#Straight from Inside ( OOC. ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nanamiskentos · 4 months ago

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MY STRATEGY ✤ 呪術廻戦

SYN. ➤ You're a man-eater, and he's just a light snack. A.K.A how you're just driving these sorcerers wild. ૮ • ﻌ - ა

𝐉𝐉𝐊 ➤ Getō, Sukuna, Chōsō, Tōji, Hiromi, Naoya, Gojō, Kashimo

cw ─ MDNI. afab!reader, màting préss, oràl (m), food play (?), drunk séx, semi-public séx, bàckshots, breéding kínk, proposals, créampié, bathtub séx, jealousy, wall séx, ooc naoya, reader is called a slút, cowgírl, pràise kink, big díck gojo, face sítting, oràl (f), múnching

wc. tba

呪術廻戦 NOTE ( author says ) someone requested a jealous!naoya fic so i just incorporated it in this 😭 and as a returned reward for me, i decided to add kashimo so we actually won 😁

➤ GETO SUGURU

"Fuckin' soaking all over me, darling. I'm really g-gonna' –"

Frankly, much of this evening has become a blur for Geto but he can faintly remember seething at those useless cunts over at the temple, and at the stack of paperwork piling up on his desk (yeah, apparently running a cult involves a lotta' bureaucracy).

He had thrown aside the heavy violet gojō-kesa, rummaging away for a faded, dark hoodie and thick cargo pants. He remembers knocking at the door of your apartment, and doing his best not to fall to his knees when you sweetly answered the door, pulling him in by the hand.

And somehow, between that blurry haze and him desperately kissing his girlfriend like his very life depended on it, Geto had found himself a happy, happy man, with your pretty ankles twitching around his shoulders. Pressing deeper into you, so your thighs were knocked straight up against your chest — pressing right into the fat of your tits as he slapped his hips right up against yours in the meanest mating press possible.

Your hands are in the mood to wonder too, it seems. Trembling ever so slightly for the surefire hits that Geto delivers when his rummaging, girthy cock thwacks! into you, over and over.

But your nails are running over the traditional dragon design that licks and curls up his left arm, trailing over his upper bicep where the ink tapers off over his back. A tattoo, something from his early days, often hidden underneath the draping robes he dons at the temple.

"Thaaat's my good girl," Geto murmurs, running his tongue behind his teeth, jostling himself closer to you so he could sip at your pretty mouth once more. Slick strands of saliva glistening between your lower lip and his, violet eyes narrowed as he feels your pussy clench around him in such a dizzying way.

"M-missed you so bad, Sugu', all day." You're whining, cunt twitching and quivering, releasing dribbling puddles of slick all over the fresh bedsheets.

Geto just chuckles, nipping his teeth over the juncture of your collarbone, leaving a faint, bruised mark that is certain to bloom into pretty petals, "I know, think ya' might have missed me jus' a bit too m-much, hmm?" Dipping a fat thumb to roll at your clit, "Pretty pussy was already sticky n' wet for me when I got here."

How sweet. Geto's practically swabbing every inch of your insides with his cock, and yet, the mere mention of him knowing about your lovely fingers spreading yourself apart and playing with yourself has you flushing so beautifully. God, Geto thinks to himself, if he doesn't marry you, he might really just die.

"Look at ya', wish I could take a photo," Geto murmurs, and you can hear just how much he truly does love you. Your (mildly suspicious) enigmatic boyfriend with his titan-steel thighs, and choppy dark hair is whispering sweet nothings in your ears, professions of loves that you know will make him fluster and blush all the more sweetly later on, "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen in m' whole life."

Raking your nails past the hypnotising dragon tattoo, to claw at his rippling biceps. Crimson lines blooming in your wake, as crescent edges leave their mark in a way that makes Geto groan. "Gonna' cum for me, baby? Can f-feel ya' sucking me up, god."

The rhythmic clenches of your pussy, the sheer, powerful arc of clear fluid spraying over Geto's groin and drenching his cock are enough to make the man moan, loudly, and not giving a single fuck at who hears. He's only burying himself further into you, driving himself right home with each spattering drivel and swivel of his hips into your glorious heat.

"Good g-girl, takin' it all for m' like a champ."

➤ RYOMEN SUKUNA

"What the fuck has gotten into you? Been in the cellars again, have we? Now, what did I say about that, eh?"

It's rare to hear Sukuna so bewildered, but the fact that the King of Curses is allowing you to manhandle him, to push his beefy, four-arm form into your private chambers is sign enough that he's indulging you.

"Wanna' kiss you, 'Kuna." You murmur, catching your husband's faint look of surprise, russet eyes widening as you yank his shoulders down. Planting your lips to his, muffling whatever snarky comment was sure to leave his fanged mouth, "Didn't like how she was looking at you."

Sukuna pulls back, if only to briefly trace his tongue along the side of your neck, down those fine crimson robes he so loved to see you in, "Who?"

"That courtesan." You shudder as gleaming fangs nip at your soft skin, shoving Sukuna closer towards the plush, vast expanse of your shared bed, "She was all over you, 'Kuna."

"Ah, that's what this is. My lil' Queen is jealous," Sukuna's back hitting the mattress, looking far too priggish and self-satisfied with your envy, "They're courtesans, brat. They pour our wine, flitter around like gnats, it's all a part o' the job description."

And because Sukuna truly can't resist himself, riling you up even further, "Besides, are you really surprised they're makin' stupid eyes at me, heh? I mean, look at me, I'm allll muscle and – mmph!"

In the short time that Sukuna took to gas himself up and rile up his pretty wife, you had already managed to snake your hands into the loose waistband of his wide pants. Clawing the fabric down absurdly broad, muscled thighs and undoing the thick, black knot holding his garments together.

A gentle peck on the upper-stacked of his two sculpted cocks has Sukuna suddenly glaring right down at you. All four eyes suddenly glazing over, "This is the game you wanna' play, brat? Really? 'Cause I can – fuck!"

You're pressing the flat of your tongue, the textured muscle right against the thick vein that runs along the underside of his absurdly long, girthy shaft. Ensuring that the second of his cocks doesn't feel left out, beginning to pump it slowly in the other hand.

"S-shut up, and let me do this." You're muffling around the smooth, taut skin at the very tip, beaming red and weeping the more you lave at it, "Wanna' taste you, 'Kuna."

"Heh, if I ever say no to that . . there's a knife in that wooden chest over there. I'd want you to use that on me, 'cause I'd hafta' be out of my damned mind to —"

There's a faint frazzled jump, a whine, colouring Sukuna's tone and you can tell that he's doing his best to muffle the sound. Determined to keep at least some dignity for himself, dark claws come to settle in your hair. Keeping that same steady pace to bob your pre-stained mouth up and down on the upper of the two shafts.

"Ouh, I was gonna' send those courtesans away, you k-know, if they were makin' my wife upset," Sukuna snickers, both cocks engorged enough that you really have to put in an effort to stretch both your hand and your mouth over them, "But if t-this is what I get outta' it, then they might jus' stay."

You glide your mouth away from Sukuna's cock with a loud pop! Giving your husband an unimpressed stare as he flounders, scowling, "Okay, m' sending them away. Was o-only a joke."

You can taste salty beads sinking into your tongue, and if you angle your head just right, you can press your head down enough for blush-pink hairs to tickle at your nose. The scent of him, the taste, the feeling of his hot n' heavy inches weighing on your tongue — you can feel a hot pulse beginning to jump up between your legs.

When it rains, it pours. When Sukuna climaxes, it. . also pours.

You know that there is no way you could possible envelop that much of his seed, but you lick gently at the spurting ropes of white, thick and opaque release. Feeling splatters paint all over your chin, your chest and the edges of those gorgeous robes Sukuna gifted you for your name-day.

"Wanna' climb on, brat?" Sukuna's peering down at you, and you can take some satisfaction in the flustered blush that he is furiously trying to hide, lolling his head away from your line of sight to little avail, "Still got another cock if ya' wanna ride. Gotta' fill ya' up so the whole estate can know that what my wife wants, she gets."

➤ CHOSO KAMO

Yeah, so introducing Choso to the idea of Friday night drinking? Probably not your most. . strategic decision. But after a gruelling day of training, and an even more excruciating day of self-restraint and not throwing yourself immediately at your boyfriend, you figured a good bottle of red, two glasses and a quiet evening on the wooden deck were well-earned.

So, now, here you are, perched in his lap, watching that wine-kissed flush bloom across his pale, clammy cheeks. His hazel eyes roam over you, shy, as berry-red stains his lips, and you lean in to sip the taste right from your favourite source.

Oh, and you're both utterly naked, training robes discarded in crumpled piles on the outdoor deck. Normally, you'd be a bit concerned that someone could turn the corner and find you perched over Choso's bare thighs, but the hour has grown late and you're on the far end of campus.

Thus, there's only one other massive factor to really consider here. And massive, well, that's an understatement of the century.

Choso's surprisingly relaxed like this, milky thighs flexing as he props you up, pulling you closer to him, but what really grabs your attention is the gleaming, red shaft that must be agonising by now, prodding right at your core. Right where you're balanced over the fat tip.

"No-one is gonna' walk past right?" Choso's blinking, dark lashes so long that they almost brush his lower brow as he flutters his eyes up.

You giggle, tilting the wine glass in your hand so more wine spills over the rim, dribbling down your bare form. And Choso, ever the greedy one, follows the slow trickle, laving his searing lips over your skin, right down your collarbone and over your breasts to lick up every last drop.

"Nah, and if there is gonna' be anyone, it'd be like. . a curse that got past the curtain." You're hiccuping, tracing faint lines over the edge of Choso's jaw, "And we'd have bigger problems anyway."

Your eyes are trailing downwards, to the curl of dampened, dark hair right over the base of his thick cock, and Choso scoffs, "You're about to say something lecherous, aren't you?"

"Wanna' give me a bigger problem, then, Cho' ?" Batting your lashes ridiculously at him, but even the half-curse can't resist how his heart is pounding, leaning in to plant a sweet curse on your lips.

"Are you sure?" Choso's gentle hands rolling over your spine, softly ghosting over your bare back that pebbles in the cool night air. Mahogany air tickling at your cheek as he situates large, soft palms over your waist. Swivelling you around so his impressively carved line of abdominal muscles are pressed against your back, and his breath ghosts are your ear.

"Gonna' be a biiiig stretch, sweet thing." Choso murmurs, planting a tender kiss at the nape of your neck, and god, he was not joking for the sheer girth often manages to catch you unaware each time.

But he's eager to help out, thick fingertips trailing over you to paw at your slick folds, spreading them apart even wider. He's murmuring something and you strain to here it, but you think that he's gasping, "I think I'm gonna' cum. Early, again."

You giggle, knowing that he flushes a vibrant shade of strawberry-red each time that he busts his load in you this early. For that faint, mere kiss of your arousal and your cunt's pretty walls against his cock is enough to make the half-curse shudder and swear as he spills glossy fillings right up in you.

"It's okay, Cho', you can – inside, you know."

"R-really, lovely? Inside, yeah?" Choso doesn't need further encouragement because he's already groaning, and you're already feeling wads of buttery cum drip down your thighs, feeling your hips twitch and shudder as the half-curse is determined to make up for this. Running his fingers along the side of your clit in a determined V-line, flicking gently over the swollen nub.

You're dazed, feeling the sudden build-up from your own orgasm creep up over you. The wine going straight to your head and making every cell in your body so tingly, and sensitive.

Watching with faint fascination at how fucking filthy this all is, the sopping leak of Choso's creamy cum dribbling out from under you, mingling with the blood-red drizzle of the wine still plastered to your thigh. A faint, pale shade of pink that has you aching to swipe your fingers through it, bringing it to your lips. And it has Choso groaning, cock hardening alll over again in you.

"You're going to be the death of me, sweet thing."

➤ TOJI FUSHIGURO

"Yeahh, arch ya' back for me like that, beautiful."

And fuck, Toji swears that if he had not been ass-naked, and there had been a ring in his back pocket right now, he would have whipped it out to propose to you, right then and there. Because, god, he's so truly in love with you, and the way that your pussy is a killer.

Capable of rendering an assassin dumbstruck, slack-jawed as he does his best to attach himself to reality once more. But all he can feel is the tight slick of your cunt clenching once more around him, the plush of your ass bouncing back to meet the base of his wide cock. Skin slapping so filthy and sticky against the trail of dark hair pattering down his abdomen.

Two wide palms searing into your skin, scooping him right up so his deliciously long cock can curve and glide right through your pussy. Bullseye! Right onto that sweet spot that makes you keen, and claw and whine, "Toji – right there, fillin' me up so good."

And you always know the right things to say because that rough, lil' scar on the upper corner of Toji's mouth is twitching, fighting off the dopey, love-struck grin that plasters itself on his face. Fighting the rising blush that threatens to make itself visible on his back, neck and ears.

He's a grown man, for fuck's sake! But never has he ever felt something so disarmingly charming and incredible as this, caging you in his arms as he pounds his hips into you, slap! slap! slap!

"We should get m-married, right? Right, doll?"

Toji doesn't even realise what he's babbling, too intent on feeling every inch of your walls, every sticky divot that he can press his inches into but god, he means every word that's falling from his slack lips, "M-marry me, doll. Gon' get ya' a diamond ring, anything ya' ask for, just say the word to ol' Toji here."

At first, the buzzing in his ears is so loud, so goddamn obnoxious that he cannot make out what droopy, muffled words are falling from your glossy, beautiful lips. But he strains his ears to catch them over the sound of his hips pistoning themselves against your skin, strands of translucent gloss stringing and snapping.

"W-wanna marry you too, Toji!"

For all of Toji's hard work in the sweltering gyms in the shitty basement of his apartment complex, his vast, muscular arms suddenly lose their strength. Everything in his broad, heavenly carved body turning into jitters, heart dangerously leaping up into his throat at just how much he loves you.

There, he said it. And now, he thinks he'll never be able to stop.

Emerald eyes not even sure where to focus on, the bounce of your tits that he can spy from underneath your glorious arch, the soft bounce of your ass against him, or the beautiful curve of your spine, "Loveee ya' doll, gonna' give you the whole package, I swear."

Each phrase puncuated by the heavy thwack! of his weeping tip against your cervix, pressing right up against where he's hoping his seed will take, "Gonna' make ya' my wife, my gorgeous wife." Sweeping a muscled arm beneath you to find your sensitive clit, pressing right at the sensitive bud, "Gonna' fill this pretty pussy up so good, wanna' see you allll round and g-glowing for me."

"Fuck, I'll even pay that s-shitty clan a visit, eh? Make 'em hand over the family ring, just so I can see it on ya' finger." God knows that those little shits don't need it, that pretty band of emerald that Toji can already see in his mind's eye, gleaming on your ring finger as he presses gentle kisses to your hand.

The very vision of you with your belly round, gleaming like the fuckin' sun itself, has Toji shuddering, planting his knees further into the mattress so he can jostle you even closer for a good fill. His wife, yeah, she'll get only the best.

Groaning as he feels wrinkled skin tighten, before thick ropes of sloppy, pearly cum shoot out from his angry tip. Overflowing in droves as he continues to buck his hips against yours, watching as your squelchy, puffy folds take up every single drop.

"I'm all yours, doll. I mean it."

➤ HIROMI HIGURUMA

"This was what you wanted . . angel?" Your husband coos, spreading his thick thighs (deliciously dusted with fine, dark hair) further apart, so you can slot comfortably in-between. So you can press your naked back to his bare chest, letting the warm water of the tub gently soothe that miserable ache in your bones.

"Mhm." You sigh, letting your head rest back against glistening, creamy skin, "Been so long, 'Romi. You're always soo busy with work, baby."

The man behind you sighs, rubbing gentle hands down your pebbled arms, pressing soft and loving kisses to your neck, "I know, and m' sorry. Wish we could find more time like this, my love."

You can hear the apologetic tone in his voice, frowning at the idea that he must believe that you're truly upset with him, your beautiful and wide-eyed husband, "I'm jus' glad you're now, and. . .uh." You shift back slightly, hoping that he gets the hint from where you're pressing up against him.

"Aw, angel's all needy now?" Hiromi laughs against the shell of your ear, "Ah, I shoulda' known you were gonna' start squirming like this. Gorgeous lil' thing."

You feel his large hands wrap around you, exploring and wandering your chest. Pinching, flicking and softly caressing the sensitive skin, his large nose brushing against your neck, "Bet you want me to go even lower, am I right?"

"Please."

Your husband never lets you down, never leaves you dissatisfied, for his quick fingers are already dancing over your abdomen before dipping in between your legs. You squeal at the sudden contact, the damp pads of his thick fingers brushing against your folds, and the water lurches in the wide tub.

"Careful, now. Otherwise, we're gonna' have to clean up the mess after," Hiromi chuckles, but he seems just as eager to let his fingers explore you. To play you masterfully, nipping at every nook and cranny of where you're most sensitive.

He's even gasping in faux-surprise, baritone chuckle giving way to a marvelled rasp, "And so wet already? Barely even touched ya', and your pretty cunt's all slippery for me."

"What can I say?" You slick back a little against his chest, head falling lower as you squirm to help him find the right angle, "It's never as good when I do it with m-myself."

Hiromi's sudden grunt amuses you, your stoic and clever lover suddenly envious from the mere mention of him missing the sight of you pleasuring yourself, "Always gotta' play some games, don't you, angel?"

He doesn't wait for your stuttering response, a wide finger already breaching past your glossy entrance, brushing against your inner walls as heat licks greedily at your groin, "S-soo good already, baby."

"Jus' be patient, and let me do more," Hiromi mutters, his lips pressing to the juncture of your neck. Another finger joining the first, your walls clenching down on the welcome intrusion. He begins to set a steady pace, pistoning the digits in and out, and again, in and out of your pussy in a way that makes breathy whines fall from your open lips.

"Gorgeous." And it's his honest, love-struck praise that makes you flush, a rough thumb brushing over your needy clit, gentle swipe proving that sometimes less is more, "Spread 'em a bit wider for me, love."

And you comply, thighs shifting wider, muscles trembling with the bulk of Hiromi's fingers smearing your slick arousal back and forth over your folds. A soft and breathless whimper escaping as the pleasurable ache deepens, "Wha –"

The trembling, excited question beginning to fall from your lips, just as Hiromi slips his fingers out of you, prompting a whine that's quickly silenced by him pressing the sweetened digits past your lips, "Had to stretch m' wife out there, now taste."

You gasp around his fingers, feeling something far heavier, and wider prod at your entrance from behind, keening as Hiromi lifts you ever so slightly higher so the flushed mushroom-tip of his cock can easily slip into your cunt, curving deliciously up into your pussy.

So perfectly snug as your husband stifles a loud moan, bucking his hips up, water pooling over the edges of the bathtub, "We're gonna' be making that m-mess, angel, so hold on."

➤ NAOYA ZEN'IN

Oh, you are so in for it now. For you've never seen your petulant husband like this, never this riled up, not with such a wild and burning edge. The short walk from the feast hall to your private chambers felt like a blur as he hadn't even spared a second glance back, dragging you from your seat on the finely-woven tatami mats.

"Tch', keep up," Naoya's snapping, golden eyes darkened with a heavy haze that you suspect the sake may have played a role in. His long, dark lashes flicker against flushed, peachy cheeks as Naoya grips your wrist with a hand that's searingly warm.

He doesn't even glance back to see if anyone still lingers in the dim hallways, no, he does not even care. And Naoya's not quite sure why you suddenly do, "Oh, so now you wanna' see if someone's around? Didn't care sooo much when you were practically draped over that man's lap like a slut, right?"

One hand roughly swinging the screen door open, and another stroking over your pulse, pushing you in. And well. . you would be lying if you said that this didn't fill you with some form of glee. That this hadn't all been a part of your plan for the evening to provoke the Zen'in heir, to get some reaction from your husband,

But god, you certainly had not expected this. Hadn't expected Naoya to press the full weight of his toned form against yours, to have you right up there against the wall with no shame. His clever hands are skimming under your verdant robes to scoop strands of slick, heavy arousal between thin fingers, all while sharp fangs nip at the shell of your ear.

"So, my wife was just that desperate for attention. . wasn't she?" Naoya's scoffing, batting amber eyes at you as his tone takes on a bratty, raspy pitch, he sounds ruined. "Were ya' just really so needy t be fucked, like this? Couldn't even wait 'till the feast was over, and now m' gonna' have to explain this to everyone, yeah?"

Naoya's always oddly chatty when he's running his hands over you, mouth running wild and desperate. His fingers have torn away beautiful, new emerald-green silk robes, pinching and tweaking your swollen clit between clipped nails. Scoffing and snickering when you buck your hips into him, whining his name.

"Ha! As if m' gonna' let you have this easy, you think I'm just gonna' give you my cock now, like you weren't just whorin' yourself allll over that sorcerer's lap – heh, he must've been thinking it was all the wine." Naoya snarls, already tugging at his own dark haori, and the thin waistband of his pants, "He should have asked me then, I coulda' told him just how cock-drunk my wife gets when she's lookin' for my attention."

What your husband has lacked for in wide girth, he makes up for in length, and he takes some (really fucking annoying) egotistical pride in knowing how to wield those inches. He's using his warm hands to hold your thigh up — to run the angry, pink tip down your dewy cunt. Hissing when the tip snaps on your weeping entrance.

The first few inches has you keening into him, not caring about how this is the man that you profess to love on some days, and vow to poison with arsenic on others.

Naoya's patting your cheek with short taps of his manicured hands, bullying his cock further into you, "Hey, wifey. Pay attention now, look d-down. This is what ya' wanted, right?"

And you do look down, gulping at the sight. His veined cock being enveloped by your swollen, puffy folds. And each time that your husband teases and draws his cock out in heavy strokes, well, it comes out glistening and creamy. And it's clear that Naoya is amused by your dazed giggles and sighs, but even he isn't above the sheer pleasure that your pussy gives him, shaking his head of sandy, soft hair.

"Ouh, take a look at that, she's l-loud tonight, isn't she?"

And you profusely flush, hearing the pap! pap! pap! echo through your quarters, the slick thwacks! of his cock sliding in and out of your heat as you mewl. And Naoya almost, just almost, looks fond of you, his wife, pressing a shaking thumb to the pad of your lower lip, pressing down as you nip sharp teeth around flesh.

"Pretty, p-pretty lady," Naoya babbles out, probably without even realises that he's paid you an accidental compliment, loose strands of flaxen hair brushing against his forehead as he leans in to press a filthy kiss to your lips, "Wanna' go one more time on the bed? O-or how 'bout the hallway? Everyone can hear how I make ya' scream."

➤ GOJO SATORU

"Oouh, you just make everything so much better for me, baby." Gojo's laugh rumbles from his bare chest, snowy lashes fluttering over creamy, flushed skin as he presses his back further into the plus mattress.

You sigh, and it's a happy, content sound that makes something awfully soft settle in Gojo's chest. You're pressing soft kisses to his reddened, twitching mouth, melding yourself to his lips.

"Now, c'mon, off!" You tug at the black silk wrapped around his eyes, curling your fingers into the smooth fabric to just yank it down. Your eyes meeting Gojo's lazy, pleased gaze as you do. He's just so smug like this, knowing that he's got you naked in his arms. You can see his jewel-blue stare appreciatively run over your bare form, his favourite sight in the entire world. A veiny hand pulling at the curve of your ass, pushing you further on top of your fiancé.

"And to think I was in such a bad mood earlier, baby," Gojo murmurs, tapping his muscular thighs. A silent indication for you to hop right on, hovering your dripping core right over his angry, weeping tip. "Thought I was gonna' have the worst day ever, the higher-ups fuckin' with me and all. But how could I ever forget m' pretty baby waiting at home?" Each sentence delivered with a soppy, sweet kiss to your smiling lips.

"Thaaaaat's it, there we go," Gojo snicker as you slowly lower yourself over his considerable, fat inches. And the strongest is just so amused, watching you bite your kiss-stung lips, struggling to keep the wanton moans in, but you're not letting him off that easy. For the second, the very second that your hips meet the base of his groin, slick seeping into that thatch of white curls, you're giving him a thick squeeze.

"F-fuck!" Gojo wheezes, white strands of hair falling back against the pillow as he does his absolute best to not lose the last semblance of iron composure. But the way your gorgeous, tight cunt is wrapping him good, he fears the game is long over before it even began.

Yeah, he considers himself a pretty lucky man.

"Ya' good, 'Toru?" You giggle, threading your fingers through tousled, frosty strands, feeling Gojo practically purr from underneath you. He's cracking a stormy eye open, pressing his mouth into a thin line, "Yeah, girl. Never been b-better."

See, Gojo Satoru was a. . .practical man. Well, no, scratch that. He was the strongest, but when faced with your dizzying, maddening grip — he feared that there was no power or technique on this planet that would be able to help him.

"Have you gotten bigger, 'Toru?" You plant your shaking hands on his broad chest, nose scrunching as you stifled a weak sniffle at the sheer magnitude of the delicious stretch. Trying to keep your head smart on your shoulders, but god, it's just soo difficult when you can feel every veined-inch throb and pulsate in the gummy walls of your pussy, his second-favourite girl.

Gojo just squeezes his eyes shut, knowing that if he were to crack cerulean eyes wide open, the sorcerer would immediately bust a fat load at the sight of his wife's naked form, and that's not to mention the magnetic pull of his gaze to your chest. He's gasping as you begin rocking forward, setting your own comfortable pace that already has him seeing stars, "Wha', bigger?"

"Yeah, s-so much bigger, each time – each time, I swear." You're mewling, words tumbling right into each other. And that, that mere sight of you struggling to accomodate to wide girth of him. . .well, that is almost enough to have Gojo busting a thick wad of seed into you.

Shaking fingers come to pinch at the fat of your ass, gently tapping it for good measure, "Don't say stuff like that, wifey. M' already s-sensitive." Gojo's huffing, admiring the way that you roll those killer hips faster now, gliding around his thick cock in gooey, filthy circles, and taking every inch of him so well.

You laugh in uneven, frayed bursts — trailing a single finger down the handsome line of his jaw, feeling his pulse jump underneath for he's so in love. "So much better than that stupid m-meeting, right?" Arching your back just a little more on top fo him, so the probing curve of his cock is brushing gentle kisses on your insides, swabbing over that rough patch of nerves that has you suddenly gasping and keening.

Gojo threads a quivering hand at the nape of your neck, so you can feel the cool band of his wedding ring brush at your skin. Bringing you down for a messy kiss, all so sloppy and desperate, "Y-yeah, so glad I left early, heh. Just knew I was needed here, c'mon, baby. Arch for me a b-bit more."

He feels dizzy, lightheaded and he know he must look a whorish mess. His staff uniform already scattered somewhere on the floor, having been discarded in a desperate trail on your way to bed. Dark blindfold having slipped under his face, and ice-white hair dishevelled in raked tendrils. Sticky strands of his pre-cum and your glossy arousal pulling away with each slap! slap! slap! of your pelvis against your hips.

"Think ya' can go a bit f-faster, baby?" Gojo runs his large, warm hands over your chest. Cupping your tits with calloused palms, and pinching them in a way that makes you squeal, "Or how 'bout this? Just move back a lil', yeah, up. So I can feel you here."

Here being in-between your thighs slapping against his, your swollen clit absolutely aching for his attention. And Gojo, duly, delivers. Rubbing furious, tight circles over where you needed the most, sending you hurtling head first into a dazzling orgasm that has you shaking in his beefy, muscled arms.

The rapid, pulsing clenches of your pussy have Gojo seeing visions of wedding vows and golden rings, amplified only by how his own ground-shaking orgasm washes over him and runs him senseless, your tight walls milking him dry for all he's worth.

Thick, glossy ropes of white seed shooting out of his tip, steaming and searing as they fill you right up, pressed right up against your cervix. And in such greedy volumes too, for you're leaking sticky cream all over your aching, shaking thighs.

"You should keep going, sweets, ride m-me as much as ya' can," Gojo gasps out, feeling the overstimulated sensation of your cunt clenching as you writhe on top of him, "If you can make me cry, m' gonna' marry you tomorrow."

➤ HAJIME KASHIMO

". . .What did you just say?" You gape at the teal-haired sorcerer, eyes wide as Kashimo suddenly seems to find the floor far more interesting than you. His heel dragging against the ground, scuffing the pristine white of his boot.

Kashimo just clears his throat — once, twice, then pointedly looks anywhere but you. How adorable, you think, watching as he turns away from you, tugging his cream martial robes apart. "Do not make me say it again, dove."

"Baby, if I didn't hear you right the first time, then. . ."

"Just sit on my face, please."

You're grinning, far too sweetly for the medieval sorcerer to keep his cool, "Say less, 'Jime." Almost cooing at the vibrant red flush climbing up Kashimo's back.

It's a once-in-a-blue moon spectacle, the bratty warrior genuinely conceding defeat for his wants. No smug, fanged grin nor insufferable gloating. So, as you watch him practically collapse onto your bed, limbs sprawled and cyan hair pooling around his head in a tangled mess, you clench your thighs subconsciously, already feeling a bit light-headed.

There's a gangly lurch in your steps, a sway to your balance as you're peeling your panties away from damp thighs. Stepping out of your underwear so you can inch just a bit closer, watching as Kashimo's eyes widen. Turquoise eyes, the same disconcerting shade as his glossy hair, widen — glazing over with something far more familiar to you. The same look in Kashimo's eyes when there's a battle that he has to win, and this endeavour warrants no less ambition in him.

"Come here, girl, let me – ouh," Kashimo's voice has hardened into a needy rasp, his eyes not leaving your mound even once, pupils trailing after a single droplet of slick tearing down your thigh. He's hastily slamming his arms forward, wrapping your thighs up in his tight hold.

Laving his sharp, pink tongue over that droplet and groaning, eyes fluttering shut for a split second before he's mouthing soft kisses over the gentle, plush flesh. Catching any more stray strands of slick before the main meal.

But there's a very slight hesitation in your movements, the faintest uncertainty as you hover with aching muscles over Kashimo's torso. Gnawing on your lower lip, contemplating whether you should actually —

"What's wrong, little dove?" Kashimo frowns, scarred hands reaching out to hungrily envelop your thighs, dragging your sopping cunt closer to his chin.

"Are you sure you want me to, uh, –" You're gesturing to his face, trying to convey that you're suddenly having second thoughts about suffocating the sorcerer with thighs around his head, and Kashimo seems to glean your thoughts, clicking his tongue, "Silly, aren't you? Jus' sit, I have you."

"What if you don't want to – . ."

It is a rare thing to see Kashimo smile, a genuine grin without the promise of bloodshed or storms afterwards, but he's snickering now, eyes hazed over with an even rarer fondness. Sharp, toothy fangs peaking out from underneath cherry-lips, "I cannot even tell you how much I want you to just let me have a taste, right now."

