#you’re　　growing　　tired　　of　　me;　　you　　love　　me　　so　　hard　　and　　i　　still　　can’t　　sleep　　ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fleur-bbyy · 6 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ WAKING THEM UP TO FUCK!

PAIRINGS: SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO, TOJI FUSHIGURO, KENTO NANAMI.

WARNINGS: MDNI!!! female reader, pet names, (gojo) cuddle fucking, (geto) missionary, light teasing, (toji) cowgirl, him being a lazy bastard, (nanami) doggy, ass slapping

SATORU GOJO: just as horny as you are.

the air around you is sweltering as you wake from your dream, but you swear your core feels even hotter.

you’re already soaked, panties sticking to your skin. sticking uncomfortably at that. it’s early, too early to even think about trying to get off. causing you to try to wiggle around and get comfortable again so you could go back to sleep before you feel an arm sling around your waist.

“can’t keep squirming like that, baby.” satoru’s voice is low in your ear with the slightest rasp. enough rasp to make your cunt clench around absolutely nothing and for your body to involuntarily squirm again.

“sorry, satoru. just got woken up from a dream.”

“oh?” his slender fingers rub up and down your side, lingering a little longer when they reached your hip. “is that why your panties are so wet?”

you frown. you know he’s used to this and it doesn’t bother him at all, but you still feel bad for waking him in the night so frequently.

“‘m sorry, ‘toru. i know you have to work tomorrow.” he hooks his chin over your shoulder and giggles into your neck.

“don’t be sorry, pretty girl, not faring much better than you right now.” you feel him shallowly thrust against your ass, feeling how hard his cock is. “how about you help me out and i help you?” his fingers slip from your waist to the top of your panties and once you nod your head, he’s pulling them down just far enough to uncover your pussy.

“this is why sleeping naked is so worth it,” he pauses as he lines up with your entrance and begins to push in, the pair of you moaning when he sinks in all the way, “makes it so i can help my girl faster.”

you whimper when his hand moves to grip your waist, holding you closer to him as he begins to thrust. your pussy squelching from how wet you were.

“were you having a good dream baby? that why you’re so soaked f’me?” you moan again in response, frantically nodding your head.

“yeah?” he thrusts into you harshly and groans, “tell me allllll about it, pretty, and i’ll make it come true.”

SUGURU GETO: tired until he slips it in.

you knew better than to wake up suguru late on a work night, but you were aching so badly and it wasn’t something just your own fingers could fix.

his raven hair was spread across his pillow and his arm was slung across his eyes to black any of the light in the room. he looked unbelievably beautiful and hot, even though you couldn’t see his whole face.

“please baby?” you whisper, kissing the column of his neck. “i won’t do it again. i promise.” the corner of his lips tug into a smirk and his hand snakes down to palm his growing erection.

“you’re so lucky i love you.” you smile when he lazily rolls on top of you. your face scrunching into pleasure when he runs a finger through your wet slit.

“no panties baby? sure you weren’t planning on waking me up?” his voice still laced with sleep.

“no, never.” you smile up at him again, eyes low as you watch him jerk his thick cock a few times before lining in up with your sopping hole. pushing in just the tip to play with you.

“don’t tease right now, need you so bad.”

“yeah?” he pauses to yawn, eyes squinting, but never moving from the sight of your pussy stretching around the head. “how bad, baby?”

“so bad, please don’t make me beg.” you roll your hips into him and stick out your bottom lip. he groans, not wanting to tease you more for your and his sake.

“y’so lucky i’m sleepy and don’t wanna tease.” he says, throwing your legs over his shoulder as he begins to sink into you further. both of you throwing your head back and his eyes snapping shut.

“ohh fuck.” he growls. hips rolling forward to meet yours and your skin making a slight slapping sound when they connect. suguru leans over to grip the headboard. long, messy hair dangling in his face.

“so sorry for waking you up, ‘guru.” you whine as he reaches so impossibly deep inside you. the headboard beginning to smack against the wall.

“don’t be sorry, baby, i’m wiiiide awake now.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO: he’ll wake up, but makes you do the work.

“toji, baby?” you lightly shake his arm to no avail. “tooooji.” you throw the duvet off of your hot skin and shake him once more, grinning when he stirs from his sleep.

“what’re y’waking me up at this time for?” he rubs his eyes with his fists and looks at the small digital clock on his nightstand. the deep rumble of his voice and the slur of his words only served to make your core ache even more than it already did. tracing his happy trail with your eyes down to the waistband of his sweatpants and fixating your gaze on his bulge.

“‘m so horny, baby.” you swing a leg over his torso and straddle him, the heat of your clothed pussy radiating onto the part of him your wanted most.

“yeah? y’want me to fix that, don’tcha?” you nod your head and see his scarred lips tug into a smirk as he flips the rest of the duvet off of his legs. feeling one of his large hands rub your side. his eyelids low and eyes still bleary from being woken up. “hop on f’me, princess.”

your hands gently, but quickly, tug down his grey sweats, practically drooling when his hard cock springs free from its confines and slaps his stomach. you push your own panties to the side and slowly begin to sink down on him, already moaning loudly just from the stretch. his hands rest lazily on your hips as you begin to bounce on him. throwing your head back in ecstasy when you get the angle just right.

“baby?” you whisper out, already breathless.

“hm?”

“you’re not gonna help?” he smirks again and tucks one of his arms behind his head.

“nah, baby. y’woke me up. i’m gonna enjoy my show.”

KENTO NANAMI: was never asleep in the first place.

you awake to the sounds of your bedroom door shutting gently and rustling in your dresser drawers.

your eyes open slowly, trying to adjust to the light the lamp on nanami’s nightstand produces. finally focusing on the blonde undoing his tie in front of the mirror. you don’t bother to look at the time, you know it’s late by the way nanami’s posture is slightly drooped.

“kento?” you barely whisper, voice still waking up with you. he turns to look in your direction as he untucks his dress shirt and begins to unbutton it.

“hi honey,” he stops to fumble with a tricky button on his shirt, “shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“maybe, but i’d rather see you.” and boy is that the truth.

your eyes ghost across his body, taking in the way his jaw clenches, how tight his pants are around his thighs, the tuft of hair peeking out from the top his shirt, finally stopping when you notice that his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and exposing his bulging arms.

“that so?”

“mhm.” you flip the blanket off your legs, revealing the nightgown you were wearing. his favorite nightgown to be exact. “was missin’ you.”

“i can tell.” his shirt is thrown into the hamper, or at least he thinks it is. he was too preoccupied by how pretty you looked in that little gown to double check.

he keeps watching as you hop up from the bed, the hem of your gown barely covering your ass as you walked over in the direction of the hamper. his cheeks flushed when you bent over and he could see every bit of your glistening pussy.

“you missed, silly.” you said as you picked up his discarded shirt and put it properly in the basket. looking back at him over your shoulder and smiling coyly when he began to saunter over to you. simultaneously removing his leather belt from the loops of his pants and fumbling with the zipper.

“beginning to think you woke up on purpose.” he made quick work of freeing his cock from his boxers and dress pants, groaning when you rubbed your wet cunt against him. “naughty girl.”

“mmm, yeah? only for you.” he groans again when you reach behind you to grab his cock and position the tip to your wet hole. smiling back at him once more before pushing your ass back against him and pushing his cock in at the same time.

“you’re such a fuckin’ angel, shit.” he uses one of his hands to bend you over and the other to grip the fat of your hip. you’re wetter than ever and your sweet cunt is sucking him in like your life depended on it.

“sure you can handle it, baby?” you moan out, back arching and giving nanami a delicious view. “i know you have work tomorrow, ken.”

“if you cared about that, you would’ve asked about it first.” he laughs and takes the splayed hand off your back to give your ass two good slaps. “besides, i’d be a damn fool to choose sleep over this.”

a/n: self indulgent sleepy sex for my birfday :3

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lovings4turn · 2 months

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becca, my love. i saw that your blurb requests are open, so can i request oscar with "taking off their makeup when they're too tired"? thank you!

ᯓ★ 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 — 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢

ahhh nora lovely thank you sm for sending this in !!! adore writing for oscar so thank you for giving me the opportunity to 🤭🤭 this ended up being longer than i expected but what can i say i got carried away !!! hope you like this lovely

indistinct dialogue washes over you as your ears tune in to the sound of oscar’s heartbeat, the sound much more preferable to the drama of the characters currently on the screen in front of you.

curled against your boyfriend’s chest, the glow of the television washing over you both and bathing you in a fuzzy, low light, you find it hard to keep your eyes open for longer than a minute at a time.

oscar is just so warm, the fabric of his hoodie against your skin so soft, and you had woken up disgustingly early that morning for an eight am class that preceded a long study session at the library. so, it’s no surprise that your exhaustion is quickly catching up to you, a lion stalking its prey.

since his gaze has been resting on you rather than the random sit-com for the past ten minutes, oscar is quick to notice the drowsiness consuming your features.

“let’s get you to bed, eh?” oscar asks, patting your side twice with the tips of his fingers to prompt you to stand.

“i’m not even that tired,” you protest, words coming out in a low whine thanks to your desperation to remain in the warm embrace of oscar’s arms.

“tell that to your eyes, sweetheart. they’re practically closed.”

almost on cue, you lift your hand to rub at your tired eyes before you stop abruptly, loose fist hovering just in front of your face. a frustrated noise escapes you, and your head falls back against oscar’s chest at the realisation.

“i still have to take my makeup off.”

oscar fixes you with a look of amused pity. though he’s clearly sympathetic to your plight, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find your theatrics somewhat entertaining.

strong arms wrap around your waist, and oscar gently helps you to your feet, sending you off to bed with the promise that he’ll be right behind you.

curiosity picks at your mind, but you’re far too tired to argue or ask questions. your body operates on autopilot as it leads you down the hall to your bedroom, and you flop down onto the soft mattress without hesitation.

never had you been more thankful at oscar’s insistence that you wear his clothes as much as possible: already dressed in one of his old t-shirts and some pyjama shorts, getting changed into something cosier was not a problem you would have to tackle tonight.

oscar appears a few minutes later, and it seems that he’s brought the entirety of your skincare shelf with him. countless bottles and tubs are piled up in his arms, threatening to spill over as he fumbles towards the bed.

with furrowed brows, oscar drops the bundle of products onto your comforter and lets out a breath, beginning to survey the many different items sitting in front of him. “right then, let’s see,” he mumbles, picking up one product at a time and scanning the labels with such an intensity that, had you the energy, you would have teased him for.

“moisturiser, no. facial scrub, no. hyaluronic aci- what even is this stuff?”

you can’t help it. a laugh bubbles up in your throat, and though your eyes are heavy with sleep, oscar can see the way that the crinkle slightly at the intensity of your smile.

as fun as it is to listen to oscar grow increasingly confused with each skincare product he scrutinises, you decide it’s best to put him out of his misery sooner rather than later. “purple bottle, babe. might wanna grab some cotton pads, too. next to where you grabbed everything else from.”

oscar follows your instructions instantly, setting your makeup remover off to the side before he scoops the other products up into his arms once more, heading to return them to their rightful home in your bathroom. he soon returns triumphant, holding up the packet of cotton pads in his left hand as though it’s one of his racing trophies.

idiot, you think fondly.

soon, he’s sitting beside you, tilting your face upwards towards him with two fingers. the movement is tender, and you can’t help but lean forward to press a kiss to the bridge of his nose.

with a level of care you imagine someone would reserve for a newborn, oscar begins to swipe away at your makeup, putting a lot of effort into not tugging at your skin.

every so often, he speaks, questions of “feel alright?” and “not hurting you, am i?” filling the otherwise peaceful silence.

each time your answer is the same: a slight shake of the head with a reassuring hum. you’re convinced that oscar could never be anything but tender with you, and this only adds to your hypothesis.

a few seconds pass, and you can no longer feel oscar wiping at your face. your eyes flutter open, greeted by the sight of oscar admiring you with an adoring expression.

a light flush dusts the top of his cheekbones, and his lips are pulled up into a foolish, love-sick grin. he doesn’t shy away when he realises he’s been caught, only moves to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “now,” he starts, voice playful. “wanna tell me what the next step is, babe?”

#.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri drabble #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fluff #formula one x reader #formula one x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you

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gaycentral · 2 months

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Can I ask you to write about spencer being in a relationship with y/n and jj confess her feelings to him as they're being held hostage and they're on speaker the whole time and the whole team and spencer's girlfriend hears it and after spencer and jj are safe and days passes by spencer just be confused and distended but his girlfriend didn't say anything about it even though she wasn't feeling okay about it at all until they have an argument about it.

Miscommunication

Spencer Reid x Gen!Reader

Spencer’s been avoiding talking to you since JJ confessed her love for him. You have had enough.

Warnings/Content: Angst, angry reader, sad reader, sad Spencer, Spencer can’t talk about feelings so great. Ends with fluff.

You couldn’t sleep.

It had been two weeks since the hostage situation, since you feared for your boyfriend’s life and the life of JJ—one of your closest friends. But the fear had morphed into confusion, then the horrible crushing feeling of betrayal. JJ had confessed her love for your boyfriend. Your boyfriend. She was a married woman, it had been ten years since Spencer had a brief infatuation for her but she couldn’t let go.

And now you couldn’t sleep.

Things had been awkward. Spencer didn’t really want to talk about what happened, and a part of you understood that. But a much louder, much angrier part of you wanted to grab him and shake him and tell him to for fucks sake just talk to you.

You sighed as you sat up in bed, hands rubbing tiredly down your face. You looked over, Spencer was asleep curled on his side, facing away from you. It was seemingly an innocuous position, but it didn’t ease the anxiety that maybe Spencer didn’t love you anymore—or worse, never loved you at all. Maybe he’d been pretending, maybe you’d been his second choice when JJ slipped out of his grasp.

Slowly, you climbed out of bed, careful not to wake him. The anxiety was growing, crushing, your stomach twisting into double knots then triple knots as your mind spiralled.

Breathe. You needed to breathe.

You shuffled to the living room, bare feet gently padding across the hardwood floors as you approached the window overlooking the street, cracking it open to let air in and bracing your hands on the windowsill, letting your head hang low.

Your heart beat so hard it ached, and the tears you couldn’t fight blurred your vision into watercolours.

