#(tell me you were brought up on dr who without telling me you were brought up on dr who)

[kscribbs]

Miller's Law Snippets

Snip 1 💤

And so she stayed like that. One arm curled around his torso, face nestled into the narrow space between his shoulder blades. — A protective barrier, shielding him from the darkness of his own mind.

Whenever she sensed that he might be submitting to it again she’d move their conjoined hands to his chest/heart, trying to imbue as much warmth and comfort and… well, love, as possible. Willing his heart-rate to return to a normal rhythm. And she'd speak to him. Using the same soft, consoling timbre she reserved for anxious patients. It seemed to work, for he’d soon grow still again, drifting back into what she hoped were pleasant, happy dreams. Dreams of things and people and places he loved. The rose garden at Frost Manor. His favourite memories with Jacqueline and the Twins. Endless games of Elemental Ball…

He was fully-thawed now, but his fingers remained icy, frost creeping from his palms, across the counterpane, and after awhile Lucy’s own fingers began to ache and burn. But still, she didn’t let go. She stayed there for hours. Hours upon hours, watching dawn crack over the horizon like a robin's egg, spilling its golden light across the Canton de Bern. Watching the sky shift from pale blue to silver-grey and snow begin to drift down in large, fluffy flakes. Watching morning bleed into afternoon, and afternoon into evening, and night settle into all the room’s nooks and recesses like the ink in the creases of her palms.

Still, she didn’t let go.

Eventually the clouds cleared, and the sky stretched before her as a great, glittering vault. The silver river of the Milky Way was so much more vivid out here. She never saw this many stars in New York. 

And Jack stayed sleeping, snoring softly, stirring minimally, his hand tightening in hers, every so often, the odd murmur drifting from his lips. Sometimes they were unintelligible. Other times she could make out certain words. Names, more oft than not. His mother’s. Jacqueline’s. Even her own, on one occasion. 

She was overexerting herself, she knew. Using her powers to excess. He was going to be cross with her, when he did wake. Chide her, lecture her. But she hardly cared. She would make sure he got the rest he’d been so sorely deprived of if it killed her. 

How long had he been suffering like this? she asked herself, again and again. He’d said they came in cycles, but how long had they been this severe? And how bad of a doctor — a friend, moreover — was she, for not having uncovered the truth sooner?

After a full twenty-four hours she was forced to get up to use the washroom, as well as grab something to eat and drink, all of which she did as swiftly as possible, before returning to his side (his other side now, seeing as he was one of those people who tended to gravitate, catlike, towards the centre of the bed) with her laptop in tow. He had begun to look a little strained in her absence, so she carded her fingers through his hair, pressed a kiss to the groove between his brows. And that seemed to do the trick.

She put on Season One of Gilmore Girls, keeping the volume low, and settled in for another long shift. 

The room was well-lit and warm now, a fire crackling merrily in the hearth, and Lucy couldn’t help muse that, amidst all the grief and the horror — the gaping, cavernous knowledge of her own infirmity -- she felt… oddly at peace. Like they were living in a kind of vacuum, away from the rest of the world. A perfect, snow-capped bell jar.

It helped, she supposed, that Gstaad had a real fairytale feel to it. Like something out of a Hans Christian Andersen story.

Finally, around fifty-three hours after he’d first fallen asleep, and while she was almost-but-not-quite drifting off to Monty Python and The Holy Grail (a favourite of his), she felt a groggy chuckle reverberate against her left side, and glanced up to find him grinning at the screen. His hair was a complete mess, thanks to her ministrations; making him look a bit like a lion coming into its mane.

‘I love the Pythons,’ he said, huskily.

‘I know.’

‘Most people don’t know why they named it “Monty Python”. It was because they thought it sounded like a really bad theatrical agent. Did you know that?’

‘I didn't,' Lucy said fondly, angling the laptop more towards him. ‘Good Fact. I'll remember it for next time I see dad.'

He sat up a bit, rubbing his eyes with the hand that wasn’t connected to hers. A little colour rose in his face, when he took notice of the fact, but he didn't let go. Quite the contrary, actually -- he gave it a gentle squeeze, running his thumb over her knuckles.

‘Mmgh. Jeez. My joints are killing me. How long was I out for? Couple hours?’

'Uh... little more than that, actually.'

'How much more?' His fingers trailed over his chin, which was noticeably stubbled. He frowned. 'Wait a minute...'

__

Snip 2 📱

‘Christ, I know. She’d be beside herself. But there’s very little we can do right now to—’ Melusine was cut off by the sound of a phone ringing. ‘…Do you hear— ? …Who’s is that?’

Lucy’s, it transpired; recognisable by its bright pink, flowery case. It lay abandoned on the kitchen table, half buried beneath a tea towel. The contact flashing on the screen made Jack’s skin crawl with dislike. 

“Matt (Weird Sevens Guy)”.

‘Oh, he can bugger right off! The rotter,’ Melusine growled, tossing her empty bowl into the sink as if it had just declared itself a close associate of said "rotter"(...?). ‘That’s the LAST thing Luce needs right now. I can’t bleedin’ stand that man, Jack. Always sniffing around her, like a hyena.'

'Yeah, what's up with that? It's like, uh, hello? Get a hobby, maybe? ...Preferably one that involves heavy machinery and very lax safety regulations.'

'Too right. He's trouble, I swear. You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to answer, blow a raspberry down the phone and then hang up.’

‘W-- now, Melusine,’ Jack chided, yanking her back by the hem of her blouse. 

‘What? That’s funny!’

‘Funny, sure. But somehow I don’t think Lucy’d thank you for it.’

‘So? She’s not here to nag me about it, is she? And what’s more, she’s not the boss of me. Or you, I hasten to add. …Actually, scratch that.’ She smirked at him. ‘We both know that’s not true. You’d stand in the path of an oncoming train, if she asked you to. Oh wait—’

‘Yeah, yeah—’

‘--You did do that! What a lark.’

‘Hmno. No, no. SHE did that. Charged full tilt towards it, in fact. I just happened to be clinging to the back of her broomstick, at the time.’ Jack shook his head ruefully. ‘It was—’

‘Attractive?’

‘—terrifying.’

‘Terrifyingly attractive. Tell me I’m wrong.’

‘…The woman has a screw loose, is-is what I’m saying.' He cleared his throat. 'Stark raving bonkers, as you Brits would say. And here I’d been under the impression that she was the better adjusted, of the three of us.’

‘Oh come now, you always knew she had a reckless streak.’

‘A reckless streak, yeah. Mm-hm. Totally. The key word there being "streak". What I didn’t know was that she was the second coming of Knievel. Sectionable, by all accoun… what’re you doing…?’ 

Melusine now had Lucy’s phone in hand, and Jack was concerned to see her typing up what looked like a—

‘Virtual curse,’ she explained, casually. ‘Nothing too serious, of course. Won’t do him any real harm. Just turn a very specific part of his anatomy into an eel. Eheh. See what me makes of th— oi! Give it back!’

‘Are you serious right now?’

‘Look, I know you’ve developed a “conscience”, or whatever, since your thaw,’ she huffed, standing on her tiptoes to try to snatch the phone from his grasp (a difficult feat, given their difference in height). ‘And that’s lovely — bravo. Very happy for you. I, on the other hand, misplaced mine centuries ago and have yet to rediscover it. I suspect it’s buried at the bottom of a sock drawer somewhere, though I really can’t be arsed to look… I’ve therefore ze-ro scruples about giving our mutual nemesis the ol’ what-for.’

‘This has absolutely nothing to do with “conscience or whotever"; I couldn't give less of a shit about what happens to that guy. In fact it would give me no greater pleasure to watch him have to waddle his way to the DMI ward. I'd just rather not end up in Lucy's bad books, as a result. Things are going really well between us right now, if you hadn't noticed? And I'd prefer to keep it that w-- ...don't look at me like that.’

‘Oh, but it’s just so sweet.' Melusine simpered, clasping her hands together kittenishly. 'The Great and Powerful Jack Frost, all… twitterpatery. Never thought I’d see the day!’

‘I’m not— i-it’s not because I—' She raised a sculpted brow at him. 'Look, shut up, okay?! I just can’t afford to lose any more strikes! I only have the one left! And I really don’t wanna find out what happens when I reach naught.’

‘She’ll probably just make you do lines or something. I wouldn’t worry.’

‘Or, she might jinx me! Put me in a full body bind.’

‘Don't act like you wouldn't enjoy it.’ Melusine sent him an arch look, making him flush. ‘But fine. If you're that much of a jessie, I'll take the brunt of any potential Miller ire.’

‘Pfft. As if I’m going to trust that.’

‘It’s the truth!’

‘You’ll have to forgive me for being the slightest bit dubious, given… you know. Every single one of our interactions over the last two centuries.’

At her mulish look Jack sighed, realising that he was fighting a losing battle. Though he truly didn’t want to buy himself a one-way ticket to the dog house, he couldn’t deny that seeing what’shisname (Mason? Murray? ...Sketchy, overly-solicitous guy who didn't come anywhere close to deserving the object of his "affection"?) receive a good cursing was an attractive prospect. 

A very attractive prospect.

Hm. 

‘Y'know what...? Fine,’ he relented. ‘Whatever. You reap what you sow, Melville. Do as you please, just leave me out of it.’ 

‘What I’m sowing is chaos, and I have my fingers crossed for a bountiful harvest.’

‘…In that case, an electric eel would be far funnier. Just a thought.’

‘My, my!’ Melusine's brows did the milage to her hairline. ‘Two good ideas in under twenty-four hours. That must be some kind of record! Remind me to mark the occasion in the official "Jack Had an Idea" Excel spreadsheet.’

Jack was just about to respond with his own (far more cutting) witticism when a sleepy voice from the doorway said, ‘Why do you guys look like you’re scheming?’ 

The two of them jumped, turning to find Lucy standing over the threshold, looking charmingly dishevelled.

While Jack smiled dotingly, all other thoughts fleeing his mind at the sight of her, Melusine, startled by her appearance, grabbed the phone from his hand and lobbed it at the window, which shattered.

There was a moment of confused silence.

‘…Bollocks. Could’ve sworn that was open.’

__

Snip 3 ⏳

‘What’s the matter?’ 

And there it was, Lucy thought. The Look. The one that always made her feel like he could see under her skin. The familiarity of it, after all these years, was like a blow to the jugular.

‘N-Nothing, I--’ She drew in a shuddering breath. ‘I’m just... having a bit of a hard day, s’all.’

‘Why?’

‘…I… miss my friend. ...A lot. I haven’t seen him in a long time, you see. A very long time.’

‘Where is he?’ The boy cocked his head curiously, resembling a bird listening for earthworms. ‘Did he die?’

Kids. So forthright. 

‘No. No, honey, he didn’t die.’

‘Then why can’t you see him?’

Lucy’s lips twitched. 

Hiking up her skirts, she knelt down to his level, studying his narrow face. The same face she mapped out in her mind each night, before she went to sleep, so that she wouldn’t forget. Every line, every furrow. Every repressed spasm or overexertion of emotion.

Piece by piece, the memories settled around her. Like snowfall. -- A worried grimace as he sat at her bedside, holding her hand through what, at the time, had been her worst surge to date. A sleepy grin, as he watched Monty Python over her shoulder, while the world outside faded to white. Deep concentration pulling his features taught as he tinkered at his Steinway. The panicked, pleading look he'd sent her when she left him slaving over a hot stove with her mom and Nana, while she, Charlie and her dad retired to the basement to "assemble furniture" (drink beer and watch the Bears game). Countless looks of gentle reprove, mixed with grudging amusement, whenever she teased him about his eccentricities. The brief flashes of pride and adoration she'd grown increasingly better at catching, in the months preceding her "Jump".

The mingled shock and delight, that afternoon at the cottage, as the heady scent of magnolia drifted in through the window and the rain thundered on the roof. Arguably her favourite memory of him.

...The abject terror, as he lay writhing in pain--

No.

No, that one she would not think of. That one she made a concerted effort to bury, stifle. Locking it away, in the deepest, darkest recesses of her mind.

This face, though… this face was smooth and bright, filled with earnestness of childhood. The lofty bone structure, the crooked nose, the dimpled cheeks. The blue, blue eyes. It was all him. And at the same time, it wasn’t. Not quite. Not yet. 

To look into his eyes after all this time and not have him recognise her, even a little bit...? Hurt more than Lucy would've ever thought possible.

‘It’s… it’s complicated, kiddo,’ she said, eventually. ‘Grown-up stuff, y’know?’

‘Well.’ He drew himself up to his full height, puffing out his chest importantly. ‘I don’t wanna brag or nothin’, but I happen to be very mature.’

‘Oh, is that so?’

‘Yep! My teacher said so. Said that I’m the most prec-- prero--'

'Precocious?'

'Reprocious boy in my class. And that's why I find it hard to make friends.'

'You do?' Lucy put a hand over her heart. 'Oh dear.'

His ears turned a little pink, as if he'd disclosed more than he'd intended to.

'N-Not that I care! Why should I? They're all dunderheads anyway. And I'm special. I'm gonna do Big Things when I leave school!'

‘Really now? Golly.'

‘Mm-hm! And then they'll ALL wanna be my friend. But by that point it'll be too late, 'cause I'll be rich and famous and everyone will know how great I am.'

It made so much sense, in hindsight. So much sense. All he'd ever wanted was to be accepted. Understood. Lauded for his intelligence, his studiousness, his unparalleled talents. To make the people he looked up to proud. He'd just gone about it in a totally roundabout way, steered off-course by his wicked old uncle. His deepest insecurities warped into something far more sinister than they would've been otherwise. At his core he was just a troubled little boy, who's enormous capacity for love was being tempered, stifled.

It would be so easy, the thought came to Lucy suddenly. So easy to simply… scoop him up in her arms. Thaw him there and then. The curse wasn’t overly evident yet; not to the untrained eye, anyway. But it was there. Lurking just beneath the surface. His big blue eyes had a near-imperceptible chill to them. His face, though more flushed than that of his adult, frozen self, was nevertheless quite pale. He was a ticking time bomb.