And god, he certainly was not exaggerating for the very minute your aching cunt met his lips, Kashimo was drinking you in like a man starved. Teal lashes fluttering closed over his blissful expression, those magenta-lightning marks at the corners of his eyes crinkling as he stifles back a heady moan, "Mmph. . holding out on me with this. How did I go s-so long without – "

You don't even hear the rest of his desperate, pussydrunk words. World already turning into a bright mush of vibrant colours and sounds around you, streaks of blue and lightning-hot white across your eyes. The slick, filthy sounds of your sopping heat dripping over Kashimo's chin, dribbling down onto his neck.

The very tip of his long tongue prodding at your entrance, already slipping past your pussy's ring of muscle, "Fuuuck, 'Jime, feels so, soo good." Unsure on where to even place your jittering hands, settling to run them past the hem of your top. Slipping the fabric off and away, so you can cup your tits, and grip the sensitive flesh.

You see Kashimo's eyes crack open, and a faintly muffled whine reaches your ears, murmured encouragement of just how much he's enjoying the sight being groaned into your wet, glistening pussy, "Soakin' allll over me, little dove. Heh, tryna' drown me?"

You buck your hips over his face with greater force, feeling the bridge of his sharp, handsome nose brush against your clit as you squeal, "Shh, shh, m' already c-close."

"Already?" Kashimo's tastebuds determined to soak every drop of you in, as though you were the sole thing in this world quenching his thirst, "Always t-take suchh good care of you, right? You gotta' s-say that I do – that it's m-me making ya' feel like this."

"You, y-you, 'Jime, only you." You whine, knowing exactly what Kashimo wants to hear, what you truly believe, how he's the only being able to coax such mind blowing pleasure from you. The only one to have you perched over his mouth, gliding yourself back and forth over his glossy, swollen tongue.

"Good, heh." And you suddenly fear that you had grown too complacent, to willing to believe that this would not be another one of Kashimo's battles.

Because the sorcerer's gaze is suddenly all the more focused, laser-sharp with his eyes on the prize, your tacked clit throbbing for attention from his lips. That look when he's capable of going multiple rounds to prove that he can win, and will win. You briefly wonder if there will be any sensation left in your twitching legs by the time Kashimo is done.

"We can do this all n-night, little dove."

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macabrebatz · 4 months ago

Text

JUST THE TIP (Grommash Hellscream/Reader)

Summary: Grommash is determined to have you as his mate. There’s only one problem: Grom is too big.

Author’s note: Oh, boy. I have been OBSESSED with orcs lately. Especially the orcs in the Warcraft movie. Disclaimer btw: I don’t know a lot about Warcraft beyond the movie. I know some lore beyond that. So I apologize in advance. Also I wrote this in a way that you, my dear reader, don’t need to know anything about Warcraft either. Hopefully it can also be enjoyed as just a orc x human fic. And this is my 4th time writing smut, 2nd time writing it in oneshot format so I’m still very new to this lol. Also I don’t know orcish and the internet gave me very mixed translations, so I pieced it together the best I could.

Warning/tags: 18+ MDNI, fem! Reader, Grom might be a little OOC but I don’t care, teratophillia/monster fucking, orc x human, oral sex (f! receiving), size differences (Grommash is bigger than you no matter your size, these orcs are big, okay?), fingering, overstimulation, squirting, just the tip but not actually, unprotected p in v, missionary position, mating press, slight breeding kink if you squint, Grom is secretly a sweetheart, change my mind, love confessions, self indulgent filth, not beta read, yeah I know having sex with an orc this big would be borderline impossible but I don’t care, I swear I made straight A’s in all of my anatomy classes

Also just a for some fun references check out this post and this post about the hand size of the orcs in this movie. I find their size absolutely fascinating and I had to make a fic exploring that.

Word Count: 3.3k

Being the mate of an orc is an interesting experience. It was already uncommon for a horde member to pick a human as a mate. And it was still frowned upon by many orcs. Grommash didn’t care though. Nobody could tell him that he couldn’t have you. From the moment he first saw you he felt himself being pulled towards you.

For the most part, picking you as his mate had been smooth sailing. He had asked you to go on a hunt alone with him. Orcs hunted all the time but asking someone to hunt alone with them tended to be an indication that they were choosing a mate. You didn’t know this when you had agreed to go. But it became obvious when halfway through the hunting trip Grom had pressed you against a tree, his large frame encapsulating you. Soon the hunting trip had turned into a heated make-out session.

Everything was going according to plan. He had gotten you back to his tent and sat you on the edge of his bed. There was only one problem in his plan to make you his mate: Grommash was too big.

There was simply no way that all of him could fit inside of you. You were absolutely sure of it.

There was one undeniable fact about orcs and that was that they were massive. They were bigger than all humans. It didn’t matter your size. They outweighed and towered over every human they came across. And Grommash was no exception. He was a warrior and the Chieftain of the Warsong clan after all, not to mention one of the biggest orcs in the clan.

His biceps were rounder than your head. His hands were bigger than your face. His fingers were incredibly large compared to yours.

You honestly weren’t sure what you were expecting but when you removed his pelt you were at a loss for words.

There was no way.

His cock was heavy and hard, hanging down in front of your face as you sat on the edge of the bed. It was green like the rest of his skin, the head was flushed a purple color.

You lifted it up a bit with your hand, feeling the weight of it. It was long and thick. You couldn’t even wrap your hand around it, your fingertips nowhere close to even meeting your thumb. You were too stunned to speak and your brain was scrambling to figure out the logistics of this massive thing going inside of you.

Grommash seemed to read your mind. He brought his thumb up to your face and rubbed your cheek. He smirked as he looked down at you.

“You don’t have to worry about it just yet,” he said.

As much as Grom wanted to plunge his cock all the way inside of you, he was content with pleasuring you in other ways for now.

His large hand moved down, resting on your shoulder. His thumb grazed your throat as he gently pushed you onto your back. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him as he knelt in front of you.

His hand found its way to the hem of your pants, hesitating for a moment to look up at you. After giving him a swift nod of approval his fingers latched underneath the hem. He mumbled something about “humans always wearing too much clothes” as he slid off your pants and underwear.

Grommash hummed to himself as he placed his hands on your knees, spreading your legs as far apart as he could.

“Look at that,” he said.

He was staring at your glistening cunt in awe. You could hear a growl rumble in his chest as he brought his large fingers up to you, gently rubbing across your folds with his thumb. He grazed against your clit causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“So wet for me already,” he said, rubbing slow circles against your clit.

He paused for a moment causing you to whine. He shushed you as he spread apart the lips of your cunt with his large fingers. His index finger dipped down, lingering against your entrance but not entering. He looked as if he was deep in thought.

Maybe, just maybe.

Grommash leaned down further until his face was level with your pussy. He wrapped his hands around your legs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. He nuzzled his head in between your legs, tusks pressing into the skin between your thighs, as he licked experimentally up your folds.

You moaned, rolling your hips ever so slightly. Grommash chuckled before licking again, this time dipping his tongue into you. There was another rumble from his chest, the taste of you on his tongue unlocking something feral inside of him.

The grip on your thighs got tighter as he lapped at your cunt, licking and plunging into you in a desperate attempt to taste more of you.

Your hand snaked down, resting on his head as you moaned his name. Your fingers entwined in his raven hair, gripping just a bit. He growled in response, sending vibrations through your body. You shuddered a bit at the sensation.

He dragged his tongue against you, occasionally wrapping his large lips around your clit, sucking at the bud before dipping back down, fucking his tongue into your hole.

“Mmm…Grom, it feels so…good,” you moaned.

Without warning you felt Grom’s thick index finger begin to push inside of you. A guttural moan left your mouth as your back arched, grinding yourself against his face mindlessly. His finger stretched your walls as he entered you. There was some pain but your wetness let him slide in easier than either of you would have expected. It felt so perfect.

His tongue licked upwards before focusing on your clit, sucking it into his mouth once more. Your hips bucked against him causing him to groan. He slid his finger out before pushing it back in. He curled it inside of you, sliding it against your spongy walls. This was pleasure you simply had never experienced until now.

Before you knew it, he was pushing a second finger in, stretching you out more. Your mouth fell agape as you struggled to make any sound. You had never felt so full before. There was more pain than before but he didn’t give you much time to think about it as he plunged both fingers inside of you, thrusting his hand at a faster speed than before.

“Gods, Grom,” you moaned as gripped his hair a bit tighter.

The tent was soon filled with lewd, wet sounds as Grom relentlessly pumped his fingers into you. With every thrust of his hand, your cunt squelched, clenching around his digits.

“Grom, I’m gonna…”

It felt like your breath had been knocked out of you. You squeezed your eyes shut as your orgasm overtook you. Your legs involuntarily clamped down around Grom as he continued to curl his fingers into you, massaging and prodding at that spongy spot inside of you. His tusks pressed harder into your legs as he continued to devour you. You were sure you’d have bruises there by tomorrow but you didn’t care.

Your entire body shook as you rode your waves of pleasure, falling apart under Grom’s touch. You squirmed, your entire body felt too sensitive. Grom continued lapping at your clit, swirling his tongue around it.

“Grom, please,” you whined.

He pulled away momentarily, giving your clit a break. His fingers slowed but continued to slide in and out of you.

“Please what?” he questioned.

He leaned forward, placing his free hand beside your head. You tried to speak but found yourself at a loss for words, too entranced by the texture of his fingers inside you.

“Use your words, my dearest,” he cooed.

You tried to speak but you just couldn’t form the words. All you could do was moan as warmth pooled at your core. Your mouth hung open as Grommash’s hand began to speed up again. He watched you intently, studying your face as it contorted with ecstasy. Something inside of you was building and he knew it, bringing his thumb up to your clit as he continued to work his fingers inside you.

It felt different from the orgasm before. It felt just as pleasurable if not more, but it felt so different, so foreign to your body that it almost worried you. You weren’t fully sure what was happening to you.

“Wait, Grom, wait,” you pleaded.

But it was too late. Another orgasm hit you causing your cunt to clench around his fingers. It felt like something snapped inside of you as his fingers curled, hitting that spongy spot once more. Your hips bucked into him as you gasped, your head falling back onto the furs below you, eyes squeezing shut. Your body trembled, tensing up as you rode out your climax.

“Mmm, look at the mess you’re making,” Grom said, groaning.

Your eyes fluttered open, looking at him in confusion. Your eyes drifted down watching yourself in amazement and mild horror as you squirted around his fingers. The clear liquid spurted out onto his large hands and the bed underneath you with every thrust of his fingers.

You moan at the sight, the euphoria of the new sensation overtaking you. Grom’s hand slowed and then pulled out of you slowly. You whined at the sudden feeling of emptiness, your entrance clenching and fluttering around nothing.

Grommash brought his fingers up to his mouth, licking them.

“Who knew humans could taste so good?” he said.

“I didn’t know I could do that,” you said quietly.

The orc leaned down, pressing his body into yours and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Well, now you know,” he replied.

You hummed, bringing your hand up to his chest, grazing one of the piercings on his nipple.

He then kissed you on your lips. The cold metal ring on his tusk pressed against your cheek as he did so.

His hand pulled at your tunic, ripping it off completely underneath him. You were now completely bare.

His large hand kneaded at your breast, occasionally pinching at the nipple. You moaned against his lips, letting his tongue slip into your mouth.

As he pressed into you more, you could feel his erection between your legs, occasionally sliding against your sensitive skin. He ground his hips against yours, cock slipping against you, causing himself to groan as he feverishly kissed you.

You knew what he wanted but you weren’t confident that he was going to get it. It’s not that you didn’t want him to fuck you, you were just worried still about him being inside of you.

As you pulled away from his lips you met his gaze, looking into his eyes. They were glazed over, lust-filled, and full of admiration. He wanted you. He needed so much more of you.

He ground his hips against you again.

“Need to be inside of you. Need to make you a proper mate,” he said in a low voice.

His hips bucked, causing you to moan as his cock slid across your folds, desire building up inside of you.

“I know. But I don’t think it’ll fit, Grom,” you said, quietly.

“Nonsense,” he grumbled as he got off the top of you.

He took his cock into his hand. It was already glistening with precum as he gave it a few lazy strokes.

“If you can take my fingers, you can take this,” he stated.

Just the sight of him jerking off was enough to make you spread your legs. You were basically salivating at the sight of him. You wanted him as badly as he wanted you, although the fear of being ripped apart still lingered.

“Take it slow, okay? Don’t put all of it in, Grom. I really don’t think I can take all of it,” you said.

He spread your legs further apart before sliding his cock against your swollen clit, causing yet another moan to come out of you.

“Whatever you say, my dearest,” he said.

You took a deep breath as Grom began to push the head of his cock into you. You hissed as it stretched the tight band of flesh around your walls. You were practically dripping from your last orgasm but your wetness only helped so much.

Grommash let out a low groan as he pushed his member into you at an agonizing pace. Pain was surging through you, bringing tears to your eyes. He was only a few inches in before you placed a hand on his chest, silently stopping him.

“Are you okay?” he questioned, a hint of concern in his voice.

“I’m okay. I think that’s as far as you can go for now,” you said.

He hummed in response.

“Let me know when you’re ready,” he said, rubbing circles on your thigh with his thumb.

You sighed, leaning your head back for a moment. Eventually, the pain began to subside. You brought your hand up to him, sliding it down his chest before giving him a nod to continue.

He pulled out the few inches that were inside you before thrusting them back in. It took everything in him to not push every inch in. He wanted to so badly. He wanted to fill you up so badly but he couldn’t stand the thought of hurting you.

You whimpered as his hips snapped forward, pushing part of his cock into you. The stretch was otherworldly. You knew if he hadn’t fucked you with his fingers earlier there was no way you would’ve been able to take the tip of him. It may have not been much but it felt divine.

“Oh, Grom,” you moaned as he fucked into you.

You could hear your pussy squelching around him as you became more wet by the second.

Your hands found their way to his large arms, holding on to stabilize yourself. Your body had a mind of its own as you rolled your hips forward. Grommash growled, halting his movements.

“Grom, why’d you stop?” you whined.

“Look,” he said with a grunt.

You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked down between the two of you. When you had rolled your hips moments ago, you had taken another inch of him without even realizing it. Too caught up in your pleasure to notice.

Grom rocked his hips into you, almost like he was silently asking you a question with his movements. He wanted to go further and you knew it. You moaned as he slowly began thrusting his hips again.

You were getting so wet. Surely you could take a bit more, right?

“I know you can take it. Let me show you just how good it can feel,” he said.

His shallow thrusts were already threatening to send you over the edge and you couldn’t deny it any longer, you wanted more of him.

You bucked your hips against him causing him to groan.

“Do you want all of it?” he asked.

“Yes…please. I need you,” you said in between broken moans.

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

Grommash hooked his hands under your knees, forcing your legs up as far as they’d go, pressing them against your chest. He replaced his hands with yours, making you hold your legs up. He then leaned forward, climbing on top of you. One of his hands was placed beside your head while the other lined up his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing in. He used his body weight to help sink into you, pushing in further than before, taking his time as he did so.

A choked moan left your mouth as your eyes welled up with tears. It was such a strange sensation. It hurt, a burning feeling seared into your core as Grom stretched you out. But the pain was also laced with pleasure.

Grommash’s hand left his cock, bringing it up and resting it by your head. He was a little over halfway in, sinking into you as he covered over your body. He hadn’t even begun thrusting yet and you already felt like you were becoming unglued.

“There you go. Taking it so well.”

He slid in deeper, another inch. Then another. And another. You whimpered, eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“My sweet human,” he cooed.

He wasn’t all the way in but his hips started moving, thrusting into you slowly, working the last of his way into you.

“You like that, huh? Like being full of my cock,” he said, picking up the pace.

You couldn’t speak. You just nodded your head and moaned.

Grommash pulled out all the way to the head of his cock before slamming back inside of you. You yelped as the sound of wet skin smacking together filled the tent. You could feel low rumbles vibrating from Grom’s chest as he growled, getting louder with every thrust. You were slowly becoming a babbling mess as waves of ecstasy began to overtake you. The pain had subsided and all you could think about was Grommash and how good he felt.

Grom moved one of his hands, bringing it down between the two of you. He circled your clit with his thumb. It felt as if sparks were igniting. Every raw nerve was crackling with pleasure.

You were panting underneath him, growing closer and closer to the edge. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you. His movements were becoming more erratic and you knew he was close to. An all too familiar feeling was forming and your body began to shake.

“Oh, fuck. Grom, I’m gonna…”

“Cum for me, my dearest,” he said.

And that was all you needed. You let out a wail as your vision clouded. Your body spasmed as your cunt tightened around him, somehow managing to suck him in more as if your body wasn’t ready to let go. He kept fucking into you, chasing his own release until his hips stuttered, bucking into you harder than ever. He let out a roar and you were sure the whole clan could hear both of you as the two of you rode out the pleasure, not that any of the orcs would’ve cared.

You could feel his cum, hot and leaking out of you as he slowly pulled his cock out. You closed your eyes as your legs fell from your chest, splaying out in front of you. You were still in a daze as Grommash sat on his knees for a moment, admiring you like you were an art piece. You were officially his mate and he was overjoyed.

You felt the bed shift as he got up. He was only gone for a moment and returned with a washcloth, cleaning you off gently.

You felt yourself drifting off. You were so warm and so very exhausted.

“Falling asleep on me?” Grommash joked as he laid down beside you.

You opened your eyes, looking up at the orc.

“Maybe,” you chuckled.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his side. You kissed his chest, moving up to his neck, and then his jaw, pecking the inked skin. He held onto you tight as if he was afraid you’d be snatched away from him. You heard him mumble something in orcish that you couldn’t understand.

“What was that?” you questioned.

“Na dova dra,” he repeated, this time hearing him more clearly.

“And what does that mean?” you asked.

He brought your hand up to his lips, placing a kiss against it.

“I love you,” he translated.

Your heart fluttered and you smiled. Admissions of love were another uncommon thing amongst the horde, especially towards humans. But it was true. Grom loved you very much.

You brought your hand up to his face, guiding him to yours. You kissed his lips gently before pulling away.

“I love you too, Grommash.”

2K notes · View notes

bruhstories · 11 months ago

Text

sweet like honey ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

summary: logan ended up spending his evenings in the bar across the street from your bakery, watching you do your job. he never approached you, never talked to you, but he always kept an eye on you, until he has a bad feeling. pairing: logan x fem!reader warning & content: swearing, violence, reader almost gets assaulted (but logan saves the day), she/her pronouns for reader, wade being wade, unprotected p in v, fluff, angst, lots of baking and mentions of food, slightly ooc logan (if you squint), slow burn, sex in a bakery wc: 6k

a/n: i don't always write, but when i do, it's a fucking thesis. unedited.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Logan was never a fan of sweets. He hated chocolate, cheesecake, gummy bears — literally anything sweet. The only thing he could barely stomach was tiramisu, and only because it had coffee in it. Other than that, he steered away from sweets like they were the fucking plague.

Yet despite all that, he found himself enjoying the smell of freshly baked croissants, custard donuts, brownies, and whatever goods you baked in your little bakery, conveniently situated across the street from his go-to bar.

Cleverly named Flour Power, it was all pastel both inside and out, with little pots of hyacinths hanging from its window and a big sign above the entrance. Not that Logan ever went there, but he always walked past it when he went for a drink. Flour Power stood out from all the shops with its baby blue windowsills and bubblegum pink door. As much as he disliked vibrant colours, his eyes were always drawn to the bakery. But not because of how it looked or the way it smelled.

No, Logan strategically sat down by the window in the bar to see you. Every evening, he watched you sell everything you had on display, from wedding cakes to éclairs, greetings customers with a warm smile on your face. He watched you turn the sign from open to closed, lock the door, clean the display shelves, the counters, the only two tables and four chairs inside, and sweep and mop the floors. Then you disappeared in the back for a while, perhaps doing the dishes or preparing dough and frosting, before you walked out, locked the door again, pulled down the blinds over the big window on the right side of the door, and left.

It became a ritual for Logan to watch you. In a way, it brought him some peace, despite him never speaking to you. To him, you were innocence personified, the type of girl who made others feel better simply by being there, and he didn't want to disturb that peace.

Tonight was an ordinary night for the 200 year old mutant. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, drank it all, then went to the bar to ask for another round, killing time until you closed the bakery, then he could finally go back to the apartment. You closed at 7 for clients and left at 8:30 every evening except for Sundays, when you didn't work. Logan knew your schedule a little to well, even knew you opened for clients at 8 in the morning, but you were there much earlier, because he could smell the pastries at around half 6. This time, however, you seemed to have a bit more work. It was past 9, it was dark, and you still hadn't left, and Logan was slightly concerned.

He watched you like a hawk, how you tucked rebellious strands of hair behind your ear when you mopped the floor, how you wiped your hands on your cute little apron after you finished scrubbing the countertops. Logan thought you had extra orders from customers, perhaps a wedding cake. He scrunched his nose at the thought of having to try so many flavours only to pick a damn cake that he probably wouldn't enjoy anyway.

But finally, you were done.

It was almost 10 when you locked the door to the bakery, double checking to make sure it wouldn't budge. Then the blinds and off you went. Logan was satisfied to see you go, but the hairs on his back suddenly stood up, his nostrils filled with the scent of danger. Bitter, sour, it went straight to his brain, and so he finished his drink and left the bar, following you down the street but keeping a safe distance.

You walked past a group of drunk men, gripping your tote bag with your left hand and your keys with your right one. You've learned to place the keys between your fingers, like claws, in case someone attacked you. Going home at that time wasn't something you enjoyed, and you always tried to avoid working late, but sometimes that was inevitable. When you heard footsteps approaching you, you picked up the pace, but paranoia kicked in, and you didn't want whoever was following you to find out where you lived, and so you took a detour.

Logan was like your shadow, going everywhere you went, until he heard something drop in a dimly lit alleyway and he sped up, finding you round a corner, pinned to a wall by a man while another guy had his hand up your dress. It was too dark to see, but Logan didn't need eyes to know that was you. He could smell the vanilla extract and icing sugar and fear.

"Take my wallet!" You told the men, but they weren't there for the money. They wanted something else from you.

"Nah, doll, I'll take something else from you. Somethin' more precious than money." One of the men said, his breath reeking of alcohol, the cheap kind.

"Hurry up and fuck her, bro, I need my turn-"

Something flashed, then a shadow lunged at the second guy who couldn't even finish his sentence before he was struck down.

"Mike?" The man who pinned you against the wall asked, his hands trembling on your body. "Stop fucking around."

But Mike was seeing stars somewhere on the alleyway. It happened so quickly you couldn't understand what was going on. When your eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, you saw him, rough, handsome and very, very angry.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man asked, but all he got in response was a guttural growl. "Hey, man, I don't want any trouble. My girlfriend and I were just talking. Stay out of it." He grabbed you by the neck, dragging you away from Logan.

You seized the opportunity and wrestled out of his grasp by biting your assaulter's hand, dashing behind a bin.

"Ow! Fucking bitch!" He lunged at you, but Logan was quicker, piercing his claws through his shoulder and holding him in place.

"That's no way to talk to a lady." The mutant snarled, and you watched how his claws retracted before he punched the man in the face, effectively knocking him down.

He was the Wolverine. You had seen it all over the news, how he saved your universe, how he came from a different world. You couldn't believe he was the one helping you when you thought no one would save you in that moment.

"You alright, kid?" His raspy voice startled you and you barely nodded, still too shocked to move or speak. "You sure?"

You shook your head and tears rolled down your cheeks as you finally started to process what just happened. Logan scrunched his nose — comforting someone wasn't his strongest skill — and instead he picked up your bag and keys from the pavement.

"Shit, um, don't cry." He handed you your belongings, and you looked up at him with a frown.

How could you not cry when you saw your entire life flashing before your eyes? Logan swallowed a lump in his throat and offered his hand to help you stand up. You looked at his hand, reluctant to grab it. The only thing he could compare you with was a cat — cautious, yet curious.

"No claws." He said when he understood the meaning behind your eyes. "Come, I'll- um, I'll walk you home."

The invitation had you perk up and gain courage, and you quietly took the bag from his hand. He walked with you in complete silence, until you stopped in front of a building. You lingered, unwilling to go in. Logan asked if that was your place, and after you nodded, he offered to take you all the way to your apartment, which made you feel relieved. He could see it on your face when you sighed. You guided him up the stairs, constantly looking behind you to make sure he was there.

You stopped in front of a tall wooden door, keys in hand.

"Go on. I'll wait until you lock the door." Logan encouraged you.

"Can you stay?" You finally spoke, and your voice was sweet like honey, fitting for a baker.

"I don't know, kid-"

"Please." You looked at him with glossy eyes, pupils blown from the fear that hadn't left your body yet. The fear he could still smell.

"Yeah. Okay, I'll stay."

"Thank you."

Logan followed you in, and you flipped the light switch on before locking the door behind him. He looked around and, just as he expected, the apartment was a direct reflection of your bakery — clean, colourful and calm. There were recipes stuck to the walls with pink pins, and between them little paintings of sunsets, skies, flowers, cats. All things cute. They weren't framed, and so Logan figured they were hand-made, his assumptions confirmed by the easel in the corner of your living room.

Of course your sofa had to be colourful, too — mustard yellow with sage green cushions and blankets. Even your curtains were sage green. Despite the explosion of colours, Logan found himself enjoying being there. Not everything had to be brown, black and grey, he thought. Probably the only vibrant thing in his life was his suit, since the only people that brought colour were his friends, and they were gone.

"Drink?" You cracked the walls he put up around his heart with that sweet voice.

You shook a bottle of gin to get his attention and he nodded. Logan wasn't a fan of gin, but he didn't expect you to have any hard liquors. He watched you pull out two blue glasses from the kitchen cabinet, and of course they had to be funky, with white flowers on them.

"Where'd you get these?" He asked, swirling the drink in his hand.

"I made them. Kind of." You said. "Bought them from a charity store and painted the flowers. Do you want some tonic water?"

"Fuck no." Logan choked on his gin when you asked him that question. Simply being in a place so... colourful was enough. He didn't need a girly drink.

"I'm Y/N, by the way."

"I'm-"

"The Wolverine!" You cut him off a little too eager.

"-Logan. Call me Logan." He cringed when the beverage tickled his taste buds. It wasn't bitter enough for him.

"Logan. Thanks for tonight. Is there any way I can repay you?"

The question was riddled with innocence, but he couldn't stop the degenerate thoughts that popped in his mind when you asked him that. You were just so pure that he wanted to both protect you and ruin you.

"Don't mention it. I couldn't just walk past without doing anything." Logan lied, because, really, he wasn't just walking by, was he? No, it was downright stalking.

"I could bake something for you." You offered and he shook his head.

"I don't like sweets, kid."

"What?" You were baffled. "Everybody likes something sweet."

"Not me." He shrugged. "All I like is tiramisu and only if those biscuits are doused in coffee."

"Ladyfingers." You corrected him with a chuckle. "They're called ladyfingers."

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious! Here!" You rushed to your pantry and pulled out a whole box of them, showing Logan the name.

"That's just stupid." He shook his head. "Who calls them ladyfingers?"

"Uh, everyone?" You laughed at his surprise, and the thoughts of your bad evening slowly dissipated, like a bad dream.

Logan truly was clueless about baking, but spent hours listening to you talk about types of sugar, extracts and their uses, and the difference between baking soda and baking powder in cooking. You rambled on and on and not once did he get bored. He could listen to you talk for hours with your voice soothing. Logan thought about it, and he genuinely never met someone like you before. The women in his life were all so different, but you took the cake. You were special in ways he couldn't understand. And he was just so drawn to you.

"I'm sorry, I haven't stopped talking once!" You apologised, realising how safe you felt with him there. You would never let a stranger inside your house, let alone talk about baking while having gin. But Logan wasn't a stranger. Not after he saved you.

"'s alright. It's not every day I learn about baking." He chuckled, finishing his drink. "Listen, I should get going."

"Right." You sighed, eyes darting at the floor. "No, of course. I've kept you too long."

Logan got up and you walked with him to the hallway. He was slow to put his leather jacket on, as if he was waiting for you to say something, anything, but when you didn't, he unlocked the door and opened it.

"Hey, Logan?" You tugged at his sleeve, whispering so you wouldn't wake your neighbours. "Are you sure I can't bake you something? Not now, I mean. I really want you to try something besides tiramisu. And that way I can repay you."

"Hell, why not?" He shrugged.

"Great!" You beamed at him like a child on Christmas day. "Stop by my bakery tomorrow at twelve. It's on Granville Street."

"I thought you didn't work on Sundays."

"Oh, how'd you know?" You quirked a brow at him.

Caught red-handed.

"Educated guess."

"Fair enough." His answer satisfied you. "Be there or be square!"

Sleep was for the weak. All night, Logan tossed and turned and abused his poor pillow with with punches. The mere thought of seeing you, no, interacting with you, had him wriggle like a worm on the mattress. It didn't help that Wade instantly noticed something was up.

"Oh, my, did you shower, peanut?"

"Not today, Satan." Logan poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Mmm, and what do I smell?" Wade sniffed the air. "Wait, is that my perfume?"

"Forgot to pack mine when I swapped universes." The Wolverine barked back.

"Hah!" Blind Al chimed in from the living room. "I think tall, dark and handsome here has a date!"

Logan rolled his eyes while Wade pouted, plopping on the sofa next to Al.

"You never called me that."

"That's cause you’re a degenerate." The woman snorted.

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it- ow! Stop hitting me with your cane, I know where you hide your nose candy!" Wade fought back.

"Touch it and I'll bust a cap in your ass!" Al scoffed.

"And I'll regenerate."

Logan used the opportunity to slip into the hallway, but his roommate was quicker, and blocked the door.

"You're not going anywhere until we have the talk."

"The talk?" The Wolverine snorted.

"Ah, they grow up so fast." Wade told Al. "Now, son, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"I'll give you three seconds to fuck off."

"Oh, but I need to know everything! Who is he?"

"She." Logan rolled his eyes.

"Oh my god, is this you coming out to us? Al, he's straight! I promise we love you anyway." Wade went for a hug and all Logan could do was accept it. He learned to live with Wade, even though he dislocated his jaw a few times after he moved in.

"Alright, that's enough."

"Nooo, we're just getting started. Name? Age? Occupation? We could do a double date with Vanessa-"

"Absolutely fucking not." Logan pushed Wade off of him.

"Okay, okay. Just make sure you wrap your willy, and if you need any advice, daddy's here." Wade opened the door for his roommate.

"Actually." Logan lingered in the hallway. "What kind of flowers do girls like?"

The blinds to the bakery were closed but you were inside, pastries in the oven and dessert in the fridge. You couldn't help yourself and prepared something savoury as well, in case he didn't like the lemon cake. A knock on the door startled you, and you rushed to check who it was.

Logan stood there, a bouquet of peonies in his hand. You welcomed him in with a smile, but he could tell it was different than the one you flashed your customers. It seemed more genuine. And it felt like a date.