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice nearly jumped you out of your skin. His sock-clad feet had allowed him to accidentally creep up on you. You didn’t know, but he’d woken up the moment he couldn’t feel you next to him, his hand blindly reaching out to find still-warm sheets but no you, and he immediately worried.

“Oh. Hey.” You force a smile as you turn around, hastily wiping your eyes and trying to make it look like you’re simply tired. But you’re both profilers, and Spencer isn’t an idiot, even without his glasses or contacts on in the late hours of the night he can see your red-rimmed eyes. His face falls.

“What’s wrong?” He immediately takes long strides towards you. One step, two, three, then he reaches you. He reaches out to you, but you step back.

“I can’t…I can’t be kept in the dark anymore, Spencer.” You don’t want to do this, you really don’t. You just want to go back to bed with Spencer in your arms or you in his but you know you can’t. You need to talk about this. You need an answer.

He seems to know what you’re talking about before you can even continue, as his gaze falls to the floor. He doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Can we just talk about this in the morning?” The exhaustion in his voice almost makes you crack, but you stand firm.

“No, Spencer. We can’t just talk about this in the morning.” The words come out sharper than intended, and you grimace, but you keep going. “You’ve been avoiding it—me, for two weeks!”

Spencer doesn’t say anything, but his hands clench into fists by his sides. He can’t bring himself to look up at you, the shame gnaws at his insides because he knows you’re right and it hasn’t been fair to you. He tried to ignore the way your crestfallen expression tugged at his heart whenever you tried to talk about it and he turned you away.

You finally ask the dreaded question, pulling it from beneath the lump in your throat and through your teeth. “Do you love her?”

Spencer’s eyes widen and his gaze snaps up to you in disbelief. He wanted to say no, he did, because he didn’t love JJ. Not like that, anyway. But seeing how angry you were, how tired you were, he found the air trapped in his lungs and all that escaped was a small sound that left him mentally kicking himself and calling himself the worlds biggest idiot.

And because of this, you thought you had your answer. He did. He loved JJ. Not you.

You force back the next wave of tears, your eyes and throat burning with the effort of keeping them unshed. You feel your heart shatter in your chest.

“I see.” You manage to say, trying to hide your heartbreak behind a cold mask. You were never good at that, not with him. With him you were an open book. “Well. I’ll get out of your way, then. I’ll take my stuff in the morning.”

You try to walk past him, but he stops you, his hand grasping your wrist. Not hard enough to hurt or bruise, simply a silent plea for you to stop and listen. You want so badly to wrench out of his grip, to scream and cry and hate him for hurting you but you don’t. You can’t. You love him too much. So you stop, and you wait.

“I don’t love her.” Spencer finally says, his voice so earnest you have a hard time not believing him but a part of you still doubts. “She’s my friend, and I’ll always love her as a friend. But that’s it, I promise. I love you.”

His hand slides down from your wrist to your hand, fingers curling around yours as his thumb lightly rubs across your palm. His eyes are wide and wet, pleading with you to believe him, not to push him away.

You don’t trust yourself to talk without crying, so you take a shaky breath to try and steady yourself without speaking. It doesn’t work, you can feel the tears falling as you open your mouth.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” Your voice comes out more broken than you wanted it to as your face crumples. “I was scared you didn’t love me anymore, and when you didn’t talk about it…I thought I’d been right.”

Spencer frowns before bringing your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, voice muffled against your skin. “I was scared. And an idiot. I was scared that no matter what I said, you wouldn’t believe me. It was stupid, and I’m sorry.”

You nod, and even though you’re still crying, the knot in your stomach begins to unwind. “I’m sorry, too.”

Spencer visibly deflates with relief and gently tugs you into his arms, face dropping to your shoulder as one of his hands cradles the back of your head. Your fingers dig into the soft fabric of his worn sleep shirt, feeling the muscles in his back begin to relax beneath your hands.

“I love you so much. Please don’t forget that, even when I’m being an idiot.” He kisses your shoulder to punctuate the statement, his arms gently squeezing your waist.

“I love you too.” Your arms wrap tighter around him, and you feel the smile growing on your lips as you finally feel at peace for the first time in two weeks.

The two of you stand there for quite some time, simply holding each other, before Spencer yawns into your shoulder.

“Can we go to bed now?” He mumbles, pulling back but not letting go of you, a sleepy smile on his face that makes your chest feel fuzzy she warm.

“Yeah, as long as you hold my hand.” You’re half-joking, and you see Spencer’s smile grow as he begins to tug you along to your shared bedroom.

Once you get there, he all but flops onto the bed, but he takes you with him, laughing at your surprised yelp as you land on top of him. Once you gather your bearings, you adjust slightly, resting your head on his chest and curling your arms around him like a koala. You could hear his heartbeat beneath your ear and the sound of sheets crinkling as he pulls the blankets up over the two of you.

“I love you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head when your eyes slip closed, the scratchy five o’clock shadow on his skin lightly brushing your forehead. “Always will.”

You try to say it back, but it comes out a borderline incomprehensible mumble, and you can feel him smile.

He knows what you wanted to say.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #x reader #part two?#request

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shotmrmiller · 4 months

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WHAT YOU WROTE WAS AMAZING PLS IM SOBBING I LOVE IT SO MUCH GIVING U SMOOCHES

but okay so you sleep by yourself that night he comes home. you know he goes out with the boys — mostly on the weekends but sometimes the weekdays too — so when he comes home just a bit later than usual it doesn’t ring any alarm bells even if you pout a little. and you damn near run into his arms and snuggle into his neck only to smell — not him. something, someone else has touched what you thought was yours.

you pull back from the hug to look him over further. clothes mussed up, lips looking like they were bitten, a little flushed. a little like when you two —

you swallow thickly, throat lining with glass and tears as you suck in a breath. you find that you can’t actually form words for a moment, worried that only bile and venom would come out.

“did you fuck someone?”

he looks panicked — guilty — and you don’t even need him to say it for you to know what he’s done.

“who?” you ask, voice barely there, only able to be heard over the icy silence that followed your question. he replies one of the other pets. you nod, more to yourself than anything, trying not to scream your heart out at him.

but your heart cracks the moment he opens his mouth.

for the first time since you began living with him, you slept alone.

(you did scream at him. tripping over your words and panicked breaths and streams of tears. how could he do this. he didn’t call, didn’t ask. did he even think to? did he even care?)

you’re exhausted. too tired crying like you’ve never cried before, feeling like the weight of betrayal is crushing you as you sleep.

you almost fear that it’ll kill you.

the next day — friday — he knocks on your door before he goes to work. he tells you to have a good day. you don’t acknowledge him.

but you miss him. you absolutely fucking hate him but you miss him so much, it hurts. that particular ache is almost worse than the one of betrayal.

almost.

by mid day, you figure you should give him a chance to talk. he obviously feels guilty, and you love him. despite everything, you love him.

so you clean yourself up and try to look a little pretty for him, wearing a cute slip lingerie dress and bows on your ears.

you clean up around the flat a little. you fold his clothes — he’s been grumbling about it lately and always say he’d do it later. so you do it for him, folded with precision and left to sit on the edge of the bed.

you’re still upset and anxious and everything in between. the nerves make it hard to feel anything and you feel too sick to eat. but you nibble on some bread, knowing he wouldn’t want you to neglect yourself. you love him.

when it starts getting later, you decide to make him his favorite cookies. it’s been awhile since you’ve made him anything, and you’ve always enjoyed making these for him. the sweetest kisses tend to follow.

the night rolls around to the point where you know he’s off work. it’ll take him a little to get home, so you settle on the couch and wait.

but as the hours tick by, later and later, the worry grows and gnaws and threatens to split you from the inside out.

maybe he’s out with the boys again? you’d think, given the circumstances, he’d want to come home to you. but old habits die hard, you suppose.

but it gets later. and later.

later than he ever would be out even when things were perfect between you two.

it shatters you. where was he? what was he doing? was he —

the thought makes you sick.

he comes home after midnight. after you wretched in the toilet and cried yourself to sleep — again.

didn’t he love you too?

he sees the cookies put away in a container and a pit grows in his stomach, a void ready to eat his heart. whatever is left of it, anyways.

there’s a note sitting on the top.

“sleep well.”

the writing was shaky and it looks like a few tears spilled onto the words as you wrote them.

your usual xoxo at the bottom was crossed out.

you beat me to it:)

you bloody beat me to it. Fool me once.

your eyes are blank as if the life had all but faded from them, and in a way, they had.

Sitting him down, you calmly, (calmly, because there is nothing in you left other than acceptance, and youll be damned before you ever beg a man to want you) say, "I'll be leaving in the morning."

He tries to say something but nothing he could ever say will fix what he chose to break. "No, the fact that i'm even bothering to tell you is a courtesy you don't deserve. You've made your bed, now continue to lie in it with whoever you keep seeing after work." Smoothly, you get up and walk towards your room.

There is no rancor in your heart for whoever it is he's been with. After all, the one in the relationship with you was him.

You stuff a towel under the door, covering the gap, and clutch your collar to your chest, letting the last tears youll ever cry over him track down your cheeks. He doesn't deserve to see nor hear your pain.

You call an uber while he's at work and disappear.

When he comes back home, the place is dark and empty. He sits at the dinner table alone, with two fingers of whiskey in front of him, and in his hand is the last note you left him, stiff with dried tears and an xoxo at the very bottom.

What makes him crumble is when he sees the glint of your personalized collar on his nightstand, and it finally hits him that you're gone. For good.

listening to eurielle while writing epic sad is just chefs kiss.

#i am LIVING for this angst i stg #my anons are incredible #better than me in every way shape and form #task force 141

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buryustogether · 11 months

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lilac - chapter 8 + epilogue

miguel o’hara x f!reader

summary: the walls are crashing down, and even spiderman can’t hold up an entire universe.

wc: 6k

warnings/tags: smut, kidnapping, universe collapsing, torture, filming, blood, blade violence, explosions, choking, falling off a building, love confessions, major character death, start-overs

If you closed your eyes hard enough, if you flooded your senses with your deep, treasured memories and blocked out everything around you, you were able to transport yourself back into last week. Last week, when Gabriella had crashed on the couch, and you and Miguel were lying in bed with chests heaving and sweat cooling across your necks. The bedside lamp was dim; the bulb needed to be changed. Outside, the city continued to thrive, churning and burning and spitting. But inside your bedroom, your hand clasped in his, the world was still.

He had rolled you over so that you lay on top of his broad frame, but he was still inside of you, soft and flaccid now that he’d finally chased his release - after giving you yours four times. You blinked tiredly, staring at nothing as you felt one of his long, thick fingers skimming over your back.

“I’ve been thinking,” you murmured against the warm, tan skin of his shoulder.

Miguel hummed, acknowledging your words. His fingers continued to graze across your skin, up and down, up and down.

“Obviously we’re… planning on staying together. For a long time. Right?”

Though he kept his eyes closed, his thick, full lips quirked upward into a smirk, allowing the tips of his fangs to poke into view. “Believe me, sweetheart,” he rumbled from deep in his chest. “I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

His words stirred inside of you, like a new hope springing to life. “Well… we’re going to need to move. Someplace bigger, with more room. For all of us. And this city, Mig, it’s… it’s not safe.”

It was then that Miguel’s eyes opened, and that smile slowly disappeared from his lips. You felt your heart sink with them, like an anchor in your belly. “You’re talking about moving away?” he said. When you only lifted your head to look at him, chin resting on his sternum, he exhaled deep and moved his hand to begin carding through your hair. “I can’t leave, bebe,” he said softly. “You know why.”

Yes, you knew why. It was because he was Spiderman, and this was New York, the worst city in the country to live in. With criminals on every block and fires and shootouts and a sky so deeply and violently purple you’d never even known its true color.

Being a lover, a father, everything before and after and in between, was what made Miguel who he was. But that was only a part. That other half came from being a hero, from helping those who could not help themselves. Walking with a sense of pride in what he did, knowing that people had something to trust in.

And you knew he could never leave that.

So you swallowed thick and let the issue go. You sighed and wrapped your arms around his large, naked form, nestling your face into the soft, delicate spot where his throat met his chest. “Okay,” you said, and you felt him lean down to kiss the crown of your head. “I’d still like a bigger place, though. Your daughter can’t sleep on the couch forever.”

Miguel chuckled, wrapping a sinewy arm around your middle to keep you close while you both dozed off. “I think we can do that.”

You were suddenly brought back to the present when, behind the glass partition you were facing, the giant, hulking machinery moved a few inches before coming to a halt. The metal groaned and squealed, startling the little girl held tight against your chest. Gabriella was heavy, and your arms were beginning to grow tired, but you would hold her until the end of time, if you needed to.

The Alchemax viewing area was dim and dark in the corners of the room, illuminated only by the glow of the control panel to your right and the stark, white lights projected onto the molecular collider in the lab. It was a massive piece of machinery, built to withstand its own otherworldly power, armored and bolted to the ground should the walls and ceiling be blasted away into nothingness.

You turned slightly when the collider moved again, twisting and turning in on itself, and Gabriella released a small, pitiful cry against your shoulder. Twisting your expression into a sneer, you fixed the man at the control panel with the meanest look you could muster.

Doctor Octopus - Otto Octavius, a visionary genius turned terrorist after his mechanical arms took over his head - lifted his head slightly and let his shades slip down his crooked nose. In return to your harsh frown, he gave an apologetic expression that carried no genuinity whatsoever. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said as one of his arms reached out to flip a few switches. “Just a few test runs.”

Shifting Gabriella’s weight to your hip, you glanced down and smoothed the girl’s hair from her face. She was still wearing her jacket that she would have put on at recess - they must have been watching the school, waiting for her to emerge from those brick walls so that they could snatch her up. Suddenly you were cursing yourself, wishing you could face your reflection in a mirror and shatter the glass with a fist. You could have been there. Could have made sure she was safe, she was secure.

Her being here was your fault.

And her being here meant something that made your veins turn to ice when you thought about it; they knew who Spiderman really was.

When the collider began to shift again, shaking the building slightly in its very foundations despite being here in the basement of the building, you turned your head to face Octavius again. “What exactly are you all planning to do with this thing?” you said, watching as he shifted across the control panel to reach a few buttons and scanners. “I heard it wasn’t ready for tests yet.”