If she diffused that bomb now none of it — none of the pain, the heartbreak, the guilt and the regret — would come to pass. He would have those years his present self mourned so dearly. He would have his family. His sister. 

He would be happy. 

And oh, how she wanted that for him. For all of them. The zany, ragtag family she'd grown to love so dearly, over the years.

But she couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t. She’d been given strict instructions by Father Time. Though it went against her every instinct, she had to let things play out the way they were meant to. The way they already had, for her to be here in the first place.

'Annnnyway, point being: I think I can handle “complicated”. So if you need someone to talk to, I'm your guy.' He grinned at her, all dimples and charm, and Lucy’s heart swelled with affection. She found herself caught between laughter and tears. It seemed inconceivable that her love for him could continue to grow any more than it already had, and yet... grow it did.

It might’ve been easier to believe him, on the "maturity" front, had he not been talking with a subtle, but nevertheless noticeable, lisp — most likely a result of his missing front teeth. To say nothing of the sizeable blob of jam in the corner of his mouth.

‘Even so, lil' man; I wouldn’t wanna bring you down,’ she said, with a gentle smile. ‘Plus, I… I don’t really feel like talking about it right now.’

‘Hm. That's understandable, I s'pose.’ He nodded seriously. ‘Welp. If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure he misses you too. Your friend.’

'You think?’ 

‘Sure! I mean... you seem like a nice person. I think I’d miss you, if I were him. Or he were me. Or whatever.' A little more colour rose in his face, and he glanced away bashfully, scuffing the ground with the toe of his shoe. 'I think... I think I'd be really glad to have a friend like you, actually.'

When he looked up again it was to find silent tears running down her face.

'Oh! Ah… was it… something I said?’

‘No, no, I just… that’s very s-sweet,’ Lucy warbled, dabbing her eyes with the sleeve of her cloak. ‘Thank you.’

In the next moment she found a familiar, embroidered foulard being thrust into her grip. She took it gratefully, letting it sit in her hands for several seconds. The silk was softer than she remembered it being.

‘This is l-lovely. Are you sure you don’t mind me using it?’

‘'Course not.' He waved her off. ‘My father says a gentleman always gives a crying lady his kerchief. It’s the chirivus-- chivrulus-- honourable thing to do.'

‘Oh and he's quite right. Your father’s governor, isn’t he? Governor Frost?'

'Ya-huh! That's the one.'

'He's a great man. I mi-- like him very much.’

‘Sometimes he takes me to work with him, and I get to boss people around. It’s really fun.’

‘Mm, I bet.’

[punkshort]

Night Shift

Thank you anon for this request!

Pairing: Joel Miller x nurse!reader

Summary: It was a relatively quiet night in the emergency room until a handsome contractor gets admitted and adds some excitement to your life.

Warnings: language, descriptions of wounds/injuries/blood (typical hospital junk), needles, drugs (the medical kind), fluff, flirting, rom-com vibes, soft!joel, just a little smut (18+ MDNI)

WC: 7.3K

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: I'm fully aware some things I'm about to describe is probably incorrect (medically) but let's suspend that disbelief for a fun, fluffy story, shall we?

"Dr. Fisher wants you in room 504, but if you're too busy, I would be more than willing to go," Lily said, leaning over the counter with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I haven't had anything to do other than charts for the past two hours, how on earth could I be too busy?" you asked, standing up and draping your stethoscope around your neck. Then you froze, realizing Lily never tries to take a patient off your hands. "Wait... why are you offering?"

She grinned and flopped down in the swivel chair next to you, crossing her legs. "The guy is smokin' hot," she whispered with a wink. "I just got a glimpse when I brought Fisher the computer cart, but..." she exhaled loudly and fanned her face. "Even with all the blood, you can tell he's a fox."

"Blood?!" you exclaimed, jogging around the nurse's desk, "why didn't you tell me?"

"He's stable, it's not-" Lily began, but you were already hustling down the hall. When you skidded to a stop outside room 504, you were relieved there wasn't a flurry of staff running in and out of the room, indicating whatever was waiting for you wasn't life threatening.

As you entered through the open door, you rapped two knuckles on the wood to announce your presence. Dr. Fisher, standing at the patient's bedside and blocking your view, glanced over his shoulder and nodded while you washed your hands. You heard him talking to a man with a deeper southern drawl than you were used to, and by the sound of it, he was in pain. You plucked two gloves from the box on the wall and snapped the latex on, turning around with a practiced smile right as Dr. Fisher introduced you by name.

Lily was right. Your eyes landed on a painfully good looking, dark haired man sitting up in the bed with one leg draped over the side, as if he was getting ready to bolt. You tried to not let your gaze linger, but the way his thighs stretched out his worn, bloody jeans and his shoulders filled out his ripped flannel held your attention longer than you expected. He first glanced over at you right when you noticed the laceration on his forearm and you went into autopilot.

You began to pull various instruments from a cabinet without instruction, already anticipating what the doctor would need before he began to rattle off requests, which you mentally jotted down and nodded in acknowledgement when he was finished.

"I'm gonna give you a local anesthetic and then clean and stitch this up. Are you allergic to anything, Mr. Miller?" Dr. Fisher asked.

"No," he said, his eyes still stuck on you as you worked. "Call me Joel," he added, his eyes flicking up to the doctor once he realized he was staring. Tommy smirked from the corner of the room and tucked his chin to his chest.

"Only thing he's allergic to is askin' for help," Tommy joked. You startled and glanced over your shoulder. Somehow you had missed the second man in the room when you first walked in. Joel scowled in his direction.

"Ignore my brother," Joel muttered with a roll of his eyes.

"Can you prep him and give him 20MLs of the local? I'll be right back, I have another patient waiting to get discharged," Dr. Fisher said to Joel, who nodded and lifted his leg onto the bed, resigning himself to a long night.

Your gaze drifted over his clothes, ruined by all the blood that had gushed from his arm. "This looks pretty nasty. What happened tonight, Joel?" you asked, using your typical distraction technique while you worked unwrapping instruments and lying them out on a tray. When he didn't answer right away, you met his gaze and smiled, assuming he was squeamish and doing to do your best to reassure him.

He blinked and cleared his throat.

"Sorry. Um, got hurt at work."

You frowned, your eyes roaming over his face now that you were closer and hoping he didn't notice the way you stared a moment too long at his soft looking lips. "What do you do that you're working so late?"

"I'm a contractor," he said, mesmerized by the way you effortlessly moved around, probably just going through the motions but to him, it looked so impressive. The monitor next to his bed beeped faster and he glared up at it, angry at the heart monitor for betraying him.

"Lots of things need to be built at midnight?" you teased, making him chuckle.

"I'm behind on a project and my daughter had a sleepover tonight so I figured I'd do a little extra work," he explained, wincing when he moved his injured arm.

You nodded, latching on to the new piece of information. You loved it when patients had kids. It was a great way to keep them talking and calm. But right as you were about to ask her name, the second man chimed in.

"Yeah, 'cause otherwise he'd be home alone," he said, making the both of you stop and stare at him. His eyes bounced back and forth between you both. "'Cause he's single," he added after a beat, making both you and Joel blush.

"Jesus, Tommy," Joel muttered under his breath, and you forced out a polite laugh before switching gears.

"Alright, let's see," you said, gently lifting his arm and peeling back the sleeve of his flannel. You made a face and Joel tensed.

"What is it?"

"I wish I had better news," you sighed, locking eyes with him. "I'm gonna have to cut the sleeve off this shirt," you said solemnly.

His face broke out into a huge smile, one that reached his beautiful brown eyes and creased his tanned skin, and you giggled before reaching for the scissors.

"It's alright, darlin'," he said, still smiling as you began to cut through the fabric, "ain't got no fashion sense, anyway."

"'Cause he's single," Tommy said again from across the room. Joel swiveled his head and mouthed something angrily in his direction but you just grinned and stayed focused, pulling the sleeve away and making sure not to brush up against his wound.

"Okay, Joel, how are you around needles?" you asked, turning your back to him and blocking his view while you prepped a syringe with local anesthetic. "Do I need to call someone in here to catch you if you faint?"

He scoffed. "Hell no, I'll be -" you turned around with the needle in your hand and he gulped, "-fine."

You eyed him carefully. "Are you sure?"

He nodded and looked up at the ceiling, so you decided to just make it as fast as possible. Cleaning the skin with some alcohol, you slid the needle into his arm near the laceration and injected the medicine. After, you pressed a piece of cotton against the injection site and hid the needle behind you on the tray.

"All done, you did great," you said, and he looked at you in surprise.

"That's it? Hardly felt a thing."

You smiled and shrugged. "I've been doing this a while," you said. You always loved when patients commented on how gentle you were. It made you feel proud and good at your rather thankless job.

"Yeah? How long?" he asked, watching as you pulled out another vial of medicine.

"Almost five years," you told him, filling another syringe and wiping an alcohol pad on his inner elbow.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's for the pain," you said, "it's mild but you might feel a little out of it for a couple hours. It will help you relax so the doctor can stitch you up."

He nodded and you quickly slipped the needle in and out, just like before.

"Okay, all done with needles, I promise," you told him, disposing of them both in a red sharps container bolted to the wall by the sink.

"Whoa," Joel said softly after a minute, and you looked up at him then smiled when you saw that familiar, spaced out look in his eyes.

"Feeling it?" you asked, and he slowly nodded.

"Reckon I am."

"That's good. Just try to relax, the doctor will be back soon," you said, turning your attention to the computer cart. You were typing in your notes and scanning the vials of medicine to log into Joel's chart when Tommy's phone rang.

"It's Maria, probably wonderin' what the hell's goin' on," Tommy told Joel as he stood up and headed for the door. "I'll be right back," he said right before you heard him answer the phone and walk out into the hallway for some privacy.

Joel's head rolled to the side and he gazed over at you, smiling like a fool at the way your eyebrows pinched together as you focused on whatever you were typing.

"You're real good at this," he mumbled. You glanced at him, taking a break from the computer, and smiled.

"Thank you."

"How long you been doin' this?"

You stifled your laughter and answered the question again. "Almost five years."

He nodded, completely unaware. His eyes looked glazed over and he gave you a lazy smile. "You're real pretty."

Even though you knew it was the drugs talking, your heart still skipped a beat and you felt your cheeks heat up.

"You must be feeling better, huh?" you joked, wrapping a blood pressure sleeve around his arm. He lightly took your wrist in his hand, making you pause and catch his eye. He looked so earnest and sincere that you almost believed him when he said, "it ain't the drugs. I mean it. Can't keep my eyes off you, darlin'."

Your mouth suddenly felt dry as the two of you silently assessed the other. You searched his face but all you could find was a raw vulnerability while he waited for you to say something. And you really wanted to be honest, but you knew it was unprofessional and you had no idea what was even allowed but you had to assume your job would be at risk if you said what you really wanted to say.

Fortunately, you didn't have to say anything at all because Dr. Fisher chose that moment to return, breezing into the room with his white coat fluttering behind him.

"How're you feeling, Joel?" he asked from the sink as he washed his hands. You stepped back and focused on the computer screen, still feeling the heat of Joel's gaze on your face as you typed.

"Much better," he said, slowly dragging his eyes away from you. Tommy reentered the room, stuffing his phone back in his pocket and dodging Dr. Fisher as he turned around to face Joel.

"That's good. Let's get you patched up and back home, how's that sound?" he said, and you abandoned the computer to stand at his side, your eyes cast down as you awaited the doctor's instructions.

Dr. Fisher worked quickly and had Joel's laceration closed up in under thirty minutes, the whole time checking in with him to make sure he didn't feel anything. You caught Joel staring at you more than once during the procedure and you had to bite back a grin, but each time he noticed and he smiled that same dazzling smile that reached his eyes.

Once the stitches were done, Joel - but mostly Tommy - listened to Dr. Fisher's instructions on how to keep it dry and clean and to follow up with his own practitioner the next business day to schedule an appointment. Then he left, bidding the brothers a good night after he explained you would wrap up the wound and process his discharge papers.

You were very gentle as you wrapped his arm, quietly asking if it was too tight or if anything hurt. He would shake his head and continue to just gaze adoringly at you while you worked, completely unbothered by his brother just a few feet away witnessing his utter captivation.

"Okay, Joel. Let's get you out of here," you sighed, turning back to the computer cart.

"Already?" he asked, and you had to hold back your laugh at the bewildered look on his face.

"It's a slow night, we were able to get you in and out much quicker than normal," you explained, hitting the print button on the computer screen.

"Well, but..." he trailed off, looking back and forth between you and Tommy as he struggled to find the right thing to say. "I'm single!" he practically shouted when you gave him a pen to sign his papers. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and Tommy laughed from his chair in the corner of the room.

"I know, your brother mentioned it a couple times," you replied as your face grew hot once again. "Um, can you just sign here, and-"

"Are you single?" he asked, cutting you off. You looked up from the papers to find his beautiful brown eyes all wide and hopeful, completely ignoring the clipboard in front of him.

"Yes," you finally answered, shyly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

"Great!" he exclaimed, throwing his good arm up in the air with a huge grin. Tommy cleared his throat and stood up.

"I think what he's tryin' to do is ask for your number," he said. Joel nodded, not even sparing a glance in his brother's direction.

"Yeah, sorry," Joel said sheepishly, then he rubbed his face like he could make the brain fog dissipate. "Can I get your number? I'd love to take you out sometime."

Your heart was pounding in your chest now from excitement. You bit your lip and glanced over your shoulder at the open door before turning back to Joel.

"I don't know, I might get in trouble..." you began, and he quickly sat up in bed.

"I won't tell anyone," Joel said, and his voice was so serious that you couldn't help but laugh. Tommy grinned and pulled out his wallet.

"How 'bout this. What if I left Joel's business card, in case you ever needed a contractor?" Tommy offered, holding out the card between two fingers. You gingerly accepted and briefly glanced down at it. "That's his work number but this one is his cell," Tommy continued, pointing to each number respectively, "you're better off gettin' ahold of him on that one. Y'know, for any projects you might need done."

Joel gave Tommy the most grateful look. "I love you, Tommy."