"These are for you." Logan handed you the flowers, taking in the scent of pork pies. "I thought you were gonna bake something sweet." He flared his nostrils.

"I did, I just thought I should have a plan B in case you didn't like my cake." You placed the bouquet in a vase on one of your tables. "How did you know I liked peonies?"

Logan couldn't believe Wade was right about those damn flowers. And there he was, thinking roses would be better. Maybe the Merc with a Mouth wasn't so bad after all.

"I had a hunch." He shrugged.

"Well, Logan, I love them! Now sit, sit!" You ushered him to his seat. "I hope you're hungry, because there's a lot for you to try."

"A lot? I thought you'll make me a cupcake or somethin', bub."

"A cupcake?? Don't be silly." Just as you said that, the oven made a loud ding sound, and you turned on your heels, heading in the back.

Logan waited patiently, observing every little detail from the front of your bakery, from the spotless display shelves to the neatly organised paper bags, to the fairy lights around the window. It was obvious to him that you had put your mind, body and soul into this bakery, and his expectations were quite high after all the fuss you made. But he decided to be nice not matter how the food tasted. He couldn't bear seeing you upset if he didn't like what you made.

You reappeared with a tray in your hand, and on it two plates, one with a small pork pie, one with a croissant, and a cup of coffee. Hell, even the cutlery was cute, with swirls engraved on the handles of the fork, knife and teaspoon.

"I decided to leave the cake for last." You said, placing the tray in front of him. "This is a simple pork pie, start with that." You urged him. "Careful, it's hot."

The Wolverine struggled with the cutlery, too small for his large hands, and the brief thought of slashing the pie with his claws crossed his mind, but he decided to be civil. You watched him butcher the food, eager to see his reaction, but he was taking his time.

"I'll let it cool off a bit."

"Ooh, that's probably a good idea." You nodded.

"Aren't you having some?" Logan asked.

"Noo, no. I like to bake for others, not for myself."

"So what do you eat, then?" He sipped on the coffee.

"Instant noodles usually. I'm too tired to cook when I get home. I do occasionally have leftovers, but whatever isn't sold I take it to the local shelter." You explained.

Christ, you couldn't be any kinder. Logan was stunned by your beauty and your soul, which was why he decided that after today, he will stop any interaction with you. He couldn't ruin you, not with his lifestyle, not with the danger that followed him everywhere.

The only problem was that the conversation flowed naturally, and he felt safe with you, just as you did with him. Like you were the missing piece to his puzzle. Logan pushed away those thoughts and decided to try the food. He took a large mouthful of the pie, chewed and swallowed, and you waited expectantly.

"Shit."

"What? Is it bad?" You jumped from your seat.

"Fuck, this is the best pork pie I've ever had." Logan wiped his mouth with a tissue you provided. "I'm serious, kid. Did you put drugs in it?"

You laughed, shaking your head as he finished the rest of the pie. He truly seemed to enjoy it, and you felt so satisfied. But the real test came after.

"Pistachio croissant." You said. "I thought about making almond ones, but I figured pistachio wasn't that sweet."

"Right, let's see." Logan took a healthy bite out of the pastry, and lo and behold, he closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. If heaven had a taste, it would be that damned croissant.

"Is it good?"

"Good? Jesus, this is the best one yet." He finished the rest of it, the pistachio cream tickling his taste buds in all the right ways. "Who taught you to bake like this?"

"My grandma. She was the best cook I knew." You smiled.

Logan noticed your use of past tense, and he didn't want to bring up any bad memories. He wasn't the nosy type, but something possessed him to ask you about your life, your family, your favourite colours. He needed to know more about you, and you answered all his questions, opening up to him like a flower in bloom. But when it came to him talking about himself, Logan was reluctant.

Talking to Wade was easier, because Wade didn't take anything seriously, nor did he ask personal questions. Well, he did, but in his own stupid way that provided Logan some distraction, as well as a reason to punch him. But with you it was different. He felt like he owed you serious answers that he wasn't yet ready to tell a stranger who made a mean pistachio croissant.

"The cake!" You spun on the chair, changing the subject when you saw Logan dodging your questions like bullets.

Although he didn't say it, he was grateful that you didn't put any pressure on him to talk. He wasn't a talker. That was definitely Wade. You came back with the whole cake, and it looked so good that Logan didn't want you to cut it. Perfectly round, a layer of cream in the middle and white frosting on top. You even went so far as to decorate it with all kinds of yellow flower petals and what seemed to be mint leaves.

"Alright, hit me. What's this one called?"

"I call it the Mojito Cake. The sponge cake has lemon zest, the cream is made of lime, mint and rum syrup, and the frosting is buttercream with a dash of actual rum." You explained.

"Shit, I can't tell if that sounds disgusting or incredible."

"Only one way to find out." You cut him a thick slice, and Logan wasted no time trying it.

"I think you found yourself a new customer."

"You're too nice."

"I'm anything but nice, kid." He took three more spoonfuls. "But I ain't a liar. This is delicious." Logan spoke with his mouth full and it made you chuckle.

"Oh, there's a bit of frosting on your face."

"Hm?" He used the tissue to wipe his chin. "Did I get it?"

"No, it's still- here, I'll get it." You leaned forward and delicately ghosted your thumb over the corner of his mouth, eyes locked with his.

Without thinking about it, you dragged your tongue over the frosting, and Logan couldn't look away from you even if he wanted to. A gesture so innocent, but it destroyed any form of restraint. He pressed his lips onto yours, tasting the rum and the cream, but before you could kiss him back, he pulled away.

"Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

You gave him no time to finish his sentence when you placed your hands on his shoulders and kissed him with fire on your tongue. God, he hated being touched, but when you did it, he melted in your hands. Lust battled reason and prevailed, and you found yourself straddling Logan's lap, arms around his neck and chest pressed against his.

His large hands found their way under your dress, fingers digging in the plush of your thighs until a moan escaped past your lips. Logan could've sworn you were pure in all ways — a virgin — so, naturally, he was surprised to see you eager to jump his adamantium bones.

With the last shred of reason left in you, you glanced at the door and window to make sure they were covered, and pushed Logan's jacket off his shoulders, peppering his neck with soft kisses. He wasn't the gentle type, no matter how hard he tried, and he didn't need to be when he felt your hips grind in his lap. It was more than obvious that you wanted him then and there.

Logan lifted you up as if you weighed nothing and slammed you down the empty table. His roughness sent a chill down your spine, because you really wanted him to manhandle you from the moment he stepped foot in your bakery. He kissed you again, pressing his whole against yours until your back hit the table. You felt like a cornered animal with nowhere to go, and the thrill of it turned you on.

"Are you sure you want this?" Logan asked despite you unbuckling his belt.

"I don't want this, I want you. I need you to fuck me so hard I can't walk." You unzipped his jeans, and although he was taken aback by your sudden use of filthy words, he couldn't deny he enjoyed seeing that side of you.

"Greedy little girl." Logan's hand slithered between your legs, fingers rubbing circles over your clothed clit. "Shit, you're soakin' wet. Can feel it through your fuckin' panties already." He flared his nostrils, taking in the scent of your arousal.

With his jeans loose around his waist, you palmed his cock through his boxers, and it didn't shock you for a second that he was rock hard. What did shock you, however, was the size of it. It was probably the biggest you've ever taken, and you didn't want any other man anymore.

You tugged at the waistband of his boxers, making it clear that you didn't want to waste any more time. Not that you didn't want to suck his dick or explore every inch of his body and worship it the way a man like him deserved it, but you were impatient.

Logan got the hint when you whined and scoffed, and he tore the pink panties off of you, tossing them on the floor. At least he had the decency not to put them on the table, which you were going to disinfect anyway. He pushed his boxers down, and you propped yourself on your elbows to look at him, and it was a sight for sore eyes indeed. He had perfectly sculpted abs, you could see them under the half-lifted t-shirt, but it was his cock that made your mouth water.

"Like what you see?" Logan was smug, confident in his good looks.

"I need to permanently imprint this image on my retina." You told him, and he couldn't help the chuckle.

"Likewise. Now spread 'em."

"Yessir!" You very quickly obeyed, parting your legs for him, and Logan couldn't deny that he enjoyed being in control.

He wasn't one to take orders, nor give them, but watching you comply scratched an itch he couldn't get rid of. Logan pressed the tip of his cock against your slick folds, earning another whine from you. You bucked your hips, craving more, and he scoffed.

"That desperate, hm?"

"You have no idea." You dug your manicured fingernails into his shoulders, bracing for temporary pain, because you knew damn well it would hurt.

"I don't know, I didn't hear you say please." Logan frowned, and you understood what game he was playing. A game you yearned to be part of.

"Oh, please, please, please fuck me, Logan! I'll be so good for you! I'll do anything you want." You clung to his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him. "I'll even take it in any hole you want." You whispered, dragging your tongue over his lips.

"Shit." Logan was weak in the knees from your words, and the worst part was that he believed everything you said. But there was a time and place for everything.

You were the perfect mix of sweet and spicy, and you begged so nicely that the Wolverine just couldn't say no. You felt the leaking tip of his cock push past your folds and you audibly gasped at the size of it, drawing blood from his skin with your fingernails.

"It won't fit-" You whined with lust in your voice.

"I'll make it fit." Logan promised, painstakingly slowly thrusting into you.

He gave you time to adjust to his girth, constantly checking if you were alright, if you wanted him to carry on or stop, and while you loved that he was so caring, you needed him hurry up and fuck you.

To assure him that you would survive his monstrous cock, you planted a soft kiss on his nose, and there it was again, the change in your personality, from sultry to innocent. It was as though you embodied everything he ever wanted, and his desire to never contact you again went down the drain. How could Logan ever leave someone like you?

"I'm ready." You nodded, and he pressed his forehead onto yours, slowly rolling his hips.

You weren't ready, because it hurt like a bitch when he stretched out your velvety walls. But the pain was soon replaced by pleasure, and Logan picked up the pace when your whimpers turned to moans, and the slight frown on your face disappeared.

"So tight." He hummed, forehead resting against yours.

Were you tight, or was he just so incredibly big? Either way, you were a panting mess already, clinging to him for dear life, and Logan forgot his worries, even if it was just for that one moment. You were too good to be true, with your parted lips and glossy eyes — a beautiful sight for his sore eyes.

"Fuck, I- fuck!" You wrapped your legs around his waist, the table screeching under you. Not a single coherent sentence could come out of your mouth. "Logan, shit, I-"

"What's the matter? Need something?" He cooed, fingers bruising into your hips. "Use your big girl words."

"Need it ha-harder!" You cried out but he slowed down, confusion written all over your face.

"Where are your manners?"

"Please, daddy, please give it to me harder!"

The term of endearment had Logan quirk a brow at you, but he wasn't surprised in the slightest that you had a daddy kink. And he basked in being called that.

"Are you sure you can take it?"

"Yes!" There was no hesitation in your response. "Fuck, yes!"

Logan growled when he felt your pussy clench around his cock, and he delivered, thrusting deeper, harder and faster into you, until the sound of skin on skin echoed in the bakery, and your breathing became heavier.

"Fuuuuck, I can feel it in my gut!" You threw your head back when the tip of his cock brushed against your cervix.

"Filthy. Little. Slut." Each word came with a thrust and a groan, and he filled you up so good, you became addicted to him.

Your toes curled up, and your legs began to twitch when you felt your orgasm build up. Each push and pull made your vision blurry, and Logan's grip on you tightened as his hips stuttered. He was feral, and he was close, you could feel it in your bones.

"Fuck, Logan, do- oh- don't stop!" Words spilled from your mouth incoherently, and after a few more thrusts, pure bliss rushed through your body.

"That's it, let go." Logan buried his face in the crook of your neck, slamming hard into you until all you could do was chant his name like a prayer.

You felt him fill you up, pussy hot and sticky and sore, and he slowly pulled out, eyes darting at the tissues on the table. He grabbed them, gently cleaning you up, and you couldn’t stop the grin on your face. There was just something about a man like him be so gentle. And you were absolutely delighted to have him take care of you.

"You know," Logan said licking his lips, "I'm beginning to think you didn't want me to just taste your pastries."

"True." You told him smugly. "But you liked them."

"I like you more." He blurted out without thinking.

You felt your cheeks burn at his sudden honesty, and after sliding up your underwear and fixing your dress, you planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I like you too, honey badger."

"Don't ever call me that again." Logan chuckled.

"Not happening. Now, could you pleaaaase help me clean up this place? The last thing I need is a surprise hygiene inspection tomorrow."

He couldn't even imagine what the inspectors would do if they found out you had sex in a bakery, and with a nod, Logan zipped up his jeans and began disinfecting the tables and chairs while you swept the floor.

In less than half an hour you were done, and the shop was squeaky clean. You were satisfied with the end result, and told Logan that you wanted him to have the rest of the cake, pies and croissants. He thought Wade and Al could eat something, and decided to accept your offer.

"Can I come with you? There's quite a few boxes of food." You told him, a sheepish grin on your lips.

"Is that your way of finding out where I live?"

"Maybe. I'll go home if you don't want me with you."

"No, you're good." Logan assured you. "Besides, I'm sure my roommate's gonna devour everything. He'll probably lock you up in our apartment and force you to bake for him."

"I don't know if that's a threat or a promise." You laughed.

"Both. It's both."

You walked with Logan down the street, boxes in your arms, and you were surprised to see him open up to you more. He answered almost every question you had, and you felt him more relaxed. And he was. Logan forgot how much he needed that kind of connection with someone. You were so easy to talk to, you didn't judge him, and most importantly, you listened.

He guided you up the stairs to his apartment and knocked on the door, because he couldn't reach his keys with so many boxes in his arms. You baked for a damn army.

Wade opened the door, and you were taken aback by his appearance, but it didn't scare you. Instead, you introduced yourself as Logan's personal baker, earning a chuckle from him.

"Come on in, Martha Stewart." Wade opened the door enough for you to walk through it with the boxes and not drop them.

"Wade." Logan came back from the kitchen with a croissant. "Eat. Seriously, eat."

You watched Wade wolf down the pastry without hesitation and his eyes lit up. He chewed and swallowed, then moaned, eyes rolling back. The look of disgust on Logan's face was priceless.

"Holy fucking shit, Y/N, what the fuck did you put in this?" Wade grabbed your shoulders, giving them a good shake. "It's so flaky and creamy and buttery, like a bunch of unicorns came in my mouth."

"I'm glad you like it." You giggled. "Try the cake."

"There's cake?!" He ran to the kitchen, leaving you and Logan in the hallway before coming back, a slice of half-eaten cake in his hand. "I am officially impressed. Can you make Rocky Road?"

"Yes."

"Dulce de leche?"

"Yep."

"Baklava?"

"Uh-huh."

"Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte?"

"Yes, Wade!" You rolled your eyes, then turned to Logan. "Sugar rush?"

"Oh, you have no idea. And this is him on a good day."

"Listen, sweet cheeks, if old man fuckface here won’t marry you, I will. Just don’t tell Vanessa." Wade whispered.

"Don’t even think about it, you degenerate limp dick."

"Ugh, fine. And here I was hoping all four of us could be a happy dysfunctional family. Five if you count Al. Six with Colossus. Wait, actually, eight with-"

"Wade, have you tried the pork pies?" You asked, effectively shutting him up.

Yeah, Logan could definitely get used to being around you from now on to sweeten up his life.

#logan howlett #wolverine #mcu #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #fem!reader #marvel #deadpool 3

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chuluoyi · 1 year ago

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

in the wake of your scandalous divorce, you fall into the arms of emperor gojo satoru. for a while, you believe you have found love… until it becomes clear that your new husband is scheming behind your back! love, marriage, divorce… are you doomed to go through this path the second time?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, marriage of convenience, explicit smut, pregnancy

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress. this is the second part of remarried empress au trilogy! wc. 9.2k ! thank you so much for your love in the first part🩵 but as of now, TAGLIST IS CLOSED so i'd appreciate it if the comment section won't be flooded with asks for tags :')

credit header goes to @/mongsanghwa in twitter!

prev. all hail the empress | last. long live the empire

general masterlist | series masterlist

Heavens, help me... I love her too damn much!

For Gojo Satoru, love was once an abstract concept. At first, he thought it was admiration, or a sense of obsession—

But on the day he watched you become Zen’in Naoya’s bride, Satoru realized it was much deeper than that. It felt like the sharpest sword had pierced straight into him and lodged itself there.

And then, years later— as if hearing his prayers, you became his. Since then, his life was perfect, because he wasn't lying when he said that you were everything he wanted in life.

Yet in a twist of fate, that same sinking, horrific feeling washed over him... as he watched the pagoda he built for you engulfed in flames.

You were there. Satoru felt himself staggering as he took in the mortifying sight. You and his unborn child are inside!

He didn't waste a breath as he dashed towards where you were, crushing everything in his path in the process, but just as he was about to enter the scorching temple—

“Satoru, no!” Suguru grabbed him, restraining him with his own body. “Get back!”

“No!” he screamed at him frantically. “She is there! Suguru, let go—!”

And then the worst happened, as the pagoda completely crumbled into a heap of rubble. Satoru's breath was knocked out of him as he faced the reality that he couldn't save you in time. And he felt like losing his consciousness as he wheezed, and thrashed in Suguru's hold.

It was all too much for him to comprehend as he struggled against the devastation before him.

How... did this happen? You were happy. You were about to welcome a child into your lives! The two of you really were...

SEVERAL WEEKS PRIOR

Your husband is trying to use you to wage a war... against your homeland.

You secluded yourself in your study, trying to make sense what you just overheard.

In a broader perspective, Satoru's actions could be constituted as national defense. If he perceived the Eastern Empire as a threat, then countermeasures were indeed necessary. But if not...

Regardless, it was not the very idea that blew you, but how he planned to use you to sway sentiment in your former country, to weaken them.

Is that what he's been aiming all this time? You felt like a hypocrite to question this since you too were using him. But these days, you were certainly not using him—you were falling in love with him.

It was strange, because you were supposed to be furious if that was his intent from the start. Yet what you felt right now was profound sadness, possibly even denial and heartbreak. You kept thinking how there must be another explanation—

“Sweetheart, hello~!”

You were startled when the door to your study was suddenly flung open, and the man from your thoughts strode in with a broad grin, completely oblivious to your inner turmoil.

"Satoru." You fixed him with a genial smile, even as nausea churned within you. Straightening your skirts, you looked up at him.

"I've been told you haven't been well, and Shoko said you've seen the physician," Satoru frowned, his long fingers cradling your face as he half-sat on your desk. "How did it go? What did he say?"

"Oh..." you clammed up, feeling at loss. "He said..."

Your dashing husband tilted his head curiously, bright eyes softened, worried lines etched on his face were so clear... and despite your conflict, you didn't have the heart to deny him this news.

"I'm with child." This time, your smile was genuine as you pushed back your intrusive thoughts. "Satoru... I'm carrying our child."

For a full ten seconds, Satoru was stunned, staring at you with a blank expression, his lips slightly parted. "H-huh...? Child? A... baby?"

"Mm-hm. A living baby."

"O-oh..." Satoru blinked his eyes rapidly—looking at your face, then your abdomen—before his expression broke into absolute wonder, broadly grinning. "T-that's... oh— it's—!"

To say he was speechless didn't cut it as he stuttered, messed his hair, pinched his own cheek, becoming restless yet looking so incredibly giddy—

"My queen!" Satoru suddenly lifted you and spun you around midair. "My beautiful wife—!" before gently sitting you on the desk and burying his face in your skirts, hugging your waist tightly. "Good lord, I'm— I'm so—!"

It hadn't truly dawned on you until now that you were going to become a mother. Witnessing Satoru's unabashed reaction as he nestled his face into you… nearly brought tears to your eyes.

Right in this moment, you didn't entertain any other thoughts. You were deeply moved by your husband's overwhelming excitement for your baby. And the realization that, despite Naoya's accusations—

Satoru looked up at you the second you sniffled, and he immediately drew you closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Hey, no tears, yeah?" He rested a hand on your jaw, his eyes sparkling with utter adoration as he gazed at you. "This is wonderful. We're going to be parents. This child... a part of you and me—we're going to bring them into the world."

You tugged his collar close and brushed your lips against his. And he responded with equal fervor. You yearned for this closeness with him.

. . .

But still in the back of your head, that lingering, buried fear whispered—

Is the man who adores you this much... capable of hurting you to the same extent?

With your bare bodies pressed closely, and you under him, Satoru could sense the rapid beat of your heart. And in return, you felt the heat of his palms against your skin and the tremors in his breath.

Yet now, in your marital bed, it quickly became clear to him that you, who were usually so composed and collected, were nervous. Satoru couldn't suppress the smile spreading across his face even if he tried.

"This is far from our first time, Empress." His coy smirk taunted you as he littered kisses along your jawline and chest. "What are you so jittery about, hmm?"

"Ah..." you let out a soft sigh as he sucked your breast with his mouth. "N-nothing... you're mistaken."

"Hmm... not confessing? Right..." He then grabbed the generous mound of your other breast and fondled it, making you squirm and moan.

But in the midst of this eroticism, suddenly your mind was thrown back to—

“That’s why I have her here.”

"Satoru," you breathed out, catching his hands. He looked up to you in slight surprise, thinking that you wanted to stop.

But he was in for a plot twist when you first pushed him, then flipped him underneath you, straddling him and capturing his lush lips, yanking his hair in the process.

"Whoa— hey..." Satoru held your hips, visibly startled but clearly enjoying your sudden whim, snickering. "My queen—ohh— you're a sight to behold, on top of me."

He grabbed the flesh of your bottom, sinking his fingers into it and pulling you forward. You let yourself be moved until your thighs were next to his ears.

Suddenly, it was, at once, the most peculiar experience—the greatest confidence boost you had ever received, and the hottest thing he had ever seen.

"You're so damn wet already," your husband nipped your inner thigh playfully as he observed your folds, and you gasped. "Are you ready?"

In response, you slammed yourself onto his face because, right now, you were in a less than forgiving mood.

"You look good under me," you darkly retorted, but then you choked on your own breath when your husband started licking your folds messily with his tongue.

Satoru smirked at the sound of your breathless noises, responding by lapping even more fervently. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tightening their grip on his scalp as you began to grind yourself against his face.

"You a-are really n-nasty!" you moaned, voice breaking at the feeling his sinful tongue parting your opening. "Maybe y-you have lied to me… all th-is time."

Satoru furrowed his brows in slight confusion, and perhaps a bit of annoyance, as he pinched your clit in retaliation, causing you to draw in a sharp breath.

"You're— awful!" but contrary to your claims, your face contorted with pleasure as the tight coil in your belly spasmed. "How m-many women... h-have you beguiled like m-me?"

He almost laughed into your ass. Literally. If being called awful was the price for pleasuring the most beautiful woman in the lands, then Satoru would be happy to be that horrible person every day of his life.

But then, you suddenly shifted on top of him, no longer positioning your hips in his face, and he quickly caught your face, crashing his lips against yours so both of you wouldn’t part for even a second.

"Nobody else," he murmured, wet lips and tongue ravishing yours, so much lust glistening in his eyes. "I'm all yours— forever." Just as he whispered it amidst pants, he groaned when your hand sneakily went to his very hard length.

And firmly grasped it. He got swollen just by tasting you and hearing your noises earlier. He growled, and against his senses, he pushed you down to lodge it inside you, penetrating and splitting you apart in one go.

“Ah—! Satoru— it’s too…!” you babbled breathlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders, feeling his huge cock pulsing inside your tight walls.

“Your fault,” he rebuked, eyes narrowing into darker shades, rigorously moving his hips against yours as he sat up. It was impossible to hold it in any longer, he could feel it already.

He tensed up, adjusting his position, so close to losing it inside you, and when he heard your dirty mewls and felt you shudder—reverberating through his body too—Satoru gripped your waist tighter, groaning, holding you in place to release his load inside you with precision.

Your body gave in as well, releasing at the same moment his cum burst inside you. Your vision blurred as the nastiest of moans escaped you, yet you felt so safe as your husband caught you in his arms.

. . .

"Are you okay?" Satoru asked worriedly after you rolled off him in the aftermath of your bliss. "Do you feel sick?" Your unfocused eyes met his, and he looked panicked, pulling you closer. "Shit, did I go too far? I shouldn't have, especially with the baby still in the early stages..."

"I'm... okay," you croaked, trying to reassure him. "Just tired..."

Heaving a relieved sigh, Satoru pecked you in the lips.

"Am I... a mess?" you leaned on him with a blissful smile, feeling his cum still trickling out between your legs.

"Yeah... My beautiful mess, that is." Satoru chuckled, reveling in the state of your disarray. "Soon enough," his hands traced your skin before settling on your tummy, a fond smile curving his lips. "Our baby will grow here."

"Yes—" you replied, placing your palm over his. "Do you... want a boy or girl?"

A boy would be the much sought-after prince, and you fully expected him to favor it, until to your surprise, Satoru lightly hummed and pressed a kiss on your belly button.

"Does that matter? What's important is you deliver them safely and they're healthy," he chuckled. "A princess will be nice... she'll turn out to be as lovely as you."

"But the heir has to be a prince..."

"Nah. I can always amend the succession norms. I'm the emperor."

And you giggled next. Seeing how free you looked, Satoru thought you were the woman overturning his skies and stars, and you truly are—as now you are the mother of his own flesh and blood, his future empire.

There will be a nation-wide celebration for you. Satoru insisted it was a must, and he would invite dignitaries from neighboring empires and kingdoms as well.

Including the Eastern Empire.

. . .

“Your Majesty. I... bring a gift and an invitation from the Western Empire.”

Naoya clacked his heel on the carpet, casting a sharp, yet uninterested look at his aide.

“There will be a celebration for—” the poor man gulped uneasily, faltering as if he could foresee how his emperor would react. Naoya scowled.

“Spit it out.”

“The former empress’ pregnancy, Your Majesty!”

“What...?” At that moment, he snapped his head towards him. It felt like everything he had ever known came crashing down. “Y/N...?”

That can’t be possible. For many years both of you had failed. That was why he took that maid and divorced you. No, upon reflection, it was never truly his intention to divorce you—he had wanted you to raise that child if you couldn't bear one.

But then you completely ignored him and had an affair with Gojo Satoru. He was furious. He couldn't bear the disgrace of it all, so he went with the divorce, if only to assert some control. However, the joke was on him, as you ultimately fled with Gojo entirely.

But if you aren’t infertile... Then, what did that make him?

Numerous thoughts ran through his mind. Was it possible that it was his child instead of Gojo’s? How many months had it been anyway?

...or could it be that he is the one who is—!

“No...” he muttered, frantic, taking sharp breaths. “Absolute rubbish!”

The aide stared at him in fear, as Naoya appeared unhinged now. But soon, that fear gave away to pity, as the emperor trashed his desk and howled in frustration— but contrary to the expected fury, Naoya looked like he was mourning, evident by the way he flung everything but the very portrait from his coronation day.

Of him and you. Even after that disastrous divorce, he had never taken it down from the wall of his study. Now, Naoya was staring at it, a multitude emotions clouding his eyes.

This man, just as the aide had always thought, has thrown away the only good thing he has in his life.

“Are the invitations sent already?” Satoru asked with a blooming smile, rolling the yarn out of his cat’s reach as the poor kitty grappled to catch it. “And how are the preparations going?”

“Banquets are usually handled by the Empress, but you really go out of your way and do it instead,” Suguru shook his head, unamused by the added workload it brought him, especially considering his disinterest in festivities.

“They’re all sent, some of them responded—before you ask, Naoya hasn’t— and I’ve cascaded the preparation to Shoko, since I have no clue what to do about it.”

“Well, not that I care if he’s going to stay sour and wants his name tarnished in the daily papers as a bitter ex-husband…” Satoru shrugged, petting Sugu-chan as the cat purred contentedly. “He is tactless, he very well might be.”

“You really want to spite him, don’t you…” Suguru sighed. “You even sent him a note. It was unnecessary.”

“He was the one hurling curses at me and my empress first. I’m just returning the favor.”

The note in question was of lines after lines of flowery nonsense about gratitude and whatnot. Satoru imagined Naoya's vein would burst after reading his card.

“I’m happy for you, Satoru.” As exasperated as Suguru was, his smile was genuine when he said it. “A royal baby, huh...”

"Suguru." The emperor's voice suddenly dropped an octave, surprising him. "What about the placement of the totem I told you the other day?"

The abrupt shift in conversation made Suguru visibly uncomfortable, and again, they were back to this topic.

"You're seriously going to do this?" the duke asked, almost in disbelief. "Satoru, you're going to become a father. You have everything already. This will lead to war one way or another, and—what if the Empress finds out? How do you think it'll make her feel?"

However, Satoru's gaze was cold as he dismissed most of Suguru's tirade. There was a chill in his expression that made his longtime friend inwardly questioned who the man before him was.

"I'm asking you. Have you done it or not, Suguru?"

"You're going to put a curse on a whole village, Satoru."

"I told Zen'in Naoya the moment I got Y/N, that it would mark the beginning of his downfall. I'm making good on that promise."

Suguru pressed his eyes shut to calm his fury. Morally, what Satoru did was wrong, but politically, this was the art of war. Suguru purely opposed to this out of consideration for you.

Few understood Satoru's actions as well as Suguru did. He might understand, others like you and Shoko wouldn't.

"Just remember, when the Empress catches wind of this, she's going to resent you," Suguru warned. "No matter what your reasoning might be."

Satoru's upper lip curled upwards, his eyes bereft of light, narrowing with indifference.

"Unless you never tell her, that is of no relevance."

Love... has he ever loved you all this time?

Naoya had never been confronted with that question or pondered it, simply because he never considered love existed within the context of something as grand as monarchy.

You were chosen because you were well-bred and well-versed in the arts of nobility. You were indeed the epitome of an ideal empress, a fact evident throughout your tenure.

But...

"Naoya!" you yelled at him and caught his hand. "You're a fool! Why did you keep doing that!?"

It was a long-buried memory, when you were still in your teens, around the time you were just made the crown princess. His hands, bruised and bloodied, and you tended to them.

"I'm not weak, you know," he sullenly barked. "I have to train to be stronger."

"You definitely have to train, yes... but you have to take breaks!" you retorted angrily.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" he snapped back. "It's not like your hands that are injured."

And that moment, you were suddenly almost in tears. Naoya never understood why.

"Don't cry." But his instincts told him to make you not cry. "Don't cry. I'm fine, see?"

. . .

Zen'in Naoya jerked awake from his slumber, realizing he had forgotten what his dream was, that it was still the late afternoon, and he was still in his study.

All he felt was that nostalgic feeling, and it intensified when he glanced up... only to see his coronation portrait on the wall.

It was almost as if you were still here. You were incredibly stunning, he had to admit that. Why hadn’t he realized until just recently?