“From who, darling?” he said, meeting your eyes over the rims of his shades. “A spider on the wall?” When you said nothing, averting your eyes to the floor, he hummed and continued on, allowing his mechanical arms to carry him over to a large monitor. His gloved fingers typed faster than you thought possible for a person. “Alchemax is playing a dangerous game with a toy they don’t understand. Tests mean nothing when dealing with a piece of the future like this. That Spiderman of yours told you about the multiverse, didn’t he?”

Told you about it. Explained it. Came from it.

Octavius raised a finger and beckoned you toward him. You hesitated, holding your breath, before silently padding across the observation area to stand behind him at the monitor. Squinting your eyes against the light, you watched as he gestured to a warping, live image of string-like animations repeating in a loop on the screen. “These,” he said, finger grazing along the lines, “are realities close within one another. They’re different, sure, but only in little ways. Someone’s eyes are a different shade. A grain of sand is misplaced a foot from where it landed. Again - little ways.” He used the touchpad of the computer to scroll outward, giving you a view of so many lines warping together it looked like almost an entirely colored screen. “And these are the realities within our grasp with the collider. Meaning -” he looked down at you - “every reality in the multiverse.”

You stared at the screen, hugging Gabriella to yourself tightly. One of those lines was Miguel’s reality. Where he was supposed to be.

As Octavius scrolled back in, you caught a glimpse of a line flickering and glitching, unlike the others. You stopped him. “That one,” you said, and he halted. “What’s that one?”

“Earth - 9193,” he said, his voice low and grave. He met your eyes, his gaze darker than it was just a moment ago. “Our home universe.” He gave a rather rueful smile as he watched your expression melt into one of confusion. “In our reality,” he explained as his mechanical arms set him - finally - on the ground, “there is no Spiderman. This city - it’s not supposed to get better. So imagine the universe’s bafflement when Spiderman from a different reality swoops in to save the day. It tries to expel him. Tries to correct canon events gone wrong. But it couldn’t. And so - it’s collapsing.”

“Collapsing?”

“Correct.” He paused and you both looked up when, overhead, there came a distant boom; the city falling apart at the seams. The building shook again and dust fell from the ceiling. To your surprise, he lifted one of his arms and shielded your head as it bounced off your shoulders and clung to your hair. “Call us selfish,” he said and lowered his arm again. “But my associates and I aren’t particularly fond of sticking around when the end comes around.”

You blinked a few times at the screen, feeling your heart skip a beat or twelve as you let his words sink in. Your universe - it was collapsing. That was what the glitches in the city had been. That was why Miguel’s apartment building had folded in on itself - it was because of him. No matter where he went, the glitches followed.

Because he was a virus here in your reality, and when viruses could not be expelled, the system would ultimately kill itself.

You clutched the little girl in your arms a bit tighter. “You’re… running away,” you murmured as Octavius fiddled with the monitor and its data. “You’re leaving us all here to die.” The words were barely able to clear your throat, barely able to keep themselves afloat.

He hummed in that way you noticed he did. “Running away wouldn’t be the correct term,” he replied. “Moreso… self-preserving.”

At that moment, the doors leading into the observation area were thrown open on their hinges to reveal the figures you had come to fear striding into the bay. You took three steps back as the Prowler slid down a railing and came to a smooth landing at Octavius’ side. “How are we looking, Doc?” he said as his purple, eye-lit mask dematerialized to reveal his face. His gaze was a touch crazier than you remembered it, bold and wild in a way that screamed danger.

Octavius’ cold, stony facade slid back into place as he adjusted his shades and rose, his mechanical arms lifting him off the ground. “Swimmingly,” he replied. “A few more tests, and she should be ready for lift off.”

“Perfect!” shouted Ferris abruptly, causing you to jump slightly. He clapped his hands and approached you as, behind him, Kraven hefted a news broadcasting camera onto his shoulder and began to fiddle with the settings. “Sorry to keep you waiting, babe,” said your ex as he approached you, taking two steps forward when you took one back. He showed off a disturbing, unnatural smile. “Had some loose ends to tie up.”

You sneered at him and turned, placing yourself between him and Gabriella. “You’re fucking insane, Ferris,” you hissed, inches from his sickening grin. “Taking me is one thing, but a kid? You’ve lost it, for real this time.”

“Big words, coming from you,” he said, tilting his head as the collider twisted and churned again. “Shacking up with a vigilante who crossed realities to dick you down.” He snickered to himself. “Listen, babe. That day when Spiderman - sorry, O’Hara - cracked my spine and broke my jaw and left me to suffer in that fucking alley, I realized something; why stick around in a dump like this when I can make like your little fuck buddy and squeeze myself into another dimension? Hell, why do I need you when I can just find another one of you who won’t screw me over?

“So I managed to get myself up. Crossed paths with these guys, told them…” He brought his lips close to your ear, so close you felt his breath fan across your skin. “I knew the identity of Spiderman.” He grinned again, drew back slightly to touch his forehead against yours. You would have smacked him, shoved him away, were you not still shielding the little girl in your arms. “I would say it’s not personal, babe,” he whispered. “But it is.”

Then his lips were smashed against yours, so roughly and ruthlessly you were flashed back to when you still lived with him, let him touch you, let him fuck you. He would always kiss you like this, like he possessed you, like he owned you. It only lasted a moment or two before he pulled back, forcefully plucked Gabriella from your arms, and handed her off to the Vulture, who was standing beside Octavius.

“Alright, boys,” he said as his mask materialized back over his face. “Let’s make a movie!”

Taking a few steps closer and backing you up against the glass partition of the observation area, Kraven hoisted the camera up and pointed it directly at you and Ferris. You found yourself frozen in place, petrified and staring back at your own reflection in the lens. His clawed hand came up to grip the back of your neck, and the other clapped over your mouth.

“Stick to the script,” he murmured in your ear, “and I’ll let the kid live.”

“Broadcasting to every system in New York,” said the hunter, then clicked a button and the camera and a light near the top flashed red. “...Now.”

Unbeknownst to you, across every screen in the city - televisions, phones, Times Square, everything - the broadcast crackled through and began to stream. There was not a soul in New York that was not watching.

Not one.

Ferris tilted his head at the camera in a way that made your stomach churn. Even behind his mask, you knew he was smirking and squinting his eyes in that way he did when he was playing coy. “Hello, Spiderman,” he said in a low, even voice. It sent chills crawling up your spine, made you struggle in his hold until his claws dug against your skin. “You and I have unfinished business, and it would be rude to leave hanging in the air - you know, before we both jump ship. You know where I am.” Behind you, the collider moved, and this time, it did not stop. A blast of energy exploded from the edge, shaking the building again. You stumbled slightly, raising a hand to clasp at his wrist over your mouth. “And just in case you need some incentive…”

You let out a small shriek when Ferris ripped you forward, sending you spinning around to face the camera. Before you could get anything out, he came up behind you like a vengeful apparition and grabbed your jaw, his claws digging into the soft skin of your cheeks. “Go on,” he murmured in your ear, just loud enough for the camera to pick up. “Cry for help. Cry for him.”

Against every ounce of willpower you had, because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, you felt tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. Just a moment later, they spilled over, cascading down your cheeks and staining the fabric of his glove. Yet despite your tears, despite the silent sobs racking your body, you refused to speak.

Ferris dug his claws into your cheek further, drawing a few dots of blood and pinpricks of searing pain. “Come on,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. “Beg for him.”

Your eyes turned behind the camera, where the Vulture held Gabriella’s collar in a grip tight enough to pale his knuckles. She stood beside him like a confused puppy, tear tracks staining her face as she watched you. And you knew you couldn’t do this alone. Not with her here. Not with Ferris.

“Spiderman,” you breathed, then cried out when Ferris yanked your hair to expose your neck and poise a claw over your throat. It gleamed in the light that the collider was throwing about the lab, shaking and burning out energy.

“Ah-ah,” he tutted. “His real name.”

You didn’t have time to mull over the realization that you were going to expose his identity, didn’t have time to think about that, really, it wouldn’t matter, because your reality was tearing apart, anyway. Blood collected on your cheek where his claws dipped in, and pain seared through your face.

“Miguel!” you finally wailed, feeling your tears mix with the scarlet. “Mig, we need you - please! He has Gabriella. I need you, please, Mig, I need you!”

With a grunt, Ferris spun you to the ground, then stalked forward and grasped the camera by the lens. “Come and get your girls, O’Hara. Alchemax. You have until the universe collapses. Or, you know…” He trailed off as his mask tilted downward toward you. “I decide to let one of them go a little early.”

You found yourself sitting against the row of desks holding computers, cradling Gabriella to your side as you watched Ferris and the rest of the vigilantes watch the collider charge, murmuring amongst themselves. You heard the words ‘sensors’ and ‘turrets’ and ‘muzzle for those teeth’ and ‘dead before he hits the ground.’ They had planned for Miguel, were waiting for him.

Gabriella murmured your name - the first thing she’d uttered since you both had been brought here - and you at once looked down. She clutched onto your dress, her cheeks stained with tear tracks and her chest rising and caving with deep, panicked breaths. “Is Daddy going to come and save us?” she whispered.

Doing your best to shove down the dread, and sorrow, and grief hanging suspended in your throat, you put on your best wobbling, warped smile and brushed her hair back from her face. “Yeah, sweetheart,” you replied quietly, just barely audible over the sounds of the collider. You sniffled, holding her closer. “He’ll be here any minute.”

It couldn’t have been just a few minutes later when, from the corner of your eye, you saw one of the computer screens jump to life. You thought it to be chance, a touchpad disturbed by the constant shaking and rattling of the building, but then images began to flash across the screen. You turned your head and realized they weren’t images, but letters. Words - being typed out across the monitor.

Letter by letter, your name was spelled out. The cursor blinked for a moment before everything was deleted. Then -

H E R E.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you leaned forward. The word was typed again, this time in bold. Then in italics. The computer - no, someone behind it - was beckoning you forward. With a few words of reassuring nonsense in Gabriella’s ear, and a quick glance to make sure the men were still distracted, you crawled on your hands and knees along the row of computers. Sitting up on your heels, you faced the dim screen.

Hesitantly, you whispered, “Hello?”

The word disappeared, soon replaced by another. L Y L A.

Lyla - Miguel’s AI. A surge of hope flooded through you like a tidal wave, filling your veins, your heart, your soul.

H E I S C O M I N G.

You exhaled, blinking at the screen. Then -

D U C K.

Your body reacted before your mind even had a chance to catch up. The entire world seemed to move in slow motion as you scrambled to your feet, grabbed Gabriella and huddled behind the desk - just moments before the back wall blew outwards in a ground-shaking eruption. The glass partition shattered and the collider shrieked as debris rained upon the observation area like hail from a hellstorm. A chunk of rock sliced across your cheek, letting pain rip through your face and blood spill down your face.

Like a train unable, unwilling to stop, to keep from plowing into the first thing it saw, a flash of red and blue came tearing from the site of the explosion and collided with the purple figure of the Prowler as he struggled to his feet. They went sprawling across the rubble-covered deck, only separated when a mechanical arm grabbed the back of Spiderman’s leg and hurled him across the room.

He caught himself and landed in a striking pose - then his mask dematerialized, and Miguel’s scarlet eyes raised to the men before him. He opened his mouth, exposing those long, glinting teeth, and released an animalistic snarl that froze the blood in your veins. His hair was mussed and the lines beneath his eyes seemed deeper than before. His hands, his claws, practically trembled with the rage and fury radiating off of him in waves. In that moment he was truly more beast than man.

You shielded Gabriella’s eyes as he snapped, standing again to his full height.

“About time,” said Ferris behind his mask, then readied his own steel claws. “Let’s settle this once and for all - Spiderman.”

The next few moments were blurs of violence, of villains with metal limbs and wings and a thirst for blood all came down to assault Miguel where he stood. He was a whirlwind of action, taking blows and giving them back in a tempo you knew was not humanly possible. His teeth sank into skin. His claws tore through muscle. He roared and thrashed and fought for everything he had, because life outside may have been falling apart, but his entire life was right there inside that observation bay.

Bits of light poking through the still-settling dust from the explosion drew your eye away from the nauseating fight, pulling your attention to the place where the door used to be. Flickering from the corridor - the exit.

Gripping Gabriella’s hand so tight you knew it ached, but you didn’t care, you brought your face close to hers so that she could look into your eyes. Blood still seeped down your cheek, now staining your collar and your neck. “Listen to me,” you said to her, just audible over the sound of her father snapping one of the Vulture’s wings in half. “We’re going to run, okay? And we’re not going to look back. You hold my hand and don’t let go. Just like we practiced with the drills at school, alright?”

She nodded her head, and then you were off. You ducked your head as a piece of technology sailed past, tugging the little girl along over rubble and through the shattered doorway. From there you took the first stairwell you found, listening as the sounds of the battle grew more and more faint. Up and up you went, until you reached a heavy metal door that you shoved open with all your might. Gusts of wind rushed in to greet you, whipping your dress skirt about, whispering about your fate in your ears, and when you reached the roof, it seemed that, really, they were right.

New York was no longer recognizable. It had turned into a hellsite of glitches and chaos, entire streets folding in on themselves before completely vanishing. You nearly screamed upon realizing Harlem, Queens, Brooklyn… they were all gone. From this height you could see past where the river was supposed to be, but instead it was all… nothing. There lay a vast, wide nothingness, like a blank canvas. No ground. No buildings. No people. Everything, just… erased from existence.

Panic rose in your throat like bile, pulling you to your knees and fresh tears to your eyes. It was all true - your reality was collapsing in on itself. All those people, gone. And soon, you would be, too.

It was a long moment before you realized Gabriella was tugging on your hand, attempting to pull you further along the roof as she kept her terrified gaze trained on the door to the roof - until it was too late. You both shrieked as the Prowler emerged from the frame, his suit ragged and torn, stained with blood and his mask vanished. Scarlet ran down his face, same as yours, as he approached you on the roof.

“You want to know something funny, babe?” he said. The last word, that awful pet name, was rasped through clenched teeth as he stalked you, taking his time even as you scrambled to the edge of the building, because you both knew - you had nowhere to go. “I wasn’t really going to kill you in that alley. Just wanted to scare you, ‘ya know?” His face dropped. “Now I really wish I had.”

In a moment, Ferris had pounced, rolling you over and over yourself on the roof of Alchemax, his clawed hands tight around your throat and his knees on either side of your waist. No matter how much you struggled, how much you kicked and screamed and wailed and bucked, he refused to let go.