"Alright, that's enough. I oughta get you back home," Tommy said with a crooked grin. You laughed and pocketed Joel's card, standing by in case he needed any assistance getting up. But before Joel and Tommy exited the room, Joel turned to you and reached out for your hand. You hesitated for a moment before stretching out your arm and allowing his thick fingers to wrap themselves around your hand.

"Thank you for saving my life," he told you, his tone deathly serious. You fought back a smile and instead gave him a firm nod.

"You're very welcome, Joel."

His business card stayed folded up in your scrubs pocket for a week, your fingers occasionally brushing up against it like a talisman as you worked.

You never told Lily about that night but you did try to sneakily look into the legality of potentially dating a former patient, but you got too nervous someone would see over your shoulder and didn't get very far.

One day, a fellow nurse who had been working at the hospital for nearly fifteen years made a comment about a patient saying something suggestive to a male doctor and she thought the doctor in question didn't handle it properly.

"What do you mean?"

"He laughed and said something along the lines of I'm too old for you," she had scoffed. "He should have shut it down right away. If the wrong person heard it, he could get into serious trouble."

That was all you needed to hear to put you off from the idea.

That evening, you took Joel's business card out of your pocket and threw it in the trash, then went to take a shower. But afterwards, when you had poured yourself a glass of wine to celebrate the start of three days in a row off from work, you found yourself hovering over the garbage and staring at the folded up piece of paper, sitting right on top of a napkin.

With a sigh, you plucked it out of the garbage and stuck it to your fridge, then forced yourself to leave the room.

There was nothing wrong with keeping the card if you weren't going to call. Right?

It pained you to go so close to the hospital on one of your well deserved days off, but you couldn't resist the chocolate croissants sold at a café around the corner. They were baked fresh daily and always served warm and after a grueling four days in a row at work, you felt you deserved a treat. So that was how you found yourself waiting at the counter for your usual order, surrounded by various professionals hurrying to grab their coffees before chaining themselves to a desk for the remainder of the day. It was busy, but the barista who usually took care of you made sure to prioritize your order, shooting you a quick wink before she slid your croissant and coffee across the counter. You mouthed thank you and turned to leave, bobbing and weaving through the crowd of people waiting for their drinks.

When you stepped outside, out of habit you glanced towards the hospital, then froze. You blinked a few times, your coffee halfway to your lips as you stared at the familiar looking man pacing back and forth on the sidewalk with his head angled toward the ground. You began to walk in his direction, squinting against the sun and wondering if your mind was playing tricks on you, but it really was him.

"Joel?"

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" you asked, your eyes drifting around to see if he was with anybody.

"Huh?" he asked, then immediately shook his head, "yes, I mean... no, everythin's fine." He nervously jammed his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight. "I, uh, came to see you, actually," he said, glancing down at your clothes, noticing you weren't in your scrubs. "Are you workin'?"

You looked down at your jeans before meeting his gaze again. "No, I have the day off, I was just getting coffee," you jutted your thumb over your shoulder, back towards the café, and you realized how bizarre the conversation was so far. "Why are you here to see me?"

He gave you a nervous smile and looked away, watching as an ambulance veered noisily into the parking lot. "I came to apologize. 'Bout the other week. Tommy told me what I said and I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Wasn't my intention, I guess it was all the meds." He finally dragged his eyes back to you and watched as something flickered across your face.

"Oh," you managed to squeak out. Even though you assumed as much, it still stung to hear he didn't mean what he said. "It's fine. It didn't make me uncomfortable. It comes with the territory," you told him with a soft laugh, hoping to lighten the mood. He nodded and looked behind you, trying to think of something else to say but when the silence became too much, you took a step back.

"I should go, but it was nice to see you. I'm glad the arm-"

"Wait - uh," he scratched his beard and took a deep breath. "If I didn't make you uncomfortable, why didn't you call?"

You blinked rapidly and thought about it for a moment before frowning.

"I thought you said it was the drugs talking?" you countered, avoiding his question with one of your own.

"I lied."

"You lied?" you repeated, raising your eyebrows. He nodded.

"More like I panicked," he added, then raked his fingers through his hair with a dry laugh. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'm terrible at this, ain't I?"

You giggled and his face brightened at the sound.

"A little, but it's okay. It's cute," you told him, feeling your cheeks warm at your own admission. He grinned.

"Alright, then why didn't you call?" he asked again.

"I panicked," you replied, then after a pause, the both of you burst out laughing at exactly the same time.

"Goddamn, reckon we don't stand a chance, do we?" Joel said, tilting his head to the side, those beautiful brown eyes sparkling playfully.

"Well, I don't know about that. Why don't we find out?"

He immediately pulled out his phone.

"It's the least we could do. Y'know. For research."

"Research, huh?" but you couldn't keep the smile from tugging at your lips.

"Yeah. Can two panicky individuals who can't seem to properly flirt their way out of a paper bag make it work?"

"Sounds like a tagline for a terrible book," you teased while simultaneously snatching his phone out of his hand and typing your number into a new text. "How could I resist?"

"I promise this is where the cheesiness ends," he chuckled, pocketing his phone.

"Oh, come on. Where's the fun in that?"

Joel thought about it for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Careful what you wish for, little lady, or else we'll be havin' a picnic in the park and watchin' the sunset for our first date."

You laughed heartily at that. "Pulling out all the cheesy stops?"

"Absolutely," Joel winked, making your heart flutter.

"Alright then. Do your worst," you said, a stupid grin still plastered across your face as you took a step back the way you came.

"I'm plannin' it all out already," he said, tapping the side of his head. You giggled and gave him a little wave goodbye before turning around and heading towards home.

Joel didn't waste any time.

He had texted you within an hour with just a link and nothing else. You clicked it and immediately grinned when a website to a paint and sip place in downtown Austin opened up.

You: starting off strong - Painting with a Twist?

Joel: Get it? A twist? Because they serve alcohol there.

You laughed out loud alone in your living room. You thought the meds made him funny but you were delighted to discover he was still just as funny all on his own.

You: I got it, thanks. Very cheesy :)

Joel: So when can I take you? I want to see you paint the next greatest masterpiece.

You: I'm off the next two days and then I work the following four

Joel: You feel up for it tomorrow night? Or is that too soon?

You: tomorrow is great!

Joel: Looking forward to it, little lady.

To keep up with the cheesy theme, Joel picked you up the next evening with a singular red rose, which he had hidden behind his back so he could reveal it to you with a flourish, immediately making you laugh. He offered his arm as he led you down the driveway to his truck while commenting something about the weather but you weren't entirely certain because you couldn't stop staring at his hair, which was slicked back a bit since the last time you saw him and the longer you stared, you began to think he might have trimmed his beard, as well. You bit back your smile at the endearing effort he was putting into your date while trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head that still wondered if this was going to get you in trouble at work.

When you arrived at the painting studio, you quickly realized the two of you were the youngest ones there, and not only that but Joel was the only man there. You stifled your laughter as you grabbed a couple drinks and picked your seats. Once behind the safety of your easels, you cupped your hand over your mouth and giggled into your palm. Joel chuckled and ducked down so nobody would overhear him.

"Am I allowed to be here?"

You began to laugh even harder, drawing the attention from some of the older women. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes and you shook your head.

"I don't know!" you wheezed when you finally got ahold of yourself. You took a deep breath and wiped your eye. "You couldn't have planned this any better." He laughed and rubbed his palm over his mouth when he began to get looks.

The painting that evening was a bouquet of white hydrangeas in a wide vase. Simple enough, or so you both thought. It became quickly apparent that Joel didn't have a creative bone in his body, and while you thought you weren't much better, when you glanced over at his and noticed his vase and flowers were beginning to take on a decidedly more phallic shape, you completely lost it.

He grinned when you had to drop your paintbrush so you could clutch your stomach while you doubled over, doing your best to keep as quiet as possible, but you were failing miserably. A lady nearby cleared her throat to convey her irritation so you slid down from your stool and told Joel you would be right back, then disappeared into the bathroom to collect yourself. By the time you emerged, the teacher who was leading the class had jumped in to try and help Joel create more distinguishable flowers, but it appeared to be a lost cause.

Once the class was over, the teacher went around to take pictures of everyone holding up their paintings with the people they came with that evening. When she got to you, Joel wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tugged you close. Right before she took the picture, you leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek, causing his face to flush and his smile to reach his eyes.

When he dropped you off at home, he walked you to the door.

"So I was thinkin' for our second date we can either do bowling or trivia night," he said with a little smile. You cocked your head to the side as you thought about it.

"Both are excellent options. You can tell a lot about somebody by the way they handle winning and losing," you mused. He grinned and leaned his shoulder against your doorframe as he gazed down at you, waiting for you to decide. "Let's do bowling," you finally said. He gave a firm nod and straightened up.

"Bowling it is."

"After tomorrow, I work four nights in a row," you reminded him.

He shrugged. "So let's do it tomorrow."

"Really?" you asked, unable to keep the excitement from your voice. "Are you sure? What about your daughter?"

"I'm sure Tommy can watch her. And even if he can't, she's old enough now to stay on her own for a few hours."

You nodded and glanced down at your hands, clutching your painting at your side.

"What does she think about you dating?" you asked nervously, chewing on the inside of your cheek and glancing back up at him.

"She's all for it. She's fourteen now, practically kicks me outta the house every chance she gets," he said with a chuckle.

You nodded again and tried to sound casual when you asked, "are you seeing anybody else, or..." You trailed off as you felt your face warm up, feeling slightly vulnerable, but he quickly put your mind at ease. He stepped forward and pinched your chin between his fingers, making you look up at him through your eyelashes.

"No," he said softly, "are you?"

You shook your head slightly, not wanting to lose his touch just yet. "No."

He smiled. "Good."

He tilted your face up a bit more then swooped down to press a gentle kiss against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine even though it was rather innocent.

"I'll see you tomorrow, little lady," he murmured before dropping his hand from your chin and taking a step back. You bit your lip and smiled.

"Can't wait."

While Joel wasn't a very good painter, he turned out to be a rather good bowler. Better than you, at least, which wasn't saying much. So after a couple beers, you flirtatiously asked him to help you with your form, to which he eagerly agreed. He walked you up to the lane and stood behind you, squaring your shoulders and planting your feet just so while the bowling ball dangled at your side with a stupid grin on your face.

"Alright, now you're gonna wanna swing this leg back," he said, tucking his chin into your shoulder and reaching down to tap the front of your thigh. You giggled as his beard tickled your skin, which just caused him to do it even more. You laughed harder and tried to squirm away but he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and pulled you back against him, nuzzling into your neck enthusiastically. You twisted your head towards him, trying to protect your neck, but it was no use, so instead you pressed your lips against his, finally stopping his assault. Both of you were well aware of the public setting, surrounded by families, so you fought the urge to deepen the kiss but you did linger a little longer than was necessary before breaking away with a sigh. He smiled down at you, his cheeks a little pink, either from the alcohol or the public display of affection.

"I like you," he said earnestly.

"I like you, too," you whispered, watching the way his eyes sparkled. Even if it was only two dates, you could tell the connection you had was strong. You had to make it your mission to figure out the policy at work before things went any further.

"Hey, Lily," you said the next day, getting the other nurse's attention.

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever dated anyone from here?" you asked as quietly as you could. She grinned and leaned against the counter.

"Oh, yeah. A few," she said mischievously before glancing around and leaning forward. "I went on a few dates with Dr. Adams last year. When I first started, I was hanging out with Richie, the pharmacist downstairs, but I swear when I found out he was married I broke it off. I felt bad about that one," she said thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "Oh! Then there was that one resident who worked here for a few months... Mike? He was tall with brown hair and had that tattoo-"

"No, I mean like, patients?" you tried again, and she pursed her lips.

"I've had a few ask me out but I never took them up on it. Why?"

"No reason," you said quickly, "but if you were interested, could you? Like, would we get fired or get our license revoked or something?"

She frowned and shook her head. "Absolutely not. Once a patient is discharged, it doesn't matter. If we worked in a doctor's office and it was a regular patient, that would probably be a different story, but we see so many people in the ER it's impossible to enforce something like that."

You breathed a huge sigh of relief and smiled. "That's great."

She grinned and raised an eyebrow. "So are you gonna spill or what?"

"Me?" you squeaked, shaking your head innocently but Lily saw right through you.

"Who are you seeing?" she pressed, smacking her gum between her teeth. You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the heat from reaching your cheeks.

"Remember that guy last week? The fox with the arm laceration in 504?"

Lily gasped. "Shut the fuck up!"

You smirked and nodded. "We've just been on two dates, nothing serious, but before I continued to see him I wanted to make sure I wouldn't get in trouble."

"I'm so jealous!" she groaned, stomping her feet dramatically. You laughed and turned back to your computer. You began to get back to the chart in front of you but she pulled up a chair and got a little closer so nobody would overhear. "How is he in bed?"

You gave her a look. "We haven't slept together. Did you not hear me say we've only been on two dates?"

She scoffed and tossed her hair behind her shoulder. "That doesn't mean anything. If I went on two dates with a man like that, I wouldn't waste any time climbing him like a tree."

You both dissolved into a fit of giggles before the phone rang, warning you to get an exam room ready for a broken arm.

Waiting four days to see Joel again was a lot harder than you expected, but lucky for you, on your last day, Joel surprised you at work with a coffee and chocolate croissant from the café you liked.

"You remembered!" you exclaimed when you opened the bag. He shrugged sheepishly but you could tell he was pleased with your reaction.

"'Course I remembered," he said, glancing around when Lily walked into the waiting room to call back a patient. Her eyes locked on the two of you and she gave you an exaggerated wink before leading an elderly man to the back. Joel grinned and looked at you.

"Friend of yours?"

"Unfortunately," you said sarcastically, making him smile. You glanced down at your watch and made a face. "I'm so sorry, I gotta get going but this was so sweet of you," you said, motioning towards your coffee and pastry.

"I just really wanted to see you again," he admitted, "it was a completely selfish move."

You giggled. "Well, thank you for the selfish coffee and treat."

"You're welcome. Still on for tomorrow night?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Picnic and stargazing. You're really checking things off that cheesy date list," you said with a laugh.