The way your crimson dress flowed out, and that thin, serene smile on your face... you were a picture-perfect empress, and that was not an exaggeration. No one could measure up to you—

"Your Majesty~!"

Especially not Hanabi.

"Your Majesty, the princess has started holding her head up!" Hanabi, now no longer dressed in rags but rather in one of your dresses, excitedly remarking, "Soon, she will start to—"

Naoya's gaze fell on her dress. He recognized it instantly. That specific deep, vibrant shade of red with serpent-like waistband. It was one of his gifts to you for your birthday. "Why are you wearing that?"

"Huh?" she seems perplexed. "Oh this... I thought it looks pretty..."

But to her surprise, he suddenly flared with fury. "That isn't yours, you dullard," he spat out.

Her expression sank in heartbreak as he continued with his venomous speech. "Know your place." His words cut like a blade. "And I keep telling you, a princess is of no use to the throne!"

Hanabi fought to hold back the tears, because not only had he insulted her, worse still, he showed no interest in their daughter. "She is still of your blood, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice trembling.

"I told you, I only want a heir." His sneer caused her eyes to widen in shock. "Other than that, I won't care."

"Your Majesty, please—" Hanabi was desperate for him to acknowledge their daughter, when she caught sight of your ethereal face on the wall.

He still hasn't taken it down. It made her eyes twitch, and her own anger to rise.

"The former empress..." she stared at your picture resentfully. "You still have her here. We never even have our portraits painted..."

Naoya's icy gaze leveled at her without a hint of sympathy, despite the woman standing before him being the mother of his child.

"Why do you look at me like that?" Hanabi asked, tears spilling from her eyes. "You used to care for me when you thought I would bear you a son. Even if it's a daughter, she deserves love too, doesn't she?"

In the last five years, she had come to know that the emperor wasn't always this manic person. He used to be gentler, or at least not as vindictive.

And she never truly wanted you to be cast away like that. She looked up to you, admired you from up close, and meant it when she said she would carry your legacy as best as she could.

"Are you dumb?" Naoya barked. "I told you to know your place!"

...yet why? Why are people in this palace so harsh to her?

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi. Beware, the emperor is fickle…”

Your unkind eyes, Naoya's disdainful stares even after she gave birth to his child... She didn't even care about becoming the empress anymore. She just wanted a happy life!

"If it was the former empress' child... even if it was a princess..." Hanabi turned to him with determination even amidst her pitiful tears. "You wouldn't cast her aside just like you do now with my daughter, would you, Your Majesty?"

Naoya's gaze, devoid of emotion and filled with blatant disinterest more than anything, shot through her, hurting her more than if it was filled with fury instead.

The lack of warmth in his stare made her feel like being looked through rather than being seen. As if she is that insignificant.

"Leave," he ordered coldly next, turning his back on her.

And there is her answer.

Hanabi had been your maid for five long years. She knew who you were, what you stood for, and your whole demeanor. Yet, despite her best efforts, she could never emulate you in the same way, could she?

. . .

"My lady... don't you know that the former empress is with child?"

Once again, Hanabi felt the sting of ice when her lady-in-waiting delivered the news.

"Empress... Y/N?" she whispered. "How...?"

You were stripped of your titles here, and yet you still remained a queen somewhere else. Hanabi might have won Naoya's favor, but now she was losing it while you had another emperor's affection.

Not much had changed about you. You still occupied the highest seat a woman could possibly attain. Whereas she...

"But she is barren!" she turned to her confidant then, almost in disbelief.

"Evidently not. Emperor Gojo has proven that."

How nice. A part of Hanabi wanted to congratulate you because she knew of your sufferings—how much you longed to hold a baby from your womb in your arms.

How unfair... But another part of her couldn't help but despise you. Because even in your absence, she still had to live in your shadow. Because you, who had lost everything, regained it all so easily.

"And my lady... Emperor Gojo is going to throw a banquet for this occasion next month. You are expected to attend it."

"Sweetheart, you asleep?"

One night, several weeks later, just as you were about to drift off to sleep, you felt the sheets shift as Satoru slipped into bed beside you.

Though you didn't turn to face him, you felt his warm hands wrap around your waist from behind.

"Satoru... you're back," you murmured sleepily.

"Mm-hmm," he whispered, pulling you closer to his chest and burying his face in your hair, taking in your scent. "Shoko told me you've been in your bedchamber since breakfast. Are you okay?"

"I get queasy if I walk too much, so I've been lying down all day... But don't worry, the physician said it's normal in early stages of pregnancy."

His grip on you tightened, as he caressed your belly. "Hmm, naughty baby. I'm sorry I wasn't here..."

"Where were you?"

For days now, he had been away, and you hadn't really questioned him. You had your guesses though—

"I was overseeing the construction of a new pagoda," he said softly, kissing your neck. "For you, actually."

That was so unexpected that it made you open your eyes fully. "What— for me?" Building pagoda was definitely not a small affair. Usually it was for religious purposes.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby. It's expected to be completed before your celebration banquet."

The tower would be the testament of his love for you and your unborn child. Despite yourself, your heart swelled with overwhelming warmth.

"You're so silly... why do you spend the tax funds for that?" you brushed off the faint heat in your face, not daring to look at him still.

"Whatever I wouldn't do for you?" he cheekily retorted, chuckling.

You had never felt this cherished before, and this time you were certain—you were more than ready to fall in love with this man.

But he... is planning to use you, isn't he?

"Satoru." You shuffled to turn and face him, causing him to crack his lidded eyes open. You gazed at him, placing both of your hands on his face, caressing his face softly.

You're so kind to me. I appreciate you for that. You wanted to tell him various things, but the darkness in your heart ever since overhearing his exchange with Suguru made it hard for you to do so.

"Mm? What is it?" he drawled with a small smile, leaning into your touch.

“You... love me, don't you?”

His bright eyes found yours then, sharp and steady. An impossibly fond smile graced his lips, as if finding what you said the most natural thing there was.

“Throughout heaven and earth,” he proclaimed, his voice steady to match his eyes. “Yes, my queen.”

...then you would trust him, if only just for this moment. The genuine sincerity in his eyes, the raw authenticity in his words... it all felt too real.

And so, even when you were well-aware of the bitter possibility of truth, you leaned in and kissed him, giving yourself to his touch as his hand slipped inside you.

And soon, came the day of the lavish banquet solely held to celebrate your pregnancy.

You were seated on your throne, dressed in a stunning aquamarine gown. The skirt of the dress was full and flowing, spilling onto the floor in a waterfall of shimmering fabric. Upon your head perched your crown of diamonds, glinting beneath the light, and your ceremonial veil to make you look as queenly as you could possibly be.

Everyone would agree that you were a sight to behold, and that you were worthy of every praise possible.

"Many congratulations to you, Your Majesty."

"This is a splendid news! A royal baby!"

"To think that the emperor has settled down... sniff, how long have we been waiting for this...? We almost gave up."

You almost giggled at the way Archbishop Yaga wiped his tears with a handkerchief as he presented you with his gift.

Despite your initial reservations, you enjoyed the festivities more than you expected. You had opposed the idea at first, finding it quite unnecessary, but Satoru had pouted for three long days until you eventually relented to appease him.

Speaking of him, he was equally dressed to impress, looking every bit as an emperor he was in an exquisite aquamarine military uniform and robes. Despite engaging in conversation with Earl Nanami, he kept a watchful eye on you, stealing glances in your direction to ensure you were well.

You nodded at him, and he threw you a wink. You smiled.

Everything was truly going well... until the herald announced:

"Prince Megumi and Royal Consort Hanabi from Eastern Empire!"

There was suddenly a hush over the crowd as the two made their entrance. You stilled, looking at the figure responsible for your checkered life—

Hanabi was starkly different since the last you saw her at the courthouse during your divorce. Her dress was now a vibrant shade of burgundy red, reminiscent of a gown you once wore. Gone was her air of humility, replaced by a display of extravagance befitting a noblewoman.

She is no longer your maid, but Naoya's consort. There was no trace of the woman who once served you. You were actually impressed, as she could actually shape herself into the image of a royal consort.

"Empress." However, your attention quickly shifted to Naoya's nephew, and once also your ward, Megumi, as he bowed before you respectfully. "Congratulations."

A fond smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you regarded the young prince who had once been a very shy individual. It reminded you of the days spent with him just to get him out of his shell.

"Thank you, Megumi."

"Diamonds suit you far better than golds do. I wish only for the best for you, Your Majesty."

It warmed your heart, really. Using that reference to your gold crown from your time in the Eastern Empire, you could see how much Megumi truly understood your position and bore no resentment towards you.

Could the same be said for Naoya though?

Right after you received his gift—an ornate box that seemed oddly familiar to you—Hanabi suddenly blurted out:

"So, fate has smiled upon you. Congratulations Empress Y/N." She kept that soft, meaningful smile on her face as she offered her felicitations.

Ever since her arrival was announced, something about her demeanor had bothered you. There was a subtle emptiness that seemed to linger in her gaze.

"Thank you," you responded, and that was when you noticed it. There was never any celebration for the birth of her daughter and Naoya, only a passing announcement.

And so, you added. "Congratulations on the birth of the princess too."

You could have sworn her expression fell for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure and bowed her head to you.

For a while, you lost sight of her in the crowd, feeling quite comfortable in your dais. Soon after, Satoru returned to your side, and the herald announced:

"Attention! His Majesty the Emperor's gift for Her Majesty the Empress!"

You looked at Satoru questioningly, and he gave you a dashing smirk before turning to the crowd.

"Thank you, all of you, for joining us to celebrate this joyous occasion." The way he carried himself and the sheer confidence he exuded was mesmerizing, you couldn't deny how it made you swoon. "I've been infamous for many things, and I'm sure the tales have spread far and wide. So please, allow me one more gesture with you as the witnesses."

The crowd giggled at his words, and you finally spotted Hanabi among them, quietly assessing the scene.

Your husband turned to you, a soft smile on his face.

"This is for you my empress— my lovely queen. Words can't describe how elated I am to know that now you bear our child." He took your hand and pressed a kiss on it. "And it's only fitting that I praise you along with the skies and the stars."

A footman arrived and presented a pearly box. Satoru opened it, revealing a necklace inside. The centerpiece was a large, flawless diamond surrounded by smaller, perfectly cut stones of the same kind. No matter how you saw it, it was truly a work of art, meant to captivate and dazzle anyone who laid eyes on it.

You let out a gasp. "This..."

Satoru grinned, picking up the jewelry and preparing to place it on you. "Nothing much. Just a little trinket for you."

"This is not just a 'little trinket'!"

Your banter elicited another round of snickers from the audience as Satoru fastened the necklace around your neck. The moment he did, the crowd erupted into applause.

"Actually, my real gift is the new pagoda in the royal gardens, built in honor of the Empress," Satoru stated effortlessly, grinning unabashedly. "Feel free to stop by later, everyone."

To the ton, for him to gift you with something so sacred was the height of extravagance. Some of them wondered how you had managed to turn the elusive emperor into someone so devoted to you.

And a few... might be harboring ill will against you for it.

. . .

Later that night, you were sorting through the gifts you had received throughout the day.

"I don't understand, why would you give an expecting woman this?" Shoko picked apart a manuscript that was the gift from Archbishop Yaga. "Who would read this?"

"I wouldn't, but I'm sure Duke Geto would," you replied, and soon the two of you were giggling together.

From jewelry to ornaments, you were pleased with all the gifts presented by the guests from day one. While most were given out of formality, it was heartwarming to imagine your baby seeing all these someday.

Your attention soon turned to the box Megumi handed you earlier—Naoya's gift.

You were intrigued, because what could your spiteful ex-husband could possibly give you? And you immediately reached over to open the lid to find...

"What's that?" Shoko asked as your eyes widened in slight surprise.

Inside the box was an intricate gold and ruby necklace. One you knew well. The very one you wore during your coronation as the Empress of the Eastern Empire.

Years ago, Naoya himself had chosen this piece for you, and now he was gifting it to you, again?

“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”

Reliving years of your marriage with him wasn't easy. You two were childhood sweethearts, and had been happy in the beginning. You couldn't pinpoint when things began to fall apart, but suddenly Naoya turned into such a person you didn't recognize altogether.

Seeing this relic made you nostalgic, and before you realized it, you touched it, trying to get a better look—

"Ah—!"

Suddenly, a sharp, unexpected pain shot through your abdomen. You instantly dropped the jewelry, letting it crash to the ground, and clutched your lower belly.

"Empress! What happened?!" Shoko rushed to your side in an instant, holding you up, and you whimpered.

"It hurts—!" Your breath hitched, as a seemingly invisible knife gutted you from inside. The intensity of the pain was overwhelming, leaving you gasping for breath. "Shoko, please—"

And before you could even scream or think, the pain blindsided you and your vision titled, before blacking out completely.

First came the warmth, then a reassuring squeeze on your hand. As your consciousness returned, you felt groggy, with your surroundings sharpening into focus.

The first thing that became your main focus the moment your eyes fluttered open was Satoru's face, a mixture of fright and relief etched across his features.

"You're awake..." He breathlessly muttered, sitting on your bedside, interlacing his fingers with yours. "How do you feel?"

"Sa...toru..." your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, and as soon as he heard you speak, he exhaled sharply, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Heavens, I—" he let out a long sigh, his breath hot against your neck. "I'm so glad... you are..."

"What h-happened to me...?" you were feeling feverish and a dull throb was pounding at the back of your head, before the shock of it all dawned on you. "B-baby...! Our—!"

"Baby is okay too, don't worry," Satoru assured, pulling away from you to gently touch your cheek and squeeze your hand. "Both of you are fine for now..."

The horror that you might lose your baby shook you to the very core. Your vision blurred with the threatening onset of tears.

"Wh-at happened to me, Satoru...?" you asked again as he wiped your first falling tears, your heartbeat sounding so loud in your ears. "I-I was just..."

His expression took on a sudden shift, as if a dark cloud had passed over his face.

"You came into contact with a cursed object," he stated, his eyes hard as he locked onto yours. "You were cursed, Y/N."

"What...?" You were rendered speechless, feeling your body starting to shake. Cursed object? Your past coronation necklace?

Naoya was trying to curse you?

"It's okay, I'm here now, yeah?" Satoru's voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, grounding you in the present. "Look at me. Hey, look at me." he repeated, his deep blue eyes locking onto yours with intensity.

“I’m here. I’m here with you. Nothing—absolutely nothing—will touch you so long as I’m here.”

But in that moment, your mind was so overwhelmed with fear for yourself and your unborn baby that you couldn't fully grasp the magnitude of the mess unfolding before you, and you just cried in his arms.

Feeling your feeble fingers fisting his robes and your inconsolable tears staining his collar, Satoru gritted his teeth.

“This won't happen again,” he whispered into your hair, feeling his rage simmering as he felt the tremors of your sobs against his chest. “I swear, I won't let anything like this happen again.”

To Satoru, that was more than enough to justify all his subsequent actions. Putting a curse on his empress essentially amounted to an act of beginning a war.

And it also meant he no longer had to operate behind the scenes.

“Keep them in Clock Tower. No contact. Only food and water at designated times.”

Satoru's icy gaze on the captain of royal guard compelled him to hastily comply with the order, before his eyes landing on the map of the entire continent.

In response to the incident that befell you, he issued orders for open hostility along the eastern and western borders. Soon after, he would formally declare his intention to go to war.

So close. He was so close to achieving his end goal.

. . .

"Satoru!"

Several days later, Suguru burst into his study, visibly outraged. He clenched his fists, looking as if he was about to throttle him altogether.

"You—" he heaved a harsh breath. "You have gone too far!"

"What are you talking about, Suguru?"

"Is cursing the entire winery village not enough for you?" This was the first time Suguru had been this furious with him. "Did you really have to massacre the neighboring district as well?!"

"They have placed a curse on my empress." It was so easy for him to say it. "Anyone who dares to harm her shall die."

"You can direct it at Zen'in Naoya! Not the innocent civilians!"

Satoru remained silent, neither shaken nor enraged, and he had finally had enough.

“Are you even sure it’s because the empress is cursed?" Suguru challenged. In his view, this farce had been going on too long.

“No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You were informed, days later.

“His Majesty has placed the prince and royal consort of the Eastern Empire under strict watch in Clock Tower.”

Clock Tower was essentially the prison where they kept war criminals. Learning that Satoru had confined both Megumi and Hanabi there left you aghast.

After some days of bedrest and getting better, you realized that the entire situation still didn't make sense to you. As hateful as Naoya was, harming you would do him more harm than good. Eastern and Western Empires stood evenly matched in military power, and hence, a conflict between them would bring devastation to both sides.

And moreover, you knew for sure was that Megumi was definitely not the one responsible for this. He was just a boy!

You had to let him out somehow. You had to talk to Satoru about this.

Or at least that was what you thought when you came close to his study.

“Are you even sure it's because the empress is cursed? No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You stopped on your tracks—stunned into place, to be exact.

“And you’ve struck gold when she did because her influence will provide you with greater advantage.” Suguru scoffed then, lightly shaking his head with a sneer. “Love? How laughable. All these years, you are planning your warpath, how could you claim you love her when you're trying to ravage her homeland without even considering the impact it would have on her?”

It felt like whiplash. Geto Suguru's voice had your feet rooted to the spot, causing all your doubts to resurface and sizzle in an instant. The very question you had tried to avoid, it was suddenly shoved in your face.

What... will Satoru say? Your heart thumped so loud in your ears it made you almost stagger. He couldn't possibly. He simply couldn't. All his actions... they reflected his affection for you and you believed it because you felt it yourself too.

But Satoru's next response was—

“Even when she is derided as the devil, I will bring an end to the Zen’in line in this lifetime.”

And a part of your heart withers then.

The tips of your fingers trembled, finally taking in everything that you had tried to ignore for the past few weeks. It all caught up to you in one overwhelming rush.

Suddenly, it felt as if something inside your chest was torn out and held up for you to see.

"I'm telling you, that day will come sooner than you think, Satoru." Suguru's voice broke through, his frustration palpable. His words snapped you out of your reverie, and you took a step back, retreating to the safety of your study.

The first time you felt utter hollowness wrecking you was when you had suspected that Naoya might have taken Hanabi to his bed. The feelings overwhelming you now were eerily similar to how you felt back then.

Only in this case…

You had used him first, and if he used you in return... you couldn't fault him.

But isn't it still a bitter truth, even when a mutual transaction is very well within his rights, to know that what you believe as love may apparently not really be the case?

Love... of course, he loves you.

Of that, he was certain.

But at the same time… he had his ambitions.

Destroying the Eastern Empire. Was it so wrong that he wanted it? Didn't you want this as well? After all, Naoya had spurned you for a lowly servant and made your life hell, didn’t he?

Satoru strolled through the halls and made his way to your study, where the sight of you, so pretty and regal in your seat, greeted him.

His beautiful, graceful wife and empress of his nation. For so long, he had desired you, and now here you were, perched within his walls. His heart couldn't be more full— his life is complete already.

"Sweetheart, hey... how are you feeling today?" an adoring grin was visible on his face as he approached you. "Does the baby give you trouble today?"

You didn't answer though, and didn't look at him either. It was quite strange, Satoru thought.

"What's wrong? Is there something—" And when you finally turned to him, the look in your eyes was so eerily cold it almost gave him a chill.

"Release Megumi from your dungeon," you told him with a strained tone. "And return him to his home empire."

The smile on Satoru's face vanished that instant.

"I can't do that."

You rose from your seat, facing him. "He is just a child."

Satoru regarded you with a stern look. “That child you speak about is a prince of the Eastern Empire. He has committed a great crime against you.”

“Naoya didn’t do it.” Your steely gaze was unflinching. “He might be senseless, but he isn’t insane enough to deliberately go into a war he might possibly lose.”

Satoru's eyes darkened at your words, as you stood before him with determination. The way you were so adamant somehow took him aback. “How... could you defend him? He has wronged you!”

It was one question you had expected, and you had the answer ready.

“Even if he has, I could never wish doom upon my own homeland, Satoru. I’ve lived most of my life there, I did a great deal of things there— even if you harbor some sort of misguided contempt or just bloodthirsty enough to lay ruin to Eastern Empire, I refuse to be the puppet for your schemes!”

There it was. You had said it. Everything would crumble once again just like your previous marriage.

Satoru was staring at you in slight disbelief, his eyes gleamed with something that you couldn't really pinpoint. Anger? Disappointment?

“Your life was in danger, as was our unborn child’s. Don’t you care about that—!” he actually had to stop to catch his breath. “Don’t you care that our child nearly didn't make it?”

“And? You must have thought it was the perfect grounds for declaring a war?” but you didn’t relent and questioned him with a scoff. “And afterwards, you would try to use me to gain defectors from Eastern Empire, is that it?”

You saw the flash of surprise in your now-husband's eyes right when you recited his words, but you weren't about to hold back any longer now.

“Now you’re using my safety to justify your actions,” you hissed, feeling like suddenly you understood what all of this was. “You’re quite cunning, Satoru. I’ve heard everything—you will do anything to bring an end to the Zen'in lineage! You won’t even consider the repercussions of my reputation being tarnished across the lands!”

“Is that even important now?” Satoru gritted his teeth to suppress his irritation. “You have been cursed. Do you honestly think I would let them get away with cursing my empress? How could I, who seek to protect you, be more vicious than whoever in Eastern Empire who cursed you with that necklace?”

“You’re doing this for your personal gratification!” you exclaimed. “It is never about me. You’re just a warmonger!”

The moment those words left your lips, Satoru stilled. His gaze on you faltered, and you could’ve sworn hurt flashed in his face.

“Just how low… is your opinion of me?” he asked, his tone dropping, eyes devoid of emotion. “You jump into conclusions only after overhearing something in a passing and yet you know for sure Naoya wouldn’t harm you—” he clenched his jaw.

“You… really loved him, didn’t you?” he asked with a sardonic smile. “I know it already. You won’t ever be able to do the same for me. You can’t even trust me.”

You were rendered speechless. Despite your doubts of him, hearing this still felt like a slap in your face.

Won’t be able to do the same for him? No. That’s not true. You are—

Satoru let out a defeated laugh and ran his hand through his hair, leaving you uncertain whether he was amused or heartbroken by your lack of response.

“It’s funny, how I have loved you for so long... but apparently the woman I believed to have even a semblance of affection for me doesn’t even exist.”

It felt like that one part of you that was capable of feeling love had been stabbed once again.

To say this out loud hurt you deeply, unbeknownst to him. You didn’t mean this at all, still it was what came out of you, out of spite—

“In the end, we’re just using each other. That’s all we amount to.”

Satoru bitterly snorted, finding your accusation so unfair to him.

“How cruel is it that I’m the only one who has to prove this love to you? What about you? You’re terribly, horribly selfish!”

You stayed silent, looking away, caught between the scorching knives that seemed to twist your heart and conflicting emotions in it, uncertain of what to believe anymore. And you didn't really know what heartbreak was like before—

“It has been really exhausting, and I don’t want to bother anymore.”

When his gaze next met yours, dark and piercing, you realized he was no longer the same man who once promised you love and devotion.

“You're free to believe whatever truth you wish. But remember, even if you are my wife and the empress of this nation, should you commit any transgressions… I won’t hesitate to accuse you of treason, Empress.”

You have committed treason.

Satoru had conducted investigation of the sorts just to prove his point. And yet days later, no direct evidence pointing towards Megumi or Hanabi were found in that cursed necklace.

Punishment for treason is imminent death. You were well-aware of that more than anyone, but your consciousness wouldn't allow it if Megumi had to be hanged due to Satoru's antagonism.

"Your Majesty, your kindness knows no bounds," Megumi said, dropping to one knee before you and lowering his head in the throne room. Satoru had chosen not to grace any of you with his presence, leaving you alone to bid farewell to both Megumi and Hanabi.

Since then, you hadn't spoken with him, nor had he visited your chambers. It was as if he considered you nonexistent at all.

And it is really only a matter of time before he finds out.

But at the very least, you were right. It was never Megumi. That boy was fond of you, he could never. So, you shifted your gaze on the woman next to him.

"Royal Consort Hanabi. A word."

It was the cue for everyone else to exit the throne room. Now, you were faced with this woman once again, and yet one thing remained the same— you were still towering over her.

"Why did you do it?" Your calm gaze betrayed a quiet anger that was unmistakably clear. All because of this woman. It was beyond you, how despite having left your past life behind, she had somehow managed to taint your new one as well.

Hanabi looked away, a hint of shame coloring her features. "Your Majesty knows, so why do you spare me?" she asked quietly.

"How preposterous of you to think that I have spared you," you scoffed. "All this time, have you learned nothing at all from standing by Naoya's side?"

She flinched, visibly making herself smaller at your unforgiving tone, still, she dared herself to meet your eyes.

"Can I ask... why you never consider it as Emperor Naoya's doing?" she seemed more confused more than anything, even as her lips wobbled. "The two of you... you don't really hate each other, so why...?"

You didn't want to dwell on why Naoya had chosen that specific piece of jewelry to return to you. If anything, you'd consider it his final parting gift and be done with it.

But the naivety of this woman was astounding. Someone like her wouldn't last long in your seat. You let out a sigh, torn between feeling sorry for her or not.

"You have much to learn about court affairs, Hanabi. And do not think this is an act of mercy. Sending you back to Naoya is a punishment in itself—you know that by now."

Hanabi trembled where she stood, her breaths were shallow, and her hands shook slightly as she struggled to maintain composure in your presence.

Realizing it was futile to continue the conversation, you decided to conclude it.

"Know that I will never forgive you for what you have done to me." Your sharp eyes squared on her, the cold ire in your tone making her shudder.

In all the years Hanabi had known you, you had never appeared more fearsome than you did now, adorned in silks of deep blue hues, with that crown of diamonds gleaming in your head.

Then, as if sealing her fate, you delivered these parting words:

"You've always coveted what I have, and sooner or later, that will be your downfall."

The palace felt suffocating for you. After sending Hanabi away, you took a walk in the gardens, followed closely by your ladies-in-waiting.

Good heavens, what have you done? You definitely didn't regret saving Megumi, but no matter how, you had committed a great crime against your own empire. A sentence would loom over your head!

And what about your baby? Would Satoru execute you while you still had his child inside you?

The very thought made your vision tilt, and you had to lean on the wall for support. Your ladies-in-waiting were immediately clamoring against each other.

"Leave," you commanded, trying to catch your breath while doing so. "I'll… take some time to rest here."

It took you a moment to realize you had reached the pagoda that Satoru had commissioned for you. This was your first time visiting it. The structure was magnificent, towering in height and adorned with exquisite decorations, leaving you in awe.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby."

You wanted to cry. His voice, soft and smooth, conveyed those words so easily to you. He really loved you, didn't he? What made you so unsure about that undeniable fact?

And now you had broken his heart.

Your hand reached for your belly. Though hidden by your dress, you could distinctly feel that it had become firmer these days, holding the product of your love with Satoru.

"I'm sorry, baby..." you whispered, heartbroken. "I didn't mean to drag you into this too..."

You felt nauseous, your breaths come in short pants, and you felt a headache coming. It didn't really register to you that you had crashed into the candle table, before you collected yourself and ventured deeper inside.

You just wanted a sense of peace and quiet. You would think more later, and right now, the darkness inside felt like a comforting lull for you to rest.

. . .

Or at least that was what you had intended, until you looked back and saw the swirling inferno creeping through the halls.

It didn't take long for Satoru to figure out you had really orchestrated Megumi's release.

More than his wounded pride, it was the searing pain of realizing that you truly believed he was only using you for his own benefit. It felt like an insult to everything he had done for you.

Why couldn't you see that? Just how hard is it for you to understand?

And now that it had come to this... what did you expect from him? Should he really make good on his word and punish you? It tore his heart to even consider it.

However, what was worse was… did you think he was really capable of that too?

Amidst his heartache, suddenly he heard loud commotion from outside his study, yells and cries of help— and it roused him from his thoughts that he came out of his study, only to come right into a familiar face.

"Anyone! Anyone at all!" one of your maids was running, sobbing and hysterical. "Her Majesty! Please help Her Majesty!"

"What is all of this ruckus?" Satoru demanded, catching the maid by the hand, as she stuttered in tears.

And then, everything came crashing down with the next words.

"The Empress— is trapped inside the burning tower!"

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cosmosluckycharms · 6 months ago

Text

Bug Like Angel

pt5

Animal noises

hey guys warning might be ooc cause i am writing this half asleep

"SHOOT- I'M LATE AGAIN!"

You had band practice with the others today

Why are you always late?

You promised them, and you accidentally slept through your alarm. Again.

You forgot Lyla was down for today too, she was focused solely on the anomalies today, so she couldn't wake you up.

Shit.

You scrambled around in your room getting ready for the day.

You put on your clothes and quickly do your hair.

You tried looking for your guitar and forgot you left it downstairs.

You ran downstairs and almost tripped.

You stopped when you saw everyone eating breakfast at the table.

Without you.

It made you less mad that they were together without you, you were used to them being together without you.

It made you sad how you never even realized.

"..You guys have been having breakfast together? Without me?"

They all went silent. You could see the guilty looks on their faces. As soon as Dick opened his mouth to talk, you shut them up.

"Why would you even-" You stopped yourself, you had things to do. "You know what? This is a problem for future y/n."

You grabbed your keys and put it in your bag while you ran around trying to finish getting ready.

"Alfred, I'm gonna be gone till later, I promised my friends I'm gonna be at band practice"

You ran into the bathroom to finish brushing your teeth.

"Also if one of them shows up at the door, please let them in! Hobie's my ride today!" You called out from inside the bathroom

"Alright, young miss." you heard Alfred say from the kitchen.

You did your makeup quickly and put on your shoes.

You grabbed your bag that had your guitar picks inside, along with some essentials like money, a hairbrush, makeup, etc.

You just needed your phone, which you had left in the kitchen.

As soon as you run out of the bathroom and into the dining room you get jumpscared.

"Boo." Hobie jumped, scaring you.

You screamed before play hitting him

Okay, screw you too, spidey-senses!

While you explained to Hobie you were almost done getting ready, you could slightly feel the others glaring at you and Hobie.

it wasn't them trying to figure him out,it was them judging him.

Damian couldn't understand, why were you hanging out with someone like him?! He's too punk and crazy looking, it's so dumb you were excited to hang out with him.

He snapped out of it as soon as he saw you and Hobie about to exit the manor.

He was about to demand to know where you were going, but suddenly as soon as you were about to walk out the door, you felt Hobie pull on the back of the collar of your shirt.

"Hm?" you asked Hobie

"Don't you think you're missing something, Tinkerbell?" Hobie asked, pointing to your back.

"what do you mean? I have everything, I think. I have my lipgloss and everything.." you started rambling to yourself for a bit, checking the mental checklist you had for yourself.

After a few moments, you realize you thought you had your guitar with you!

You did not!

You ran to grab it, everyone looking at you both.