How ironic, came a quiet, barely-there voice. Even while it dies, the universe is attempting to fix itself.

As tears blurred your vision, you shifted your gaze to Gabriella, who watched the life being strangled from you with wide, petrified eyes. To Gabriella, who suddenly clutched at her stomach, her lips parting. To Gabriella, who, slowly, like a channel stuck on a loop slowly fading out, began to dissolve into a reality-splitting glitch.

To Gabriella, who was there one moment, and gone the next.

For a moment, you stopped your struggling. You stopped trying to grasp at Ferris’ own throat, stopped your kicking and howling. You just lay there, feeling the life drain from you slowly, staring at the spot that little girl had been just seconds ago.

You would have cried, could you have breathed. You would have screamed, could you have breathed.

You would have died inside - could you have breathed.

“Isn’t this romantic?” panted Ferris over you as his hands tightened their grip on your throat. “The two of us, going out together? Like we were always meant to?”

You knew he would have killed you then and there, had you both not heard the thundering, storming, ground-shaking thuds pounding up the stairs leading to the roof. Footsteps. A body being slammed into the walls as they ran. An ear-splitting, heart-skipping roar of your name.

Ferris let out a long, trembling, exasperated groan before he yanked you up by the neck, hauled you over to the edge of the building, and held you out like a lure over a lake. Your hands, your nails, scrabbled at his wrist as you looked down the best you could, watching as people stories and stories below scrambled for cover before glitching out of existence. Your legs dangled, your hair blew in the wind.

This was it. This was how you bit it. Not from strangulation or being winked out of your reality - but from a drop that would hit you before you knew what had happened.

Slamming out onto the porch in a frenzy of raw, untamed, wild fury, Miguel skidded to a stop and began to lunge at the Prowler - before he laid eyes upon your form at the end of his arm. His gaze searched wildly for his daughter, for his Gabriella, before it met yours. Before it took in the tears spilling down your face.

“Don’t you see what you’ve done to us, O’Hara?!” said Ferris, flexing his fingers around the column of your neck - the only thing keeping you from plummeting. “What you’ve done to our world?! Can’t you just leave us this last bit of ourselves before we all kick it? Can’t you just leave us alone?”

Miguel began to pace on the rooftop, edging closer and closer with each step. “I can offer you a bargain,” he said, but his voice came out more snarl than word. “Give her to me and I send you home. To a different home, one just like this. You’ll never know the difference.” His tone dropped. “You’ll think you’re in the real thing.”

Your legs were beginning to go numb, your fingers clawing at Ferris’ wrist losing feeling. One hand dropped to your side.

Ferris shook his head, sneering at him with all the hatred left in this collapsing, dying universe. “You already took my world,” he said. “So I’ll take away yours.”

And suddenly you were falling. Released from his grasp, because in the split moment after he let you go, his body glitched and jumped and disappeared. But you were still there, plummeting toward what remained of the earth below you.

You didn’t think it would be so fast.

Craning your neck against the wind screaming in your ears, against the sight of the Alchemax building beginning to crumble as it, too, succumbed to the fate of all else, you watched as that familiar suit of red and blue jumped off after you. Extended his arm. Released a web that, you thought, wouldn’t get there in time.

But it did. The webbing clung to your chest, pulled taut, buoyed you like a bungee cord as Miguel stuck himself to the side of the building that was still standing. He slowly lowered you to the ground, then began the descent himself.

You stood. Extended a hand to him as he raced toward you.

Then fell as you lost the feeling in your legs, lost what it was to be still.

Miguel caught you before you hit the ground, skidding to his knees and gracefully pulling you into a cradle in his lap. “Hey, baby, hey,” he said in a strained, strangled voice. Red stained his temple, the crooked bridge of his nose. “Hey, I’m here. I’m right here.”

You realized then that you were crying again, letting sobs and wails rack your body, because you knew what was happening. You knew it because everything else of this world, of this reality, had vanished. Ceased to exist. It was just him, and you, and the sky overhead. Nothing else. And soon, you would be gone, too.

“Miguel,” you gasped, reaching up a shaky hand to paw at the side of his face. “Gabriella - I tried. I really, really tried, I’m sorry -”

“Shh, baby, I know. I know you did.” Through the wetness in your eyes, through the sensation of your lower portion becoming static and fuzz, you watched as tears pricked at his own eyes. They trickled from the corners, mixing with the grime and blood on his face, and he did not wipe them away. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

You cried and clung to him, desperate to hold onto the feeling of him. Of his hand cradling the back of your neck. Of his lips against yours. Of his body on your own. Of his laughter against your skin, and his fingers trailing across your back, and the warmth that spread through your chest when he smiled at you.

God, that smile. What you wouldn’t do to see it again.

“I don’t want to die, Mig,” you said, your voice wavering. You’d forgotten the feeling of your waist, of your belly. They were foreign to you. Glitched out. Going. Gone.

You did not jump when Miguel opened his mouth and released a stifled sob, his warm, salty tears dripping onto your face. “I know,” he shushed you through his own cries. “It’s going to be okay, alright? I’m right here, baby. I’m right here. You’re going to be okay.”

Arms dropped. Your chest stilled.

“Hey,” you said, nudging your nose against his when he leaned down to press his lips against your temple. He met your eyes, his forehead pressed against yours. “Look.” Your gaze tilted upward, upward, to the sky. He followed it. “No smoke.”

You were right. Without the buildings to churn out smog, without the people to feed the machines, without the universe to choke itself out… the sky had cleared. And it was not violet, or plum.

It was lilac.

Miguel dipped his head again, his lips quivering as you stared up at him. “I love you,” he said.

You would have said it back - were you not already gone.

He stared at his now-empty arms, eyes trained on the spot beneath him you had just been. There was no trace left. Nothing left behind, nothing to tell him you had even been there.

For a long, long moment, Miguel sat still, his chest heaving and his eyes wide and his lips parted. Then he dropped to all fours, shoulders shaking and knuckling the ground, and opened his mouth to scream. It was a wail heard in every corner of the empty universe, a cry that shattered everything of the nothing left. Filled with agony, and grief, and horror, and guilt. Again and again he screamed, fangs glinting and tears gleaming and throat hoarse.

When he at last could not take any more, he collapsed onto his side. Hands twitching. Chest shaking.

Nothing.

For a long while in that empty universe, it was still. Silent. Lilac.

Then, from behind Miguel, there came a voice. “Hey, boss,” said Lyla gently. “Ready to go home?”

—

Earth - 2943

New York

Roses, peonies, lilacs, irises… the bundles of flowers crowded your workstation at the back of your store like a wildflower field had grown right in the middle of the little shop on seventy-first. Greens and pinks and yellows and oranges filled your windows. Petals littered the floor like a chapel. Living walls carefully and lovingly-kept occupied the sides, a rainbow display of every flower and blossom one could name.

Your little flower shop was doing well - and you couldn’t have been more proud. You lived alone in your apartment just upstairs, your rent was on time, you didn’t have to work a second job at all to keep yourself fed.

Everything was perfect. As it should have been.

Your attention was drawn to the front of the store when the little bell above it chimed, signaling someone had just entered your shop. “One second!” you called around the corner, hurrying to clip off the remaining thorns from the blossoms. “I’ll be right there!”

When you were finished, you wiped your hands off on your apron, gathered the bunch of flowers up in your arms, and swept around to the front room. There, a man and a little girl - his daughter, no doubt, they looked almost identical - stood admiring the displays you’d set out just last night.

“Good morning!” you greeted them, carefully setting the bundle down. “Can I help you find anything?”

Brushing a bit of hair from your face, you were able to see the man more clearly. Your breath hitched in your throat; you were staring at the one of the best looking men you’d ever seen. Tan skin and cheekbones placed high on his face, full brows and lips, a sinewy body and a tapered waist… he was beautiful.

The man smiled at you - with his lips closed, but nevertheless it was gorgeous - and jutted out his hip to place his hand on. Oh, fuck, that was hot. “Just browsing,” he said kindly.

You found yourself unable to pull your gaze away from him. You could not say precisely what it was, but there was something that drew you to him. Like a magnet between walls, almost, yearning and needing to be closer.

When he realized you were staring, he smiled wider.

“Heh - sorry,” you said, shaking your head. You leaned over your counter as he meandered closer, letting his daughter marvel at your flowers. Up close, you were able to see the tired, exhausted lines beneath his eyes. “It’s just… have we met before? There’s just something about you…”

Unbeknownst to you, because he could never let you know, could never let you go… you had met before. In a different universe. In seven, to be precise. He had met you as a teacher, a stripper, a doctor, a thief, a hero, a villain… He’d seen you in every form your soul had to offer. And he would continue to do so. Because he wasn’t going to let you go.

Not then. Not now. Not ever.

He chuckled, his free hand reaching up to touch the delicate skin of his throat. “No, I don’t think so. First time in here.” He tilted his head, smiled at you. “But… I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better.” Then, like every other time before, and every other time that would come after, he stuck out his hand and said, “I’m Miguel. You are?”

tags: @mooomeadows @twentysomethingwereyote @screamforyani @fangirlreice7 @axdjelx @ornamentalnecromancy @faust-pda @ilikethemoon28 @mrm-pachypoda @wadafrick @natthernandez @bakgoktski @soupsexsunsalutationsss @roxannarichie @lovagirlxxx @soggyeyeballsss @yoyoyoyoyo55555 @sophipet @quaintii @lavnderluv @cookiezxx @euphorica @its-a-polyglot @nicalysm @maxi-ride @exzidss @crappwr0m @femme-is-dead @bitch-onthemoon @hier—soir @takayomi @kirke-is-my-name @d1lf-loverrr @might-be-a-rat @brooks-lin @maki-z @bookfreakk @act1839 @dollscircus @sleepingaway @anxietybutterfly @bioticboot @mxkn @freeingrebels @digitalcreature404 @aimee777 @hunnaye @blahbahed @cyanide-mustard @impettywhenyouare @mental-illness-is-my-friend @bobfood @jenniferdixon05207 @moonchild-cupcake @venomous-ko @marvelouslovely-barnes @syarblu @fruitcupsworld @soooooyesbutactually-no @hopefulcandywitch @elwyn7 @oh-theseus @thepanwiccan @takayomi @dreamingofbucky @yuuuumii @p1nkliquor @scammer-get-scammed @mlishe

#miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x y/n #atsv miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara across the spiderverse #miguel atsv #atsv #atsv x you #atsv x reader #spiderman atsv #miguel o’hara atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse

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ozzgin · 8 months

Note

heya...!!!! Sweetypie 🍓🥧🧁.... It's me again, i want to make a request again...if you don't mind 😃.

Can you make a request regarding creepypasta with ticci tobby and eyelash Jack .Previous request for a creepypasta

Most certainly! Though my drafts are a mess so I’m no longer sure what the previous request refers to. ;-; Hopefully this is close to what you pictured.

Yandere! Creepypasta x Reader

Featuring Ticci-Toby and Eyeless Jack and a clueless reader that caught their attention. TW: dubious consent, gore and violence

Ticci-Toby

Oh, he really can’t explain it but you’ve tied his heart into a knot. His chest is tight and it’s almost as if his lungs struggle to get enough oxygen. You seem kind and he can’t help but daydream that he’s the subject to your friendly gestures. He feels like a spoiled child, drinking up every drop of affection, tipsy with delight. If only those doll eyes of yours looked at him.

He’s hesitant to approach you because his moods are so unpredictable. He’d love to shower you in adoration and spend the rest of his life protecting you from any threats. Then comes his rage and he’s tempted to scratch your face off for smiling to anyone else but him. Why are you trying so hard for other people? No one appreciates you as much as he does, (Y/N). Is his attention not enough? Does he need to hold your gaze in by force?

Suffice to say that Ticci-Toby can be extremely jealous and possessive well before you’re even aware of his existence. Unlike Eyeless Jack, however, he is very open about his displays of love and doesn’t wait too long to introduce himself. His impulsive desires take over any consideration he’s had regarding your safety in front of his mood swings. He can worry about it when it actually happens. Now matter the anger, he’d never hurt his darling, would he? It’s the others that will have to pay.

If he’s feeling particularly hyperactive he will begin parroting his reasons for your fated romance and why you were meant to be. If anxiety equates in, the narrations turn into regurgitated, repetitive questions stemming out of insecurity. Are you really certain you haven’t gotten tired of him? Truly, without a doubt? Perhaps you were thinking of leaving him? The interrogations culminate in desperate begging for reassurance. Please let him know you’ll never, ever abandon him. Otherwise he will have to guarantee it himself one way or another.

Eyeless Jack

You happened to be the next victim on his list. The creature stood above your sleeping form in absolute silence. You barely shuffled at the sudden coldness from the edge of the scalpel coming into contact with your abdomen. The blade, however, remained still on the surface. The hollow sockets were fixated on your unconscious face, seemingly deep in consideration.

He can’t quite pinpoint a reasoning to it, but your presence has caught his interest. On the bright side, you get to keep your kidney. The only caveat is that you now have a rather dedicated admirer with a less orthodox approach to his growing crush.

Jack primarily enjoys watching you from afar and leaves only vague hints of his presence. Which, of course, depends on your definition of vague. At first you didn’t make the connection between the people wronging you in your daily life and the mysterious packages you’d receive in the mail containing frozen raw organs. You had assumed some neighbor might’ve gotten some subscription for their dog and messed up the address. As the news piled up, often involving these particular people as abruptly missing, your suspicions increased. Especially after noticing that none of your neighbors seem to have pets. And then the love notes started and you nearly threw up next to your mailbox.

Jack is fidgeting like a schoolgirl upon seeing your reaction to his confessions. Could you be that overwhelmed by his love? It wasn’t a big deal, really. He’s just doing what he’s best at. He’s just glad to ease your life by erasing the factors that upset you. You don’t have to worry about returning his favors. Humans come with two kidneys for a reason, after all. They were made for sharing.

Now that he’s gotten his answer, he can confidently approach you. He can’t wait to get his claws on you. You look stunning from a distance, too, but nothing compares to actually feeling you. Hearing your whimpers of shy protest, sensing the increased pulse tumultuously running through your veins, observing your pupils contract in mild…fear? No, most likely just excitement. His spiraling black eyes (or rather, lack of) devour your presence with anatomical curiosity. If he’s careful enough, he might even play with you a little. He’ll be extra careful with his darling.