"You asked for it, don't you forget now," he replied before leaning in and giving you a quick kiss.

After he left, you made your way back to the nurse's station so you could deposit your goodies and pull up the next chart.

"Third date tomorrow?" Lily asked, rounding the desk. You nodded.

"Yep," you answered distractedly, reading the chart of a young boy with a minor head injury from a fall.

"You know what typically happens on the third date?"

You felt your skin heat up at the insinuation. "I'm going to regret telling you about him, aren't I?"

"Sure are. That was so close to being me, I'll never get over it."

You laughed and shook your head, leaving her question unanswered as you made your way back to the waiting room.

As it turned out, a picnic and stargazing was incredibly romantic. Joel packed a simple meal: some cold pasta in olive oil, a light salad and some fruit. He had found a spot off a highway that overlooked downtown Austin, which was by far the cheesiest part of the date.

"Did you used to take girls here back in high school or something?" you teased as you sat on the hood of his truck, leaning against the windshield so you could see the stars.

"Me? Never. I was very respectable in high school. Never got into trouble, never skipped class and definitely never took the captain of the cheerleading squad up here after prom," he said with a grin. You giggled and shoved his shoulder playfully.

"You're trouble."

"Yeah, but you like it," he said, turning his head to the side so he could look at you. You tried to give him a stern look but you weren't selling it in the slightest.

"Okay, maybe I do," you admitted.

He smiled and laced his fingers together with yours, dragging his thumb over your knuckles for a minute, staring at your entwined hands while you continued to gaze upwards, the stars twinkling in the nearly clear, black sky.

"Can I tell you somethin' without you thinkin' I'm crazy?"

You rolled your head to look at him, your first instinct to tease him but his soft tone made you stop. "Sure."

"I keep waitin' to wake up or the other shoe to drop or whatever," he said, his gaze studying your face. "You just seem too good to be true," he added with a little grin.

"That's funny, I could say the same about you," you told him, but he shook his head.

"Nah, I mean it. How don't you already got a boyfriend?"

You sighed and looked back up at the sky. "I don't know. It's always been a little tough with my work schedule. I work so many overnights and it's hard for guys to understand that and work around it. Eventually things just... die off because I never get a chance to spend any real time with anyone."

He frowned and inched a little closer. "Their loss," he said. You turned to smile at him.

"You're not like that, though."

He shrugged. "I get it. I'm no stranger to havin' a busy schedule. I'm always haulin' Sarah 'round town to soccer games or friends' houses or after school activities. Don't bother me none."

You squeezed his hand affectionately before impulsively leaning over and pressing your lips against his. You could feel his surprise but he quickly reacted and brought a hand up to cup your face. He licked at the seam of your lips and you smiled before opening your mouth a fraction, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

The whole drive back to your place had you thinking about Lily's comment from the day before, and the closer and closer you got to home, the more nervous you felt.

When he walked you up to your door and kissed you goodnight, you reached up to hold the back of his neck, keeping him close. He slipped his tongue into your mouth and you let out a small moan. He grabbed your hip and began kissing you harder, pushing you up against your door and sliding his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, stroking your skin there. You tipped your head back, breaking the kiss, both of you panting for air.

"Do you want to come inside?" you asked nervously. His gaze darkened and he licked his lips, but then you saw a tortured look flicker across his face.

"I can't," he said, sounding almost like it pained him to utter the words. "I can't leave Sarah alone overnight," he explained, taking a step back and rubbing his palms over his face. He dropped them to the side and you quickly blinked the disappointment from your eyes.

"It's okay, I understand," you told him, then reached out to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

"I promise, I really wanna come inside," he told you.

"I know," you said, "maybe next time."

He chewed the inside of his cheek and nodded. "Yeah, next time."

But it wouldn't be the next time. Or the time after that. Understandably so, Joel was waiting for a night where Sarah was at a sleepover to coincide with one of your free nights, explaining that he felt uncomfortable letting her know he wouldn't be coming home.

"Does she know about us?" you asked him one night.

"'Course she does. But it's just... awkward. At her age, she can read between the lines, y'know?"

"I get it," you had told him, trying to imagine what it would be like for you if at fourteen, your dad had essentially announced he wouldn't be home that night because he was going to get laid.

It made sense, but it didn't stop both of you from practically swallowing each other whole every chance you got, all your pent up sexual tension bubbling just under the surface with every glance and touch.

And finally, nearly two months into seeing each other, the stars aligned. Sarah was going on a school field trip to The Alamo, which coincidentally was scheduled on one of your rare weekends off.

Joel had every intention of taking you out to dinner and a movie, but when you opened the door and locked eyes, suddenly take out and a shitty movie on TV sounded much better.

You practically dragged him to your bedroom while shedding your clothes as quickly as you could, desperation rolling off both of you in waves as you fell into bed.

"Beautiful girl," Joel mumbled against your throat, sweat coating your skin as your writhed underneath him, his thick length slowly dragging in and out, making sure you felt every inch of him. "Wanted this for so long," he continued, then groaned when you clenched around him. "Fuck, you're so wet, baby," he whispered when your slick began to spread over his thighs.

"Only for you," you managed to say, too focused on how your body thrummed with anticipation as you got closer and closer to your release.

"Yeah, that's right," he growled, nipping at your earlobe. "All for me."

When you came, you whimpered his name into his shoulder, clutching onto him as the heat of your orgasm spread through every vein, reaching every inch of you. He followed shortly behind with a guttural moan muffled by his mouth pressing feverishly against yours, then you felt his muscles relax under your fingertips and his body sag. You pulled him down and he nuzzled against your throat as he fought for air, still nestled deep between your legs.

Neither of you felt much like leaving the bed, so you didn't. You ordered Chinese food takeout and watched some action movie you didn't really care for but it didn't matter because it primarily served as background noise while you pretended to fight over shrimp lo mein and shared an egg roll, the cartons spread out over your nightstands and your plates balancing in your hands.

You fell asleep before the movie ended but when you woke the next morning, tucked safely into Joel's side, the cartons of food were gone and the TV was off. You pressed a little kiss against his chest, silently thanking him for taking care of everything while you slept, but the movement made him stir. He sleepily opened his eyes, then a lazy smile spread across his face when he saw you already looking up at him.

"Mornin', little lady," he said, voice all rough and gravelly. You felt a pull in your lower stomach at the sound.

"Morning," you mumbled, pressing another kiss in the same spot.

Joel sighed and wrapped both arms around you, tugging you even closer and kissing the top of your head.

"I want you to meet Sarah."

He felt your muscles tense under his hands and then you slowly tipped your chin up to look him in the eye.

"Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Only if you wanna," he said quickly, but you shook your head and grinned.

"Y-yeah, I would love to, of course," you told him.

He planted a kiss on your lips, both your mouths curving into smiles.

"Good. Then it's settled. My two best girls are gonna meet," he said, sliding out from under the sheets to stand. You bit your lip, adoring the way he referred to you as one of his girls. "She's gonna love you. How 'bout a baseball game or the fair?" he offered, slipping his boxers on.

"Both sound great," you said dreamily, watching him saunter out of your bedroom. And as you ate breakfast across your kitchen table, sharing little smiles over eggs and toast, you couldn't help but feel hopeful and excited for what your future held together.

[diejager]

Bittersweet Devotion pt.2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Cw: angst, heartbreak, mention of cheating, mention of death, no happy ending, apology, tell me if I missed any. wc: 9.3k

Previous

Your universe, Earth-XXX, was a parallel one to Earth-616 in some sense. You had a Peter Parker, a Gwen Stacy and a Mary Jane Watson, it had everything down to the death of Ben Parker and the devastation it brought to your friend. It was the same year as Spider-Man 616’s world, it had the same political standing and same history. Your world, like many others, was a near carbon copy of 616, down to the smallest things; but like others in the spiderverse, you had differences. Some were minor changes in the course of its canon story, others were major changes in the characters and the era.

You - like Miguel, Miles, Jess, Hobart (he liked going by Hobie), Patrick and Patriv - were one of those major deviations in the original canon. You didn’t exist - or so you thought - in Peter B. or Peter’s universe even though you lived in the same year. The reason might be that in the reality, the sum of all potential universes that paralleled each other, created the multiverse - the Spiderverse. 

The concept of it seemed strangely unlimited, the infinite possibilities to a different ending or a different start for its world. The multiverse was, in some sense, as old as time, a culmination of everything made imaginable by man. Found in ancient texts - the Puranas, ancient Hindu mythology - that expressed the infinite number of universes with their gods and principles. Whereas Persian literature - tales - touched the idea of learning about alternate universes that were similar, yet distinctly different from theirs. 

Misconstrued by many, the strangeness of it was deemed a danger, the unknown possibilities were feared by people of older age, but venerated in the past as it was in the present for the unfathomable possibilities. It exists in fiction, where they borrowed the idea of many worlds within a reality from myths, legends and religion. Heaven, Hell, Olympus and Valhalla were all reflections of a familiar world, a material realm for the blessed, the sinful, the gods, and the worthy. The similarities sometimes frightened you, how close the people were to knowing of the reality you all lived in. The tangibility of crossing worlds and bringing about chaos to every string, every realm, every material form of the multiverse. 

They, after all, were real, Hell as much as Heaven in your universe. Gods from every religion, either monotheistic or polytheistic, some you’d personally seen are Thor and Loki, brother and sons of Odin the Allfather, and the God of Thunder and Mischief respectively. Another was a big crocodile lady, Ammit, from what you’d heard from the all-knowing Dr. Strange. From God to Norse and Egyptian gods, from angels and demons, and from humans to mutants, your plane of existence was as wide as it could go without drifting off the edge and causing a mass domino effect within the multiverse.

You were curious, naturally so for a scientist, exploring the worlds that felt familiar to you but you hadn’t truly grasped -  different, yet similar. You hadn’t given a second thought to exploring yours. After all, why explore yours when your horizon was as broad as you imagined it, unperturbed by any limits when it came to the multiverse? The eternal and unlimited growing number of realms in your expanding reality.

Perhaps that was the reason why you hadn’t known your universe had its own Miguel O’Hara. You rarely came back for anything, you had everything you’ve ever wanted in Nueva York, Earth-928. You have friends who could truly understand you, people who stood beside you when you fought, youngsters who looked up to you for mentoring and a dream- or it was a dream. Dreams, not dissimilar to wishes, were hopeful, naive in a way, they came and went. Some dreams would come true, while others fell, like the fallen stars that crossed the night sky.

Yours simply happened to be a fallen one, one not meant to happen and become greater. You let it go after he dropped you, after he turned his back and let his mouth run unperturbed. He brought her up, someone he swore he would remember but left in the past. A new chance to become something, to become whole again, and Miguel took it. He wanted to start anew, fresh with someone he never met, you wanted the same; you both had what you wished for, until he put his foot down, cutting the thin web that connected both your lives.

It broke your heart. Months of patience and anxiously stepping around each other, nervous about breaking the trust freshly built between you both, lost in a few weeks. You were brittle, heart fractured and threatening to fall further apart if someone was any crueller to you. The smallest glare, the tiniest scoff or the weakest remark would send you reeling into the abyss of heartbreak and the throes of anguish. Yet somehow, you found yourself being led away by a copy of the Miguel you loved. 

He mumbled apologies as he held you tightly, his arm over your shoulder as he cradled you under his umbrella, hastily urging you to follow his guidance. If it were any other person, you would’ve been wary, cautious of any strangers that touched you so closely and chaperoned you so quickly; but this was Miguel, a man you trusted and that you still trusted wherever he came from. Earth-XXX’s Miguel O’Hara was still similar to the one you knew, someone you could trust. You did.

He led you to his flat, someplace near Alchemax’s building in Manhattan, a safe neighbourhood for the richer citizens of Manhattan. A cozy place of neutral tones and muted colours, yet warm as he welcomed you - a stranger as of yet - into his home. He had machinery strewn around, reports stacked on his coffee table and smaller things he had been tinkering about decorating his home. As a geneticist, he liked to play with machinery, having drawn his designs and models, built his creations from scratch and worked from the base programming to make something better. At least Miguel from Earth-928 did, and it seemed this one did as well. 

You stood in his shower, where he left you in a frenzy to bring you dry clothes, drying out your hair with the towel he motioned you to use. You doubted that he had anything your size, his broad shoulders and his towering height, nothing he had in his draws - and the boxes he stowed away in his closet - would fit you. They would drag down your ankle and sit low on your collar. Granted, you were soaked down to your socks and had no temporary clothes to cover yourself with during your stay. 

You had stripped from your soaked clothes and patted down your wet skin, shivering from the cold that clung to your bones even after Miguel had increased the heater in the small confines of the bathroom. It was small but big enough to move around and stretch your arms comfortably. You hadn’t felt the cold until he brought you to his bathroom, the numbness of the past months weighing heavily on your shoulders and the bleeding of your heart made everything seem so meaningless. The colours draining from the world around you, a once bright New York turned grey, the monochrome tones of black and white mixing and interlacing to form even more boring shades. 

The vibrancy and life you once saw around you dulled and died suddenly, like the winters brought by Demeter’s devastation and sadness when her daughter was taken from her, stolen from the berth of flowers she liked frolicking about. How Demeter doomed the world to see her pain, to feel how she felt in the moments her daughter had to return to her husband than stay with Demeter. You felt laden by your faults and his actions. Doubtful of your relationship, of what led you both to such an ending. Had you been clearer or more forthcoming about your emotions, or had you confronted him for his behaviour, would you still be in his arms? 

Were you at fault for missing something you had relied on as comfort and safety? Could you be blamed for his reaction to your meddling in his affairs in the Society? Could you blame him for dropping those words on you? After all, being reminded or compared to a past lover was anything but gentle, the gut-wrenching envy and betrayal you felt flash through you was nearly drowning. It made you feel lacking, to be reminded of his old flame, the one he was about to marry and the person he seemed to love before all. Could you even compare to what she was; what she did? (Dina had cheated on him, you knew that, but he was truly happy in their moments of pleasure and domesticity. They were a family until she died.)