You grabbed your guitar and said bye to everyone.

Jason does not like Hobie.

He didn't even get to introduce himself to your family.

He straight up ignored all of them, besides Alfred, to see you!

He didn't like how excited you were to just be around him.

He didn't like how naturally you guys play fought like siblings.

He didn't like how close you guys seemed.

He didn't like how he walked around like he's been here before.

He didn't like how he had a nickname for you.

He needed to know who this guy was.

But how?

He followed you both to your practice. While dressed in a red hood.

Oops.

He watches as you both get into your car and go to a place to practice music.He sees a tiny 12-year-old girl with short black hair playing electric guitar, like you.

He sees a blonde girl with half her hair of hair shaved off getting her guitar ready while talking a curly haired boy with big doe eyes.

He sees the boy next to her getting his keyboard ready while awkwardly flirting with the girl.

He sees a boy with stupidly luscious hair getting the amps up and ready.

He can see them all getting slightly anxious, he assumes it's because of you being late.

He didn't know its because they could all sense someone watching them.

Finally, you and Hobie walk in and immediately feel the presence.

You text Miguel that you feel a tiny bit anxious and send him your location.

Better safe than sorry!

After an hour or two of playing, you all decide to sit down and take a break.

The feeling someone was watching you was still there, it just died down the slightest bit.

After a while, Pavitr finally spoke up.

"Am I the only one feeling that someone watching us?"

Immediately you all said different variants of yes.

It was so strange, why would anyone watch you guys?

You assumed it was maybe a kid on the street who was listening to your music, but that didn't explain your spidey senses going off.

As soon as you were about to talk about it, all your spidey senses went off, and someone popped up in front of you.

Red Hood, or your brother, Jason Todd.

Immediately everyone got up and gave you knowing glances.

Sure, you never told anyone about your family's identities, but technically everybody in the spiderverse and their moms knew.

Something about you being a mix of two multi-verses.

"Woah! No need to get so defensive!" Red Hood said, putting his hands up.

"why are you here?" you asked, glaring at him dead in the eyes. Well, he was wearing a mask so you looked at him where his eyes were supposed to be.

"Can't someone drop by for a visit? You guys were great, by the way," he said. You weren't sure what he wanted.

At this point, you had Peni hidden behind you. Sure, he wouldn't ever do anything to any kid, but it was a force of habit you had to protect her.

You didn't notice Hobie slowly moving beside you to protect you if anything happened.

"Welp, I just came in to check on regular civilians, nothing wrong with that," he smirked. he knew he was getting under your skin.

"well, it's a good thing we don't need help. Goodbye." you shooed him away like he had done multiple times to you.

He scoffed and left.

You all let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

It was getting late anyway. You should all start packing up and go out someplace to eat.

It was your turn to choose which place to go, and you immediately chose Batburger.

As soon as you all ordered and sat down, you all immediately started talking about why Red Hood popped by.

Your friends all knew about the neglect from everyone, no one understood why they were here.

Why now?

The topics changed throughout everything, from school drama to plans for the future, to plans for future hangouts.

Everything was great, you all grabbed your meals and were eating the mountain of food you guys ordered.

"I'm telling you, the food in my universe is so much better!" Miles argued with you.

"it's so not! It's greasy!" You argued back

"like batburger isn't?" Miles smirked, you both played arguing.

You gasped dramatically. "YOU TAKE THAT BACK!" you play slapped Miles.

"LISTEN DINGBAT I SAID-" Miles rudely pointed his finger in your face.

"GET YOUR FINGER OUT OF MY FACE!" You and Miles started throwing fries at each other's faces, everyone else at the table laughing at how stupid you guys are.

Suddenly, your spidey senses went slightly off. Not enough for you and Miles to notice, but the others stopped laughing.

You didn't understand until you heard a very familiar voice.

"Is there a problem here?" You looked up and saw your other brother, Dick, looking at you guys with his stupid signature smile.

The same smile that made the hairs on your neck stand up.

Immediately you and Miles straightened up. Not in fear, but because you didn't want him to see you enjoying yourself.

"No, Richard."

You see him flinch at the use of his full name and not his nickname. His smile slightly faltered, but not enough for anyone other than you to notice.

"All alright then." he started walking away and you noticed behind him were your other siblings, Tim and Damian.

Shit.

You needed to get out of here.

Gwen immediately noticed you looking slightly panicky and immediately started holding your hand to calm you down.

It worked.

Everyone looked at each other, almost to say "Let's go."

You all left and decided to go to a park to calm down.

You all lay down on the grass in quiet. It was nice.

You don't mind doing anything with them, as long as you are together.

You wish you could stay in this moment forever.

After a while, you and Peni ended up falling asleep.

Noir came and picked up Peni.

Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr had to go home to their respective universes.

Hobie took and carried you home, there's no way he was gonna leave you lying in the middle of Gotham at night.

He made sure to carry everything you had with you into the manor.

Alfred let Hobie in as soon as he saw you being carried by him.

As soon as he got inside, Jason offered to carry you to your room, but Hobie had already started walking toward's it.

"Nah, sorry mate. She's knackered right now and moving her around might make her go mad."

As soon as he got to your room, he dropped you off on your bed took off your shoes and tucked you into bed, kissing you on the forehead, something that he's done to all the spider kids as a form of affection.

As soon as he went downstairs, he started getting questioned by everyone there.

"Who are you?" asked Damian.

"Wouldn't you like to know, weather-boy?" Hobie teased.

"Why is she so attached to you?!" Asked Jason.

"I ain't got a scooby doo," Hobie replied.

Soon, the questions turned into everyone yelling at Hobie for no reason.

You woke up from the commotion.

You went downstairs to see Hobie having a serious face.

That was not a good sign.

You kept walking further until you were on the same floor as everyone else.

"What's going on?" you asked rather meekly.

No one heard, so you spoke louder.

"What's going on?"

Still, no one heard, so you had no choice but to yell.

"WHAT IS GOING ON?!"

Everyone stopped to look at you. Everyone but Hobie was surprised to see you speak that loudly. They weren't used to you using that tone.

Everything was silent and tense for a moment.

"Well? is anyone gonna say anything or are you all gonna act stupid?" You were cranky. You needed a nap.

"We don't want you hanging around those guys anymore." your father, Bruce said.

"I don't care. I still am gonna be with them," you said.

"You don't have a choice," Damian added, agreeing with his father.

"Well nothing is stopping me, I'll still see them," you replied, glaring at Bruce.

"You're under my roof. You can make your own decisions when you aren't living here." Bruce said, rather mad you won't be obident.

"Maybe I don't want to live under your roof..." you muttered, thinking no one would hear.

"What was that?" you heard Dick say, clearly expecting you to crumble and apologize.

"Maybe I don't wanna live under your roof!" you turn to look at Hobie. He looks proud.

"Then leave." you hear Tim say.

"All alright." you start walking to your room to pack your essentials.

Everyone suddenly looks shocked. They weren't expecting that. You felt Hobie put a hand on your shoulder and help you pack. You grab your phone and see you never replied to Miguel's texts where he asked if you're okay.

You reply to him and tell him you're alright. You ask him if you can stay at his apartment because of family problems.

He immediately replies and says yes.

You finish packing up and go downstairs.

You didn't say bye to anyone as you left.

You went to a random abandoned building to use your bracelet to make a portal to Miguel's universe.

Hobie tagged along, to keep you safe.

As soon as he saw Miguel take you inside, he waved bye and went to his universe.

As soon as you got inside, you broke down.

Over how tired you are, over how your family treated you, and how you just wanted a hug.

You fell asleep hugging Miguel that night

hi guys this is kinda bad but like idk i might make a fluffy oneshot of the spiderkids js hanging out cause reader deserves a break idk

tags (please let me know if i missed anyone!): @bath1lda @mariadvorak @coralaura @tsxukikami @hjgdhghoe @coffeeaddictxd @cxcilla @kaitense1 @star-girl-interlud3 @sukaretto-n

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tobeholyistobeempty · 15 days ago

Text

daddy to the rescue - captain john price.

summary: the one where price is real fed up with your shit.

“you want daddy to keep cleanin up your messes? then maybe it’s time you’re dealt with like the brat you fuckin are.”

cw: solider reader afab. jail inaccuracies. slight dubious themes. mean dom price. ooc imo. john price is a weapon. mentions violence. slight daddy kink. authority kink. dirty talk. slight degradation.

—————-

you’ve been pacing the width of the cell for fifteen minutes.

it’s small - metal bench, metal toilet, metal everything - one flickering light overhead and a draft that stinks like mildew and piss. theres a guy in the corner tweaking out, scratching at his neck, muttering about shadow people that won’t stop following him. another lying flat on the floor, staring up at you like he’s imagining what your insides taste like. hasn’t blinked once. and the third, well, he’s asleep - except when he jolts awake every two minutes screaming bloody murder before dropping back into whatever nightmare he’s clawing his way through.

it’s not an exaggeration to say you’re losing your fucking mind.

“let me the fuck out of here,” you hiss through the bars. “point proven. lesson learned. whatever.”

despite your efforts, the cop at the desk doesn’t even flinch. just hums. sips his shit coffee like he’s sitting pretty behind a desk job that means no one ever swings at him.

“not a chance,” he says, smiling like a smug little prick.

you imagine cracking his mug over his head. watching it shatter down his uniform. he’s the one who cuffed you and tossed you in without so much as reading your rights. called you a wildcard. told you to sit with it. left the restraints on like he thought it’d teach you a lesson.

well, you’ve been sitting, alright.

sitting and stewing and thinking - thinking about how that stupid bastard at the bar should’ve lost a hand for grabbing your ass like that. thinking about how he’ll wake up tomorrow with only a headache and some stitches, while you rot in a cage surrounded by the worst fucking breed of humanity - your wrists bruised and your mouth dry from clenching it too long.

not to mention the split lip. or the other injuries that the unfortunate souls nearby suffered.

collateral damage. they’ll be fine.

“atleast give me a phone call,” you growl back.

“you get one when shift changes.” he leans back like it’s funny. “hour or so.”

you take a step forward before your brain catches up, pressing your forehead against cool metal.

“you fucking serious?” you hiss. “you know this is bullshit, right?”

he doesn’t even blink. “i’ll make it two hours if you don’t shut up.”

you sit again. eventually.

shoulders tight, pulse still pounding. adrenaline leaking slow through your system just steadily enough to keep your leg bouncing and your thoughts loud. you can feel it under your skin - that itch. that flicker of want.

so of course, that’s when corner-guy pipes up.

“you one’a them military types?” he rasps, still scratching at his skin like something’s crawling beneath it. “start fights for fun, uh? get bored of killin people?”

you don’t answer.

“now look at ya.” he stands. “bet you cried like a bitch when they cuffed you.”

and that, well. that makes you grin. slow and sharp and just crooked enough to mean yes, i’m gonna hurt you. and no, i won’t regret it.

“not as hard as the asshole who touched me cried,” you purr. “want a demonstration?”

and he laughs, it’s shrill and too fucking loud. none of the cops even blink.

so you stand too.

you remember you’re cuffed - doesn’t matter. you’ve fought in worse shape - half-conscious, bleeding out with your boot sole melted to concrete. so you square up. lean forward just enough to bait him.

he smiles, opens his mouth to say something else-

then stops when the door buzzes.

the whole building changes in an instant. energy snaps and then cracks still. desk cop sits up straight, the officers guarding the cell block blanche. someone mutters something behind the glass and even the fuckers half dead in the room with you shift where they’re sitting.

you follow the ripple of tension to the front - and that’s when you see him.

captain john price.

“uh, hey there, sir,” the desk cop starts, voice cracking like he’s going through puberty. “i assume you’re-“

price lifts a hand, and nods toward your cell.

“…oh, fuck.” you exhale.

and as if he heard you, he gifts you a look that cuts clean through the bars.

a look that says oh fuck is right.

the officer who hauled you in doesn’t wait for orders, which is probably the smartest move he’s made all night. he’s already at the cell, fumbling the keys, unlocking the door like he’s disarming a bomb. he marches over to where you’re glued and grabs you, grip on your bicep tight - tight enough to leave a bruise, but not on purpose. you guess it’s just the only way he can steady his hands.

you’re pulled out of the cell, jacket torn, blood drying stiff down your jaw. you look like a stray dog they had to chase into traffic and pout like one too as he drops you right in front of captain like you’re his to claim. you take him in and your stomach twists tighter than the cuffs. he’s got rain in his beard, a storm in his eyes, gloves still on, and that hat casting shadows like war paint across his face.

he just stares at you.

and fuck, it’s worse than yelling.

“uh…hey, cap.”

you go for light. maybe even playful. you fail.

“this one’s a real peach.” the asshole behind you mutters. you mentally give him the finger.

price ignores it and exhales, slow and heavy, like your name tastes like a goddamn mistake in his mouth.

then he looks past you, to the officer behind.

“take the cuffs off.” he grits.

the officer hesitates. “sir, we need to-“

price takes a step. only one. “take. the cuffs. off.”

you shudder. can’t even help it. it’s just that voice - steel in the vowels, grave-dirt deep - the one you’ve heard a million times before under worse circumstances, the one that makes everyone question if the devils name was really lucifer or if maybe it was actually his.

the officer springs into action, fumbling to do as price says without any further provocation.

you bristle as he gets a little too touchy. “watch your hands, asshole.”

the key clinks and then your arms fall forward. your wrists burn like hell, but you don’t rub them. you don’t even move. you just stand there tense and buzzing - face hot and skin crawling because you know what comes next. you’re in trouble, but not law type trouble. not anymore.

his kind of trouble.

“daddy to the rescue.” the cop whispers in your ear before he steps back and nods to captain. “she’s clear to go.”

and you know price heard it - the first part. can tell by the way his jaw ticks, even when he only nods in response.

the cop walks away. goes back behind the desk.

and still, captain hasn’t blinked. he’s just staring at you, ocean fury cutting across your face - taking in the wreckage you’ve made of yourself on one of your only nights off in weeks. you’re too stubborn to look away, too smart to not be scared, yet too fucking desperate to break the tension to keep your mouth shut.

“i can expl-“

“don’t.” he flatlines. your pulse does too, for a moment. especially when he steps closer. “you open your mouth before we’re alone again i swear to god i’ll find the nearest closet just to remind you how we do discipline in the field.”

well fuck.

“am i understood?” he mutters.

you nod.

and then he moves - grabbing your arm and dragging you toward the door. past the stunned officers averting their eyes, away from all the leering inmates and drunken idiots detained to sleep it off. through the threshold of the door and out into the cold of the night.

he drags you down the precinct steps without sparing you a glance. ��m so fucking sick of your shit written in every step of his gait. premeditated murder aura stoked in every breath. he’s unshaken even when you misstep, your boot sliding slightly on the wet concrete - just yanks you forward harder, like walking beside him is a privilege he’s letting you keep out of patience, not mercy.

the night is quiet - it bites as you look up to see the truck at the curb. engine still ticking warm.

his silence makes your ears ring.

and so you try again. technically, you’re alone now. technically. “look, captain, i—”

he stops.

stops so abruptly your lungs punch the back of your ribs. you nearly crash into him, barely catching yourself as he turns - slow - and stares down at you like you’re some classified intel that got half the team killed.

“what is it bout silence that makes you uncomfortable?” he breathes, eyes raking your face. then he squints, and your blood runs cold. “you enjoy makin my life hell? that it?”

it’s not even a question. it’s a diagnosis.

you chew your cheek. “define hell, sir.”

wrong answer, a voice screams in your head the second after you say it. the way price levels you with a look says he must agree.

“third time in two months we’ve done this.” he says, voice deeper and darker than the night sky. “m’ startin to wonder if this is a game to you. being reckless like you know i’ll always come running when you fuck up - cause that’s what daddy does, yeah?”

and stupidly - idiotically - you snort. you shouldn’t, but you do because it bursts out of you without warning. it’s reflex. defence. a fucking tic.

he’s not your daddy. but also, fuck you? yeah he fuckin is.

you clear your throat. “uhm. no, sir?”

price blinks. the wind cuts between you. ruffles his coat. stirs the hair at your forehead.

and then he inhales - so sharp and disarming you don’t even notice as his hand shoots up until suddenly he’s spinning you and shoving you hard into the side of the truck. your shoulder knocks the door. your breath catches in your throat.

“one night off,” he growls, “and you use it to start a fuckin bar fight. sixteen injured. three officers involved. two concussions.”

he leans in. his lips brush your ear, not even close to gentle.

“you’ve got five seconds to convince me you haven’t lost the last working part of your fucking brain.”

you blink. “he touched my ass-“

“and you broke a pint over his head. fair.” he cuts you off, doesn’t miss a beat. “but you didn’t stop there. saw red and decided it was open fuckin season, yeah?”

yeah. pretty much.

“i’m sorry.” you breathe.

“you’re not.” he grits. “you’re addicted to pissin me off.”

and maybe it’s the cold - maybe it’s the adrenaline still humming through your blood. or maybe it’s just him - the gravel of his voice, the smell of smoke and rain soaked into his coat - but you smile.

not a real one. not a sorry one - a stupid, bloody, smug little thing.

his head tilts. “think this is funny, do you?”

“no, sir.”

his brows lifts. “then why the fuck are you smiling?”

his fingers dig deeper into your shoulder - enough to make you wince - enough to make you grind your teeth just to keep the pathetic involuntary groan at bay. you open your mouth but close it just as fast, because you know you don’t have an answer that he’ll like.

your throat clicks when you swallow, and that’s what he clocks. not your grin - but the fear behind it.

“yeah,” he mutters, voice fizzing rough across your nerves. “that’s what i thought.”

your back hits the truck a little harder as he crowds you now - all body heat and storm breath - one gloved hand flat against the metal beside your head and the other holding deaths grip on your jaw.

he leans in. “you smile like that again, ill fuck it off your face.”

your lungs stutter. he doesn’t care.

“tonight, you’re done makin decisions. done thinking for yourself until i forget i had some wet-behind-the-ears rookie call me at 2am to tell me one of my best assets got picked up like some fuckin street thug.”

you blink. heart pummelling. his face is close enough now that you can feel the scrape of his breath across your lips.

he exhales a growl from his chest. it vibrates through you. “you want daddy to keep cleanin up your messes? then maybe it’s time you’re dealt with like the brat you fuckin are.”

you suck in a breath like you’re starved for it and try to force a response, anything, but he shakes his head before you can even try. final.

“no no. i didn’t ask you to speak.”

you nod. the earth spins sideways - because you’ve seen him mad. you’ve never seen him like this.

he hums, like he’s pleased you’re finally getting it.

“the ice you’re on’s gettin real thin, sweetheart, so listen close.” he breathes, red in his eyes. sin on his lips. “i say sit, you drop. i say beg, you fuckin whimper. you don’t talk unless i ask you to talk and even then, the only things i wanna hear outta that mouth is ‘yes’ and ‘please sir’ until i can trust you’ll behave.”

jesus christ-

his thumb drags slow across your bottom lip, catching on a split from the fight. “do i make myself clear?”

you swallow. nod some pathetic, desperate little thing.

“yes sir.”

“there we go.” he purrs - a noise that sends heat somewhere you’re sure he meant it to. “that’s more like it.”

wind howls again in the space he lets linger between you, and then he lets go. only after he’s memorized the exact shade of red youve turned.

“don’t you ever, ever make me come find you like this again.” he says, then he steps back and yanks the truck door open. “get in the truck.”

and you do.

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lenitriedtowritestuff · 30 days ago

Text

Drunken Affection

Natasha RomanoffxReader // Angst/Fluff

*Images are not mine, credit to its creators and sources

Summary: A drinking bet. Suppressed feelings. A late night work session. Should be fun, no?

Content Warning: Drinking, (very) brief mention of vomit, sad Nat, soft Nat, maybe OOC Nat idk, not proofread

Word Count: 2,387

A/N: I think I lost the plot at the end but its 1:30am and I work at 8, so we’re powering through. Didn't proofread, I'll do that tomorrow, maybe

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist | Recced Fics Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff was not a heavy drinker. She’ll enjoy an extra dry martini here, a few beers there, but she never went beyond the mild buzz of alcohol. She didn’t like the feeling of tingling hands and a swaying world nor did she like the idea of being caught with her inhibitions lowered, even if surrounded by people she trusted.

But all of that went straight out the window the moment Clint claimed he could outdrink her, with his stupidly smug smile and teasing laugh.

It was stupid, accepting the bet. She knew that going in. And yet it had brought out something so childish within her. A competitive spark had been set off, one that reminded her of races through a house that was never her own, of climbing trees on a backyard she never saw again, remnants of normalcy she was made to leave behind.

How could she back down from that?

The first two shots of Tony’s expensive vodka had been okay. It was at the third that her hands started to feel tingly and her mouth was going numb. Clint started quietly laughing to himself after the fourth shot. At the fifth shot, Clint started falling dozing off on the couch. It was that last shot of scotch whiskey that declared Natasha victorious and Clint the lonesome king of the Tower’s couch that night.

That’s how Natasha found herself stumbling towards her room, muttering Russian curses for allowing herself to be a willing participant in such a dumb bet and at Clint for even leveling it in the first place. The hallway was stretching out before her, each step forward seemingly moving her away from her room. This was made worse by the sickening feeling of the world swaying under her feet.

Maybe Clint had the right idea in falling asleep on the couch.

The hall’s dimness was interrupted by faint traces of light leaking out from edges of the conference room’s door frame. She didn’t need to be sober to know who would still be working inside. A flash of your face flickered in her mind, a mental picture of you working on a laptop, your tired features illuminated by its fluorescent light.

And she smiled.

Perhaps it was the alcohol running through her veins or maybe it was the familiar, terrible ache that was settling in her chest, but she quickly decided she wanted– needed– to see you.

After some difficulty, Natasha reached the door and was momentarily blinded by the bright lights that shone overhead when she slinked into your space. The door closed quietly behind her with a soft click, one that you hadn’t taken notice of.

The central table held scattered document files marked in yellow highlighter, all fanned out in front of you. The offending highlighter had been tucked behind your ear, uncapped. You sat at one of the boring gray office chairs that littered the room, hair slightly mussed, the top three buttons of your cream-colored blouse undone with your black blazer wrapped around the back of your seat.

You still hadn’t realized someone was in the room with you yet. Your eyes were glued to the laptop screen that laid on your lap, your legs resting atop the office chair across from you. It was clear you were reading something, with your brow furrowed in concentration, but Natasha did not miss the way your eyes were drooping shut, nor the exhaustion carved into your features. Were you a field agent, she would be concerned at your lack of awareness and attentiveness.

Your reading is interrupted by a yawn and you take the moment to rub your hands over your face, as if doing everything in your power to remain awake.

Natasha smiles as she watches you. It was small, a quirk of the lips, one that you had missed.

You were still rather new to the whole operation, having joined just barely a year ago as the team’s archivist. Tony thought it would be a good idea to have someone to sort through and store their mission files, especially after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. and since the Avengers’ hunt for Hydra has taken up most of their time. You were often seen at the Tower, caught in between meetings with Maria Hill and the other Avengers, as well as the archive that Tony had set up somewhere in Upstate New York.

Natasha had developed something of a soft spot for you. What had started as nods of acknowledgement when you crossed each other in the halls turned to wordlessly getting coffee for each other during long and hard days, to eventually grabbing lunch together whenever you could.

Her smile did not last long though. It faltered at the dull ache in her chest. An odd sense of longing was taking over, one that she had spent so much time burying deep down inside her.

That’s when you finally notice her. Bleary eyes widen at the sight of her, a large smile replacing the slight frown that had been painted on your lips. Perhaps, had she not been drunk, she would have noticed the renewed shine that sparkled in your gaze. How your eyes glowed with just a bit too much adoration.

“Hey, Nat,” you stifle another yawn, “didn’t hear you come in.”

Suddenly, that ache in her chest feels all the more heavier and the distance between you feels all too big.

“Hey.” Natasha smiles again, still small but no less genuine. She crosses the room, any indicator of her non-sober state mostly absent from her step, before taking a seat on top of the table right in front of you.

You cocked your head to the side, squinting as you watched her with playful suspicion.

“You’re smiling.”

“What about it? I smile,” Natasha replies, pushing away some of the scattered files that surrounded her.

“No, you smirk.” You set your laptop on the table beside her, turning in your chair to give her your full attention. “What did you do?”

You’re watching her with an expectant grin, arms crossed over your chest.

“I was drinking with Clint,” she explains simply, avoiding your gaze.

“You were drinking for something other than mission or social purposes?” You raised your eyebrows in surprise, faint amusement tugging at the corners of your lips.

“It was a bet,” Natasha stated simply.

“And you won,” you smiled. It was a statement, not a question.

“And I won.” It was a stupid bet, yet Natasha could not hold back the victorious smirk that crossed her lips.

“There it is.” A quiet laugh escapes you.

Natasha inhaled sharply, her heart clenching tightly in her chest. The ache was becoming a heavy pit, a desperate longing for something she couldn’t quite place. She leaned forwards slightly, her hand on the very edge of the table, searching for something to hold onto.

“Should I be checking for alcohol poisoning?” you joked, tilting your head to the side when your eyes flicker from her hazy expression to her death grip on the edge of the table.

But she doesn’t reply. Instead, she watches you with soft eyes. She couldn’t explain the feeling that was taking over nor the tightness in her chest.

Natasha Romanoff was a fighter, not a lover. At least, that’s what she had convinced herself of. Her hands had been trained to kill, her mind primed for deception, her body forged to be a weapon.

She was not created for softness. She was not made to feel the warmth of delicate hands caressing her skin. She was not made to be looked upon with a loving gaze. She was made to take the punch and to punch back harder. To take the bullet and to still get back up.

And you? You were soft. You were kind. You were good.

And she was none of those things. She was blunt. She was rough around the edges. Her hands were soaked in blood.

Yet her heart ached terribly in your presence. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of you. Her hands itched to feel the warmth of your skin. Her very bones ached in your absence.

But Natasha Romanoff had been forged for war, not for love. So she never allowed herself to do more than watch you from afar with an all too familiar ache.

Besides, why would you want someone whose hands were so soaked in red? whose life will never even glimpse redemption, no matter how hard she worked for it?

“Nat?” Your voice came through quietly, the softness of your tone ringing loudly in her ears.

“You should be in bed,” Natasha comments, sidestepping your worry.

There was a short pause from you. Your gaze was sharp, assessing every small movement and gesture. A soft sigh escapes you, your shoulders dropping, before you smile again.

“Yeah, so should you,” you shove her thigh playfully, and she blames the drinks in her system for your lingering touch on her skin.

“I don’t need sleep,” Natasha mused, even though she could feel her eyes drooping.

“Yeah, the big, tough Black Widow is too badass for sleep,” you teased as you stood from your chair, stretching your arms out as you did.

“Now you’re getting it.” There’s a soft smile on her lips as she says the words. Her eyes are almost fully closed, the lull of the very thing she is denying tugging sharply at her.

“I sure am,” you reply, your tone filled with sarcasm, “that’s why you’re falling asleep on your mission report from Norway.”

She merely hums in acknowledgement, not really hearing what you’re saying.

“Come on, I’m getting you to bed.” Natasha feels you slot yourself between her legs, your hands wrapping around her before you lift her off the table.

Normally, she would never allow this. She would’ve had you flat on your ass the moment you even thought to pick her up. But the alcohol coursing through her system had her mind working slower and her suppressed feelings teetering on the edge of spilling out.

So she didn’t fight you. Instead, her arms wrap around your neck instinctively, her body relaxing against yours as you hoist her off the table with a strength she didn’t know you possessed.

“Careful, I might throw up on you,” Natasha mumbled, tucking her head into the crook of your neck.

“I won’t mind, as long as I know you’re safe in bed,” you replied, but Natasha hadn’t really heard you. Instead, she was focused on how the ache in her chest felt lighter. How her bones were flooded with an unfamiliar calmness and comfort. How she somehow wanted you closer.

She was starting to doze off, enveloped in the all too welcoming warmth of your hold around her, until she heard you mumble, “I never pegged you for a sleepy drunk.”

Natasha mumbles something back, something not even she could understand or maybe she just simply doesn’t remember it.

Regardless, your response was the same.

A quiet chuckle with a shake of your head, followed by the words, “You really are something else, Romanoff.”

It wasn’t before long that Natasha was laying under her bed clovers, the world spinning at a nauseating pace.

“Hey,” you began softly, “you doing okay?”

She hums in response, despite the heaviness in her limbs and the sour feeling in her stomach. She hears you sigh quietly, and she peeks her eyes open when she hears you dragging something across the floor. She sees you moving a trash can beside her bed and dimming the lights from the lamp in the corner of her room.

“Do you need anything before I go?”

Her eyes open wider upon hearing those words. There was a pang in her chest upon the idea of you leaving. It takes everything within her to keep her from reaching out to you.

Except that the words she was trying to suppress still escaped her mouth.

“Stay? Just for a bit?” Her voice came through quietly, almost sheepishly. There was a soft expression on her face, a rare vulnerability to her features making her seem younger than she is.

“Yeah,” you answer gently and without hesitation, “Yeah, of course.”

She smiles her small smile again, the one that fills your chest with warmth, before tapping the empty space beside her and you wasted no time climbing into the bed beside her.

The room fell into an easy silence. Natasha’s eyes were drooping shut again, but she wasn’t fighting it this time.

“Don’t go,” she whispered quietly, and she doesn’t remember uttering those words the following day.

“I won’t go,” you promised, and it's almost as if you had said the words she needed to hear. She finally drifts off to sleep with the same calmness in her chest she had felt the moment you wrapped your arms around her not even twenty minutes ago.

You laid awake for a while, watching the rare tranquility and peacefulness of her features. You counted the rise and fall of her chest, a subtle reminder of the danger of her job– of all their jobs– and the frailty of life.

Until Natasha stirs slightly and you couldn’t help but freeze in place, almost afraid that merely staring would wake her up. You look away, face burning with embarrassment upon realizing that the staring was probably bordering on creepy.

But your gaze slowly gravitated towards her again. Her hair was already slightly mussed by sleep and it was only now that you had picked up on her soft snoring.

You reach your hand out towards her, but stop just a few inches away from the strand of hair that had fallen over her eyes. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow assassin who has never trusted easily, had allowed you to witness her in a vulnerable moment. Furthermore, she was allowing you to take care of her. Perhaps it was baseless or maybe even stupid, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that the action would be too affectionate, too intimate or that perhaps you’d be overstepping.

So you let your hand fall to your side and instead turn to watch the ceiling, a quiet hollowness filling your chest.

“I’ll be right here with you, Natasha,” you sigh, your whispered declaration falling on deaf ears. “Whatever you need.”

#marvel #marvel fanfic #natasha fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader

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pinkolve · 3 months ago

Text

Sharing Is Caring

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Summary: You’re Aaron Hotchner’s daughter who works in human resources, after a few weeks at your new job you finally go to visit your father. He offers to introduce you to his team, and you quickly take a liking to a certain skinny nerd.

