar. You didn’t know what exactly prompted you to cry so much, so hard, and so pathetically, but you continued to do so anyway. 

“Come inside, now.” Diluc demanded.

But now that you had a taste of the outside world after such a long time of being deprived of it you wanted more, so you shook your head and rejected his commands. This only further angered Diluc, because he then pulled you up by your forearms and dragged you back inside. You clawed at the door frame trying to stay outside, but he was much stronger than you. He threw you onto the floor and slammed the door shut, proceeding to lock it tightly with a key you’d never seen before. Immediately Diluc started cursing at you, a bright fire in his eyes that consumed his very being began to spread as you realized you had royally fucked up. You couldn’t even focus on a word he was saying because all you could imagine was whatever hell he was about to put you through.

One Week Later…

“Come on, let’s get you all nice and pretty.” Adelinde said, tightening your brand new dress that Diluc had bought you.

It was an apology, a present, but you knew the true nature of the young master, and nothing could fix this marriage, not even your own freedom. You stood there and looked in the mirror as Adelinde fixed your hair with a smile. You too would’ve smiled if it weren’t for the grim reality you faced. Especially on days where Diluc invited over his brother for dinner. Kaeya had no clue of anything that went on in the mansion, not a damn idea, but that didn’t mean he had no suspicions. Kaeya was smart like that, could catch onto things quickly especially being the cavalry captain, and this sort of thing was no different. 

After Adelinde had gotten you all nice and ready the two of you descended down the staircase where you ran into Diluc and his brother, Kaeya. Kaeya looked towards you and smiled, helping you down the rest of the way. Kaeya always was a helpful and kind man like that, constantly helping those in need. Sometimes, just sometimes, you wished he’d help you escape this place, but that was a childish dream. The two of you exchanged pleasantries as you all sat at the dining room table and awaited your food. Everything was going well until the events of a week ago started to come flooding in. You tried your best to hide it but with how brightly the sun started to shine through the windows you couldn’t help but miss the heat and the thick air you once touched. 

“Are you alright?” Kaeya asked, but you playfully brushed off your odd behavior with laughter and a joke, but he was not convinced.

No, Kaeya was not so easily swayed by the same type of joking behavior he too would use to cover his own emotions. So, he watched you the entire dinner all the way till the end. He noticed how flinched against his brother’s touch and noticed how your gaze always seemed to find itself lined up with the open windows. Something was wrong, something was not right about this and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. He would not let you suffer a moment longer, no matter how impossible the mission seemed. Kaeya wanted to tell you this, he wanted to reassure you that he was going to help you escape, but he could never find the right time with Diluc and Adelinde breathing down his neck as he was sure they did the same, and much worse to  you. 

It soon came time to say his goodbyes and as he did he locked eyes with you, saying things with them that he would never dare to say out loud in front of the young master. Even though it was just a dinner, and a revealing one at that, he planned to have many more dinners with Diluc in the future, warm up to you, get closer to you, and hopefully gain your trust enough to help you escape this awful, awful place. That is if he didn’t get killed in the process of it all… 

#diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #yandere diluc x reader #yandere genshin x reader