You were drowning in your self-made sorrow when his voice called you, grounding you to the room. Standing before a door, naked and shivering, arms wrapping the damp towel around your shoulders. He called again, cracking the door open to pass you the - his - clothes he thought would fit you. He coughed as you took your temporary wear, your cool fingers brushing his warm ones. It was a sudden and jerking contact, you pulled back jerkingly, a shamble of an apology and a thank you flew from your tongue. His chuckle was a reassurance in the complete quietness of the flat, his low voice reminding you of better times. 

The sweater hung loosely around you, dipping down your collar to expose your shoulder. It was warm, the cotton used to make it still soft after being stored away and the soothing scent of spice and pine deeply integrated into the fibres. The pants were stretched around your hips, the tight fabric thin and flexible under stress, hidden under the long shirt. The legs, however, swayed loosely around your limbs, too big for your calves, but tight enough to hug your thighs. He had certainly made sure to bring you clothes that would fit your frame. You hadn’t attempted to smell his pants, you thought it would’ve been too intrusive and disgusting to do so if only to smell a remnant of Miguel on his as you did on the sweater. 

Miguel was waiting for you in the kitchen, his back turned to you as you ambled towards him. His shoulders loose and back relaxed in the presence of a stranger made you appreciate how good-natured he was in most universes you’d been to. He turned his head, gesturing you to sit on the chair facing him on the island as he returned to something he was making while you changed. 

“I hope you don’t mind hot chocolate,” he started, voice light and hopeful as he turned to you, cup in each hand as he moved to stare at you. “I’m not one for tea.” He slid the warm mug into your hand, eyes watching your expression as he slowly sipped on the hot beverage. 

His eyes squinted slightly when your lips curled upwards, a smile hidden by the steaming mug. You cupped the mug, feeling the warmth of the freshly brewed drink, the steam rising in soft curls and melting in the cooler atmosphere. Tentatively, you brought the rim to your lips, slowly tilting the cup. The powerful taste of chocolate hit you strongly, the sweet and dark liquid melting the tension in your muscles until you could curl over the table with an appreciative sigh. 

“Thank you…” you knew his name, wanting to call him, but his reaction would be unwanted, the shock, fear and suspicion that would fill his beautiful, brown eyes. So you slurred your words, dragging out your voice until he could tell you his name himself.

“Miguel. Miguel O’Hara, ” he nodded, cocking his head upwards, pointing at you with his chin. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Hey every time I want to call you.” His lips broke into a cheeky smile, teasing you when he saw that you’d comfortably melted into the drink and his island chair. He wanted to ease the tense atmosphere from before into something much calmer, to help the accumulated tension in your shoulders to fall like the rain that clouded the streets of New York.

You let out a hoarse chuckle, your throat still fresh from crying, and told him your name, trying to stabilise your shaking tone. His cheeky smirk tugged at your heartstrings, you hadn’t seen Miguel laugh or smile this freely in months. You missed it. The casual banter you shared and the on-and-off insults you’d hurl at one another, all good-natured insults meant to rile him. 

“Thank you, Miguel,” you nearly choked when you uttered his name, the wound still so fresh and bleeding it slip from your tongue easily. It brought up so many memories, both painful and joyful. Your eyes glazed over, tears threatening to fall once again, to paint your cheeks with agony that you - him, or perhaps both of you - had brought on yourself. “Thank you…”

Miguel hummed sympathetically, eyes staring down at his drink, deep in thought. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to invite you to share your problems, to tell him why you broke down on the street in stormy weather. Or maybe he was thinking of the fastest way to kick you out, to get rid of the mess you became. The silence, however, was reassuring, calming the nerves that followed the eerie calmness of Miguel’s den or the loud, hectic atmosphere of the Society. His warm, worrying gaze grounded you, the softness behind his concerned stare was heartwarmingly nostalgic.

“Difficult breakup?” His words seemed hesitant, unsure of his conclusion to the cause of your appearance. Unknowingly, he had struck gold, pinning down the right problem in your life with a few observations. Of course, he was observant and aware of his surroundings, why else was he so willing to bring you into his home? 

“How’d ya know?”

His sigh was telling, the deep, concerned and tired breath was only used when he knew that you wouldn’t tell him what ailed you, like the groan of a disappointed, yet worried father. 

“Because I know how it feels,” he says slowly, pensive over his words, picking them carefully to not damage you further than your ex had. He knew the pain of a harsh breakup, the pain and sorrow that followed, like a dark cloud that hovered over you whenever you were awake. 

“Why?” You croaked.

“Why?” he parroted, frowning at your question.

“Why did you invite me in? I’m a- a stranger to you, you don’t even know me. What if I’d been acting to mug you or potentially kill and steal from you? What’d you do then, Miguel?”

“I know the risks, but you didn’t, didn’t you? And wouldn’t, you don’t look like the person to harm another.”

You scoffed at his words. Didn’t and wouldn’t didn’t mean you would not do it later after gaining his trust, to stab him in the back after he helped you and nursed you. The simple, naïve idea that you didn’t look like a violent person was mind-blowing, it was stupid. How could he know if you didn’t mean harm later on? Like how Miguel never meant to harm you - he loved you - and yet in the end, he had. 

“That’s naïve,” you muttered, eyes closed as you drank the cooling beverage, the sugary drink trickling down your throat. 

“I’m confident in my ability to read people.”

He did seem confident in his ability, the straight back and the strong gaze in his eyes showed; and, maybe because you knew from experience that Miguel was observant and careful, he hadn’t gotten where he was by simply trusting people and following the herd. He tested and made mistakes, he learned from them each time and found a way to use it to his advantage. The Miguel you saw in every universe was similar in some ways, their good nature, their cunningness, their bravery and their intelligence. All aspects known to characterize Miguel O’Hara in all universes he existed in. 

You conceded to his will, head bowed and shoulders slack. You breathed shallowly, swallowing the lump in your throat:

“Yeah, what gave it away?”

You thought it would be the last of him you’d see in your life, you wished it wouldn’t, that you’d see him over and over, to feel what the Miguel from your universe had to give, but you knew it was wishful thinking, a wish thrown to the stars. Logically, he had no reason to call or text you after exchanging numbers days prior. He promised to call you, and he made you promise to call him if anything ever resurfaced, be it pain, anger, heartbreak or hate. You, instinctively, believed his word. 

You hated yourself for falling so easily to another Miguel, how you bent to his words and the sweet promises he uttered that night. There was no sign that he would keep his word, that he would see you again after your breakdown, except for his words and your belief in him. Then it wasn’t misplaced, all the trust and belief you had, since he called you, asking to meet up at a cafe. Miguel had set up a place and time for you when you replied with a croak, still feeling down. He had whispered reassuring words to you, urging you to meet him - he explicitly told you he’d feel offended to be stood up - and spend some time outside. The air was fresh and cool for an autumnal month, it wasn’t too cold that you were forced to wear a thick jacket, but it wasn’t warm enough for you to go out in a simple shirt. 

You were hesitant to take him up on his offer, knowing how easily you could rebound. You’d crash into Miguel’s open arms, searching for the love and affection he fed you like a lovesick puppy, but, then again, Earth-XXX’s Miguel was similar, yet different from his variant. It would be a lie if you told yourself you didn’t miss him, the soft smiles, the gentle touches and the affectionate words. You had spent so much time as his right-hand Spider that it felt odd not seeing him the following morning. It was a routine you’d formed: waking up in his bed, kissing him good morning, getting to work together and eating together. Everything you’d done in the past years was with Miguel from Earth-928 the routine, the rigidity, it was grounding, it was the only semblance of normalcy in the world you lived in.

Now, you had to face the possibility that you were too broken to see another Miguel, to hold a casual conversation and form coherent and normal sentences. The purposefully slow steps you took to the cafe picked after having a moment outside the glass front were telling in itself. You swallowed the little amount of saliva in your throat to soothe its dryness and walked through the doors of the quaint establishment. It was painted in calm, brown tones, rustic in design with a warmth that rivalled the comfort of your bed. It lifted a bit of the tension you had, shoulders slumping slightly as your eyes searched for a familiar mop of brown hair.

Laying against the brown sofa, he stared out of the wide window from his booth. The warm, morning lights caressed his cheeks, lighting up the sharp edges of his jaw and nose. He was sculpted in perfection, like the youthful beauty of Adonis, crafted with the meticulous and attention-catching hands of an artist that created what was thought to be a god’s beauty. You could spend your days watching him, catching every little detail of Miguel’s face under the changing lighting, but you were standing near the entrance and he was waiting for you. His words echoed in your mind: “Don’t forget about next week, I miss seeing you.”

His eyes flickered to you, blinking as he turned to you, flashing a smile. You returned the sentiment, a shaky smile lifting the corners of your lips. You sat across from him, eyes wandering the cafe to stare at anything but him, lest you wouldn’t be able to stop the rush of emotions that would light your face in a flush. He uttered your name, greeting you in a friendly manner. You nodded back, muttering his name, pushing down the wince whenever you said it. 

“Chocolate.”

The still-warm cup stared at you, light steam wafting over the reflective liquid. It was full, unlike Miguel’s cup, and drank down to the middle of the container. 

“Thank you.”

He probably wouldn’t let you repay him for the hot chocolate he bought you, the smile he gave you told you as much when your eyes flickered between his and your cup. The hot chocolate was a reminder of your night in his flat, where he lent you his shoulder to cry and his ears to listen. Embarrassment seemed to flash whenever you recalled the memory, how vulnerable you were to him, your walls broken down and your heart open. Though, Miguel didn’t seem to mind your fragility, giving you as much time as you needed. 

“How are you? I wanted to give you a few days to think before meeting again, I thought you might’ve needed the time alone.”

You nodded lamely, fingers curling around the warm porcelain, back slumped into the booth to hide from his knowing eyes. He was right, you had needed the time alone to clean yourself up, scour through your memories and tend to whatever mess you made of yourself. You were thankful. The last few days had brought revelations, how - both of - you had ignored the signs of a rupture in the relationship and continued to push on, like crossing a crumbling bridge. 

“‘M doing better. How- and how are you?”

He smiled at your attempt, you were trying on your own after a few - forced - encouraging words from Miguel. Maybe you’d learn to live with the pain, coexisting with the numbness that filled you until it dulled to a point where it would be barely acknowledged by you or anyone in your vicinity - where it wasn’t painted on your face with bright colours. Or the pursuit to forget it, pushing it into the farthest corner of your mind and heart, painting over the crack with glue. As long as you wouldn’t drown in your sorrows, ending up playing with dangerous substances to stay afloat while your mind sunk deeper into addiction and denial. 

He wouldn’t let you get that far, Miguel understood you and he lived through it as you did. Although his was a more violent breakup - she had cheated on him, his explosive reaction was natural - than yours, he hadn’t relied on anything but self-meditation and a lot of thinking. Like a friend - you were one by his standards, he’d invited you to his flat, you’d seen his organized chaos and ranted about your life while he comforted you with his shoulder and a cup of hot chocolate - he would stay by your side, hoping his support would be enough to help you.

“Great so far.”

His grin - somehow - grew even larger, enthusiasm gleaming in his eyes. 

Oftentimes, Miguel would be the one to call you, your phone ringing in the afternoon of the day prior with his soothing voice on the other end of the line. He spoke easily, finding the time to invite you out for the simplest reason, to talk, to make a drink, to have fun, and - your favourite by far - to see you. His initiative had you trying to double your efforts to heal, reaching outside of your boundaries and texting Miguel whenever you had a moment to yourself. You felt guilty that he was always the one to plan these outings, so you promised yourself that you’d become a better friend than you currently were. You even remembered his teasing tone when you called him for the first time:

”Aye, finally. I thought you’d never call me, chica. I felt neglected, thought you had forgotten about me for a second there.”

It started with the first coffee date, bickering about who would pay, pushing your card before the other while still seated at your table, frowning stubbornly and throwing promises about letting the other pay next time. Either way, Miguel rarely let you pay, coming atop as the winner of your little fight with his strength and height (you couldn’t exactly put all your force into your push, it could break bone and bruise the skin.).

Then it would be random meetings on the streets that would lead you to a random bench at the park, basking in the other’s presence, retelling your day and him nitpicking anything he could with a ridiculously criticising frown. He was playing, you knew he was. You did the same after you’d gotten more comfortable talking to him, it became easier to see him as a different - as his own - person. A few hits on the shoulder left and right, but it was mostly laughter at ridiculous expressions made to emphasize your disdain for a certain event.

The months that followed were a blur to you. Rather than going to a cafe or the park, you went to restaurants and crashed at one of your flats, yours if he wanted to play games and lounge about with food and drinks, and his if you wanted to watch movies (he had the best television you’d ever seen, such high definition and speed.) and tinker away at his inventions and theories. He was certainly happy that his new friend was another scholar in the field of genes and engineering (you were mostly into engineering than genes, but you knew a few things that you’d found interesting.). You could both gush - scientifically - about the possibility of gene splicing and lab-generated mutations in humans, like the mutant superheroes. 

You’d taken some liberties and went drinking, meeting at the same bar biweekly to relax after a few hard days at work. It served to loosen your nerves until either of you felt comfortable to chat up a storm about the most random subject. It’d been about the odd dent on the rim of his glass; then it’d be about how the sky was grey this week, there weren’t any warm, yellow rays blaring down on you when you went out; or it’d be about the distasteful cut of a man’s moustache. Drinking loosened your tongues, some words were said and some sentiments were shared, but none were truly taken seriously knowing you were tipsy - nearing drunk - those nights.

Every time you saw Miguel, you felt like you were rediscovering a part of yourself as well as him, the thing that made him so distinct and loveable. Miguel was expressive and honest, he slowly and gently let you down from whatever high you were, the pillar you needed to stand again after falling. He was so much different. It used to pain you how much they looked alike, but character-wise, they were like the two sides of a coin. It made you appreciate the delicate intricacies that made the multiverse.