#creepypasta #yandere creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanon #ticci toby #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #ticci toby x reader

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polaroidpascal · 25 days

Text

let me || frankie morales

AO3 || MASTERLIST

pairing : frankie morales x f!reader

summary : after two weeks of frankie coming home knocking on death’s door from exhaustion, you decide to give him a break.

tags : fluff !!, no use of y/n, you taking care of frankie, very small nods to sex, undressing, showering together, cuddling, short and sweet glimpse into domestic life with frankie 🥹

WC : ~1.8k

a/n : i’ve never written pure fluff before, but the frankie brainrot has reached an all-time high and i desperately need to take care of this man. hope you like this little slice of domestic life with frankie 🫶 (not beta read or proofread much, just psa!)

You’re cozied up on your recliner reading a book in the soft light from your lamp when Frankie finally comes home from work.

He opens the door gently, tiredly. He never knows if you’re going to be asleep or not, so he errs on the side of caution just in case. Plus, he’s too exhausted to make more noise anyway.

You watch him from the corner as he sets down his keys. They clink against the ceramic dish that he made for you forever ago after you had moved in together. He sets down his backpack opting to unpack it tomorrow and hangs up his hat, running his hand and fingers through his curls with a long, tired sigh before he kicks off his boots.

He turns around to see you in your pajamas wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, book in hand, the lamp illuminating you from behind like an angel descending from heaven.

No amount of exhaustion can keep the tired smile from blooming across his face. “Hey, baby,” he says, his hand now rubbing the back of his neck to soothe the sore muscles there.

“Hi, love,” you say back sweetly. “How was work?”

He answers with another sigh and tired eyes, his smile fading just a bit remembering the absolutely packed couple of weeks he’s had. “It was alright, just tired.”

Frankie has come home beyond exhausted every day for the past two weeks. The first few nights, you were already asleep by the time he came home, unable to keep your eyes open any longer to wait for him. You had sent him a text telling him to wake you up when he got home, but of course your sweet boyfriend would never do that, not when you look so peaceful in your sleep.

One night, you happened to be awake when he came home, much to his surprise. He tried to play off how drained he was, bringing you in for a hug that swallowed you whole in his broad figure, whisking you off to your bedroom to try and ignore his exhaustion. But you could see it in his eyes from the moment he walked in that he was barely hanging on, and he definitely slept hard that night.

After that, you made sure you were up every night long enough to catch him walking through the door, picking up a new novel series to pass the time while you waited.

You rise from the recliner and shuffle over to Frankie in your fuzzy socks and his t-shirt loosely fitting your frame, the wide neckline exposing your collarbones. “You look tired, Frankie. And I’m not saying that in a mean way.”

He takes you in his arms and kisses the top of your head breathing another sigh, like he’s relearning how to breathe after being so busy all day. “I know, baby.”

You stay wrapped in each other's arms for a minute, Frankie’s head resting atop your own. His dead weight grows each second that passes and you let him stay until you can’t hold him up anymore. You rub and pat his back gently before you whisper, “Why don’t we go take a shower, hm?” looking up when he lifts his head again.

He looks back at you with his big, brown, pouty eyes and mumbles, “But you’re already in your pajamas…”

“I know,” you nod, reaching your hand up to cup his cheek and glancing across his face at his tired and beautiful features. “You’re always taking care of me. Can you let me take care of you this time?”

His eyes are still pouting and nearly half closed now as he pauses, then gently nods, letting you lead him to your bedroom.

He stands in the middle of the room reaching down to the hem of his shirt to undress but your hands stop him. He looks at you confused.

“Let me,” you say. He has no protests.

He watches you lift his shirt exposing his stomach and chest, raising his arms so you can slip it over his head. You toss it to the side while Frankie reaches down to take his socks off. Your hands move down to his belt, slipping it out of the loops of his jeans. It clinks to the floor and you unbutton his pants, slipping them down with his underwear. He watches you the whole time, stepping out when you reach the bottom before you stand up again.

When you meet his gaze, the love radiating from his eyes almost makes your heart burst from your chest. You smile gently at him, reaching up to give him a soft kiss before leading him to the shower.

You run the water warm, more on the hot side, and start to undress yourself. Frankie watches you strip, the way your shoulder blades move as you pull your shirt over your head and unhook your bra. The way your spine flexes as you reach down to pull your pants off and shimmy out of them. How angelically perfect the curves of your body look.

You turn around to look at him and see tears welling in his eyes.

Immediately, your heart drops and you rush to cup his face in your hands. “Oh, Frankie, what’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, nothing, I just…” He looks your face up and down examining all the features he finds so beautiful and takes a breath. “I love you so much,” he says, the end of his sentence getting quiet, tapering off choked in emotion.

You stare at the gorgeous boy in front of you, exhausted from his hard work, so full of emotion that he’s brought to tears, and you feel your own eyes start to sting. All you can do is hug him and bury your face into his chest, his warm, soft skin pressed against you as your arms clasp around him. “I love you too, Frankie.”

You feel his breath get a little quicker as he tries to keep himself in check, the fight against his tears getting harder and harder. You pull back and wipe away a few strays that started rolling down his cheeks before pulling him into the shower.

You wash Frankie head to toe helping him clean the day off. He leans down some so you can wash his hair, making sure to give his scalp a little massage while you suds up his curls. His eyes close and he softly hums as your fingers card through each strand. He loves when you play with his hair.

You gently wash his back, watching the soap slowly roll down his body as you rub circles into his skin. The muscles look tight, flexing some just with the slow breaths he’s taking. You reach up and dig your thumbs into the visible knots you see near the base of his neck where he was rubbing before. His head drops forward a bit, a soft groan leaving his lips at the relief.

You turn him around and wash his chest, watching the soapy water cascade down his pecs and stomach.

He watches you as best he can, wanting to savor every second, and he can’t help but close his eyes at the soothing feeling of the warm water flowing across his skin… the soap erasing the dirt from the day… and most importantly of all, your feather-light, loving touch behind every movement.

You rinse his chest a little and give him a soft kiss to his sternum, handing him the sponge to wash the rest of his body while you wash your own.

He silently watches you move, feeling himself get emotional again thinking about how lucky he feels to have you. That you’d do this for him. That you care so much about him. The love in his heart threatens to burst at the seams.

When you’re both done, Frankie grabs your hips and carefully spins you around before leaning down for a kiss. A kiss that’s worth a million words all condensed into one little action. A kiss that screams I love you, endlessly and eternally.

You stay under the shower head, lips locked with the silent words of affection being exchanged. You only think to get out when you feel the water starting to run cold.

When you get out, you loosely wrap a towel around yourself before grabbing another to dry off Frankie. You rub his hair and his face, draping it around his shoulders and tip-toeing up to kiss his nose before you finish drying yourself off.

You slip back into your pajamas and Frankie puts on his sweatpants before you both climb into bed together. Frankie immediately plops down on his side of the bed, lying on his back and draping his arms over his eyes as he sighs deep, finally comfortable after the long, long day he’s had.

He feels you crawl into bed with him, your weight shifting the mattress around him as you climb on top of him, legs straddled over his sides.

He moves his arms to look up at you staring at his chest tracing circles onto his skin. His hands rest on the tops of your thighs and he rests his head back on his pillow, but you swear you can feel his entire energy shift.

“You okay?” you ask, resting your palms on his skin.

“I…” he starts, looking up at you with sad eyes. “I love you so much, you know that… I’m just… I’m really tired, baby. I don’t know if I can—“

“Frankie,” you cut him off. “I’m not in the mood either.”

He looks at you with his pouty doe eyes again. “You’re not?”

“No,” you assure him. “I just wanted to look at you. How pretty you are. How lucky I am to have you.”

Frankie’s chest gets tight, the tears stinging in his eyes again as he wonders what he could have possibly done to deserve someone like you. Who loves him unconditionally. Who takes care of him so tenderly. Who is straddled on top of him just because she wants to look at him.

Before you can catch his eyes getting redder, he pulls you down to lay by his side, cradling you in his arms and kissing the top of your head. “It’s me who’s lucky to have you, amor.”

You hum and settle into his embrace, inhaling his clean scent and relaxing against his soft skin. Just as you’re starting to drift off, you hear a faint mumble, “Thank you.”

And you don’t even need to respond. You just press your body closer somehow, planting a kiss to his chin before nuzzling into his neck.

And it’s the only answer Frankie needs.

#francisco catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x y/n #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction

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izurou · 1 year

Text

⋆ .˚ 𖤐 — ft. JEAN KIRSTEIN ⋮ contains: f! reader. penetrative sex. a creampie. pet names. religious ish themes. the loml <3

“pardon me?”

the soft sound of jean’s voice billows out over your figure—low and a little coarse as he teeters between realms of consciousness.

he has no one to blame but himself, he knows it.

he’s the one who drove it into that pretty head of yours—a mantra he’s been preaching since the beginning of your relationship; if you ever need anything, wake me up. of course, he was thinking more along the lines of bad dreams, or bumps in the night—not knowing this would or could ever pop up as a possible cause for concern.

nevertheless here you are, straddling his hips with a sweet smile and a not so sweet request—one he would only ever expect to receive in his dreams.

“tire me out, jean.”

“huh?” his voice cracks a little—evidence of both his drowsiness and his disbelief. he may be tired, but he’s not stupid—he knows exactly what you want, he just can’t figure out if it’s real or not.

“i can’t sleep,” you hum as you lace your fingers with his—revelling in the sheer size difference, the way his palms swallow yours whole. “please?”

he allows the thought to swirl around in his head for a moment, and he comes to the conclusion that, while he would truly love to fuck your brains out right now—give you orgasm after orgasm until you’re both nothing but babbling messes of each other, he’s just too tired.

“of course baby,” he chuckles lightly, “go ahead.”

translated, he means that you’re free to do as you please, use him as you see fit—which isn’t quite what you had in mind, although doing all the work yourself sure as hell would put you to sleep.

“you’re such a pillow princess,” you tease, leaning in closer as he uses his hands to hold you up.

“yeah?” he challenges, knowing the unintentional rut of your hips against his is everything but. “do i not eat y—”

before he has the chance to argue that he buries his face in between your legs whenever your little heart desires, you kiss him—passionate and slow, humming into his mouth with intentions far from pure.

it doesn’t take much to get him going—the mere thought of you needing him this bad has a wave of euphoric bliss travelling at top speed to both his ego, and his cock. not that you’re above such a feeling—the sinful amount of arousal gathered between your thighs would beg to differ.

you pull back into an upright position, wiggling off the growing bulge beneath his boxers just enough to peel the fabric down. he’s only semi hard—but he’s big, and oh so heavy in your hand.

“what’re you waiting for?” he mumbles—patience dwindling with each teasing pass of your thumb over the sensitive head of his cock.

“know who you sound like right now?” you smile, using one hand to bunch your shirt up near your navel, while the other lines his tip up with your slick entrance.

“you,” he hisses, watching you sink down on his length—eyes screwing shut as he melts into the warm hug of your tight, silky cunt.

a moan spills past your lips as you start to move, and all that smug confidence vaporizes into thin air—forcing you to plant a palm on either side of his head just to keep from collapsing.

you find yourself on the stairway to heaven rather quickly, losing the ability to focus on anything but how good it feels to slowly rock your hips—each and every languid drag of his cock better than the last. he’s so thick, and he fills you up so well, but little do you know—he’s yet to ascend.

“you call this tiring yourself out?” he says, grin plastered to his face as he grabs onto the fat of your hips. you still completely, albeit reluctantly, and squint at him.

before you can even open your mouth, you’re on your back with him hovering above—a chiseled outline, illuminated by the streetlights seeping in through the window.

“let me, baby,” he purrs, face coming into focus as he leans down to press a sweet, loving kiss to your forehead. he then sits back on his heels and guides your legs over his thighs—pushing back inside you with a low groan.

he shoves the pesky fabric of your shirt upwards, ultimately deciding to stuff the excess of it in your mouth to ensure his view isn’t obstructed, and oh god—this is perfect.

you—with your pretty tits on display, and your oh so eager pussy greeting him with a squelch each time he thrusts into you. his nails carve crescent moons into your skin, but you still arch into his touch—whimpering into the cotton that occupies your mouth, soaking it with your verbal desire.

it all feels a little criminal, but the choir of angels between his ears tell him it’s alright—keep going.

he presses a thumb flat against your clit, earning himself the prettiest, muffled little moan, and the pleasure of watching you buck your hips towards him in the most deliciously pathetic way.

“shhhh, i know baby,” he coos, slowing his pace when he feels your cunt clamp down onto him—though brief, he knows you’re close. “whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.”

he gives you a few more sharp thrusts before he heeds the advice of the little being sitting on his shoulder. he stills his hips, but doesn’t pull out—just places two fingers on your clit and rubs fast circles, easily sending you over the edge.

you see stars—every shade from yellow to white as you screw your eyes shut and cum, pulsing on his cock with squirmy hips and fistfuls of sheets. your body can’t decide what it wants, all of him or none—your hands push his away, but your pussy sucks him in—a devilish contradiction.

he’s not above the feeling either—mouth hanging open as choppy, laboured breaths slip out, chest heaving in time with the spurts of cum he shoots into you—because how could he not? there’s a slice of heaven laying right in front of him.

“fuck,” he breathes out—senses returning as he comes down from his high. carefully, he removes the drool stained shirt from your mouth and tugs it over your head, discarding the fabric altogether.

“jean i, i take it back,” you pant, still lacking your sense of pride, obviously.

“i figured you’d say that,” he grins, leaning down to run his thumb along your bottom lip, but oh—the subtle movement causes his still sheathed cock to slip a little deeper. “tired yet, baby?”

you bite down on your lip and shake your head no, and he kisses you, hungrily.

“figured you’d say that too,” he mutters, ghosting his lips down your neck, and between the valley of your breasts.

the thought of fucking you a second time crosses his mind—perhaps in a different, more intimate position, but then he hears it—a little voice in his ear that tells him it’d be awfully rude if he didn’t clean up his mess first.

so he listens, he goes further—until his mouth is hovering over your messy pussy, and he knows that for this, he has no one to thank but himself.