Genre: Fluff!

CW: fem!reader, early seasons!spencer reid, second person point of view, one use of y/n, probably ooc aaron hotchner, pretty sure that’s it!

Word Count: 1.0k

A/N: Very short one-shot that I kind of hate!! I was bored and needed something to write so…This was the result of that.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

You walk into the bullpen, heels smushing over the carpet. You’re used to your heels being extremely loud, the freshly mopped floors making them clack. You make your way past several desks, people focused on piles upon piles of paperwork. You spot a desk further back, home to the cutest brunette you’ve ever seen. He’s the only one who glances up, making direct eye contact with you. You give him a small smile and a wink. He quickly looks back down at his papers with pink dusting his cheeks.

You knock on Aaron’s office door. You stand there for a moment before his voice calls out, “Come in!” You push the door open and walk in, shutting it quietly behind you.

“Hey.” You greet, hoping to get him to finally look up from his desktop. He does, eyes lighting up when he sees you.

“Hey! What are you doing up here?” He asks, immediately standing from his chair to walk around and hug you.

“Thought I’d see how you’re doing, plus I don’t have much to do downstairs.” You smile up at him and he shakes his head.

“I’m sure you have plenty to do, you just don’t want to do it.” He chuckles a little when you nod.

“Very true!” He pulls away, leaning against the front of his desk.

“Well, if you really don’t want to do your job, I’m sure the team would love to meet you.” You look at him with wide eyes.

“No! No, I wouldn’t want to bother them! Besides, I really should do some work.” You insist. But Aaron knows you, and he knows you’re just making excuses.

“You aren’t going to bother them. They’ve been doing paperwork for nearly five hours straight, I’m sure they’d love a break.” He stands back to his full height and gently grabs your shoulder. “Come on.” He says, pulling the door open and nudging you outside. He follows right behind you, shutting the door and leading you down the small steps. Once he reaches the group of desks closest to his office he clears his throat. The entirety of his team looks up at the sound, all attention on him.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. She works for human resources, just started a few weeks ago.” Aaron says proudly, smile wide. His team looks at him in terror, none of them have ever seen him smile this big.

“Nice to meet you! How are you liking the job?” Emily asks you first. You look over at her before answering.

“It’s nice! I haven’t had much to contribute yet, but I’m hoping that’ll change soon enough.” You answer, a hopeful smile taking up your features.

“Oh, it definitely will! My first few weeks here, I was practically useless.” Emily assured you. You simply nod at her, having no proper verbal response. You start to feel that social anxiety bubble up inside you, making you feel insecure. You’re about to zone out when you see the brunette boy open his mouth. You can see words tumble out but your ears are ringing. You feel a nudge at your side and you quickly look up, ears clearing.

“What?” You ask timidly.

“Reid was asking how old you are.” Aaron says, resting a hand on your lower back. He can see the nervousness all over your face.

“Twenty-one.” You respond simply, staring back at him. He nods with the hint of a smile, his pink cheeks returning. You stare at him with sparkling eyes, your own smile widening and all anxiety seemingly disappearing from your body. He glances away from you for a second, only to look back not long after. You stare at each other for a while. Spencer should feel uncomfortable, just staring back at someone like this, but for some strange reason you make him feel so calm.

“Okay, well you should probably get back to work.” Aaron says, cutting off your trance. You look back up at him, shaking your head frantically.

“Right! Right, sorry! I’ll see you later!” You say quickly, before running out of the bullpen.

“So, who is that?” Morgan asks, eyebrows raised.

“What do you mean?” Aaron asks back.

“Who is she to you? Cousin, niece…girlfriend?” Morgan trails off, hoping to god the last option is out of the question. Spencer looks up at the mention of ‘girlfriend’ , his heart racing. Why was his heart racing?

“She’s my daughter.” Aaron answers simply, making Spencer’s heart slow down. Morgan stares at him in utter disbelief, the rest of the team shouting at him from different directions. He only laughs before making his way back up to his office, ignoring their begging for answers.

***

You make your way out of the building, staring down at your phone. The screen mere inches from your face as you try to get an uber. You push open the front door and run into someone the second you exit. You stumble backwards, looking up quickly.

“I’m so sorry!” It’s him, Spencer Reid. You stare at him with a slack jaw, all words failing you at this moment.

“No, that’s alright! I wasn’t watching where I was going.” He says, voice cracking slightly.

“Neither was I.” You reply honestly. “I was trying to get an uber but it’s not working at all.” You look back down at your phone, pouting with furrowed brows. “I really am sorry for running into you like that, I haven’t been thinking properly at all today.” You chuckle a little, rubbing your forehead. Ever since you saw him in the bullpen, it’s like your brain completely shut down.

“I haven’t either, honestly.” Spencer practically whispers. “My lyft should be here soon…If you want to share?” He proposes.

“That would be perfect! Thank you so much!” You yell happily. You look at him, smile so wide it pushes up your cheeks. Spencer can’t help but think it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

#x reader fanfiction #x reader fic #criminal minds #spencer reid #x reader fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic

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ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes · 5 months ago

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A Super Soldier's Soft Spot

pairing: post tfatws!bucky barnes x fem!reader

genre: flufff

el's thoughts: first time writing for bucky!! it's probably a lil ooc, but i figured i'll post it anyway. hope yall like it!!

masterlist

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. Winter Soldier. Ex-Winter Soldier. Avenger. The-One-With-The-Metal-Arm.Uncle Bucky. Babe.

All are names Bucky answers to. Granted, the last one was the latest addition to the list. He met Y/N at a little backyard barbeque at the Willson’s, that Sarah had put together. Sam invited him and he was promptly introduced to Y/N—Sarah’s friend since middle school. Bucky hated to admit that Sam had finally found him a match but he couldn’t deny how quickly he fell for Y/N.

She was a breath of fresh air in the storm that was his life. Cliche. He knows.

“Hurry up! We’re going to be late!”

Bucky chuckled, “I’m the one closest to the door, Y/N/N.” He tugged his leather jacket on and grabbed his keys from the key hook by the door. “Plus, you know your family doesn’t start dinner at the time they say they would. We’ll still get there early.”

Y/N hopped on one shoe-clad foot as she slipped the other shoe on, clutching her canvas tote bag in her other hand. “Still.” She stood up straight in front of him with a bright, teasing smile and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Okay, let’s go, Super Soldier.”

Bucky rolled his eyes playfully and held the door open for her, followed her out, and locked it behind him. If anyone asked him just five years ago if he saw himself going to family dinners once a month he would have laughed in their face. Yet, here he was, helping his girl into his car to drive them to her monthly family dinner.

Pulling into the large crowded driveway of Y/N’s family home, she reached across the center console and squeezed Bucky’s hand excitedly. Y/N’s older sister had texted her beforehand, letting her know that the kids would be joining them. Since Y/N’s nieces and nephews are in their early to mid-teen years, the kids seem to always have plans of their own on the weekend. The kids had grown incredibly fond of Bucky, already claiming him as their favorite. Y/N had tried to warn and prepare him for how overwhelming her nieces and nephews could be but Bucky surprised her the first time he met her family.

Bucky didn’t realize how much he missed being in a family setting, having forgotten how his own mother and sister were.

As soon as Bucky and Y/N stepped out of the car, the front door swung open hazardly.

“Uncle Bucky!”

Bucky barely had time to register the title before a whirlwind of limbs tackled him. He allowed himself to stumble back playfully, wrapping his metal arm around Y/N’s youngest niece, Ava, who clung to him like a koala.

“Hey, kid,” he chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Thought you had plans with your friends?”

Ava grinned. “Canceled. I had to be here. You promised to help me with my soccer drills.”

“Ah, right,” Bucky nodded while a smirk tugged at his lips. “You think you’re ready to take me on, huh?”

She crossed her arms, feigning confidence. “I’m faster than you.”

“Sure, kid,” he said, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm as he followed Y/N up the steps.

Inside, the house was alive with chatter, and the smell of something delicious and savory, simmered on the stove. Y/N’s mom greeted them first, pulling Bucky into a hug before she moved to kiss Y/N’s cheek. It had taken him a while to get used to the casual affection Y/N’s family showed him, but now? Now, it didn’t send him into fight mode. Now, he let himself melt into it.

“Bucky. Sweetie, you look too thin.” Y/N’s mom fussed, cupping his face. “Are you eating enough?”

“I–”

“He eats more than enough, Mom.” Y/N cut him off with a laugh. “Don’t let the super soldier metabolism fool you.”

Before Bucky could defend himself, Y/N’s two oldest nephews appeared, grinning as they exchanged knowing looks.

“You bringing the metal arm for football, or are you scared you’ll embarrass yourself?” Tyler, the eldest, challenged with a smirk.

Bucky raised a brow. “Kid, I fought aliens. You really think I’m scared of a game of backyard football?”

“Prove it then.”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head as Bucky let himself be dragged out to the backyard by the boys. “You’d think they’d stop testing him by now.”

Her older sister, Marie, smirked, handing Y/N a drink. “Please. They love him. He’s the first guy you’ve brought home who actually keeps up with them.”

Y/N smiled, watching Bucky as he jogged across the backyard, already intercepting a pass with an ease that left her nephews gaping. He looked so… happy. Like he belonged.

Like family.

Marie nudged her side. “He’s the one, huh?”

Y/N glanced at her sister before looking back at Bucky, who had just scooped up Ava onto his shoulders as she cheered.

“Yeah,” she murmured, heart swelling at the thought of Bucky being a part of her family permanently. “Yeah, I think he is.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagines #marvel #marvel imagines #marvel x reader #ellora.writes

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halesinger · 1 month ago

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. paul lahote x reader

“lemme put it in baby, c’mon.” paul’s lips brush over the sensitive skin of your neck with every word. he mouths hotly against your pulse, as if he’s struggling not to sink his canines into your flesh. he feels like such a fucking leech. every instinct in his shapeshifting body is telling him to claim, claim, claim.

he pants like a mutt when he grinds his bulge against you. the only thing stopping him from slipping inside being his cargo shorts and your cotton panties. he can smell your essence, your arousal, your sweet fucking slick. yet you’re still teasing him. denying him of what he wants, what he needs. his whole body aches for you.

his body hovers above you. his visibly strong arms supporting him, so he doesn’t crush you with his weight. your legs are wrapped loosely around his hips, giving him access to your sweet heat. his supernatural warmth encompasses your half naked body, the worn t-shirt and underwear starting to feel like too many layers.

when you teasingly roll your hips back into his, he lets out a full body shudder. he full on moans into your neck, the sound going straight into your ear. his hand clenches your sheets into a fist so hard, you can hear the fabric rip on the corners of the bed. it’s like a new wave of desperation washes over him.

“c’mon pretty,” paul pants against your jaw. the hardness of his boner presses on your cloth-covered clit deliciously when he gives another roll of his hips. despite feeling good, the friction isn’t enough. he trails kisses up to your lips and huffs like he’s already fucking you.

“you want me.” he says it like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. his lips brush yours as he speaks in a mumbly tone, “please, baby. just say yes. lemme make you feel good..”

he shifts so his knees support his weight and he can grope at your body freely with his large hands. they slide under the hem of your baggy, sleep shirt, and immediately find purchase on your waist. his calloused palms tickle your skin as they slide up and down your torso, occasionally squeezing at your curves. he loves your body. healthy and warm. all his. his to protect and love and worship. his mate.

his hands slide up to your chest, groping eagerly at your bare breasts from under your sleep-shirt. he leans down so his front is covering yours once more and collides your mouths together. soft, needy sounds travel from his mouth to yours, as the kiss progressively gets more and more heated. he needs you. why are you teasing him like this?

“c’mon, c’mon..” he whispers into the kiss. his lips part desperately against yours while you kiss him back with just as much fervor. he swipes his thumbs over your nipples, while his hot tongue dances around with yours. he’s trying to do anything to convince you.

by the time the kiss breaks, paul is panting hotly against your lips. his eyes are lidded with need, and he’s rock hard against your core.

“please?” he pleads once more. there’s broken tone to his voice and his brows are furrowed with desperation. he nudges his nose against yours affectionately, his heart beating a mile a minute. all it takes is one single nod of your head, to have paul flipping you over onto your hands and knees. he practically rips your cotton underwear off, with promises to please his mate.

↳ ahh this is so ooc, sorry 😞 this is my first time writing something other than headcannons, plus i haven’t written anything since october last year. pls excuse the bad quality :( and remember requests are always open!

tags: @anxiousdiosa

⟡ likes and reblogs are appreciated !!

#paul lahote x reader #twilight #paul lahote #paul lahote imagines #the twilight saga #twilight imagines #twilight x reader #alex meraz #twilight smut

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wordsofwhimsy · 5 months ago

Text

𝙀𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙔𝙤𝙪 - Pt. 2

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

【Ａ/Ｎ】 ⦂ I am not even gonna lie to y’all… I am really excited about this fic lmaoo. I love the direction it’s heading in and feel soo inspired writing it. More to come! Also as a reminder I'm not specific with what variant this is so you can fill in the details at your own discretion. ALSO I have not read the comics!!! So I am definitely taking liberties here - apologies for anything that seems OOC. But I mean, this is an AU Mark so how OOC can he be? Lastly this wasn't proofread! Too eager to put it out. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

【ＰＡＩＲＩＮＧ】 ⦂ Variant!Mark Grayson x Reader

【ＷＡＲＮＩＮＧＳ】 ⦂ Possessive behavior, talk of violence

【ＩＮＳＰＩＲＡＴＩＯＮ】 ⦂ None

→【Ｐａｒｔ　Ｏｎｅ】←

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The shock of the kiss still hung in the air, a lingering tension that seemed to buzz between you both. Your lips felt warm, a stark contrast to the cold weight of his hands still holding you at arm’s length.

Mark pulled away slowly, his smirk spreading across his face like he knew exactly what you were thinking, what you were feeling. His eyes—dark, predatory—tracked your every movement, as if he were savoring the discomfort you were trying so hard to hide.

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?” His voice was low, smooth, and almost... satisfied.

You didn’t know what to say. The confusion inside of you was suffocating, your heart still racing from the intensity of the kiss, but also from the raw audacity of it. You had a thousand questions spinning in your mind, but none of them seemed to form into words. Your hands instinctively pressed to your lips, almost as if you could wipe away the sensation of him still lingering on your skin.

Mark didn’t give you the space to collect yourself, taking a step closer, his eyes gleaming with amusement at the way you still stood there, stunned. He could feel your discomfort, and it thrilled him.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it,” he teased, his lips curling up into a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. “You tasted it. I could see it in your eyes. Maybe you didn’t want it, but you liked it.”

Your chest tightened as you took a half-step back. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, Mark,” you said, your voice shaking with both anger and disbelief. “This isn’t... this isn’t how you act.”

“Oh, but it is,” he countered, his voice growing softer, but the edge was sharp enough to cut through the air between you. “Not the other Mark. Not the one you know. But this Mark? The one who rules everything? This is who I am now.”

He took another step closer, closing the space between you with an almost casual ease. You wanted to pull away, to create some distance, but your feet felt rooted to the floor as if his presence alone had a magnetic pull on you.

“You’re so much more fun when you’re not pretending to be in control,” Mark murmured, his voice now a little deeper, more commanding. His hand reached out, almost gently, to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, but the gesture felt anything but tender. It was possessive, a quiet assertion of dominance. “It’s cute, you know. The way you’re pretending like I haven’t already got you wrapped around my finger.”

You flinched at the touch, but he didn’t back off. If anything, his smirk widened, and there was a dark satisfaction in his eyes. “You’re not going to push me away,” he continued, his tone light, almost like he was savoring the power he had over you. “You want this, even if you don’t know it.”

Mark’s eyes glinted as he stepped back, circling you slowly, like a predator toying with its prey. “I know you’re confused. Hell, I know you probably hate me right now. But here’s the thing…” He leaned in close again, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “You don’t have to like it right away. You just have to accept it.”

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of his words. Trying to force yourself to think straight when all you could focus on was the way he made you feel—uneasy, exposed, and yet, there was something else. Something darkly thrilling that you couldn’t quite shake. You wanted to turn away, to push him away, but every time you tried, you were met with that same confidence in his eyes—the certainty that he was in control.

“Y-you don’t control me,” you whispered, the words barely escaping your throat.

Mark chuckled darkly. “You already belong to me. Whether you know it or not.”

He was so sure of it, so smug in the way he spoke, like he had already won some kind of silent battle. The realization hit you like a wave, crashing against your ribs. You were trapped in this game of his making, and he was relishing every moment of it.

“Here’s the thing,” he continued, his voice now turning slightly more serious. “I could have taken what I wanted from you already. Hell, I could take it whenever I want. But I haven’t. You want to know why?”

You didn’t answer, but he could hear your heart beat faster at the question.

“Because I want you to want me too,” he said, his voice almost purring now. “And I’m patient. I’ll make you see that this—” He gestured between you, “—is where you belong. I’ll make sure of it.”

For a moment, you stood there, caught in the suffocating intensity of his gaze. There was no room for doubt in his words—no room for negotiation. He wasn’t asking for permission. He wasn’t giving you the space to choose. And yet, there was something unsettlingly magnetic about the way he carried himself.

Mark glances over his shoulder toward the quiet town, then back at you, his smirk shifting into something more strained. “There’s a place. You’ll be safe there. For now.”

Before you can process, Mark takes your hand, his grip firm, his touch sending a jolt through you. “Come on, we’ll talk more when we’re alone,” he says, almost casually. He starts to lead you down the path away from the town, the sun starting to dip beneath the horizon, casting long shadows across the ground.

Without having much choice in the matter you follow, wondering just what kind of explanation you were about to get—and whether or not you truly wanted to hear it. Eventually you find yourself standing in front of the old abandoned factory.

The warehouse door creaks as Mark pushes it open, the sound of the hinges groaning against years of neglect. It’s dimly lit, with the last slivers of sunlight struggling to reach the floor through cracks in the walls. Inside, the air smells of dust and forgotten things.

Mark doesn’t say much, his grip still tight on your hand as he leads you deeper into the shadows of the large, empty space. The silence feels heavy, oppressive—like something waiting to happen. Finally releasing his hold on you he leaned back against a stack of crates, his arms crossed, watching you with an intensity that made you feel like you were being sized up, evaluated. You stood in front of him, still trying to process everything—the kiss, the way he’d taken control, the questions swirling around in your mind.

“You’re still trying to piece it together, aren’t you?” he said, voice a little more amused now, as if he could already predict your next move. “You don’t get it yet. You don’t understand why I’m so different from the Mark you know.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Different? You’re... you’re nothing like the Mark I know—and I barely know him.”

He smirked, pushing off the crates and taking a step toward you, but not too close. Just enough to make you feel his presence, to remind you of how easily he could control the space between you. “I know. It’s funny, really. You’re standing here, trying to figure me out, but you’re so far from the truth it’s almost... charming.”

You clenched your fists, feeling a surge of anger. “What are you talking about?”

Mark’s expression softened, just slightly, like he was about to tell you something profound. “I’m not from this universe. Not like you. I’m from a different one. A parallel universe, to be precise.” His voice was cool, almost detached as he spoke. “I’m sure you’ve heard the theory before. Alternate realities, alternate versions of ourselves, different timelines. But this? This is real.”

Your stomach twisted at the implications of his words. “You’re saying... you’re not really him?”

“No,” Mark replied, his voice almost wistful. “Not in the way you think. I’m still me—at least, in the way that matters. But in my world, I’m... different. Stronger. I didn’t grow up in your little world. I wasn’t held back by rules or morals. In my universe, I’ve taken control. I’ve conquered everything. I’ve made it my own.”

You stepped back, the shock of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “You’ve... conquered the world?” The thought of him being stronger than the Invincible you knew seemed impossible.

Mark nodded, his gaze unwavering. “In my world, everyone answers to me. Everything revolves around me. But here? It’s different. This world—this version of Earth—it’s still weak. It’s going to fall apart soon. No one here is strong enough to stop it. To stop the destruction coming for it.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and your breath caught in your throat. “What are you saying? That you’re... here to fix it? To make it like your world?”

He stepped closer, his voice low now, tinged with something almost... desperate. “I’m here to make sure you understand. That you don’t just stand by and let yourself die in this world. I’m here because, in my universe, you—” He hesitated, just for a moment, but then the words slipped out. “You were mine. You were the one I could count on. You were the one who understood me.”

Your confusion deepened, a flood of questions tumbling out of your mouth. “But—why? You said it yourself that that version is not me—it’s someone else. So why are you doing this? Why not just leave me in peace?”

Mark let out a slow, amused chuckle, shaking his head. “You really don’t get it, do you? I’m not just here for you because of some twisted nostalgia. No.” His tone darkened again, becoming more intense, more controlling. “I’m here because I need you. You’re the one thing that’s missing from my universe. You are the key to everything. In my world, you’re the one person who could stop me. But I need you to see it for yourself. I need you to understand that what we had... what we could have... it’s the only thing that matters.”

Your eyes widened, and your voice trembling as you tried to process his words. “I don’t understand... you’re talking about me being with you in your world?”

Mark took a step closer, his hand lightly brushing against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. “That’s exactly right. This world is on the brink of collapse, and your fate is sealed unless you come with me. In my universe, I ruled everything—but I was empty. You were the one who gave me meaning, who made me feel something other than control. I need you back.”

Your breath caught in your throat, but there was a part of you that was drawn to him, despite yourself. Why were you still listening? Why weren’t you running?

Mark smiled darkly, as if he could read your thoughts. “I know it’s a lot to take in. But you’ll understand soon enough.”

“What happened to the me in your universe?” you ask, your voice quiet, unsure of what to expect. Your heart was still racing, the adrenaline from earlier not yet having faded.

Mark doesn’t immediately answer. Instead, he looks around, his eyes lingering on the crumbling walls and broken windows. There’s something almost wistful in his gaze.

“This place,” he finally murmurs, almost to himself. “It’s where things changed for me.” His voice is strangely flat, but there’s a subtle weight behind the words.

You feel a chill run down your spine. “What are you talking about?”

Mark’s jaw tightened as if he was reliving something painful. For a moment, his usual confident demeanor cracks, revealing a flicker of something darker, a vulnerability that was buried beneath the layers of control he’d built around himself.

He stepped closer, his eyes not quite meeting yours, but his presence unmistakable. There was a heaviness in the air now—something that felt like it was about to crush you from lack of understanding.

“This is where it happened,” he says quietly, his voice low but edged with bitterness.

You blink, confused. “Where what happened?”

Mark’s lips curl into a thin, almost pained smile, though it’s empty, like it has been worn too many times. He gestures to the space around you—the cold, abandoned warehouse with the dark shadows and faded walls.

“This is where you died in my universe. Right here. This place.”

You stare at him, the words hanging in the air like a heavy weight. “What…?” Your voice falters, your heart sinking. “I—died?”

Mark’s eyes meet yours now, his gaze unflinching, but there’s a ghost of something in his eyes. “Yes. My father killed you. Right here. And for me…” He inhales sharply, as if the air itself was too thick to breathe. “That was the moment everything changed. It wasn’t just the pain of losing you. It was what it did to me. I was a different person before that.”

Your mind races as the pieces fall into place. You can hardly process it, but feel a cold sense of realization creeping in—this moment was the one that had shaped him, the event that tore apart the humanity he once had. This was the defining moment that turned him into the man he became.

Mark continued, his voice steady, but it’s clear he’s fighting the weight of his past. “My father didn’t just kill you that night. He broke me. I was nothing after that. I tried to move on, but it didn’t matter. You were gone. And in that moment, everything that made me human, everything that made me care about anything—it died with you.”

His expression hardened as he took another deep breath. “That’s when I realized that I had to take control. I had to make sure nothing like that could ever happen again. No one could ever take anything from me. No one could ever make me feel like that again. So I… I started my warpath. I killed, I took what I wanted, and I built my empire.”

There was a long pause. The silence pressed in on both of you, thick with his admission. You feel a mix of pity and disbelief, but something else stirred deep inside of you. You don’t know what to say. How could you? You were facing a man whose entire existence was shaped by the loss of someone who, in his universe, was so important to him. Someone who was you. The shock of hearing this leaves you stunned.

“I don’t know what to say…” you started, your voice barely a whisper.

Mark’s face darkens as if he’s bracing himself for your judgment. “I didn’t tell you this for sympathy,” he snapped. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness or your pity. I’m telling you this because—because I need you to understand. I’m not the person you think I am. I’m not that Mark. I’m not the person who would have loved you without destroying everything else. I’ve changed, but…”

He trailed off, frustration building in his voice. “But I’m tired of it. I’m tired of being this person. I’m tired of pretending this is the only way. You… you’re the only thing that could ever make me feel different. You’re the one thing I haven’t destroyed.”

You feel a mix of sympathy and anger—sympathy for the pain he’s endured, and anger at the choices he’s made as a result. You take a step back, trying to gather your thoughts. “Mark… I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what you want from me. But this—this isn't the answer. You can’t just take control of everything and everyone around you. You’re not the only one who’s been hurt, you know.”

Mark’s eyes flicker with something almost like vulnerability. His frustration ebbed, replaced by something more raw. “I know. I know you’ve been hurt, too. But everything I’ve done, I’ve done for one reason—to never feel that pain again. I’m offering you a chance at something more. I’m not the man you know. That man—he died here, in this place. And what’s left... what’s left is a conqueror. And the truth is for you, you either come with me, or you stay here and die all over again.”

His words swirl in your mind, all the conflicting emotions battling for dominance. You felt the weight of his gaze, the gravity of the decision, but nothing inside of you felt certain.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “I can’t—”

Mark watched you, his expression unreadable, but there’s a flicker in his eyes. The silence stretches on, and in that moment, it felt like the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for your choice.

"You don’t have to choose," he said suddenly, his voice soft but dangerous. “You already made your decision, in my world—your decision to be mine.”

The air shifts, thickening with the pressure of his words. He steps closer, but this time, there's no teasing, no playful flirty tone—just cold certainty. “You don’t see it yet, but this is the only way. You think there’s something here worth living for, but this world? It’s already lost.”

Before you can respond, the air around you ripples. The ground vibrated beneath your feet, and an intense light blazed through the shadows of the warehouse. A swirling, pulsing portal begins to open before them—a rip in the fabric of space, shimmering with the promise of another world.

An amused, twisted smirk pulled at Mark’s lips. “Well that was good timing. I guess old Angstrom is sending me home. I suppose I didn’t do my job good enough for him.” Your breath catches in your throat as the sight of the portal becomes more real. The decision is almost physically before you now. You look between Mark and the swirling vortex, panic rising in her chest. “No, wait—Mark, please! I—”

But before you can finish your sentence, Mark’s hands are on you, pulling you towards him with an almost suffocating force. His grip is firm and unwavering as he holds your against his chest, locking you in place.

“Stop,” he says, his tone surprisingly gentle but commanding. “I don’t have time for you to second-guess this. I’m not letting you waste your life on this dying world.”

You feel the cold edge of his words sink in, and before you can protest, the air around you cracks with an unnatural sound. The portal pulsates, growing wider, threatening to consume everything.

Mark doesn’t wait for you to agree. He doesn’t give you a choice.

He steps backward into the portal, pulling you with him, your feet slipping as the ground seems to disappear beneath you. In the blink of an eye, everything you knew—the quiet town, the dilapidated warehouse—vanished, replaced by a blur of shifting colors, the world around you twisting and distorting.

And just like that, your world was gone.

【Ｐａｒｔ　Ｔｈｒｅｅ】

#invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #mark graryson fanfic #variant!mark x reader

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burytheruby · 8 months ago

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I N A P P R O P R I A T E

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

IN which Captain Price is your father, and your eyes are set on his lieutenant.

OR: you're down bad for Ghost, and your father isn't too keen on that.

you’re in Part 1; Part 2

MINORS Do NOT Interact.

Warnings: age gap, fem! reader, ooc, canon divergent tbh, little to no british slang bc i barely know american LOL. written from my phone please bear with me. also, do not get groomed, this is just fiction. WC: 1501

English is my second language, very self indulgent.

"m'gonna marry him, daddy!" Captain Price used to laugh about that, when your eight-year-old self would cling onto his arm while pointing at the twenty-one-year-old man who had just been recruited. it used to be an inside joke between the unit task, your father was oh so confident that you'd get over your childhood crush.

oh boy was he wrong.

every time without fail, when the squad would gather at your home during their leave, you'd take peeks to the living room, kitchen, or wherever they settled to talk. this ritual continued well into your pre-teenage years, right before you turned moody and too shy to even come out of your room. that's when Price thought it was over, what he didn't expect however was how you'd be so damn adamant on having Simon come over almost daily as soon as you turned eighteen. he was a seasoned captain, he wasn't oblivious to the way you'd eye his lieutenant, how you'd give him the coldest beer when it used to be reserved for him, the way you'd come every now and then and sit right across from The Ghost to "join in the conversation and catch up." nothing escaped his sharp eye, not even the way Ghost would sometimes stare your way for a little too long.

"he's emotionally unavailable, princess." he'd tell you, dropping you off for orientation day at your dream university. "he's a good lad, but he's got his own demons to fight." and he'd sigh as you slammed the car door on him. he could never deny your wishes, though, as he created a woman who was too determined—too set on her track who did not know the word defeat. but you were also just a kid—or at least that's the mental image of you in his head, a little girl with innocent thoughts who simply found his comrade to be cute.

"yer young and beautiful, m'sure those college boys are dying for ye." your father would tell you, almost begging for you to enjoy these years and experiment.

"but i don't want a boy." you would roll your eyes, having started your second year of university certainly made you into a character. you were confident—rightfully so, your beauty outshined anyone else. "i want Simon." you'd repeat like a broken record, and if it didn't make him want to strangle his lieutenant. how has time truly passed, he remembered when you'd call Simon by the name of Ghost, the name everyone used instead of his given name. but you weren't a part of the task force, there wasn't really a reason for you to call him Ghost for reason other than his signature balaclava and stitched-in mask.

you soon turned twenty, you were not a little girl anymore. his team had joined later in the evening to celebrate you, bringing you gifts and sneaked in alcohol for later when your friends would leave. it wasn't until Simon's arrival that you suddenly disappeared, but Price isn't a fool. he clutched the now empty can of beer, stopping immediately as he felt Gaz's reassuring touch on his shoulder. you were not a little girl anymore, you were a woman. he repeated in his head, no longer glancing over at the backyard door as he focused on the conversation between his comrades.