You won’t - can’t - deny that you’ve grown fond of this Miguel as you did with the other one, but you couldn’t let yourself love him. He didn’t deserve someone broken and hashed into many lives: the masks you wore, the things you did, the secrets you hid, and the things you could do. He didn’t deserve someone who could bring him to his death; dying simply because he was connected to Spider-Woman; beaten simply because he knew Spider-Woman; kidnapped simply because they deemed him useful as leverage. All things that could go wrong haunt you. Miguel was human, he wasn’t a Spider, he wasn’t a superhero, and he wasn’t a vigilante. He was Miguel O’Hara, the geneticist working at Alchemax, with a brilliant mind and a kind heart. 

You cherished every part of him. That’s why you can’t let your heart lead, dedicate how you’d react to Miguel after the months you spent together. He was so close, yet so far; he was touchable, you could hold him, kiss him and hug him, but he was unattainable, you couldn’t tell him how much you loved him. You watched him with hidden love, showing your affection as platonic, a friend watching another. You had hardened yourself to your heart’s cries, for loving Miguel was a dangerous game-

“I- what?” you gawked at Miguel, wide eyes and mouth agape. You were shocked at the words that left his mouth, his soft, wet lips moving as he repeated the words.

“I love you.”

His cheeks were flushed, burning a soft red, it trailed to his ears and nape. His open collar - his jacket hung on the back of his chair and his shirt clung below his collar, a skin-tight shirt that hugged his sculpted chest sinfully, it hid little to the seeing eyes of the crowd and your drunk self. His sudden words had all but sobered you, shaking you into clear lucidity of his confession.

“You… love me?”

He blinked dumbly at you for a second, as if taking the time to absorb what he told you and what you repeated. Miguel was tipsy, not drunk. He smiled and nodded, a bashfully affectionate grin on his beautiful lips.

“Yes, is it so hard to believe, chica?”

He often called you chica, you thought it was a friendly term of endearment between friends (truthfully and regretfully, you knew little of Spanish, even with being in a committed relationship with an Irish-Mexican.). You just realised it was his pet name for you. All this time, he had given you his heart, and yet, you had denied him of yours. He was more playful and less burdened by life, it made him more teasing and smiling. The term chica somewhat made sense, a cuter and more playful way of calling someone you loved than the deep-meaning ones like mi cielo and mi vida, a play of words like a small secret between you. This secret hid behind names given between friends, a well-kept one, close to his chest but gifted to you. 

It might’ve once been - started - as friends, but it grew and festered in his heart until he found the time to express himself, to tell you how he truly felt for you - how he grew to care for you. He deemed this moment fine, bordering tipsy and nearing drunk, he’d be open, brutally honest but still aware of the words that left him. He wasn’t a lightweight anyway. 

You wanted to tell him you also loved him, but you couldn’t do it, mouth slightly open and eyes glazed with heartbreak, you simply stared at him in hesitancy. You opened your mouth once to reply and closed it, open and close, again and again until all you could do was stare at him. How were you supposed to answer him after the bomb he dropped? 

”Yes! I love you too!”

”Oh, Miguel, I love you too.”

”I- I love you as well.”

There were so many ways to express your feelings to the man who confessed, but none seemed to convey the true emotions that lay in your heart. You wanted to tell him you learned to love again thanks to him, that the time spent with him had made you open your eyes to the beauty that you were blinded by the pain and you slowly grew to care for - love - him as much as you did with Spider-Man 2099. He had the same smile, the same mind, the same heart, but he was more innocent, less burdened by disaster and happier. 

So you simply nodded. It made his smirk grow.

“Aye- would it be better if I called you ‘mi tesoro’ instead? It’s more straightforward, no?”

Even now, his words were light and playful, his tone affectionate as he leaned closer to you. You could see the mischievous glint in his warm, chocolate eyes (you thought that was why he liked serving you hot chocolate, it reminded you of his eyes.) and the curve of his lips as they moved to form words. You were transfixed by his beauty, mesmerised by the comforting hues and the sharpness of his cheeks, missing how close he was to you. 

“Or maybe-”

Softness caressed your lips, a plush, warm feeling that made you flush. He was kissing you, those pretty lips on yours. Your breath stuttered and you froze, but it didn’t stop Miguel’s initiative, a hand cradled your nape, holding you in place as he pushed himself closer to you. He moved against you, tongue slipping from his mouth and tentatively laving over your bottom lip, asking for something. 

He was so warm, so caring. You could just close your eyes and follow his lead - you did. He pushed harder, yet the kiss stayed soft and passionate, he lightly nipped your lip and soothed the stinging with his warm tongue, beckoning you to open your mouth for him. Your lips parted, opening up for Miguel to dive in, muscle meeting yours halfway and curling over yours. He still cradled your head, fingers running through your loose hair and tilting your head backwards, giving him more space to show you how much he loved you. Your arms, somehow, found themselves wrapped around his neck, pulling him as close to you as he was pushing himself against you. 

His kiss was loving, his hold was careful and his touch heartwarming. You almost regretted having to pull away, but you had to breathe, your lungs starving for air after having been devoured by Miguel’s adoring kiss. The moment you opened your eyes (you didn’t know you had closed them while you kissed), his smile greeted you, a lovesick one bubbling with unending joy. You almost choked from how it fit so well on him. 

“That’s- that’s one way…” you spoke between breaths, chest swelling with every erratic pant, matching his similarly worn-out breathing.

That was all he needed from you. Your kiss was enough for him to know you loved him the same, a patient and gentle love he was willing to give you. Your heart pulsed strongly, lips curving and eyes squinting, you pushed yourself closer to his heat, his all-encompassing warmth that wrapped around you when you wanted to feel safe and loved. Your world couldn’t be any brighter, like the vibrant colours of blooming flowers when Persephone was given to her mother, where the snow melted and colours washed over the lands once more, painting the blank white and dead grey in joyous tones. It glowed brightly and warmed you like the summers that followed the melting ice, the clear, blue skies of Olympus and as freeing as the soaring hawks and skipping elks.

Letting go was far harder than loving. To let the person who you let in leave felt emptying, it left a gaping hole in his heart. Where it was once calm, struck a raging storm of rejection and regret, crashing waves the size of Poseidon’s rage and violent storms the strength of Zeus’ retribution. It hurt watching you walk beside a variant of himself, a happier and lighter version of him without his mutations or duty. You were the Spider-Woman of your universe so there wouldn’t be a second one unless there was a catastrophic canon divergence. 

He hadn’t followed you at first, respecting your wishes of being left alone. He had to give you that much, at least, after those months spent beside his ignorant ass. He hadn’t seen it until it was too late, lost under the weight of his duty and fears that he’d forgotten he had people who cared, who felt, who loved. It was too late, it was always too late with him. If he couldn’t fix his first mistake, who’s to say he could fix this? He couldn’t save his first daughter or his second’s universe because it was falling apart. He couldn’t save anyone because he hadn’t realised his mistake in interfering in canon events, and he lost you because he couldn’t stop his vitriol, his violent temperament that had pushed you away. He always took things for granted until they were lost to him. 

Was it two or three weeks before he decided to check up on you? He didn’t know anymore, the weeks blurred until he finally amassed the courage to go against everyone’s words. Through the flat hologram of his orange screen, he watched you lament on your own, body curled into itself and shoulders shaking. Your sobs were heart-wrenching to watch while he had no means of contacting you; you would’ve reacted more strongly and aggressively if he’d contacted you after leaving. 

So he watched.

You stared vacantly from your window and left only for the bare necessities or to act as Spider-Woman. Crime never slept so you couldn’t stop even in your time of need. You swung from building to building so gracefully that Miguel was hypnotised by your grace. He watched these moments as a reminder of the missions he took by your side, webbing and catching anomalies all across the multiverse with fearsome speed and accuracy. You both had made a fearsome team, but that time was over, it was a memory long forgotten. 

So he watched.

Your flat was cold and empty, the space filled with spectres of memories, the cool rooms vacant of life that used to fill them with warmth and happiness. It was saddening from his perspective - the observer, the watcher and the reader of your story - of your time spent alone. He wanted to tell you that you weren’t alone, that he was watching you from afar, a silent protector that would only act if you were in imminent danger - as long as it wasn’t part of the canon. 

So he watched-

Besides you was Miguel - not him, another one - and he looked much too comfortable by your side for his liking. His variant seemed much too close for a friend, moving from sitting before you to beside you, arm slung over your shoulders and leaning back and, sometimes, towards you at a breath’s distance. He turned green with envy, a vicious monster brewing inside his body with the threat of bursting out, clawing at his chest. The other was too close to you for his liking. 

He watched as his variant bought you drinks - always, however long and loud you’d complained and fought, he never let you pay in the end - and paid for your dates. He abhorred it. How happy you looked with the other him. How calm and satisfied your smile was. How close his variant was to you. He wished he was at the other’s place, taking his rightful place beside you. He would kiss you, smother you in love and give you whatever you wanted, whether it be a hug, a kiss or his time, he would’ve given them to you. He wouldn’t dance around the edge of your affection and his love like he was doing, like a man unsure of his feelings and anxious to act on it. 

He thought the other Miguel was a coward - though he knew he wasn’t. He wanted to blame his variant and find fault for anything he did, but they were still the same person. He was Miguel O’Hara as much as he was. He wanted, but couldn’t, especially after seeing how both loved you the same, having a similar type. They were so much alike that he could’ve replaced his variant, yet so vastly different in other manners that he would’ve stood out. His history, his trauma, his curse, the other had none of them. He was normal while he was Spider-Man, a stronger, more brutal version of Spider-Man. 

Granted, he loved you with every fibre of his being, but he had never showered you with as much love and affection as the other, having his character muddled through long hours of work and long-lasting tragedy. You were another of his tragedies, where he found love again and lost it by his own making. He would have left too if the Society didn’t depend on him, leaning towards him for support and help in protecting the multiverse. It was something he couldn’t sacrifice for his whims.

So he kept watching and let his heart crack and envy fester.

He watched you grow even closer to him, shoulders and hands occasionally touching, making you jump and blush. He watched you move from simple coffee dates to full-blown restaurants and bar dates, drinking and eating at your leisure - something he could’ve never provided you. He watched you wobble around when you were drunk, your arm over his shoulder and his around your waist, supporting your drunk weight. He watched you kiss, the other pressing your bodies together and you reciprocating the loving embrace you had once given to him. 

He felt like crying. He was crying, silent tears rolling down his sharp cheeks in slow, thundering waves of his heartbreak. He clung to the desk, claws unintentionally popping out and bending the metal under his fist. The sound ripped through the silent room like the image that ripped through his heart. He was alone in his grief, shoulders slumping and arms shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He had locked the door, barricading it with a busy, do not disturb sign, warning the others that he was occupied and wouldn’t be reached unless there was an emergency. 

“Miguel…”

He’d forgotten Lyla was here - she was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, with your help he had given Lyla an upgrade in her system that gave her access to every Spider that had the watch. She had access to every file in the database and his secrets. Lyla was loyal to him as much as she was to you, respecting your words with a promise of her own to leave you alone. That, however, didn’t mean that she wasn’t privy to his pains, watching him while his eyes were stuck to your universe’s screen, giving him some comforting words that were meant to lift his spirit. It never worked but the intention was there. 

He couldn’t look at her, still facing the hologram of you kissing. He felt the surge of too many emotions to be able to think clearly, his self-control tethering on a thin line of fragile web. If he turned, he would explode on Lyla, giving her the brunt of his suffering even though she didn’t deserve it, she felt and laughed as much as any other human. He remembered programming in emotion with you, laughing about how much she would be as teasing and annoying as you. Lyla was another gift to him by you, so it would hurt him more. 

“Miguel-”

“Don’t- Do not say another word.”

For a man in tears and pain, his voice was curt and stoic, playing the leading figure he’d taken for so long. It betrayed his shaky figure, fingers crushing the metal loudly and shoulders jerking with ever-wrenching choked sob. His world was crumbling around him, rippling and cracking from the seams and folding into itself. The control of his state was failing miserably as he kept staring at your mirthful smile after the kiss. It tore him apart knowing he pushed you further away and into the arms of another. It hurt him deeply. 

Through everything, he heard Lyla whisper a small sorry before she popped out of existence, her small holographic body vanishing along with her orange light. Gone was her familiar light, gone was the nostalgic memory of programming her, and along her, was the support of another person. He was truly alone in this moment, to fall on his knees and let himself drown under the weight of everything. 

If your love was a tangible thing, he would’ve cradled it between his warm palms, holding it tightly to his chest to feel the soothing effects you had on him. Like a balm to burns, you cooled the searing pains that the world inflicted upon him, the warm blanket that covered him when he needed rest and the pillar that held him when he fell. He’d lost something he couldn’t gain a second time, clutching his head in his misery, drowning and howling.

It felt surreal until it wasn’t until it all sunk in. He truly couldn’t grasp the utter loss and betrayal he felt. The realisation that he truly lost you to none other than himself. The irony of it all slashed deeper, how he drove you closer to another him by his own doing, making you love a Miguel with more gentleness, more kindness and time than him, Miguel O’Hara, the Spider-Man from Nueva York, Earth-928. Everything he had was lost in time, his spiralling thoughts of loss and misery clouded his vision, bringing tears forward in bigger waves. 

Was he doomed to lose everything he cared about? Was he bound to love and lose? Why couldn’t he have a happy ending like everyone else? Was it because he was different? Perhaps it was, there were other O’Hara Spider-Man, but none were mutated like him, a product of self-infliction and sabotage - none had their DNA spliced and mixed with a spider’s. He was simply too different from the others, they were lean but still had a strong musculature, muscles tightened to create more strength and defence; none were big and broad as he was, with rough edges and mean streaks. They were nice and happy, faced losses of their own, but always came out on top (there were some minor - sometimes major - variants of Spider-Man here and there, but they all had some similarities in their stories of becoming.). He saw the devastation and grasped onto the thinnest silver lining he could find, holding onto it to stay afloat while others thrived where they were. 

Maybe it was truly because of him. He was realistic - near cynic -  he couldn’t see things optimistically, life had made him that way. The silver lining he saw in things was small, nearly extinguished by his near-pessimistic way of life. Did that have an impact as well? It most likely did, at least partly. Fate had given him a bad hand in things, he couldn’t be completely blamed for how things turned - or so he thought, hoped. A man wasn’t only the result of what he’d done, but also of what he was given. When push comes to shove, Miguel acted in a way he thought meant well for him and the others even if it didn’t seem like the right decision at first. He rarely doubted his actions while he did them, only after, could he let himself face the consequences of what he’d done. Miguel simply didn’t have the pleasure of waiting. He needed to act when it was called.