#izurou #jean x reader #aot x reader #aot smut #jean smut #jean kirstein x reader #snk x reader #jean kirschstein x reader #self indulgence at her worst question mark

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uchihaharlot · 16 days

Note

Okay but Uchiha boys reaction to be woken up w bj :D

OK I CHANGED MY MIND. I am tired as fuck but damn if this didn’t excite me!!! 🚨🚨

NSFW; waking these men up by the cock.

Madara:

Oh god. Several ideas come to mind with this man. The first being, you probably don’t even slip under the sheets before he’s awake, and the second is that he’s tired enough to allow it. So Madara pretends to wake up the moment your mouth slides over his morning wood, groans and stretches his arms under his head (this is the good life, ok?). Before he is close to finishing, he tenses. Because any ounce of his cum that doesn’t flood your womb is considered wasteful, but Madara has a soft spot and since you’re enjoying him this way so much, he decides to fall apart from your hot mouth, and encourages you by gently rutting in time with your mouth strokes. Just make sure you do it right, or he’s going to get aggressive and fuck your face silly.

Obito:

I’m such a fucking bitch for this, and I’m sorry Obi. But have you ever seen a man cum in his sleep?? That’s Obito. Guy sleeps like a fucking rock (not surprising since he’s built like one, your mouth is stuffed with his cock and he’s still asleep????). And he moans the whole time, but very sleepy whines. He actually dreams about it while you’re doing it (and gets sooo red telling you about this dream later in the day, all the while you smile knowingly) 😩🥹 so precious, you thought for sure he would be awake by the time it started to feel really good, but nope! He just is even more adorable, peacefully unawares as you suck him dry.

Shisui:

It’s pretty evident I’m baised with this Uchiha. Lol, I can’t help it. Shisui absolutely wakes up—but with appreciation, slips his hand in your hair and guides you slowly over his morning erection and groans so damn hot and gruff. He’s so hard in the mornings too, not always but today he is. The mornings he’s not, he still enjoys you cock warming him until he grows into your throat and then he groans when you slurp on the tip as he cums, rather fast but oh well. Undoubtably repays the favor; tenfold. Once your mouth is flooded with his sperm, he is eager to reciprocate and feast off your goods.

Itachi:

It’s always so hard to tell what this man isn’t affronted by. He would instantly jolt awake, with a silent but then audible gasp turned treasonous moan. Probably mouth open, it’s always shocking (in a good way) to be taken care of by you, but fuck. Itachi is one of those men that gets off on your pleasure. Like, yes. He loves seeing you work his length, especially since he got in late from a mission and you were asleep, so there was no time for a salacious reunion. But please, if you really want to make him happy and cum fast. Just sit on him once you notice he’s close. He loves blow jobs, but he wants you both to be on the same level.

#uchiha clan #uchiha headcanons #uchiha family #madara smut #madara uchiha #madara x reader #obito smut #obito uchiha #obito x reader #shisui smut #shisui uchiha #shisui x reader #itachi smut #itachi uchiha #itachi x reader

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mannaima · 1 year

Text

My Best Friend Joel (part three)

Sorry for making you all wait so long! I decided this is the second to last installment in the best friend series, the last one being much longer as it’s gonna cover a longer timeline. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it!!!!

(part 1) (part 2)

Summary: Joel decides to hide the fact you’re pregnant, until he can’t anymore.

Word count: 2.5K (yes short i know)

Warnings: NSFW (p in v), dub-con turned consensual, breeding, joel being a scumbag, pregnancy, babytrapping(????)(small) mentions of vomit, manipulation, happy endings tho.

Joel didn’t get much sleep that night. Not like he did anyways, but his thoughts tonight were clouded with ideas of what to do about this predicament. But one thought made him shiver with guilt.

He wanted to leave.

Joel felt immense guilt with the thought, sure, he knew he was far from a good man, but even that was a low for him. But his stomach swelled in pain at the thought of another child, he couldn’t even think of children ever since Sarah. But the act was already done, there was no denying that you would be pregnant, although there's a chance you might, he had to think of the worst here. He tossed and turned, trying not to wake you, but he clenched his eyes at every possible way of this working out. You were none the wiser, sleeping so soundly, as if your body wasn’t currently in the stage of making the new child you two shared. Joel sighed, and as the morning sun crept through the windows, he had only one thought on his mind.

He just wasn’t gonna tell you.

----------

You woke up, eyes adjusting to the room filled with light, and your best friend held you in his large arms. You noticed he was already awake, eyes half shut in tiredness, and he had bags under his eyes. You tilted your head.

“Good morning Joel!” You were excited, he only glanced at you, not even a usual smirk. “Are you okay? Did you get any sleep?” You were much quieter, fearing he wasn’t in a good mood.

“Morning, sugar, I slept fine.” Lie. “Just a little tired.” Lie. Lie. Lie.

“Oh, okay.” You snuggled closer to him, head resting against his warm body, he seemed to tense around you a little. Internally, you felt the awkwardness. You were hurt, but you kept quiet.

“Do you want me to make you breakfast?” You gave him a small smile, and he glanced at you before staring at the wall once more.

“That’d be nice.” Blunt answer, but a much better answer than ‘no’. You giggled and pushed the blankets back, sitting up and climbing over Joel, making sure not to accidentally crush his arms with your knees. You stood up, and immediately felt a feeling of something droop out of your pussy. Confused, you stood still, but then the memories of last night flooded back, which made you grin a little. You walked to the kitchen, unaware of how Joel stared at you, your pretty ass out on display, only a cute pair of panties covering your lower half. Aided with morning wood, Joel’s cock became incredibly hard, despite his brain shunning him for still feeling horny knowing he knocked you up.

“Do ya want french toast?” He looked at your face now, eyes moving up from your ass. You looked so pretty in nothing but a shirt. Joel nodded. You turned back around to fix the breakfast.

Joel felt so conflicted, on one hand, it was bound to happen eventually, he was going to meet another woman, the right one this time. Though it was a new kid, it would never replace Sarah, and the child wasn’t meant to. On the other hand, he felt immense fear that something would happen to the child. This world was no place for youth, the child would never be normal growing up in a world like this, but what choice did he have? The baby was gonna come regardless, would he rather the child to a loving mother and father, or to a single mother out on the streets.

He had to deal with it.

He stood up, wearing nothing but boxers, making him shiver at the cold air. He walked over to you, and wrapped his hands around your body, his back hunched over so he could rest his head on your shoulder. His cock was pressed up against your back, but he didn’t care, he just wanted to feel your warm body.

“Oh Joel…” There was a hint of sadness in your voice, but he had no clue why. Despite his brain begging him to ask you what’s wrong, he just buried his face in your neck, giving you small kisses.

You felt his cock, it made your lower regions warm up, fluttering almost. You continued to make the batter and heat up the stove, Joel clinging to you tightly. His hardness not going down, you felt distracted, accidentally spilling a small amount of batter. You kept apologizing but Joel just rubbed your hips with his rough hands, you jumped at his cold hands against your cold skin as he reached under your shirt.

“You cold baby?” His hands rubbed around your stomach before slowly leading up to your breasts, where he squeezed them tightly. You whimpered and stuttered before nodding your head, to which he began pinching your nipples.

“I think I’m hungry for something else right now, sweetie.” Joel began to kiss your neck, his tongue licking up it slowly, you let out a soft moan, making him smirk upon your skin.

“D-Do you wanna have… S-Sex?”

“I think I made it pretty clear I do.”

“R-Right. Sorry.” You felt stupid for asking, wondering if it made you look stupid to him. He either didn’t care or was too horny to care, because he kept rubbing his cock against your back while kissing your neck, the breakfast long forgotten at this point. You arched your back at his touch, feeling so sensitive from the night before, your pussy fluttering at his hands. He finally removed his hands from your chest and brought them down to your lower half, his fingers poking under the fabric in order to pull them down, and he slowly brought them down. You felt the cold air, but he didn’t wait much longer before wrapping an arm around your body while also pushing your front half against the counter, making you bend over for him. You gasped at the sudden movement, but it was short-lived as his cock was now rubbing against your entrance.

“W-wait Joel-” A loud moan escaped your lips as his cock was now pushing through, your only source of lube was his cum from the night before and the small amount of wetness you had. You weren’t at all prepared for him, but he didn’t care and kept pushing.

“J-Joel. Hurts-” He kept pushing, making you groan out in pain, his hand coming up to your lips.

“Shhhh.” No words of reassurance, just shushing you to make you stop whimpering in pain. You couldn’t help it though, your walls were being stretched to their limit by his fat cock, and he wasn’t even inside you all the way yet. You kept trying to squirm out of his hold, but his grip on you was too strong, and he finally pushed you against his body, his entire cock inside you now. You groaned out, loudly, making him pull his cock back, and slam into you once more. The kindness he showed you last night was no more, as he continued to mercilessly ram inside you. You felt your face heat up as your lower half experienced immense pain, you didn’t know what to do. He just felt so much bigger than before, maybe you were doing something wrong? It hurt the first time too, but he stopped a while for you to get used to it, but he just kept abusing your hole.

“Joel please.” You pleaded for him to slow down, and he did, for a second. He slipped his cock out of you and turned you around, now facing him. Your back was pushed against the counter as he lifted you there, bottom half hanging off. You got a few seconds of relief before his cock was pushed back into you, head leaning back as you whimpered. His hands held on to your hips as he fucked you again and again. Joel forced your legs to wrap around his waist, effectively allowing him to thrust into you better. You felt the pain slowly go away, but far too slow for your liking. Joel’s groans mixed with your moans of pain and slight pleasure, his hands rubbing against your warm skin, eyes fixated on your body.

You got a good look at him in the sunlight peeking through the curtains, now able to see his body. Peppered hair covered his chest, not too much hair though. His body was definitely toned, especially for his age, and his chest glistened with small amounts of sweat. His face stared down at you with an incredible amount of enamoration, eyes boring into yours, his mouth parted slightly to let out breaths. You looked down his body to see the way his cock disappeared into your cunt, it was arousing to say the least. The mess of hair that covered right above his cock and the way his happy trail led down from his belly button. You couldn’t get enough of his body, and it seems he felt the same about you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, angel.” He said, deep voiced slightly strained as he continued to fuck you.

“You too J-” You were cut off by the movement of his hands around your ankles. He lifted your legs up and positioned them on his shoulders, allowing him much deeper access in your pussy. Your breathy moans pushed him over the edge, he couldn’t get enough of the way your bare breasts bounced around, or the look you gave with your eyebrows arched in pleasure, lips wet with saliva as you gave into the pleasure. He couldn’t handle it anymore, his head reeling back as he gave a few more sloppy thrusts and groaned, cumming inside of you. You felt the warm cum seep inside you, Joel letting out small ‘fuck’s and ‘goddamn’s. After about twenty seconds of pure bliss on Joel’s end, he finally pulled out of you, cock soft now, and a large clump of his cum dripping out of you. Joel quickly plunged his middle and ring finger inside you, pushing the cum back inside you. He fingered you, his hand pushing the hair away from your forehead and kissing it, making you smile through the pleasure of his fingers. He smiled back.

----------

You had stayed with Joel, your relationship was never really defined, but it was safe to say you two were a couple. Joel would obviously leave to go to work, which is something you were accustomed to. But Joel left you the privilege of leaving the apartment whenever you wanted, but you preferred when Joel was by your side. You spent the days watching the people, reading books, and even drawing pictures while Joel was away.

When Joel came back, you both liked to do “adult stuff.”

He fucked you every day after work or before you both slept. He couldn’t get enough of you, every time he saw you, he had this uncontrollable urge to just fuck the shit out of you.

And every single time, he came inside you.

He felt guilty, of course, but not guilty enough to tell you what happens when a man cums inside a woman. No, he figured he could delay it until there were physical changes, he liked you this way. It was sick of him, he knew he was a bastard for what he was doing, but he liked seeing your fucked out face while cum drooled out of your pussy. He liked you not knowing that you were going to be carrying his babies, of course he’d tell you when you’d eventually noticed the weight gain, lack of period, and giant stomach. But Joel wanted to see how long you could stay oblivious.

----------

“Joel, do I look… Fatter to you?” There you stood, in front of the mirror, wearing nothing but a pair of panties. You had turned to the side and were staring at your stomach.

“What do ya’ mean?” Joel knew exactly what you meant.

“I just look… More round. Just my stomach though.” You felt around your stomach, squeezing it a little.

“But it’s not soft like fat. It’s kind of hard?” You knocked on it jokingly, giggling slightly.

“I don’t see a difference, baby.” It was easy for him to lie, he avoided your eye contact though.

“Oh well, I’m probably just seeing things.” You went on your tippy toes and puckered out your lips, signaling him to kiss you, which he did.

He watched you walk into the kitchen, still topless, and pull out some rations. He couldn’t help but notice how big your breasts have gotten, wondering how you didn’t notice. He wanted to suck on them, hoping milk would come out already. Fantasizing about your body, you quickly snapped him out of his little world as he noticed you running to the sink.

“Oh fuck-” You had little time before you started vomiting in the sink, coughing in between gags. Fuck. Joel’s mind raced, this was getting too far, he had to tell you. You let out the contents in your stomach while Joel just watched, but his dumb brain finally realized he should be helping you. Scrambling to run to you, he held your hair back as you continued. He reassured you that you were fine, that it was just some morning sickness. As you finally felt better and washed your mouth and the sink, Joel felt a small amount of guilt now that he saw your sick face. Fuck. He had to tell you now.

“Darling there's something we need to talk about. Come with me.” He led you to the bedroom and sat you next to him, hand gripping yours tightly.

“What is it Joel?” He sighed, and rubbed your hand with his fingers.

“Well. The reason your stomach is a bit bigger, and why you have some sickness is because. You’re pregnant. You’re gonna be a momma.” You stared at him, confusion plastered on your face, head slightly tilted.

“How?” Joel sighed again, now realizing you were gonna be upset with him.

“When we have sex. When a man cums inside a woman, the white stuff that comes out of me, it makes a baby when it mixes with your parts.” Your eyes widened a bit. You touched your stomach.

“So… You were making babies with me?” Joel nodded, half expecting you to hit or scream at him. But you just kept touching your small baby bump.

“So you mean. I’m gonna be a mommy? And, are you the daddy?” There was a small glimmer in your eyes as you started to grow a smile.