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

"thank you, Simon." you smiled as he helped you put the piece of jewelry around your neck. a beautiful necklace of the metal of your liking—the one you always used when you dressed up so pretty, so dolled up. he looked at your face, his mouth in a straight line yet his eyes full of unspoken softness for you. he hummed in response, his gaze falling back down to your neck, where the necklace laid so neatly right under your collarbone, before it touched your cleavage. Simon tore his gaze away, he refused to look at you that way—not to his captain's daughter.

your smile faded as you noticed his lack of eye contact, your hand grazing his calloused one with gentleness. his eyes landed on yours once more, one hand moving the stray hair out of your face as he admired you, how you had grown to be a gorgeous woman. "we can't, love, m'way too old for ye." is what he said to you—to himself, to stop the pounding of his heart and the ache of having you so close to him. you shook your head in rebuttal, the frown of your brows making you more enticing to the man who towered over you with ease. you were determined, and he liked that about you—among the many other things that piqued his interest.

"don't care, Simon, i said i'd marry you." too determined, maybe. he scoffed at your words yet couldn't help it as the ghost of a smile appeared on his usually stoic face. "and i don't care about what old man has to say about it, i'm an adult for christ's sake." you held onto his hand, the one that laid so gently on the curve of your neck, feeling your pulse on his rough fingers. your eyes roamed from his eyes to his cheekbones, the scars on his face that added to his charm, and his slightly chapped lips that seemed to beg to close the gap between you. Simon noticed your lingering eyes, and he cursed under his breath as his fingers squeezed your neck softly.

"eyes up 'ere, love." his voice took you out of trance, eyes quickly darting back up to his as you felt your cheeks burn in embarrassment at being caught. you smiled in response, your own eyes getting lost on his gaze. a deep shade of chestnut, one that conveyed a turmoil of emotions. surely, he couldn't just court his captain's daughter, it's just wrong. no matter what her sweet eyes silently pleaded for, he couldn't just give in—hell, temptation is too strong. rough digits let go of your neck, reaching down to your waist so tenderly that anyone who looked your way would know.

you couldn't help it, not when he always tried to make you happy, to give you everything you deserved, for treating you the way he just did. with a pull of his jacket, your lips clashed passionately, desperately, as if you were to disappear, like a prayer that had been heard, you clung to him with your arms around his shoulders as he held you impossibly close. you sighed between the kiss, pulling at his bottom lip playfully before you returned to the steamy friction of your lips. a want, one Simon hadn't realized how much he needed, how much he craved. you were a woman, one so, so perfect. "so gorgeous," he hummed lowly against you, letting go of reddened, puffy lips. his words sent a shiver down your spine, relishing on his words, the ones that were only for you, always you.

Simon has never been rough with you– he couldn't even imagine being so, not when you're holding onto him like a lifeline, like he's everything you've ever wanted. he doesn't complain when you bring him up to your face again, breaths mixing in the silence of the yard, so silent you have both forgotten of the people inside your home. "Simon," you gasp in a plead, a withheld plea as the backdoor opened. he pulled away from you in an instant, his hand still on your waist protectively.

"everything alright?" Price asked, and you could hear Simon curse under his breath. you just knew your father did it on purpose, he had that mischievous look on his face you had inherited, one you both used when you planned something. his eyes bore on the point of contact between you and his lieutenant, and Simon found himself forced to let go of you with a grumble. Price's eyes fell on the pendant hanging off your neck, letting out a sigh as he closed the door behind him and walked up to you.

"gorgeous pendant, hun." his eyes found their way to his lieutenant on your side, a look on his face that was no longer a warning– but rather a petition (demand, more like) to keep his treasure safe. do not break her heart. you could almost hear his thoughts, shifting under his gaze as you observed the interaction. Simon gave a curt nod, a wordless promise of affection and protection. "you should hurry, s'getting cold." Price said after a moment, giving you a smile before walking back inside.

Simon found your smile endearing, the way it reached your eyes and made your face bright. his hand returned to your side, giving a playful squeeze before making its way to the small of your back once more. "let's go inside, yeah?" he murmured against your ear, and you couldn't help but think of how neatly wrapped you had him around your finger, always getting what you want.

an unforgettable birthday.

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

made an entire account just to write this. i will be doing more, trust.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #simon riley x you #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley #burytheimagine

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cj-theyoungling · 9 months ago

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Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

cw : injuries ig. Idk man

synopsis : You decide to surprise Jason by coming home early to visit but he surprises you instead.

author's note : I've never written for the Batfam so if this is OOC I'm so sorry. I've been obsessed with them recently though.

"Jason!" You call across the foyer as you enter the Wayne mansion. You hang your jacket on the coat rack and smile at Alfred who enters the room.

"Good evening ma'am." He says, moving to grab your bag from you and hang it up.

"Good evening to you too Alfred." You greet him, "Is Jason here?"

"Master Todd is in his room." He informs you

"Thank you Alfred." You start up the stairs before turning to face Alfred again, "Oh I almost forgot. Here's the cookie recipe I promised you last time I was here."

"Much appreciated ma'am. Glad to see you back." He takes the card from your hands and then walks out to the kitchen.

You make your way to Jason's room and knock on the door. When the door creaks open and Damian peeks his head out.

"Where's Jason?" You ask in confusion, trying to open the door. Damian shoves his body weight against the door, preventing you from opening it further so you can't see inside.

"He's on patrol." Damian replies quickly, still trying to push the door shut.

"Alfred said he was here." You say to the younger boy and press your back against the door so you can shove your weight against it too.

"Well he's not." Damian struggles against the force of you pushing against the door.

"If he's not here then why are you in his room?" You question, shoving the door a bit more open, you chuckle at the intensity of Damian who is using all of his body weight to try and keep the door from opening. You're honestly surprised he hasn't started pulling out gadgets to aid him.

"No reason." You hear the tell-tale lift of his voice that tells you he's lying to you. With one more shove against the door you finally stumble into the room , barely keeping on your feet. You stand up straight and catch sight of Jason in the bathroom, picking glass shards out of his side with tweezers.

"Nothing to see here. Get moving." Damian says pushing you towards the door.

"It's fine Dams. You can go." Jason finally speaks up.

Damian huffs and walks out of the room. You close the door behind him and walk to the bathroom in front of Jason. You carefully take the tweezers out of his hands and take over picking the glass out of his side and chest.

"What happened?" You ask quietly.

"I fell out of a window." He explains, his hand comes to hold your wrist and pin it against his chest. You eyes trail up from where you were working to his eyes.

"Weren't you wearing body armor or something?" You ask, worry laced in your voice.

"I was caught off guard. i was just stopping a mugging on my way home."

"Why didn't you call a doctor? Or at least ask someone for help." He ignores your question and presses his lips to your forehead, "Jason," You begin again, he cuts you off with another kiss, this time to your lips.

His free hand cradles the side of your face so he can deepen the kiss. He pulls away with a smile, "I missed you sweetheart." he murmurs.

"I missed you too Jason. Let me finish cleaning you up." You insist. he let's go of your wrist and let's you finish cleaning and wrapping up his cuts.

The second you finish up your work his hands reach under your thighs to lift you up against him.

"How's college been sweetheart?" he asks between kisses.

"It's a lot better than Gotham State." You giggle.

"Mhm." He mumbles into your neck, setting you on the bed and pressing kisses to the crook of you neck while holding you tightly.

"The city hasn't gotten much better I see." You giggle. The two of you cuddle up on his bed, your head resting on his chest as he plays with your hair.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?" He asks

"I wanted to surprise you." You smile and press a kiss to his lips.

"I love you." he says against your skin.

"I love you too."

#batfam #jason todd x reader #jason todd #damian wayne #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #jason todd x you

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chuluoyi · 1 year ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

the path of love is never easy for you, be it now or back then. love, pain, betrayal and tragedy — you have been through them all. after all is said and done, you just want one chance at happiness. so will your second marriage be what you always want it to be, or will it be one last heartbreak you have to go through?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, angst, hurt/comfort, a lot of fluff, marriage of convenience, explicit smut (semi-public sex), pregnancy, childbirth, mentions of curses

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress. this is the final part of remarried empress au trilogy! wc. 9.4k ! i'm so happy with how well-received this little series is :') thank you so, so much for reading!

credit header goes to @/poro06625649 in twitter!

prev. all hail the empress | the crown of diamonds

general masterlist | series masterlist

“Satoru...”

Once, to you, love meant complete acceptance. To be able to accept someone so wholly, unquestionably, as they are.

Until you excelled in everything, a stone throw away from perfection even, and Naoya still spurned you.

When you married Satoru out of sheer impulse just to preserve your standing, you thought you had found that kind of love at last. Until it became clear a part of him wanted something else, and you couldn't accept that.

At the same time, you also felt like a hypocrite, because you wanted that love for you, and yet you couldn't give the same to him and even doubted him altogether. Using each other, you had even said.

But right at this moment... none of that mattered anymore.

Not when Satoru forcefully hurled Suguru aside, fought his way through the searing heat, tearing away debris after debris, punching through the remnants of the collapsing pagoda, all while dreadfully screaming your name.

“Where are you!? Gods, answer me!” He looked like a desperate madman. He was hyperventilating, bloodied, and yet he kept violently flinging the debris, determined to find you.

That sight of him struck you straight in the heart. He could've obliterated the whole tower with his ability if he wanted to, but he didn't. Doing so would seal your fate entirely.

He yelled your name once again, pouring his anguish and frustration into the air that his voice grew hoarse. “Where are you!”

If this isn't love, you thought almost tearfully. Then what is?

“Satoru!” and so you forced yourself to walk, despite being on the verge of collapse. Seeing him like this tore your heart to shreds. “Satoru!”

He stopped abruptly, his chest still heaving violently before turning to you. At first, he thought it was the voice inside his head. Everything around him was a chaotic blur, so when he turned to find you standing there, miraculously unharmed, he was stunned.

A shuddering breath escaped him as he gazed at you, the blue in his eyes filled with so much fright you had never seen before. "Y/N...?"

You staggered on your feet, your dress appearing singed at the edges—but you were there, alive.

"What are you doing!?" you admonished, almost in tears. "Why do you hurt yourself like that!?"

Suddenly, it was hard to breathe, but he didn't hesitate. He flung the splinter in his hand away and sprinted towards you, roughly pulling you into his arms.

"—!" he rasped, almost gasping for air, while squeezing the back of your head closer. "Heavens, I thought... I thought you were—!"

Satoru was trembling so badly in your embrace, unable to utter another word as he buried his face in your shoulder. He was beyond shaken—grunting, taking sharp breaths, and holding you so tightly that it left you at a loss of words.

He only pulled back once, albeit shakily, to have a good look of your face. There was one bruise on your cheek and you were covered in soot.

But you were still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"I'm fine..." you tried reassuring him, lips wobbling, placing a hand on his palm that touched your face. "I'm fine now..."

Then Satoru pulled you close again, and you came willingly. Simply holding you, he inhaled the scent of the roses mixed with ash in your hair, feeling your breath on his neck.

To see this man, usually so self-assured, reduced to such a mess out of fear for you touched you deeply. You nestled closer to him, feeling a sense of peace wash over you.

In that moment, as you two clung to each other, nothing else matters.

"You've always coveted what I have..."

The ice in your eyes and the chill in your words felt like a curse. Hanabi was beside herself every day ever since she had left Western Empire. No way, she even saw you in her dreams!

Granted, her impulsiveness had almost cost her everything. She shouldn't have placed that curse on the necklace— she shouldn't have dared to attempt it in the first place.

But seeing that piece that had tied you two together—the testament to Naoya's remaining affection for you, however small it was—made Hanabi burn with jealousy. Why did he remember you still? Hadn't he dethroned you and chosen her?

Also, why did you put it as if she had been trying to take all that you had? She was now a royal consort, she was just demanding what she was due!

"...and sooner or later, that will be your downfall."

Hanabi shivered as an intense chill seemed to enter her body, spreading rapidly to her limbs and brain, immobilizing her. What is it? Why are your words struck her to the core?

"My lady, are you alright?" her attendant walked up to her as she clutched her chest.

"I-I..." Hanabi faltered, trying to even her breath. "I'm not feeling that well..."

"Shall I get the physician? You do look pale..."

"Please do."

Damn you. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. You must've cursed her, that must be it! Why else did she keep hearing your voice?

"Sending you back to Naoya is a punishment in itself—you know that by now."

No, she had come this far. Even if she couldn't have Naoya's favor, even if she couldn't become the empress... she would fight tooth and nail to remain a consort.

After all, all her life, she was meant for this.

. . .

And true to her conviction... once again, fortune favors the bold.

"My lady, congratulations! You're with child!"

Hanabi blinked at the cheerful royal physician as he delivered the news. "R-really? Are you... sure?"

"Certainly! Oh, this is great news! The emperor will surely be delighted by this news!"

For a full minute, Hanabi sat there, stunned in amazement. She had really done it, and if it was a boy this time, then...

"Aha..." she burst into a small titter then, before breaking into a full-blown laugh. "Ahahaha!"

You're wrong, Empress Y/N. This time, I will show you.

"Congratulations, my lady!" the ladies around her gathered, showering her with praises. And Hanabi knew that finally, her time had come.

True paradise begins in hell. And now, I've risen from that hell.

Contrary to what you told Satoru, you were, in fact, not fine.

Shoko was the one who led you out of the burning pagoda, sustaining burns herself in the process. Immediately after you found Satoru, who was frantically on the verge of losing his sanity searching for you, you collapsed in his arms.

You had inhaled a significant amount of smoke, there was a gash in your arm, and you were even bleeding due to the stress.

And therefore, you were put on bedrest for the next upcoming weeks by the royal physician's orders and by extension, Satoru's.

However, during those three weeks, Satoru never visited you even once.

. . .

"Are you sure you're well enough to be walking around already?"

After being confined to your bedchamber for what felt like forever, you decided to take a stroll in the royal gardens. Shoko was the one in charge of watching you like a hawk these days. She didn't usually follow you around—you noticed she often went out on her own—but lately, she insisted on being by your side.

"Mm-hmm, I'm perfectly well now, Shoko," you gave her a smile as you admired the blue roses in the bushes. "You don't have to keep an eye on me all the time. I'm feeling better already."

You would be lying if you said you didn't miss your husband. A part of you of course wanted Satoru to check on you, or at least, your baby. Three weeks had passed, and your belly was now rounder and heavier.

"Oh, well... That's good then..."

Shoko seemed a bit unsure, frowning even, and you had your guesses, so you decided to bite the bullet. "How is Satoru these days?"

"Eh?"

"You must've seen him. He isn't avoiding you like he does me."

"Your Majesty..." Shoko let out a long sigh, seemingly exasperated and sorry at the same time, and you knew you hit the mark with it. "He's well, don't worry too much about him."

"Is he taking enough breaks?"

"He— err, I'm not really sure about that."

"Then, next time you see him, along with my general condition, tell him that I want him to do so."

You didn't mean to make Shoko uncomfortable, and if you did, then it was most definitely not what you intended. You just wanted a way to communicate with your brooding husband, that was all.

"You absolute imbecile! This is beyond ridiculous, why are you refusing to meet your own wife and talk to her?!"

If it had been anyone other than Countess Shoko, they would have certainly been hanged for their outrageous words against the emperor.

Satoru actually felt bitter for not visiting you ever since that day of the fire. Truth to be told, he was worried sick, the terror of thinking you might have perished in the blaze still lingered with him to this day.

He wanted nothing more than to hug you and bury his face in yours. He genuinely wanted you to be well and safe, always. Preferably, if he could keep you close too.

So, why did he avoid you on purpose?

First, the utter awkwardness. Second, the very fact that you had allowed those scums from Eastern Empire to be released. He still couldn't accept it, no matter how. In his eyes, you did it out of love for Naoya.

And that, in and of itself, was like a betrayal of his heart.

"She is becoming unhappy," Shoko noted earlier, frustration evident in her tone. "And on some nights, she also experiences hip pains due to carrying your baby. You're heartless if you don't even come to look at her even once!"

But then, Satoru felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. His unborn child.

...he had left you more or less alone now, hadn't he?

In reality, you preferred the secluded comfort of your study over the royal gardens.

And yet, that beloved study Satoru gifted you on the day he married you and you became the empress of Western Empire felt constricting lately. You almost felt claustrophobic.

Maybe it was the burgundy walls, or perhaps it was the sting of bitterness in your chest that you tried to suppress so others wouldn't see. You didn't really care which though.

So, you often wandered through the gardens to enjoy the fresh air, and at times, stopping by the spot where the pagoda once stood.

Nothing. Now that was all that left. The image of a once-beautiful tower reduced to dust and the scorched earth evoked a sense of loss within you, and what made it more painful was knowing that you were the one responsible for its destruction.

But still, what hurt the most was... what had happened to the man who had trembled with fear, believing you might not have escaped the burning pagoda? Why had he spared you with nothing at all?

"Meow..."

You looked at the squirming cat in your arms, his fluffy tail tickling you. "Oh, Sugu-chan, do you want to take a walk too?"

The clear blue eyes of Satoru's pet cat looked back at you demurely before he leapt out of your arms and trotted ahead, as if leading the way.

With nothing better to occupy your time, you often played with Sugu-chan to amuse yourself these days. The cat, with its gentle disposition, frequently curled up next to you for comfort and he somehow made those days better.

"Sugu-chan, don't stray too far!" you called out, trailing closely behind him. Knowing well that you weren't well enough to chase after him should he run off, you watched to ensure he didn't disappear from sight. "Oh!"

And sigh, he did just that. Sugu-chan leapt into the bushes, prompting you to release a resigned breath before navigating through the maze-like foliage.

"Sugu-chan, where are youuu?" you drew a breath, glancing around in confusion. "If only you were calmer like your namesake..."

After navigating several corners, you turned another and spotted a fluffy white fur, and you swore to the skies that you would yank Sugu-chan by his tail if he were to wander off again, when—

"Meooow!"

"Bad, bad cat! Why did you bite me—!?"

—and there you saw your husband, crouching down as he clutched his hand, before he whipped his head to look at you—

"Satoru," you straightened your back by instinct, your heartbeat quickening.

His eyes turned blank for a second, before those blue pools regarded you with a look you couldn't really discern. "Y/N."

. . .

It was awkward silence throughout the way. You didn't even realize when you had arrived at Satoru's study.

You had wanted this unsettling atmosphere between you to end. Why couldn't both of you just be honest already? You were about to voice your thoughts when suddenly Satoru, who had his back on you, suddenly said:

"I will not have a scandal. Therefore, you will behave in a way that nothing is known against you. In return, you will retain your privileges as the empress of the Western Empire, and continue to fulfill your duties."

That? That's the first thing he said to you after those weeks sonorous silence? This stiff, faux nonsense of him pardoning you of your supposed treason?

"Is that all you have to say to me?" you blurted almost immediately, feeling your anger rising. "After everything—"

"After everything— yes." Satoru's back was still facing you, his light blue robes shifted slightly as he tucked his hands inside his pocket pants. "Despite everything, I have nothing but concern for you, Empress. And your act of treason— even if you take no offense, I still consider it a stain on my name to let a pair of criminals go free. Consider it my generosity that I decided to overlook it."

Your body felt like shaking, his strained and formal words irked you, and at the same time, pierced through your heart and tore it to pieces.

"I've told you— I can't let Megumi be condemned for a deed he hasn't committed," you stated firmly, staring hard at his back as if you could bore a hole through him. "He is a kind boy, he used to be my ward. And you know as well as I do, he isn't capable of such a thing!"

"What about that consort—the woman who overtook your place?" he suddenly turned to face you, and the expression on his face almost made you shrink. There was no emotions in his eyes, just a dark hue of blue. "She was the one staging it, wasn't she?"

"I'm not vindictive enough to sentence her to her death here, Satoru." The more you argued about this, the more you felt like you were losing him. "Naoya will deal with her as he sees fit."

The mention of your ex-husband seemed to trigger something in him that his lips curled into a sneer.

"So much trust you place in him. As I thought, I should've never expected the same for me. Granted, we're just using each other, aren't we?"

Your own words thrown back at you, it felt like your shattered heart was being stomped on and reduced to dust, because how could he?

Still, you blinked away your tears, steeling yourself with the one fact even Satoru wouldn't be able to refute. "You said it yourself—you intend to use me for your war against the Eastern Empire. How am I not supposed to see that as you using me?"

You let out a scoff when Satoru wasn't able to answer you, but then suddenly it occurred to you that there might be another reason, one you had suspected, and yet still not able to make sense of.

"I'd think jealousy is insulting to you, so why?" you questioned, suddenly feeling a sense of betrayal. "Why is it that you can't believe that I can love you the same way I did Naoya? Or possibly even more?"

To Satoru, that very thought still felt like a thorn inside his chest. How you managed to see through him almost made his facade falter—

"And if you feel that it's unfair to you how you're the one who keeps proving yourself—then tell me," you suddenly demanded with a gritted teeth. "How am I supposed to believe you've loved me when I know marrying me came at just the right time for your goals?"

"That's not true!" he suddenly raised his voice, all pretentiousness forgotten. Right in this moment, to your surprise, he no longer resembled the cold, distant emperor he seemed to be.

“From the very moment you led me by the hand twenty years ago, I’ve longed for you! And now that I finally have you— it goes beyond mere infatuation or obsession! Heavens help me, but fuck it— I love you so damn much!”

It was everything. Satoru had poured his entire heart out in one go, believing it would be enough, until he saw you trembling, visibly holding back tears.

Your pretty eyes widened as you took in his confession. Your precious lips parted slightly, wobbling in effort to hold yourself together—

—until you felt light all of a sudden, as if the boulder in your heart had came crashing down, as if you had let go of all fears, and a small chuckle escaped you.

"You said, the woman you thought to have a semblance of affection for you doesn't exist," your voice was uneven but you tried so hard to sound clear, a relieved smile forming on your lips. "But she does. I do."

“I love you, Satoru.” The first of your tears fell then, and your voice came out in a sob. “I believe I love you. I'm the happiest while being with you. And so, to hear you say that I'm just a part of your plans makes me so incredibly sad, I—”

“I just want… the honest truth from you.” You took a deep breath to steady yourself, your eyes glistening like diamonds as you fought back the tears.

He swore something inside him twisted and bled at your voice, and suddenly, nothing else mattered—

Not when you have bared everything.

Before he could think, he took two decisive strides towards you and pulled you into his arms.

"Don't cry..." he pulled you tighter into him. "I'm sorry— don't cry, sweetheart, please—"

You kept sniffling into him, and Satoru felt his heart break then, as never had he seen you so utterly dejected that you surrendered in his arms.

How was it possible that the mere realization and sight of your genuine affection and tears reduced him to a man who would give up everything for you?

“It’s true, I have been planning to wage war against Eastern Empire for years. I took measures to keep them in check, and I do think having you by my side would definitely give me an advantage. But that’s not it... when I saw how you were being wronged there, I was even more convinced it was the rightest thing to do.”

He loves you. Even if he had committed various things, be it heinous or deceptive, one truth that transcends all is that his love for you is genuine.

“You mean so much to me,” he whispered into your ear, his hand tracing along your spine. “Everything else might be true, but you— no, I have loved you first before everything.”

Oh. You looked up to him, finding his clear, steadfast gaze on you. So this is how he is like when he isn’t hiding behind that crafty smile. When he is being most truthful.

The overflowing emotions obliterated whatever doubts you had left. You felt full. A profound, pervasive sense of love radiated through your myriad thoughts.

And to him, nothing was more liberating than knowing that you returned his love with equal fervor.

You felt bliss... utter bliss.

You didn't really know when you fell asleep, but it felt like the best rest you had in ages. For weeks, you had been waking up in the middle of the night, either in cold sweat or feeling tingling, barely-there stabs in your growing belly. On those nights, you would clutch the pillow beside you for comfort.

But tonight, you felt warm, and the first thing you noticed was Satoru's hair right in your face. He had laid his head above your chest, and his fingers were gently stroking your visible bump.

"Satoru...?" you asked sleepily, and he immediately turned to you in slight surprise.

"Did I wake you?" he looked almost alarmed. "Or do you feel any kind of pain or—?"

"No, just—" and you bit your lip when that familiar stab of pain shot through your hips. Your hand pressed against the spot as you let out a small grunt.

"Hey, what do you feel now?" Satoru immediately moved beside you, capturing you in the warmth of his embrace. "Does it hurt much? Do I need to call for—"

"No need to, it's fine—"

"It's not fine," he firmly retorted, his jaw set in a tight line. "The royal physician will come here first thing in the morning and that's final."

A faint smile formed in your lips as you curled closer and sighed contentedly into him. "Whatever you wish then, Your Majesty."

Satoru took that as a hint of sarcasm, but he simply pressed you closer and placed his warm hand over the spot where your hand rested. "Shoko told me. How long have you been enduring this?"

"Fairly recently, actually. A few weeks or so..."

I never knew. He berated himself because how would he be aware of this when he had completely shut you down? The stress must've gotten to you, and you were so delicate right now...

"Sorry," he sighed into your hair, his voice so quiet it was almost unheard. "From now on, everything that makes you uncomfortable, please tell me."

You looked up at him, searching his face, and when your innocent eyes met his, he relented.

"I'll do everything in my power to ensure you have a smooth journey in delivering our child." His words, sharp yet genuine, made your heart nearly leap out of your chest. "I hate seeing you in any sort of discomfort."

He fretted over you this much and yet he used to think you wouldn't show him the same affection in return. That was so ridiculous when you thought about it now.

"Ah," you giggled freely, wrapping your arms tight around him, and Satoru was taken aback at how that simple affirmation from you made something inside him feel lighter.

His endearing queen, who loved him back, now right in his arms. As he massaged your waist, he thought back to many years of careful planning and schemes, just for one particular goal...

“Not anymore,” he told you quietly, and you sleepily blinked your eye open. “I love you too much to break your heart.”

“Hmm?”

You were puzzled, and could feel his hot breath at such a close distance. And then those blue crystal of eyes met yours, full of warmth, and the corners of his lips curved into a soft smile, one that caught you by the heart.

“I’m made of many things. The emperor of this land, a soldier of many ambitions... but in the end, just a man.” His voice was languid and yet so gentle that it almost lulled you to sleep again. “If it were up to me, I’d have no qualms with warring the Eastern Empire. But now... I no longer wish to do that.”

Anticipation surged within you at his words, but still...

Noticing your reluctance, Satoru pinched your cheek and smiled. "It's not what you want. I thought I could proceed with it even if it'd leave you heartbroken... but apparently I can't."

And with his next proclamation, you knew without a doubt that this time, they were truer than anything else.

“And do you know? Because I love you, I’m willing to do anything for you. Mark my words, my queen— From now on... Heaven and earth, I would give it all to you.”

"Mm..." Whether it was your hormones or the sheer sincerity that shone through his words, tears were brimming in your eyes as Satoru gave you his oath. "Thank you... for thinking of me."

"Anything for you, sweetheart." He dipped his head to press a kiss on your lips and you were about to snuggle closer to him when you felt that familiar flutter and suddenly let out a gasp—

"Satoru!" you exclaimed, almost startling him, but you immediately reached out and placed his hand on your belly. "Feel it!"

And then, his eyes widened slightly. It was the most wondrous moment he had ever experienced in his life as he felt the baby inside you kick and ripple beneath his palm.

"Ah..." he exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Baby... she moves..."

The very idea of a precious baby girl that was an exact replica of you suddenly made his heart lurch. Satoru swore in that moment to protect her with his life... he didn't know it was possible, but he was already in love with her even when she wasn't born yet.

"Why are you so sure it's a girl?" you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck and smooched his jaw when he was rendered speechless. "I want a boy, you know."

Satoru snapped out of his trance and sullenly huffed. "I still hope it's a girl. I want a princess I can spoil rotten."

"I want a baby boy who looks like you." Your sincere wish surprised him, and he turned to you in bewilderment. "That way, even when you're away, I won't miss you as much since I still have the little prince near me."

"Ha." Satoru feigned a snort to cover the faint blush steadily gathering in his cheeks. Good heavens, how cute was it that he wanted a girl who resembled you and you wanted a boy just so he'd look like him? He was so giddy that he failed to come up with a witty comeback for you.

Pure bliss. After everything, this is your life from now on.

Shoko stood in front of your chambers the next morning, her heels clacking like a ticking watch of doom.

Unlike the everlasting frown etched on her face, she was actually in a dilemma, debating her choices outside your chambers. It was late morning already, but she'd hate to go in if you were not alone.

If she went ahead and caught you with Gojo on your bed—and worse, naked—with her own eyes... no, it was unthinkable what the sight would do to her. She would never recover. She would spew unforgivable profanities and Gojo might have her banished for real.

"What are you doing?"

Shoko whirled around so fast to suppress her shriek, and shot a look of distaste as soon as she saw who was behind her—Duke Geto. "Don't sneak up on me like that! You're not small like Sugu-chan!"

Suguru, prim and neat with his tied bun and black robes, raised one eyebrow, clearly swallowing any comments regarding the cat. "What are you doing, loitering in the hallway?"

"The empress hasn't woken up yet, and it's nearly midday. She has engagements with the master of tea parties later."

"Don't bother. Satoru's there. He'll most likely tell you that her schedule can be rearranged, and his word is law."

Shoko barked a laugh and Suguru too broke into a smile.

"So, they're good now?"

"Yeah... seems so."

"Thank fuck. Gojo owes me one for this."

The two friends chuckled again, relieved to know that the cold war between both of you had ceased.

Suguru leaned against the wall, his eyes crinkled at a memory. "Don't you remember those days, when Satoru used to watch the empress at each and every ball we attended, back when she was still the crown princess?"

Shoko crossed her arms, letting out a loud snort. "Oh yes. Everyone talked about him. The prince smitten by a rival country's betrothed... his reputation took a hit, but he never cared."

"I never took him seriously until recently. He was so adamant in his plans for the East that I thought... maybe it was all just to realize his war plans."

"Geto... don't tell me," the countess eyed her longtime friend incredulously. "Have not seen enough of the empress' paintings hanging in the halls? Is that not convincing enough for you?"

Throughout almost one year of your marriage, Satoru had commissioned at least five paintings of you to hang in the palace halls. Servants, members of parliament, and peerage must have seen at least one of your pictures whenever they turned a corner.

"If that's not stupidly in love, I didn't know what that is." Shoko shook her head with a smile. "Gojo has been spellbound for like years. I just never thought he'd really have her in the end though."

Suguru and Shoko had been by Satoru’s side for many years. Suguru was the closest to him still, and he had seen his friend for everything he was.

And knowing that Satoru was genuine in choosing this path, all Suguru could do was be happy for him.

“Life always has its ways… heh, I suppose all’s well that ends well.”

SOME MONTHS LATER . . .

"There, there, Sugu-chan!"

Suguru flinched. Satoru snickered.

"Meow!"

And you continued to tickle the white cat happily, seated a few feet away from both of them with a broad grin on your face.

"Should... Her Majesty be so close to the cat?" Suguru eventually asked, casting a skeptical gaze on you. The presence of the feline was certainly not what he expected when he entered Satoru's study per his summons. "It's dirty often and may affect her health."