If he had waited, if he had been patient and sought out others for support, if he had spent time thinking before acting, would he still have his little girl beside him? Would he still have you in his arms? If he had shown you more affection, would you have still loved him?

Did you still love him?

Miguel didn’t know what he was doing. Standing before your apartment door in civilian clothing and a bouquet of twelve, beautiful white tulips - the meaning not lost to him. It was an attempt at apologizing for his mistakes, a desperate one led by heartache. He brushed his hair back, trying to look as kept as he could in his situation: dark bags and sickly skin, tense muscles and sore back. This was a daring move from him, it would end up catastrophic if the Miguel from your universe saw him at your front door; but he checked, making sure his variant was elsewhere before opening a portal to your place. 

He hadn’t moved in a while, listening to you move around your flat, the sound of your soft steps shuffling from behind the door, a wall between you and him, reminding him that he wouldn’t be able to cross it unless you welcomed him. He held the bouquet in one hand and knocked with the other, his knuckles hitting the wood softly and hesitantly. There was a pause between every knock, drawn by his nerves and the anxiety that gripped him. 

You moved and closed in on the sound at the door. He saw your shadow dance under the small gap on the floor and pause. You knew. You knew it was him even without peeking through the peephole, your spider-sense aiding you in recognizing the unknown. Although your hand rested reluctantly at the knob - perhaps still too raw from your break as he was - you opened the door for him, figure small and apprehensive. 

“Miguel,” you muttered his name, greeting him with a slow nod. You stepped back and opened the door wider for him, he took it as a good sign that you let him in rather than shut the door in his face.

He nodded back, saying your name. He took a step forward, foot breaking the barrier to your flat. The second one ensured he was fully invited, both feet strongly rooted on your side of the door. He wanted to make himself smaller, to appease you, but he knew you wouldn’t have liked that. He squirmed under your stare, a mix of curiosity and concern. 

He nearly sighed audibly when you gestured at him to sit and he moved to the sofa he remembered sleeping on with you, cuddling under a warm blanket while you watched a movie. He knew your home by heart like you knew his, the memory washed over him with melancholy. You sat on the armchair to his left, your back to the kitchen. He swallowed thickly and handed you the bouquet, freshly cut tulips glistening with pearly drops under your lights. 

Your shoulders shook as you leaned in to take the bouquet, jolting back when your fingers grazed him. Feeling your skin felt invigorating, it breathed back life into him, even slightly. You thanked him with a slow nod, seemingly unsure of what to make of it. Was it a gift? Was it an apology? Was it a farewell sign? He figured your mind was running in circles trying to understand the meaning of the pretty bouquet he handed you. You were always an overthinker, but your mind worked brutally well. That’s something he always appreciated about you. 

“I-” Miguel started, seemingly stopped by something that he couldn’t get out of his throat. Maybe a ball of dread or needles of anxiety, but it held him from giving you the words he spent nights thinking over, to give you the message he built from the deepest crevice of his heart. “I’m sorry, (Name).”

You stared at him, understanding that he needed a moment of silence to truly convey his feelings. You hadn’t uttered a word since he first started, expression neutral, not betraying whatever brewing storm you locked inside of you. He was grateful, truly. 

“I know- I know it doesn’t mean much now, but I’m really, really sorry, mi vida.”

He sensed you tense, the muscles of your back contracting and rippling under your shirt. Every unseen fibre moving was bare to him, he could see and feel better than most, if not, everyone else. 

“I acted out of anger and lack of sleep, but that doesn’t mean you deserved that- never. I just, my mutation makes me more animalistic, more… aggressive than the other, and I hurt you. You didn’t deserve any of that and I can’t always blame it on my mutations. I should’ve been able to control myself. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you in those ways.”

He lowered his gaze to his hands, the calloused pads of his fingers rubbing his palm, trying to coax himself into relaxation. Although your breathing softened, a calm breeze in an atmosphere thick with tension, he didn’t dare look up and see the face you were making. 

“I was a bad boyfriend and a horrible friend. I’m- I’m not asking you to forgive me, I don’t want you to forgive me, but- I just needed to tell you how much I regret hurting you. I want to apologise, I don’t know what else to do, I don’t know how to fix this.” He breathed deeply, collecting every ounce of confidence and honesty to brave your reaction. “I’m sorry, mi cielo.” 

He shuddered, body rippling with his pained breath. He hadn’t realised how painful it would be to face you with his fears and confession, with the threat of abandonment and rejection fresh in his mind. He was a man of pride and strength, rarely facing anything with trepidation and hesitance. 

“I’m really sorry, mi cielo. I’m so, so sorry.”

He sat in silence, letting it hang over him like the blade of a guillotine, silent and brunt. Perceiving the flash of the sharp blade before it fell on his neck, sentencing him to a quick downfall with a long, lasting agony that would sting his neck as long as it would hurt his heart. The French used it for executions, the thing that spelled people’s end. At its height, it was used as an apparatus to behead traitors or people who were deemed dangerous to the people of the new republic. Down the blame went and off the head popped, like it would happen to Miguel if he wasn’t prepared for it. He truly didn’t know whether he had prepared for his rejection, for the death of his heart, to watch the flickering sparks of his flame wither out.

“I’m sorry too, Miguel-”

The rope strained, knots twisting and rippling in the tightness of the pull. It shook, whipping in the air as it straightened completely, held closely by the hand of the executioner. The wind blew but it was sturdy, withstanding the violent gales that slammed against the body of it.

“-it means a lot that you came here to apologise- ”

The crowd was filled with silence, the emptiness of the area a mock of a ghost town. Abandoned to be sentenced to death without anyone to witness. They deemed him not fit for their acknowledgment before his death, before the sparks of his life extinguished. His fate wasn’t worth their time, unlike the poorest criminals who stole for money, unlike the richest pigs who fed from the poor with their silver spoons and golden crowns, unlike the cruellest killers who gutted and left men, women and children to bleed out, and unlike the guiltless innocents cursed for something they hadn’t committed. 

“-but, I can’t.”

The rope was let loose, its tail flying and whipping in the air as the blade descended with its weight. The wood chafed against its support beams, yet it flew gracefully and rapidly, singing the doom of its prisoner. The blade gleamed under the moon’s bright light, the silver whispers of peace and sleep deaf to his ears.

“I can’t love you anymore.”

It cracked down on him, his life flashing before him as it cut into him. Severing his control over his body, putting out the dying embers of hope. He clung to desperation in his last moments, wishing to relive the moments of happiness, bright oblivion and cherished love. 

He wished that he could’ve seen your shadowed figure hidden in the darkness, tears lining your cheeks as you watched him take his last breath. The only person who came to see him leave, the one who he would’ve burned the world for. In the end, after everything he’d done, you still gave him a small moment of your time to witness his fall, you deemed him worthy of such an act. You offered him your kindness. 

My extensive tag list of extremely patient people pt1.:

@iseizeyourmom @raynerainyday @etherealton @sciencethot @coffee-obsessed-freak @thesecretwriter @beepboopcowboy@bontensh0e @aikoiya @allysunny @fandoms-run-my-life @brittney69 @aranachan @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @konniebon @starlightaura @redwolfxx @aniya7 @alicefallsintotherabbithole @bvbdudette @wwwelilovesyou @wwwellacom @akiras-key @bobafettbutifhewasgay @opiplover @rinieloliver @uniquecroissant @yas-v @xrusitax @blkmystery @darherwings @ariparri @notivie @vr00m-vr00m @battinsonwhore05 @irishbl0ss0mz @mivanda @saint-chlorine @livelaughluvmen @battinsonwhore05 @notivie @lililouvre @giasjourneyblog @ykyouluvme @skullywullypully

[mypoisonedvine]

you could do a drabble about Jonathan Crane...a continuation about a drabble that he helps his patient with his sexual health problems, but now instead of observing he participates 👀 and Reader doesn't want to but does want to 🫠 I love your content, I'm so happy you're back.💜

seems like a perfect continuation to this c: HOW did it turn out so long lmaoooo 18+ ONLY OF COURSE

length: nearly 2k

warnings: noncon/heavy dubcon, abuse of power/manipulation, medical kink, praise kink, pain kink (at least on his part lol)

"How will I know when I'm ready?" you asked hesitantly. "For... sex?"

He smiled, very very slightly, and did that annoying therapist thing where he answered your question with a question. "What do you think are signs that you're ready for that step?"

You sighed, noticing how he'd flipped it back on you (he explained before why he did that-- because his job was to guide you to personal growth rather than just tell you what to do-- but you still wished sometimes it could be more simple) and tried to think about how to answer his question. "I guess... desire, would be a good sign."

"It would certainly help," he laughed lightly. "It's hard to feel much pleasure during something that feels like a chore. Have you?"

"Hm?"

"Have you experienced any desire for or interest in sex lately?" he asked.

Suddenly feeling a bit flushed, you looked away from him and rubbed the back of your neck. "O-oh, uh... I-- I guess that depends on what you consider--"

"So you have," he interrupted, smirking a bit, and you glanced at him before looking down at the floor with a nervous laugh. "I suspected as much."

"Because I brought it up today?" you assumed.

"No, for quite some time," he responded. "Weeks ago."

You blinked quickly, wondering how he could've noticed something like that. "Oh, did I... say something?"

"It's what you don't say," he explained, looking at you with a bit more darkness in his eyes. "It's what goes without saying."

You knew that he knew, but you weren't strong enough to admit it yet. "Wh-what do you mean, Dr. Crane?" you asked, playing dumb and hoping helplessly that it would work.

He sighed and shut his notebook, setting it aside and tilting his head a bit as he looked at you. "What do you think I'm referring to?" he asked.

You scoffed, seeing an opportunity to change the subject. "You know I can't stand it when you do that... you should just answer my questions," you decided.

"Yes, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he smirked. "Simply being told what to do."

You shuddered at the way his voice changed... and his stare, too, it seemed to rake over you. Even though you weren't sure if he was really asking, you found yourself nodding.

"Say it, out loud," he insisted.

"I want you to... to tell me what to do..." you mumbled nervously, "Dr. Crane..."

He smiled, wider than probably you'd ever seen on him and your gaze followed him as he stood up. "I'm glad you've finally admitted it," he said softly, stepping closer to you until his form towered over you as you sat on the couch-- your heart beat faster as you arched your neck to look up at him, swallowing thickly. "Dilated eyes, elevated heartrate, tightly crossed legs-- yes, I noticed all the signs of desire in you. You want me to help you with your aversion, yes?"

"Well, of course, but--"

He leaned down and held your chin softly in his hand, making your words fail into a whimper. "I think you'll experience much faster progress this way," he explained. "You'll do as you're told?"

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your ears, but you nodded slightly; you couldn't exactly say 'no' now, could you?

And he wasn't wrong-- you'd thought about this, with him. But not literally this. You just thought he was attractive, and though he was the one who told you to touch yourself daily at home to desensitize your mind and increase your libido, you never admitted in your self-reports that you were usually thinking about him.

But you weren't thinking about him as your doctor. You were thinking about him as some other person, who just happened to look like that. And though, in your mind, he always took charge... this felt strange in all the wrong ways.

He didn't quite force you down, he just guided you-- but it wasn't gentle, either. It ended up with you laying back on his couch, the decorative throw pillows supporting your back and keeping you half-upright as Dr. Crane slotted himself between your legs, running his hands over your body through your clothes.

He hummed a little, staring down at you in this greedy, voracious way that was totally unfamiliar. You whimpered a little when his hands groped your breasts through your shirt. "Don't worry," he offered, as if it were that simple. "I told you to stimulate yourself like this each night... did you?"

"Yes," you breathed, "but, um... not so... not exactly like that."

"Show me, then."

Your hands were shaking as they took the place of his, and you thoughtlessly bit your lip as you squeezed yourself a little slower, a little gentler-- you both sighed when your fingers pinched your nipples slightly through your clothes.

He reached down to your waist, sliding his hands up under your shirt. His touch on your bare skin was... unexpected, to say the least. His hands were warm, which was a relief, but you still felt shivers run all over you as his fingers delicately moved up your sides. Under your shirt and bra, he cupped your breasts as your own hands fell away. "Like this?" he mimicked your touches, only without the barriers; and even though it made your stomach flip, you couldn't deny that what he was doing felt better than it ever had when you did it to yourself.

Not wanting to admit that to him, though, you just bit your lip harder and nodded.

Just when you started to get somewhat comfortable with-- or at least used to-- what he was doing, he pushed up your clothes to your collarbones, exposing your chest to his lascivious gaze.

"O-oh," you blurted out at the rush of cool air, at the way he stared down at you with an open, hungry mouth-- which he then suddenly latched onto one of your hardened nipples. "Oh!" you whimpered, hips rocking up against him unintentionally when he suckled hard at the sensitive bud.

He wasn't subtle about it, or all that gentle, but it wasn't too much. Thought it was certainly much more intense than you expected.

He hummed against your skin, and you continued to shake uncontrollably beneath him; it was a raw and aggressive sort of pleasure, his tongue and teeth constantly stimulating you, each movement making your pussy clench inside. He'd always told you to be slow and careful with yourself, to even tease and edge yourself if you could... apparently he didn't practice what he preached.

Apparently he didn't need to. You could tell that you were soaking your panties already. Your head was spinning; how the fuck was this actually happening?!

His mouth moved to your other nipple, his fingers tweaking the one still slick from his thorough treatment. He tilted his head, and you regretted glancing down to look at him latched into you like that. This was your doctor, your psychiatrist... you knew it was wrong, you weren't that naive. But you were apparently too stupid to figure out how to stop this.

When he broke away, he grinned up at you. "You're so sensitive here," he purred, "what other places have you found, hm? Those little spots that make your toes curl?"