“Yes baby.” Joel gave you a small smile before being pushed down by you, face smushed up against his own. You kept giving him sloppy kisses, laughing in between smooches. Joel didn’t know you’d be this happy, he thought you’d be upset with unknowingly getting pregnant, but he let that thought linger as he kept his hands on your hips, kissing you back with a breathy laugh.

You two were going to be parents.

taglist: @avengersfan25 @sloanexx @flowercrowns-goodvibes @aerangi @st4rb0y27 !! inbox me to join/remove from the taglist!!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #dark! joel miller x reader #joel miller dark fic #dark!joel miller x reader #dark! joel miller #tlou #tw dubcon #tw babytrapping #tw pregnancy #joel the last of us #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut

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sillygoosealert · 2 months

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Can you do when bi han and reader are arguing and she flinches and he feels super bad

Tehe okay ( I Hope you’re doing alright ✩)

Arguing with Bi-Han ( then flinching ☆(≧∀≦*)ﾉ)

Tw- issues with yelling , Crying, he's sorry I swear

Bi-Han has been stressed out, you’re worried.

You make your bed so he can come into a clean room, and you make sure he has a snack in the afternoon- despite him never taking it. You even give him massages every other day but he still looks wrong.

He tells you he’s fine, that it isn’t your place to order him to take a break or make sure he isn’t tired.

Maybe that’s where he got annoyed, your persistence on his health, and maybe your relationship.

You sat him down to talk, at night when you had time

‘I love you, and I want you to know I’m doing this because I care-‘

��Stop. This is illogical bickering between us. I am fine but you refuse to accept that as an answer because that is not what you want to hear.’ Ye-owch! That hit a missive nerve. And he’s not wrong, that makes it hurt even more.

‘Why can’t you just listen to me for once? It’s like you want to let yourself burn out from overworking. It’s like you don’t care how I feel-‘

‘Will you shut your filthy mouth? That is not what I am saying and you know that very well’ he’s yelling, not for a bad reason but he’s yelling. And you flinch, now you crying because he yelled.

‘Shh..I’m sorry, I’m so sorry..it’s okay..’ he is desperately trying to stop you from growing the distance between you two, and maybe for you to stop shaking and crying.

‘I’m sorry, I said I’m sorry please stop, I won’t do it again..’ he’s holding you while you shake and muffle your cries. You’re in the fetal position and you’re both on the bed, he’s keeping you cradled in his lap.

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt his heart drop so fast and hard, he didn’t want to yell- he also didn’t mean to. You cry yourself to sleep in his arms, leaving him to think about what just happened with no comfort or console that it will be okay.

My writing progressively got worse as went on but I hope it filled your need for angst 🎀

#bi han #bihan #mk1 bi han #mortal kombat x reader #angst #bi han x reader #mk1 angst #mortal kombat #i need his dick #i need to suck his dick #and blow him #I’m oiled up for him

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jistagrams · 9 months

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dad!haechan loved his kids of course, but he couldn’t help but miss the old times when you and him had alone time. After you had given birth to twins you and haechan never had any time to be alone, you both were always busy with the children and haechan busy with his insane schedule. “baby do we need anything from the store?” he asked while u smiled hearing his voice. You were extremely tired after barley getting any sleep after giving birth to Danielle and Daniel, “diapers and wipes” your voice sounded tired, he hummed, “I’ll see you soon my love” he said and hung up.

“hi donghyuck” you smiled tiredly at your husband, he dropped the bag and went to hug you, you gladly hugged him back and went on ur tippy toes to kiss his neck, “I’m so tired” he mumbled. “Me too” u whispered back and broke the hug, grabbing his hand to lead him to the room, completely forgetting the bag he had brought in, “our babies are asleep, they just went to bed at 8” u whispered trying not to be loud so the don’t wake up, he smiles wildly and holds ur waist from behind. “Should we?” He sweetly said, u lightly laugh and shake ur head as in no, “ik we haven’t had any alone time but we can’t do it rn, they will hear us from the other room” u said while walking to the bed, he followed behind n groaned, “we can just be quiet!!” He whispered loudly, you laughed and sat on the bed, getting comfy before laying down, he goes to the other side and does the same. “Donghyuck your everything but quiet.” U said before snuggling up with him,he smiles and holds you while placing his chin on ur head, “I have to promote in la on Saturday..” he mumbled, u hummed and held him tighter. “Should we send Danielle and Daniel to my parents house or yours?” You tiredly said, he grins and places a kiss on ur head. “doesn’t matter, what are you planning on doing after we send them off?” He smirks, “I’d go and buy pretty lingerie to wear, then id send pictures of me in it to you and wait for u to get home still wearing it.” U sweetly spoke, he softly whined and moved away from u to lay on his back. “What else?” He whispered as he felt his member grow hard from the thought of you sending such pictures. “Then id jump on u as soon as u get home and let you do everything u want to me” u quietly said as u cling onto him once again, like a sloth holding onto a tree branch. “yn..you’re doing this on purpose aren’t you” he whined and broke away from your touch and ran to the bathroom, making sure not to make a lot of noise so the baby’s wouldn’t wake.

#kpop #kpop smut #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct 127 #nct dream smut #nct donghyuck #nct dream #nct haechan #nct dream haechan #nct dream hard hours #nct dream hard thoughts #nct 127 smut #nct 127 hard thoughts #nct 127 hard hours

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writerpetals · 3 months

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home | ❤️

; optional male lead fluff | ☁️

“Okay, are you ready?”

“Ready…”

“One…”

“...two…”

“...three!”

You click the spacebar on your laptop to begin playing the movie to sync up to his own DVD playing on his TV from the other side of the world. The two of you are experts at this by now, figuring out down to the second where to pause and press play to be able to watch your favorite movies together. With your phone snug between your cheek and the pillow, you pull your blankets up to your chin as the movie begins to play on the laptop resting in front of you, and hearing his chuckling, humming, or even his breathing almost makes it feel as if he were right there with you.

Almost.

Of course, you can’t have his arms around you or rest your head on his chest, but you can only do so much to feel like a couple when he has a busy life traveling and you’re stuck in your apartment working on editing videos for your job, preparing projects and meeting deadlines to keep your boss happy. Movie nights are now reserved for weekend mornings for you, and breaks in his schedules for him when he can find time to watch at least half a film with you.

You’re thankful he makes such an effort, allowing you to pick out your favorite movie the two of you have watched a hundred times before, and humor you by following along when you begin to quote your favorite scenes and giggle at all the best parts.

“Next time we don’t even have to play the movie,” he begins to tease, and hearing his deep, sleepy voice on the other end of the phone eases every ounce of tension in your body, “you can just quote all the parts for me and it will be just as good.”

“Hush,” you giggle, and then you tell him, “you know I love this movie.” And you only love the movie so much when he is so many miles away because it reminds you of when you first met, when he barely had any money to take you to see the film, but he insisted on the two of you going regardless.

“Mm,” he hums, and you can tell from the hint of a few slurred words he’s growing tired already, “and I love you.” Of course he always grows a bit more sentimental when the day has been too long and he’s ready to sleep the stress away, and he reminds you often that listening to your voice only puts him even more at ease.

“Are you falling asleep on me already?” you ask, words no higher than a whisper and the two of you are hardly paying attention to the movie at this point.

“It’s midnight here,” he says with a yawn, and you can picture his squished face the moment you hear him stretching. It’s bittersweet imagining him snuggled up in bed with the hotel’s TV being the only source of light in the room, his phone in one hand and his heavy lids failing him as he tries to keep them open.

“You can sleep if you want,” you sigh, reaching to check the timer on the bar to see only thirty minutes have passed. “I’m sure your day is busy tomorrow.”

You can only guess as much when he’s hours ahead of you, knowing time differences sometimes get in the way of even your long distance movie nights.

“I wanna talk to you,” he assures you, but it’s more mumbled and a bit more sleepy. You know he won’t last much longer, and typically one of you ends up falling asleep with the other still on the line. Not that you mind too much, because it’s second best to getting to fall asleep wrapped up in his arms.

“You need your rest.”

“But-”

You call his name, feigning a strict, stern tone that has him chuckling. “Text me when you wake up.”

“I’ll call you.”

“I’ll be sleeping,” you remind him, just in case he manages to get extra sleep somehow, “send me a picture instead.”

He agrees with sleepy laughter spilling from his lips, says his goodnight’s and I love you’s, and your heart aches just a little more for him the moment you hang up the phone.

***

Hours pass before your phone buzzes with a new message, or at least one you bother checking, while you have your computer, headphones, and different hard drives spread around you on your bed. You pull your nose from your laptop and the video you have been editing to check his text with a complementary picture of his sleepy face just as you asked. The widest grin grows on your face taking in his pouty, pink lips and messy hair as he rests against his white pillow case. He’s never looked more inviting, finding yourself wishing you could somehow teleport to his bed in that moment just to hold him close.

“Thanks for the pic,” you tell him the moment he picks up your call, listening to him mumbling something into the receiver. “Are you brushing your teeth?”

“Mhm,” he hums, placing images of his sleepy face and toothpaste covering his mouth in your head. A moment later you hear the sounds of water running as he finishes up, a grin growing on your lips as the two of you enjoy doing the simplest of tasks with the other on the line. “Did I interrupt your work?”

“You know me too well,” you admit with a chuckle.

“Mm, then I know you probably haven’t eaten, right?”

“I’m going to,” you tell him, only lying a little. “Right after I finish cutting up this video and-”

“You can’t forget to eat.” His tone is low and a bit more stern, and it makes you grin from how concerned he is over nothing.

“I didn’t forget,” you sigh, falling back onto your pillows as he chuckles in disbelief.

“Okay, well promise me-” Another voice suddenly echoes through the speaker from far away, assuming someone must be needing him so soon. “I’ll call you back, okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum, completely used to conversations cutting short by now. The two of you are quick with your goodbyes and then you’re back to editing, the familiar ache in your heart growing as your thoughts become carried away in the moment. Rushed phone calls and missed messages begin to build as the weeks pass without him, and even though you try your best to be understanding, it’s hard to deny the emptiness surrounding you when he’s gone.

It doesn’t take long to get lost in your videos once again, attempting to drown out the worries and lonesomeness by finishing the part of the edit you had been working on, and you only pull your eyes from the bright screen when you hear a knock at your door. With a furrowed brow and pursed lips, you slip from your bed to answer, coming face to face with a younger boy holding up a brown paper bag, a grin on his lips and a receipt in the other hand.

It’s definitely not the first time he has surprised you by ordering food for you himself. After all, he’s so determined to make sure you aren’t missing any meals, and you only wish you could return the favor in taking care of him while he’s away.

***

“Have a good day?” You can already tell by the heaviness in his eyes as he looks through the laptop camera the answer to your question. Of course he would never admit it, always pretending he’s fine just so you won’t worry, but it’s clear as he struggles to stay awake after snuggling into the comfort of the hotel bed that he’s beyond exhausted, yet determined to keep his promise by video chatting as soon as he’s done with schedules and showered.

“Of course,” he says with a sleepy grin, batting his eyes a few times and each blink lasts longer than the last as he attempts to peel his lids open.

“You can sleep if you want,” you giggle with your own laptop on the pillow beside you as you lay in bed, even though it’s only the early afternoon in your part of the world. The curtains are shut and the only light remains a dim glow from the lamp on your bedside table, but it feels nearly as good as if he were right there next to you. “I can see you’re two blinks from fully passing out anyway.”

“Not true,” he says, and then yawns before his head falls to one side, “I’m awake, I’m talking to you, I’m happy.”

“Uh huh.” You narrow your eyes to make a face at him, watching him chuckle, and his face lights up just a bit when you stick your tongue out at him. “I can think of something to keep you awake… how about you take off that robe you’re wearing.” With that, you wink, and his laughter grows louder before looking to his right to make sure his roommate isn’t done with his shower yet.

“I’m starting to think you only love me for my body,” he tells you as he begins to pout, causing you to giggle.

“C’mon, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“I don’t think we have enough time.” Laughter falls from his lips before he sighs, and the sleepiness in his body sets in as the two of you say your good night’s, I love you’s, and you refrain from telling him just how much you miss not being able to fall asleep next to him.

***

Later that night you find yourself in your vanity mirror after just having washed up, making faces with a kitten filter on your phone as you take pictures to send to him. Each one earns more giggles, and you end up sending three different pictures with kitten ears in your bathrobe until you’re satisfied. You hope he will enjoy your silliness when he awakens in the morning, finding the messages you send to one another before and after sleep another way to remain close.

You head to bed early that night with an aching heart anticipating receiving a message in return in the morning, and you admit to yourself sometimes it’s the only thing getting you through your day. When you miss him, miss his voice so close and miss his touch as he holds you, the longing grows unbearable and time seems to pass slower the more you find yourself needing him.

Scheduling movie nights in the afternoon and video chats to pretend you’re falling asleep next to one another can only do so much, and eventually the ache in your chest, the loneliness, the desire to be close to him has a few tear drops hitting your pillow you never allow him to see. There’s no point in making it known just how much you miss him, so you pretend you're fine without him as you juggle work projects, videos, and presentations, and fall asleep with him as the last thing on your mind.

He spends another week overseas and it feels like forever without him, but the days are counting down to when you can feel his arms around you again. It’s the anticipation to see him after so long that gives you the strength to keep going, making each message, each phone call, each picture and video chat all the more exciting when you plan your first meal back together, your first movie, your first night out, and secretly to yourself, you imagine nothing but the feeling of his arms holding you close as you fall asleep against his chest.

It’s a Tuesday night when he sneaks into your apartment, spotting the familiar sight of you bundled up with your favorite blanket on the couch, laptop, hard drives, and memory cards scattered about, and the clock reads just past midnight as he presses his lips to your forehead. You’re the one that can hardly hold your eyes open after waiting hours for the news of his plane landing, but he says nothing as he plucks the cap from his head, peels his jacket from his body, and settles beneath the blanket with his head on your chest.

Without a word, you pull him close, smiling on the inside even though you’re still half-asleep and somehow it feels like a dream to finally have him so close. He can’t help but to reach for you, cold fingers slipping beneath your t-shirt as his palms take in the warmth of your body, and he leans in closer to press his lips against your own in a soft, sleepy kiss, and now you realize it’s not a dream.

He is with you, in your arms as you hold one another close, and now you’re both home.