"No, no... I never let him walk outside anymore and he has to be cleaned all times before the empress plays with him." Satoru's sly smile was a clear sign of taunt. "Suguru~ Won't you play with him too?"

Suguru shot him a withering look, his eyes twitching again the moment you addressed the cat by his childhood nickname.

"Oh, Sugu-chan, you're so gentle..." you exclaimed with a giggle. Your fingers gently scratched the cat's chin and behind his ears, causing him to purr happily and roll onto his back.

"Meooow~"

"Anyway, why did you call me here?" Suguru let out a sigh, disregarding the background noises and leveled a questioning look at his friend and ruler of the country.

"Hmm, nothing of importance actually, my cat just misses you is all," Satoru shrugged nonchalantly and Suguru really was about to pop a vein at his blatant response.

He then threw a sharp glance towards the pet and Sugu-chan immediately let out a dissatisfied hiss. This was always the way since the first day Satoru adopted him.

"Your cat, evidently, dislikes me at first sight."

"That's because he senses your animosity!"

Seeing how uncomfortable the duke looked, you suppressed a laugh and scooped up the feline into your arms. "Forgive me, Duke Geto. It's my idea to bring you here since I'm curious how you'd react if you and Sugu-chan are in the same room..."

...well, if it was your wish, who was he to deny it? Satoru would come for his head first should he do so.

You winked. "I'll bring him out for a walk, feel free to talk to your heart's content."

"Don't overexert yourself," Satoru warned, his playful expression towards him shifting to a concerned look for you, surprising Suguru in the process. "If walking is too much, take a rest."

"Yes, yes... I'll be fine~"

Satoru never took his eyes off you until you left his study, and Suguru couldn't help but smile.

"The way you always soften around her will never fail to surprise me," he noted with a hint of amusement.

"Then get surprised all your life because that's all I will do," he retorted with a proud smirk. "Oh right... how is the progress for the new courtyard?"

To replace the pagoda lost in your incident, Satoru came up with another gift for you—a private courtyard for your own personal pleasure. It still remained a secret from you, with Suguru tasked to oversee its construction.

"It's expected to be done before the empress' birthday, don't worry."

"Good..." His lips curved with satisfaction, before a blush tinted his cheeks. "And by then, the baby must've already..."

You were far along now, evident from how your dresses were no longer able to hide the curve of your swollen belly. He was to become a father soon, and anyone could see how elated Satoru was.

And suddenly he fixed his sharp gaze on his friend. "And Suguru, what about the other thing I asked? Have you looked into it?"

"Yeah...?"

"Zen'in Naoya's wench—" Satoru's eyes glinted with something akin to malice, as he still had that smile. "What did you find about her?"

Royal Consort Hanabi. A while ago, he also asked him to investigate her background, and Suguru almost forgot about it if he hadn't asked.

"Prior working as a palace servant, she was a former maid for Duke Kamo. As with all servants there, she was not treated kindly."

"Kamo? Interesting..."

The Kamo clan used to sit at Eastern Empire's throne up until Naoya's ancestors usurped it. Now, the heir remained a wealthy duke, and it was well-known that the fates of anyone who crossed him didn't end well.

Satoru hummed, barking a snort. "Well, I suppose that's it then. Suguru, proceed as is."

"I really thought you were done with any of your revenge plans." Suguru really didn't want to bring it up but he wasn't sure if this would bode well.

"I've given up on spilling blood, because that's not what my queen wants..." Satoru's smile froze on his face, yet his eyes sparkled. "But that doesn't mean I'll let that lowly bitch go unscathed. Our empress might be a saint and have chosen to spare her, but I most certainly am not as forgiving."

The chilly white light of the chandelier above him cast an eerie glow on Emperor Gojo Satoru at that moment, and Suguru almost shuddered.

"Didn't I tell you before? Anyone who dares to lay their hands on my empress... they have to pay the price."

Meanwhile in the Eastern Empire's palace, the royal consort still was the object of everyone's praises as of late.

It was almost astonishing how well she was treated recently, all because she was carrying the emperor's child, Hanabi thought with irony. So this was her life now.

Valued when she is able please the emperor, discarded when she fails to do so.

Sometimes it made her wonder, if it were still you in her place, would you be treated the same way? Or would you always be revered just like you were, unconditionally?

No matter. Her thoughts always leaned towards comparing herself with you, despite how much she hated it. Yet it was no use thinking of it now.

After all, now Naoya was in her arms.

She couldn't help but marvel at the sight of his sharp eyebrows and jaw. Hanabi had always thought, he was most handsome when he was vast asleep, when he wasn't hurling profanities at her or anyone else.

At first, she just wanted his love, and then a happy ending. She was never audacious enough to covet the empress' seat. But now she had to, after what you said to her.

"...that will be your downfall."

How could you? How dare you? Hanabi had gone through so much, who are you to dictate how her fates will turn out?

She now carried a son. She had even gone to an oracle to make sure of it. Soon, she would be the empress of this empire, and you would be forced to regard her as an equal.

And she was very much looking forward to that day…

Safe to say... you have long since thrown away any thoughts regarding the one woman who isn't worth a second of your time in your blissful days...

“Satoru, hng— ahh!” a lustful, provocative moan escaped your lips as you bucked your hips against his lips—face—and all the while, you weren’t even properly dressed.

But your emperor of a husband insisted on dipping his head inside your thin bathrobe and devouring you right on the staircase leading to the bathing chamber.

“Ah—aah—hah!” you threw your head back, spreading your legs impossibly wider around his shoulder, as you felt his lips licking your drenched nub.

You wanted so badly to see him, but weren’t able to do so as not only your belly had become such a dome that hindered you from seeing your lower half, Satoru hiding under your robes meant you wouldn’t be able to see him at all.

And so, all you could do was feel, feel and feel.

Feel how sticky wet your womanhood was, feel how his hair was tickling your thighs, and feel how as he eagerly sucked and nipped at you, it almost made you see stars—

“Satoru, the servants… mmrngh! Can walk in!” you tried to reason and yet failing at the same time as a shuddering pleasure washed over you like a rising tide.

“So be it,” came Satoru’s daring reply from underneath. “Let them see… and I’ll tell them— this is how their empress comes to be s-so swollen… with the fruit of my labors!”

You moaned again unabashedly, not even bothering to hold it back as the noises you made echoed throughout the hall, your fingers curling and clawing at the marbled tiles.

And soon, you couldn’t hold it in anymore as you came around his tongue.

“Ah…” you writhed breathlessly, feeling how your cum helplessly gushing out, limp against the stairs. Your body jerked, and cramped as you felt him taking in everything that came out of you.

When he was done, Satoru gently removed your light robe and embraced you, taking in every detail. He admired the cascade of your hair over your shoulder, the softness of your skin—seemingly even softer in recent months—and how your body gracefully accommodated the baby.

So heavy with his child… and yet it only roused his desires.

“Look at you, do I tire you out?” he chuckled, licking the remnants of your juice off his lips. You shot him an unamused look and poked his chest in response.

“Here, let me clean you up...”

After cleaning you, he gathered you and brought you to the bath tub, submerging both of you in the warm water.

Satoru pulled you close from behind, wrapping his arms around your upper body, gently kissing your neck.

“You’re so affectionate,” you giggled as you caressed his cheek. “I had half a mind that you’d be repulsed with how big I’ve become, and yet you never stray far from my bed.”

“Nonsense. Your chamber is the temple and I worship any ground you walk on.”

“You’re not worshipping me?”

“I do more than just worship you, my goddess.” Satoru drawled out with a lazy smile, burning a wet kiss on your face. “You know that.”

At this moment, you felt warm and fulfilled, resigning yourself to your husband's arms with a contented sigh... until you let out a low hiss when you felt the familiar pounding from inside your belly.

"Shh," Satoru warm hand pressed on the protruding spot in your bump, soothing you. "There, there... don't hurt your mama, hmm?"

Soon, you'd have your baby in your arms, and your heart melted at the very thought. That little baby would soon be running the palace halls, bringing joy to this empire.

"You know I'd protect you from anything and everything," your husband said to you in a whisper, lovingly breathing in your scent. "So my only wish for you is to deliver the baby safely. Afterwards, leave the rest to me, hmm?"

I don't want to lose you. That was clearly the fear behind his words. Satoru's grip on you tightened and you kissed his arm, reassuring him.

After everything you went through, this would be your happy ending, and you would do whatever it takes to win it.

And then the day comes —

Your labor pains started at the crack of dawn, and you were immediately brought to the birthing chambers afterwards.

Even within the confines of your chambers, your cries echoed through the halls. Shoko and several of your maids stayed with you inside, while the Archbishop guarded the entrance.

"It's almost a day and a half," Satoru muttered restlessly, unable to go on with his day as he paced outside. He had been with you when you woke up to your waters breaking, and he hadn't been able to think straight since.

A maid rushed outside with bloodied towels and he immediately stopped her. "How is the empress? Is she alright?"

The petrified maid bowed her head. "Her Majesty is losing blood, Your Majesty!"

He lost all reasons that very moment. "I have to come inside—!"

"You can't be in there, Your Majesty!" Archbishop Yaga sternly forbid, standing in his way. "It's women's business inside—you should be ready when they announced the birth of the child!"

Satoru's eyes twitched with fury and he was really about to drive past him when this time, it was Shoko who came out, looking alarmed. "Gojo! She's asking for you!"

"He cannot!"

"Suguru..." Satoru turned to his friend with a look and immediately, the duke went to the man’s side.

The emperor then regarded him with an unsettling smile. "Do you like being the Archbishop?"

"Huh?"

"Would you want to keep your position as the Archbishop?"

"Your Majesty!"

"Do you believe you can keep your position as the Archbishop... by defying me?"

Yaga fell silent, as if he had just swallowed a sour lemon, and Satoru seized the opportunity to push him aside. "Then move."

Even after Satoru had rushed inside, Suguru remained near the archbishop and Yaga looked at him incredulously. "He went inside already, why are you still here?"

"His Majesty's orders. Have to keep an eye for you for evaluation since he has another candidate in mind should he deem you unfit in your role..."

"Who is the other candidate!?"

"Ah, he told me his name was... Priest Akutami?"

. . .

Pain blinded your senses that you fell back to the sheets after strenuously pushing, and the next thing you knew, Satoru's face was in your sight.

"Sweetheart, hey..." he took hold of your hand and planted a firm kiss on it. His cerulean eyes gleamed brightly as he gazed at you. "I'm here now."

"Satoru—" your voice came out as a whisper, before another contraction seized you and you moaned. Your eyes rolled back involuntarily as the intense pain surged through you once more. You could feel how close you were, yet it was so painful you could barely breathe.

"Take deep breath, here—" he helped you to sit straighter and gave you his arm to hold.

"Your Majesty, I can see the head already!" the midwife exclaimed in joy, and Satoru turned to you with a smile.

“A little bit more,” he encouraged you, pressing a kiss on your temple. “Just a bit more, my sweet, you can do it, hmm? Here, hold onto me.”

And with his voice as your lifeline, you groaned and pushed once more, putting a part of your soul into it before you blacked out and collapsed in his arms.

At first, everything was silent, but then a sound reached your ears— a cry. Your baby's first cry.

"I-it's a princess!" the midwife announced, and the room erupted into gasps of wonder.

You looked at Satoru through bleary eyes, and for the first time, you saw him utterly speechless.

He was struck by the sight of that tiny being being gently cleaned by Shoko before his gaze returned to you.

You were sweaty, panting, limp, appearing haggard with tears in your eyes and streaking your face, and yet...

You are still the most beautiful thing he has ever laid his eyes on.

"A girl... just... like you wanted..." you managed to say with a hoarse voice and wobbly smile, and seeing you, without a moment's hesitation, Satoru went in and locked you in a deep kiss.

"Thank you—" even he himself was near tears when he pulled away and pressed his forehead against yours. There were so many things he wanted to tell you, countless celebrations he envisioned, all in praise of you and the heavens above for granting him such unparalleled happiness—

"...!" But suddenly, you curled into him, suppressing a scream and failing that it turned into a devastating wail, and you dug your nails into the flesh of his arm. "Ahhh!"

"What happened?" Satoru looked at you in alarm, then to the midwife who hurried to tend to you once more. "What happened to the Empress?!"

The midwife probed your belly, her expression lighting up with understanding. "O-oh my... there is another baby, Your Majesty!"

He didn't have time to dwell on the revelation when you cried out again. Setting aside all surprise, he aided you once more, and after more minutes of intense effort—

"A prince! The Empress has given birth to a prince!"

Twins. The whole Western Empire rejoiced at the news that their new empress had delivered a prince and princess for the nation.

Amidst the flurry of upcoming festivities and celebrations, you spent most of your days resting, as the birth had taken a lot out of you. Satoru took charge of the planning again, despite his busy schedule, and of course, he never failed to visit you and the babies regularly.

And whenever he did, his breath was always taken away.

Two precious babies lay still in the bassinet, peacefully asleep. Satoru gently poked each of them on the cheek.

The princess... as if the heavens had answered his prayers, she resembled you so closely that he fell in love all over again. She was so precious and small, and he imagined she would grow into a beauty just like you.

Satoru had sworn it before and did so again—he would protect her at all costs.

And the prince... he was so much like Satoru that it made his heart skip a beat. With his hair and eyes, his one concern was whether he had inherited his curse too. But regardless, he was determined to help and guide him should that day ever come.

When the boy cooed in his sleep, Satoru knew he too owned a part of his heart. He would definitely raise him well, teach him how to protect you and his sister, and one day, to succeed him as well.

As of you... you were asleep much like your children, and Satoru failed to hold back a smile. He gently combed your hair and just like that, you were roused from your sleep.

"Satoru, hello," you croaked and leaned into his touch.

His eyes fondly crinkled as he looked at you. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. It's been weeks. I've been feeling better for a while actually." You threw him a meaningful smile. "I might've cheated my way out of royal duties to rest..."

"Heh. Then keep cheating until the allotted time then. I'll permit it."

You raised an eyebrow. "When will my time be up?"

"The ceremony to present our babies..." Satoru played with your fingers. "We're expected to hold them and show them to the masses. You have to be there so they won't forget who the empress is."

"Right..." but you suddenly deflated and your husband tilted his head. "After that... we can't keep them out of the prying eyes anymore, everyone would delve into their affairs too."

Satoru's eyes fixed on you, sincere and true. "We can't avoid it, but if you wish for them to be out of the limelight for a little more time, I can arrange it. Your wishes come first."

The thought that your precious babies would be faced with many court intrigues made you want to keep them inside the protection of your womb a little longer. Yet, just as you and Satoru had experienced yourselves, sitting at the highest seat of monarchy required unbending will. Both of you would have to teach that strength to your children.

As if knowing what you were thinking, Satoru gathered both of your hands and squeezed it with a smile.

“Still, we are going to be there for them, are we not? Don’t worry. I’m here, and there’s no way I’m letting our son face any sort of curse alone.” He caressed your knuckles. “And you will be here for our daughter, teaching her how to become a magnificent lady just like you. As long as we’re here... they’ll be okay, hmm?”

Right at that moment, as you stared back at his deep, sparkling eyes, you could've sworn that you had fallen in love with Gojo Satoru once again.

You used to think that to love is to be accepted wholly, but after everything you had experienced, you realized that it also came with a load of worries, and you used to fear them, until...

A smile so pretty bloomed in your face as you squeezed his hand back.

“I love you,” you held his gaze unwaveringly, your eyes shining like glitters. “So long as we’re together, there’s nothing we can’t do, yeah?”

He seemed taken aback at first, before breaking into a smile so dashing it was almost blinding.

“Chasing after you and making you my empress is possibly the greatest deed I’ve achieved my entire life,” Satoru declared with a grin, and you knew your heart was truly his in every sense then.

“So, right. From now on and forevermore— You and me. Always.”

. . .

The presentation of the new crown prince and princess of Western Empire was an unforgettable affair. The grandeur of the celebration rivaled even the festivities of your wedding itself.

Given that it was both a ceremony for the babies and also nearing your birthday, Satoru decided to host a grand ball to mark the occasion. This lavish event ensured no one would dispute your position, regardless of how you came to hold it, and it was also befitting the bestowal of official titles upon your children.

Your son and daughter squirmed in their crib as they were brought forward, and once again, as you stood before the assembled court, you felt a twinge of reluctance to finally present them to everyone.

But Satoru's eyes held you with so much certainty that you found reassurance in his gaze.

And by the moment he cradled your son and you held your daughter, and he declared to the court—

"Here I present to you, the Crown Prince and Crown Princess of Western Empire!"

You feel wholly sure. With Satoru by your side, you let go of all your fears. Time and time again, he had proved the extent of his love for you, and as you ushered a new era with him, you believed all was going to be well.

Just like your coronation not long ago, the crowd cheered in joy.

Gazing upon the sea of people roaring and cheering below… a familiar warmth surged within you.

Once again, it was a sight beyond belief for you, as they chanted praises and acclamations—

“LONG LIVE THE CROWN PRINCE!”

“ALL HAIL THE EMPEROR!”

“LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE!”

SOME WEEKS LATER . . .

"We've received a very strange invitation..."

You looked up from your baby boy and curiously peeked at one of Satoru's aides who was on duty today, Todo Aoi. He had come bearing news.

You had always thought he was quite eccentric, but today, he looked uncharacteristically serious.

"Strange, how?" Suguru questioned.

"From?" Satoru added with a totally uninterested expression.

"Eastern Empire," the man coughed awkwardly, as if thinking hard. "Apparently, a prince has been born and the royal consort is to be crowned as the new empress..."

"Who!?" Shoko, who was holding your baby girl, whirled around in surprise.

"Royal Consort Hanabi, I believe her name is. She is to be the Empress of Eastern Empire."

It was such a deafening silence all of a sudden that you could hear a pin drop. Suguru and Shoko gaped. You were stunned.

Only Satoru who didn't seem to show any reaction to the news.

Suguru cleared his throat, feeling the need to double-take. "Empress of... where?"

"That conniving hag..." Shoko muttered under her breath, before her gaze accidentally landed on you.

You were surprised, but strangely, you didn't feel anything. Long ago, you would've been heartbroken by this turn of events, but now, it just eluded you how she could maintain her position as long as she could. Well, when one is favored by luck, anything is possible though...

Satoru suddenly clapped his hands, letting out a mocking laugh.

"Is it really that surprising?" he asked with so much sarcasm, catching all four of you off guard. "When the emperor can barely fulfill his duties, even a scullery maid could rise to become the mother of the nation. The real question is..."

It was as if a sudden chill descended upon the room when he next spoke:

"How long... will she last?"

The question is answered soon enough.

Empress Hanabi's reign in the Eastern Empire lasted for only seven days. It was known as the greatest scandal ever gracing the history.

She had given birth to a son, who was appointed as the crown prince on the same day as her coronation. Emperor Zen'in Naoya personally led the ceremony. At first glance, it really seemed well...

Until seven days later, he suddenly erupted in fury.

The palace walls have ears, and behind closed doors, servants whispered about the incident. It began with Naoya launching into a tirade, claiming that the princess born to Hanabi previously, as well as the newborn prince, were not his by blood.

It was of the highest form of treachery to deceive the crown, and so a death sentence was about to be imposed on Hanabi for this… until the emperor suddenly fell ill due to a stroke, rendering him unfit to rule. Prince Megumi ascended the throne as the new emperor.

Despite his stern demeanor, the young emperor showed abundant kindness. He considered the plight of Hanabi's children, realizing they would be in peril without their mother, so he chose to banish her instead.

. . .

How did it end up like this?

Hanabi didn't know how many days and nights she had cried, cursing fate and her life, as she was being sent away from the palace.

Everything was in her grasp. Her very grasp! Until... until—!

She sobbed her heart out once again, mourning her short-lived life, before it was cruelly robbed from her.

Her children... they were all of Naoya's blood. Despite doubts surrounding them, she was faithful to him and to the crown. All of this... was all a whole scheme to trap her!

...was it you? Could you have orchestrated this? Could you truly be so wicked as to ruin her life entirely?

"You've always coveted what I have, and sooner or later, that will be your downfall."

Was this the price of defying her social status, just like your omen, after all...?

"That can't be!" she screamed inside the wagon set to bring her to the unknown, her voice drowned by the sound of the rainstorm happening outside. "Empress Y/N... you're a horrible human being!"

With every fiber of her being, she hated you so much for ever crossing your path with hers.

Even until the end, she never realized that it was all her own doing.

After hours of journey on the road, she was brought inside a mansion she failed to recognize due to the storm at the first glance. She had given up on resisting because it was futile.

But upon realizing who awaited her in the room, she trembled in fear and backed against the wall.

Hanabi wished she could lose her sanity amidst the whirlwind madness happening to her, because really, it might be better than all of this.

His impressive height gazed down at her from above. It was impossible to hide from his piercing stare.

Duke Kamo Choso, with his crooked sneer, greeted her.

"Well, hello, Hanabi... it has been a while, huh? Did you miss me?"

- END -

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peanutalergy · 5 months ago

Text

letting – asking 𖦹 s.r. × reader

in which fem!reader takes what is meant to be a casual thing too far

tags: insane angst, spencer is a bit of a dick ngl, mentions of sex (nothing explicit), post prison!spence, age gap mentioned but not really that relevant, inexperienced!reader, reader is so me lowk

wc: 2.2k

a/n: first time ever posting the shit i write please don't make fun of me this sucks so bad I can't write nicely but I had a vision and I needed to read this I'm aware it's insanely ooc don't worry I hate it too but I'm trying to overcome my anxiety I need to post it I'm sorry. english isn't my first language !!

is it casual now?

you were a rebound. you've known since the very beginning, he was kind enough to let you know. he had just gotten off a long-term relationship with a woman much closer to his own age — who you couldn’t help but notice looked an awful lot like you — and all he wanted was comfort. spencer said he couldn't have, couldn't give anything else. he wasn't looking for anything other than a warm body. you were that for him. a young, pretty, lonely college girl. that's all it was.

but it's been going on for far too long. you met last summer, and it was almost spring again. you don't really have that much experience with situationships, hell, you don't have that much experience with anything, and yet, even you know this shouldn't have lasted as much as it has. it's not normal to have a copy of his keys, or a space in his dresser, or a makeup bag in his bathroom, is it? is it okay that he's been calling you things like my love and my baby and my girl?

truth is, you'd fallen in love with him. you've known it since halloween, a few months into this, when you two dressed up as the tenth doctor and rose for trick or treating together. after you got home and he was helping you take off your makeup while rambling about doctor who, you looked up at him and simply knew.

you started calling his apartment home after the first time he went on a case and let – asked – you to stay there for the whole week. you still have your own apartment, but you're barely there. it's just an extra place to keep the clothes you couldn't fit into the drawers he emptied out for you. this was home. he was home.

when he asked you to be his valentine by sending chocolates and a bouquet, the first real bouquet you ever got from a guy, it's safe to say you were confused. when he took you out to the nicest restaurant you'd ever been to, and gave you the most gorgeous necklace you've ever seen, and told you you're the prettiest girl in the world when you put it on along with the dress he bought for you, you were convinced there was something going on. you spent the whole evening thinking he might have changed his mind, he might actually want you to be his girl, despite the agreement. people change.

until you got home and, after having sex, he shattered your silly dream with a simple question:

“you know you can see other people if you want to, right?”

you're not even sure why those words hurt so much, after all, deep down, you knew you could. he's not your boyfriend. but the fact he feels the need to remind you of such thing, especially after the night you two had, hurts, a strange kind of pain you'd never felt before, and you're sure he could feel your heart breaking inside your chest beneath his head. if he hadn't heard it then, though, he certainly did after a beat, when the next words slipped out of your mouth in a shaky whisper.

“have you been seeing other people?”

“no, of course not. i just think i should let you know. i can't give you anything more than what we have now, so i don't think it's fair to ask you for loyalty.”

and you haven't been able to think straight since then. all your other answers that night were short and dry, and the fact that spencer didn't ask if you were okay made it clear that he knew you weren't, and he knew why.

you loved him.

now, weeks after, you were standing on his balcony with a warm cup of tea in hands, trying to pretend you didn't feel the cold wind hitting your bare arms. you woke up too early and didn't want to be stuck for hours in the torture that consisted of a mixture of your overthinking mind and his sleeping body subconsciously holding you, so you carefully untagled his limbs from yours and went to his kitchen, giving yourself the liberty to have breakfast. after all, he said to make yourself at home when you basically moved in.

you don't even hear the glass door sliding open, which is why his arms wrapping around your waist and his head burying itself in your neck startled you.

“it's too early, why are you up?” he mumbled against your skin before pressing a soft kiss beneath your jaw, his warm breath bringing some sort of comfort from the cold, until you remember why you're out here, in the first place. “jesus, baby, you're freezing. let's go inside.”

“i’m not cold” you almost cringe at how pathetic your voice sounds as it comes out of you. trying to hold back tears only resulted in a weak mumbled whisper, somehow worse than just turning around and sobbing uncontrollably in his arms.

“what's wrong?” he asks, and when he's answered with a long moment silence, he gently spins you around to be facing him. “are you okay? what's happened, love?”

love.

it probably isn't meant to, but his tone of voice feels almost mocking. the smartest, most rational part of your brain tells you you're probably just overthinking it, like everything else. but the emotional voice, the loudest one, is screaming he knows.

he knows what's wrong and he's making fun of you. he's trying to make you say it. he's trying to get you to admit you're in love with him.

but it's only when you feel his hands cup your cheeks, breaking you out of that train of thought and slightly cheering you up, that you come to the conclusion that you should probably leave. this is toxic, and you both know it.

the money you've spent on therapy over the past five months is being poured down the drain every second that you spend here. but then again, he's been paying you back in gifts and kisses and cuddles, and, probably most importantly to him, sex. that doesn't matter, though, because when it ends and you're left alone with the knowledge he doesn't love you, you feel somehow worse than before.

you hesitantly look up, and when you see his soft eyes roaming all over your face with a worried expression, you're almost convinced he loves you. his gaze feels so warm, you almost forget you're standing outside in the winter wearing only a shirt.

when he says your name in a whisper, in that gentle tone that made you feel like the love of his life, you're reminded of the truth. you're not.

and then it snaps. you want to be mad, you want to yell and hit and cry and give him all the reasons you hate him. but there aren't any. you can't be mad. he warned you about this, didn't he? he said it was just a casual thing, nothing else was going to happen, can't get too attached. it's your fault for taking it too far, isn't it?

so you just pull away and walk inside. you know he'll follow you. you drop off your half drunk tea cup in the sink and you walk to the bedroom. this isn't a conversation you can avoid, you know that, but the only reason you should have it out there in the cold is for your own suffering. and you're trying to have more self respect.

it's not long before you hear the expected soft knock on the bedroom door, and he doesn't wait for an answer before slowly pushing it open and sticking his head in. he meets your eyes and you nod, quietly letting – asking – him to come in.

“what's wrong, baby?”

“please, could you just- please stop calling me that.”

he's silent for a second, staring at you in slight shock, before moving to sit down in front of you in the bed. “okay. is there a reason you're suddenly pushing me away like this?”

you had a whole monologue scripted in your mind. you were going to say how this relationship is confusing, and you were going to put to practice everything your therapist said about setting boundaries and proper communication. but the words leave your mouth before you can even think about it.

“i love you.”

he's either a really good actor, or a really bad profiler, because his reaction convinced you that he actually had no idea. and also that that was the last thing he wanted to hear from you. “sweetheart, you know i can't-”

“i know. i know, i'm sorry. i'm just- i got too attached, and, and it's totally my fault, we agreed on- and it's okay. i'm stupid, i shouldn't have gotten attached, i'm too sensitive, whatever, i know. i'm just-” you let out an exhale as you rub your eyes, trying to slow down in order to keep the tears in “-i have to leave.”

he's quiet for a moment that feels like it will never end. your mind would usually start drifting off to the worst possible things that could happen, but you can't think of any scenario worse than him letting you leave. when he speaks again, though, there's a hint of desperation in his voice “no, you don't have to leave. please. stay. we’ll pretend this never happened. stay.”

that might actually be the worst outcome.

“no, i can't just- that's not how that works. i can't forget i love you. i can't stay here if you can’t love me back. i- i know what we agreed on, but you don't get to treat me like a girlfriend without making me one.”

“what, you want to just have sex and leave?”

“yes! yes, actually. that's what casual means. not- not dates, and gifts, and pet names, and keys, for fucks sake.”

he seems to notice the tears forming in your eyes, something you barely noticed yourself, and he wraps his arms around your shoulders, tugging you against his chest as his hand moves up and down your arms in a soothing manner that only makes you more upset because you know he doesn't mean it in the way you wish he did. you don't have the strength to pull away, though. not physically. you just can't bring yourself to pull away.

you bury your face in his chest and cry quietly, mumbling things like i'm sorry and i fucked it up and i love you while he presses kisses to the top of your head, whispering comforting words that you don't fully process due to your current state.

when your breathing slows down a bit, he pulls away to look at you and takes your face in his hands, wiping away the tears and saying softly “stay. please. don't leave. i need you. you- jesus, you can't- please don't leave. you helped getting me through the breakup, and… i can't love you the way you want me to, but… i do care for you. so much. please.”

you stand up, shaking your head as you put distance between the two of you — if you don't, you'll be crawling back into his arms in no time. “no, no, spencer, don't do that. you've been so confusing, and, i just- i can't do this. not like this. please. don't do that.”

another bit of silence. he looks down at the striped bedsheets where his fingers absentmindedly trace patterns, then up at you almost pleadingly “please, let's just go back to how it was before. casual. that was nice. we don't have to-”

“no, god, please, no, stop.” you sob as you wipe your face, looking around the room in an empty attempt at calming down “that wasn't casual, spencer. and it can't be. to me, at least. never. please, stop– stop it.”

his eyes move between you and the bed a few times, before settling on a spot on the bedsheets to stare at for what feels like forever before he gives in and nods, asking you to leave. you're both glad he's doing so, and disappointed he didn't fight for you a bit more.

you have to battle the urges to go up to him again and kiss him and sit on his lap and hold him close. instead, you put on a pair of sweatpants and grab your phone and jacket before walking out. you didn't forget about the clothes, you just didn't have the energy for packing. you know he'll do it. you wish he wouldn't.

when you get “home” after the longest cab ride of your life, you collapse onto your bed, and don't move for hours. it was already dark when you looked outside again, so you just went back to sleep.

all that goes through your mind is how sweet and caring he was to you, and you hate that. you hate that he had the guts to be such a loving man when he felt none of that love. you hate him.

and sure, in a few days, when he gets lonely, he'll call you again, and you'll go again. you'll stay a long time over there again, you'll forget today ever even happened. you'll fall in love with him all over again, and you'll be convinced he loves you too. you'll be the happiest you've ever been (for a while) again. you don't have that much self respect, after all. in a few days, you'll get to pretend to be his again.

but for now, you hate him.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #spencer reid fic #angst #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader angst #my stuff

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