#bts imagines #nct imagines #got7 imagines #monsta x imagines #stray kids imagines #harry styles imagines #bts scenarios #stray kids scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #svt imagines #bts x reader #stray kids x reader #ateez x reader

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withacapitalp · 5 months

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How to Rehabilitate a Jock Part 19

Part One Link to ao3 Part 18.

Part Twenty

As always thank you to @stevethehairington and @thefreakandthehair for generally keeping my head on my shoulders and betaing everything I always throw at you guys ily ily ily

Step Nineteen: Sing a Song

“Are you sure about this Steve?” Claudia asked for the millionth time as Steve opened her coat and held it out in front of him with a patient smile.

“I’m sure. Honest, Mrs. Henderson.” Steve said. He had gone through this exact song and dance with every parent except for Joyce and Hop, and Claudia was the final hold out. Truthfully he had expected Karen Wheeler or the Sinclairs to be the most unsure about leaving their sons at his house overnight, but a few small platitudes had been enough to get them to let go and go home.

Well, a few platitudes and a bottle of wine to hit the road with.

“Steven,” She immediately replied, a faux warning tone coloring her voice as she wagged her finger at him with a grumpy look in her eye.

“Claudia,” Steve amended, still feeling that little awkwardness that he always had when he addressed any adult by their first name. He could practically hear his mother’s voice in his ear telling him off for being impolite. “It’s not a problem, and besides, they’re just going to sleep. Super easy.”

Steve wasn’t exactly sure if that was true, but he had hope. All six of his brats had been letting out big yawns as he had ushered them up the stairs a little while ago, and he hadn’t heard any shouting coming from upstairs yet. There was no way of knowing if the excitement of a sleepover would give them a second wind of some form, but even that would be short lived.

Besides, Eddie had just left to drop off his friends with the promise of coming back soon, so the quicker he got the kids in bed, the better.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, dear, you know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for Dusty and the others,” Claudia said, finally allowing Steve to help her into her coat, “I just can’t believe you don't get tired of having them all here so often. I mean, doesn't it exhaust you? I can barely handle the occasional playdate they have at my house!”

“It does exhaust me,” Steve joked with a soft laugh, “but it’s also nice? A bit hard to explain, I guess.”

“You’re starting to sound like a father,” Claudia teased, buttoning up her extremely bright pink coat., “You’ll make some girl very happy someday.”

Steve laughed along because that was what was appropriate, but he couldn’t deny the weird pit in his stomach that was beginning to grow. A month ago he would have thought it was because of his breakup with Nancy and the prospect that he might never find someone he loved like her ever again.

That made sense.

But Steve could say with almost one hundred percent certainty that Nancy was nothing but a friend now. Someone important to him, but wholly platonic. He could also say that he still very much wanted to be a father. It was one of the things he wanted most in life.

So why was Claudia’s joke making him so uncomfortable?

It made zero sense. There wasn’t any reason. Something just felt… wrong.

Luckily their conversation appeared to be over. There were still the normal polite farewells and long goodbyes in the doorway, but that was all perfunctory. Steve could go through those motions without much thought, and before he knew it the front door shut and he was finally alone in his house once more.

Thump.

Mostly alone.

“You shitheads better have your pajamas on and teeth brushed by the time I reach the top of these steps!” Steve called up from the bottom, standing still and relishing in the sudden flurry of activity that was coming from his bedroom.

The kids weren’t even a bit frightened of him, but they still listened to him when they felt like it, and especially if he was doing something big like letting them all stay overnight so they could spend more time with El. It was almost novel, knowing they were going to actually do what he said with only minimal complaining.

Steve waited one second longer before starting to climb the stairs, purposefully making his steps just a touch louder so he knew the kids could hear him approaching. He even made a show of slowly opening the door to his bedroom, only to be greeted by a truly miraculous sight.

All six of them tucked tight into his bed, quiet and calm. Max, Lucas, and Will were even pretending to be asleep, just to really sell the bit. Max and Lucas weren’t doing too good, but Steve might’ve actually believed Will’s act if he didn’t know that Will always slept on his left, and not his right.

“Look at that, turns out you can do as you’re told,” He said, putting his hands on his hips and biting his lip to avoid directly laughing at how good they were pretending to be. The ‘sleepers’ opened their eyes, and the others all relaxed at the easy going tone their babysitter was using.

“Fuck you, Steve,” Mike grumbled, ever the contrarian.

“I can still call your mom and dad to pick you up, Wheeler,” Steve threatened lightly, both of them knowing he would do no such thing.

Still, it was enough to get Mike to back down, grumbling as he snuggled in tighter between Dustin and El.

“How’d the plan go?” Dustin asked eagerly, leaning over his grumpy friend and jamming his elbow’s into Mike’s ribs, causing the other boy to snarl and try to push him off without success.

“Pretty much perfect,” Steve sighed walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling at one of Max’s braids idly just to rile her up a little bit. “El should have no problem going to school next year.”

The kids immediately began to cheer and whoop, already excitedly planning all the things they would get to do together next year.

All except one.

“What’s wrong Supergirl?” Steve asked softly, furrowing his brow at El’s stormy expression. “I thought this would make you happy.”

That was the whole reason he had come up with this insane plan- he had wanted to make El happy. And yet, here she was, practically miserable.

El sucked in one cheek, chewing on it in a move that was so reminiscent of Hopper it almost made Steve laugh. She looked just like her dad when he was deep in thought.

“I am happy about being allowed to go to school,” El finally began, her words slow as she thought through the exact words she wanted to use. Steve waited patiently, knowing she would come to the words when she had them, or would ask for one that might help explain better.

“I am… uncomfortable with lying. Friends don’t lie.”

Friends don’t lie.

Steve wasn’t exactly sure who had taught that to these kids, but if he ever found out, he would not be responsible for what he did.

Don’t lie. What a stupid thing to teach kids. In Steve’s opinion- honesty was overrated. There was nothing wrong with a white lie, or a big fat one, as long as it was for a good reason. What was the point in telling his mother that his dad was out with his secretary again? What sense was there in being truthful when Carol asked if the other girls thought she was mean? Saying those things just hurt everyone, Steve included.

It was better to be smart, to be strategic with the truth, and hope for the best. He would lie to everyone around him, as long as it was what would keep them happiest. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and actually, knowing would hurt more.

Still, he couldn’t say that to them. Especially not to El of all people. The other kids barely understood; her black and white way of thinking wouldn’t be able to get it. Not yet.

But then again, maybe it would be better if she never did.

“Friends don’t lie, but friends do keep secrets,” Steve decided, hoping that would be enough. “We’re going to keep your secrets, so you can stay safe. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” El said almost immediately, knowing how important her safety was to Steve. She paused, and Steve could practically see the wheels turning in her brain as she let his words truly sink in.

Once she did she took a deep breath and turned back to him, making sure Steve was looking at her as she spoke.

“But I still don’t like it? Does that make sense?” El asked hesitantly.

“I don’t like it either,” Mike said, and this time Steve could tell he wasn’t just agreeing because it was El. Mike’s little glower had turned into a full blown scowl, and his arms flew around as his voice began to raise, “El saved the world. Twice. She’s a hero, not a monster!”

No, she wasn’t a monster, and Steve would never want her to think of herself as one, but the world wasn’t so kind. Before he could even begin to try explaining that, the kids kept going.

“It does kind of suck that I can’t tell my mom anything,” Max admitted, uncharacteristically quiet as she kept her eyes firmly on the blanket covering her legs. “I don’t care about telling Billy or Neil or anything, but my mom asks me about my nightmares, and I can’t tell her why I have them. I’ve never been good at keeping secrets from her.”

“My mom’s still bummed about Mews,” Dustin muttered.

“My mom knows and it’s still hard to talk to her,” Will added on, looking far too old for just being twelve.

They all looked old. It was like Steve could almost see the adults they would be someday far down the line. Adults with secrets to bear, and lies to tell, and too many things they would never be able to explain to the world around him. Things that their mothers would never be able to help them with.

Was that what he was now?

Steve had never even considered talking to his mother about everything they had been through. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind once. And now that he was thinking about it, he still couldn’t imagine a world where he would ever talk to his mom about any of this.

… It was hard to recall the last time he had talked to his mom about anything real.

“I know it sucks, but it’s not safe guys,” He said, focusing on the thing he could worry about and ignoring the panging ache in his heart. This wasn’t a time to think about his mommy issues. This was about the kids.

“Yeah, being put in cuffs once was enough for me,” Lucas said, unconsciously rubbing at his wrists. “Not fun.”

“I do not want to go back to the lab. Secret’s are necessary,” El agreed, reaching over and tangling her fingers in Lucas’s, “but they suck.”

“Secrets suck a big fat one,” Dustin declared.

El leaned back, quirking her head to the side.

“A big fat what?” She asked, the absolute picture of innocence she was.

There was a beat of quiet as they all registered exactly what she had just said, and then as a group they all began to laugh. Steve tried in vain to stifle his giggles, not wanting El to feel like she was being laughed at, but she was smiling too, pleased as punch to get her friends feeling happy again instead of sad.

“I’ll explain it some other time, Elliegirl,” Steve promised, tugging the covers more securely around the brats as he did. “And you guys can always talk to me, you know that right? I’m not the same as your parents, but I’m here.”

Some sleepy nods and yawns answered him, and Steve figured the conversation had reached its natural conclusion. But, just as he reached over to grab the lights, a quiet little voice broke through the silence.

“... Who do you talk to?”

Steve paused, his fingers still curled around the knob on his bedside lamp as he turned to give Will a curious look.

“What?”

“You said we can talk to you, but who do you talk to?” Will explained, a little nervous like always, but not backing down.

No one.

“Plenty of people. I’ve got my friends, and Nancy and Jonathan,” Steve replied, a little too cheerfully, trying to ignore the immediate response that had come to mind.

“But you can’t talk to Eddie or the others about the upside down stuff, and you barely talk to Nancy and Jon,” Max argued, joining Will in staring Steve down now that he had considered the question, “so, who do you get to talk to about this, Steve?”

“Where’s all this coming from?” Steve asked, expertly maneuvering around the situation. He ruffled Dustin’s curls, finally free of his hat, poking him in between the eyes to add an extra annoyance. “I’m the one that worries about you brats, not the other way around.”

“We are friends, Steve. Aren’t friends supposed to watch over each other?” El insisted.

Steve opened his mouth but quickly shut it before he said something stupid like they weren’t friends or it didn’t work that way.

But wasn’t that the truth?

The kids were friends with each other, Nancy was Mike’s sister, Jonathan was Will’s brother, Hopper and Joyce were the parents. Where did Steve fit in that equation? ‘Babysitter’ had been an easy thing to use as a placeholder, but how much longer could he say that? What place was Steve supposed to be in for them as they got older? He wasn’t their brother, but he couldn’t see a world where he fit as one of their friends.

“You’re wrong,” Dustin grumbled, pulling Steve out of his head and back into the moment.

“Excuse me?” Steve said, more than a little shocked. As far as he knew, El was the only one who could read minds, and he hadn’t said a word.

And yet, they were all glaring at him, unhappy with whatever they had seen on his face.

“How many times do we have to say you’re in the party?” Mike muttered, a heavy red blush on his cheeks as he burrowed deeper into the pillows to avoid looking at anyone.

“Dumbass,” Max added, just to even things back out.

A hot heavy warmth spread through Steve’s chest and he bit down the stupid smile that was

threatening to break onto his face. Whatever he was, it didn’t matter. They cared, and that was what mattered.

“If I need to, I’ll talk with you guys,” Steve offered, knowing deep in his bones that he would never do such a thing.

“Promise?” Lucas murmured.

“Promise,” Steve lied with a soft, honey sweet voice, shutting off the light and letting the hallway lamp and the glow of the pool illuminate the room in a gentle cool tone. “Now it’s really time for bed.”

“What about Story and Song?” El asked.

Steve raised his brows in surprise, reminded with a jolt that despite looking just the same, El wasn’t like the other kids.

Story and Song was a little tradition Steve had started for the nights that Hopper had to work late, an easy way to get her to go to bed in an unfamiliar house without the comforting presence of her dad. He would read one of the short stories from his big book of Disney stories, sing her a song, and she would sleep until Hopper came to pick her up. It was sweet, but none of the other kids would have ever dared to ask for such a childish thing. They would want to act more grown up, more mature, always in a rush to grow up.

El had no such qualms.

A familiar storybook was being floated into his lap, and none of them, not even the boys, were protesting. In the blink of an eye, they weren’t old anymore, just kids who wanted to hear a story they already knew to help them fall asleep.

“Which one do you guys want?” Steve asked, ignoring the lump that was starting to grow in his throat, flipping through the Disney storybook and feeling the worn edges against his fingertips.

“Lady and the Tramp?” Dustin offered, seeing that Steve was already thumbing through that page. He turned to the beginning and rolled his neck getting into the mood to read, using the light from the pool outside as his guide.

“Lady was a happy little dog. She lived in a big house with Jim Dear and Darling.”

By the time Steve’s index finger glossed along the last sentences of the story, most of the kids had dropped off. Will had fallen asleep almost immediately, with Dustin and Lucas tripping after him before too long. El had made a valiant attempt to stay up, but she was gone by the time Lady met the other dogs at the pound.

Steve had just two hold outs left.

“G’night guys,” He said quietly, slowly sliding off of the bed and putting the book on the floor next to his bed. Mike turned over and ignored him, but Max sat up with a little glare.

“You said we would get a song too,” Max said sleepily, rubbing at her eyes with both palms.

“That’s being cheap, Harrington.”

Cheap? Was she actually serious?

“You two… want me… to sing you a lullaby?” Steve asked in complete disbelief. El, he understood. She had no frame of reference, no way of knowing that she might be a little bit too old for things like this, but Max?

Mike?

“We just don’t think you can actually sing,” Mike said, his words punctuated by a ridiculously big yawn.

“You gotta close your eyes then, and just listen,” Steve sighed, unwilling to argue this late at night.

“Deal,” Max said, snuggling down into the bed.

Steve let his eyes fall shut, taking a long deep breath as he slowly lowered himself to the ground, putting his back against the bed and conveniently facing away from the kids. It wasn’t like he was embarrassed to sing, it would just be easier not to have to see them while he did it.

But what should he sing?

It had to be something soft, something easy. Something anyone would want to hear.

The memory hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Who could hate this song?”

Steve had the answer.

“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me…”

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