It must have been a rhetorical question, because he was already pushing your skirt up to your waist. You shivered, feeling that familiar anxiety swell in your chest, but you tried to keep it down. Even if this wasn't at all how you imagined it, you did want to be done with this, to finally say you were able to move past your fear. Maybe this was just as good as any other way-- to just get it over with.

But you had to take a deep, shaky breath when his fingers hooked into your panties... gently pulling them down your thighs-- or in this case, up your thighs, since your legs were forced up and apart by his body between them.

He purred at the sight of you-- or maybe just when he saw how wet you were, but he got the feeling he already knew.

"Very good," he praised, and you sucked in a sharp breath. "You look ready."

Your eyes went wide as he sat himself back a bit, his hands hastily working on his belt and fly; you didn't want to watch him do this, but you couldn't seem to look away.

If your eyes were already wide, then they must have nearly popped out when he opened his trousers and pulled his cock out.

"I-it's too--" you blurted out instantly, scooting back on the couch a bit, recoiling away. "Dr. Crane, you're too--"

"What?" he asked innocently, though it was terribly unconvincing.

"It's too big," you whispered, and he laughed lowly.

"Don't worry about that," he sighed as he leaned down over you again, sliding himself between your slick lips with a groan. "You-- fuck-- you won't have any trouble. My god, you're soaking me already..."

He seemed pretty distracted, and wholly unbothered with your hesitance. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but you couldn't seem to soothe-- especially not when he guided his head right up to your entrance. "W-wait," you stammered suddenly, moving your hips back, "I'm not-- I'm not ready."

"I think it's time for me to make that decision for you," he said firmly. "If you never challenge yourself, you'll never overcome this."

"But I'm not--!" you began, cut off by his hand covering your mouth. There was a ferocity in his glare as he watched your face, studying the changes in your expression carefully as he penetrated you.

As you had feared, his size was an issue. Even dripping wet, you had to stretch to accommodate him... it had been years since you took anything bigger than your own two fingers. He'd had you buy a relatively thin, 'ergonomic' (as the packaging stated) vibrator to insert in yourself at home, but you'd gotten too nervous and couldn't get it in past the first inch. He told you it was all in the mind, and you thought he was right at the time, but this felt physically impossible. And it just kept going.

You whined, nearly screamed, behind his hand, and he groaned in your ear with hot and heavy breaths.

"You can take it," he assured, sliding in deeper, "you can take my cock. It's going to fit... one way or another."

You sighed with relief when his hips were flush with yours; you were shaking, a thin layer of cold sweat all over you like you'd gone through some awful thing. But it wasn't over-- it had only just begun.

"Fuck," he grunted, starting to pull back and push into you all over again. "I know it hurts now... but you'll get used to it."

At first, you thought he meant just now-- that your body would relax and adjust, which it did eventually. But that wasn't what he meant, exactly. He meant something much more long-term, if not permanent; he meant that soon enough, you would be all too comfortable being his to use.

[xi-chan]

hiii can you write abt ratio and sunday w a reader who gets overstimmulated at parties or just hanging out with friends and they get really mean when overstimmulated <3 like how would they help their partner out yk

  ❦  𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. how they help you out when you're overstimulated ❧ tags. Ratio x reader, sunday x reader, fluff, comfort, sfw ❧. a/n. of course, and thank you for your request, love <3 btw i'm not familiar with what it's like to help an overstimulated person so I did some research before writing- I apologize if I wrote something wrong

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎

"By the Aeons, do you people ever shut up?" you spat to a group of young students, meaner than you intended to, but you couldn't really help it at the moment. The hall was full to the brim- packed with endless members of the Intelligentsia Guild. There were just too many- bragging loudly about their scores of their last exams or simply discussing different subjects with no end. Without saying anything to the students, you quickly walked to one of the corners, covering your ears to shut out the noise. You had difficulties focusing, and the discomfort was creeping up your whole body. You tried to calm down, taking deep breaths and imagining being back home in your cozy and quiet living room. Yet, the constant talking, laughing and arguing made it entirely impossible.

You slumped down the wall, sitting down and resting your head between your legs. You groaned as you shut your eyes, not noticing the person standing beside you.

"―? What are you doing?" they asked. "Why do you care?"

"Because I'm your boyfriend, obviously."

You let out a noise of confusion before you lifted your head and looked to the side, seeing your boyfriend, Veritas, leaning on the wall and focused on you. He crouched down beside you and placed his hand on your forehead, a frown appearing on his face. Your face was pale yet your forehead was quite hot.

"Why didn't you say anything earlier? I would've brought you home." he said, removing his hand. Your gaze shifted to the side, your fingers twitching a little. "I didn't find you. There were a lot of people." it was the truth. From the moment your senses became a bit heated, you looked around, walking from venue to venue to find Ratio, yet it seemed like he just disappeared into thin air.

"I was looking for you as well. Figured out you didn't like it here." Ratio held you by the arms and helped you stand up straight, steadying your body with his from falling down. "Let's go home now." You thanked the Aeons as you nodded, and the two of you made your way to the exit.

"Ah, Dr. Ratio!" one of the members shouted. "I wanted to tell you about the integrals of inverse tri-"

"Your integrals of inverse trigonometric functions exam, in which you barely passed with 71%? I'd rather not. Now excuse me, we're making our leave."

Well that shut him up quickly, you thought.

-

"..." Veritas stayed silent when you were back home. The two of you sat on your shared couch and he massaged your back gently, never pressing anywhere too hard to help you relax. he also made something to drink and some snacks for you, but you simply stayed still as you relished in the massage. It always seemed to calm you down.

"Thanks, I feel better now."

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

"I'm fine, I already told you!"

The other members of The Family looked at you with wide eyes as you snapped at Sunday. He noticed you behaving rather different today and wanted to make sure you were okay, but after asking if you were feeling well- that was your last straw.

You quickly made your way, left through one of the many halls in Dewlight Pavilion and shut the door behind you vehemently. When you weren't hearing any chatter anymore, you relaxed a tiny bit, yet you couldn't stop fidgeting with your fingers, the voices of The Family lingering in your mind, still.

Being the lover of the head of the oak family was no easy matter by itself. Doubt amongst The Family members and the locals of Penacony occurred overnight and the feeling it left you with wasn't pleasant- not at all. Now, a gathering with all members of The Family, where the majority didn't like you and talked behind your back, was too much. You lost your focus at the very beginning already and the meltdown just now was what you needed to actually leave.

You sat down on one of the many couches that were scattered across the Pavilion and took a deep breath, focusing on you, and you only, your head hanging low. You had noticed the Origami Birds on the railings and thanked them in your mind for not chirping- or making any noise at all, actually.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to make you feel angry."

You recognized your lover's voice and sighed, shaking your head softly as you mumbled, "don't. I was just..."

Sunday sat beside you and draped a blanket over your shoulders. A weighted one, you noticed. He took your hand in his softly as he traced some circles on the back of your hand, the gesture making you actually quite calmer.

You focused on his hands and let relief wash over you with time- it must have been at least 10 minutes since he arrived and yet, he didn't stop, nor did he say anything in the time. You smiled to yourself as you felt your mind becoming clearer, shifting your gaze from your hand to his face.

"Thanks, I... really needed that." you said and he shared your glance, a small smile plastered on his lips again. "Just tell me if you need more time to relax. I'll give you all the time you need."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for making my partner feel bad about sex?

NSFW Warning for this one, tl;dr at bottom. Sent in May 26th, 2024, goat to locate later

🐐

I (23FtM) have been with my partner “Jake” (25M) for about seven months now. We met at work, were friends for a while, and decided to start dating after we realized we had feelings for each other

Please let me say that Jake is a good boyfriend. He takes me out, we share big purchases, our families get along, and he’s always been super supportive of me in the ways he can be. I would also like to say that I haven’t medically transitioned yet and very much do NOT pass as a man. Despite this, he’s never misgendered me and he’s always been really good about making me feel masculine.

So not long into our relationship, I disclosed to him that I have vaginismus (or whatever it’s called), and it means that I can’t really be on the receiving end of penetrative sex until I do some muscle therapy for my downstairs. Like it hurts when I try to insert anything into myself, always has since I was younger. No tampons, no fingers, especially no penises. Jake said this was fine and that he had confidence in his ability to make me feel good in other ways

Well… it’s been six months and I’ve never actually finished. He bought me a little rose toy to use, but he never grabs it while we’re intimate and when he does try to use it, he fumbles with it and decides not to use it and that me doing oral on him would just be easier. I can understand that for a quickie, we won’t have time to find what buttons to push that’ll make me finish, but most of the time we’re home alone, my roommates are out, and we’ve got all night.

And before anyone says anything: I have brought this up before. First time was what led him to buying the toy. It’s a good toy, I guess, but it does what my fingers would already do and he never takes the time to learn how to use it properly without hurting me. Second time I brought it up, he got really apologetic and asked me to use the toy while he touched himself next to me. I think that was the first time I finished in proximity to his body in our entire relationship. It didn’t feel good. Several friends pushed me to talk to him again, so I did.

I went to his place, Jake lives with his mom still, and I was trying to find a good place to talk to him, but he kept talking about work or his sisters or would turn on an anime that he knew I liked. The day ended with me giving him oral and then me going home. It almost seemed like he was going to reciprocate, but he hesitated and rolled off me. It really hurt my feelings, but I chickened out of telling him since he looked so happy to spend time with me.

Yesterday, he came over and I was finally able to squeeze in a joke about him being a “pillow princess” and his reaction was to get worked up and initiate sex to “prove” he wasn’t. It went the same as every other time - oral - him receiving, fumbling with toy, and then giving up. But he was smiling like he had done something revolutionary in our relationship and I just. Stared at him. He asked me what was wrong and I said hadn’t finished. He had a sad face now and said that there really wasn’t “much I can do while you’re, you know” while gesturing to my genitals.

I felt like crying, but I didn’t want to be the boyfriend who started crying over every little thing, so I just agreed with him and we cuddled until I drove him home. Before meeting Jake, sex was never a large part of any of my relationships. Half because I’m on the asexual spectrum, half because of my condition, so this would be my first serious sexual relationship. I love Jake, I love him so much, he was there for my when my mom passed away last year, and he was there for my college graduation.

On the drive back, he was really quiet so I asked him if he was alright. He said he was really hurt by my pillow Princess comment and asked me if I could take it back, that it made him feel like a bad boyfriend. I apologized for him feeling bad, but I didn’t outright take back what I said. He got out of my car still sad and I returned home feeling like k was gonna throw up.

So now I’m writing this to see if I fucked up. Maybe I should have been more assertive with my needs, maybe I should be more compromising so that everyone feels good. Idk.

TL;DR: I called my boyfriend a pillow Princess because he’s never made me finish during sex while I’m always serving him. He got upset and said I was calling him a bad boyfriend. Aita?

[melancholymetropolis]

Big Ole Freak

plot: A curious archivist accidentally summons Ryomen Sukuna

pairings: Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

genre(s): MONSTERFUCKING; Shameless Smut

warnings: unedited (mostly). canon divergence. d/s role. FEMDOM Y/N. bratty sub Sukuna. breathplay. choking (m receiving). reader is shy at first but kinda bossy towards the end. fight for dominance lowkey. PIV SEX. sukuna had four arms and used all of them. TEASING. fingering. creaming. possessive sukuna. feral reader. lowkey pining. talks out love. overthinker reader. pet names (kuna, pet, baby, monster, etc.) dirty talk. oral (f receiving). praising. multiple positions. rounds and rounds and rounds.

w.c: 8.2k

a/n: if I told you that almost 5.5k is smut would you believe me?

“Testing,” I said into the tape recorder. “One, two.”

I played the audio back and grimaced at the sound of my own voice. After years of extensive research, one could only hope to move past that insecurity. I deleted the recording and placed the device on the table. I dimmed the lights within the small community library and opted to turn on a few electric candles. I adjusted my wire-rim glasses and pulled my mini-twists into a ponytail. Once satisfied with the set-up, I slipped on white cotton gloves and pressed play on the recording.

“Good Evening, listener,” I said politely into the device. “My name is Dr. Y/N L/N, senior archivist at Jujutsu Library here in Japan. I hope you are doing well.”

I proceeded to place a heavy box on the table and continued to talk. “I am using this recording to document the initial opening of the Ryomen Grimoire. It was reported to be a book of spells for a powerful emperor named Sukuna, all the way back in the Nara period of Japan. For reference, that would be somewhere in the 1100s.” I cleared my throat the remark and placed two hands on the lid. “There is not that much history on the empire, as his life is riddled with mystery. There are far too many conflicting reports about who Sukuna was and how he came to be one of the most ruthless rulers of all time. Some say it was due to him being orphaned at a very young age. Others say it was his father's abuse of him. Then, there is a tale of lost love. Apparently, a woman he was dating had cheated on him and fallen pregnant with another man’s baby.” 

I cleared my throat again and started to rub it gently. There was a subtle tightness around the area that caused irritation to my whole being. But, that hadn’t been the only thing. I could feel chills slowly drifting down my spine and goosebumps began to rise on my arms. The sensation was odd on many accounts. The first being that I was in the basement of the library. It was notoriously known for being without an air conditioner. I had spent many days, drenched in sweat, archiving old materials. There had been a crappy fan stationed here, but its winds were too powerful for such delicate papers. The second odd thing about the room was that I hadn’t been particularly cold, nor scared to obtain said goosebumps. I was not trembling with fear or on the brink of freezing to death. My body was utterly calm and my mind totally clear. My temperature was neutral; I wasn’t hot or cold. Reading grimoires and looking at so-called “haunted” materials was a typical Sunday for me. It wasn’t something that brought me joy or excitement, it was just my job.

“As you possibly tell by my brief description, the stories conflict quite a bit,” I continued on. “One cannot be an orphan with a father or vice versa. In all truth, researchers are all confused as to who he truly is. They are trying to figure out what kind of man he was and how he impacted Japan’s history. This is why the discovery of his grimoire was massive and brought in a lot of attention. Scientists from all over the world are flying in to witness its contents. But, lucky for us, Jujustu Library is the first one to get their hands on it.”

I undid the metal latches on the side and began to raise the lid. A retched stench tore through the air upon opening it. My body shivered with disgust and I felt myself gag a little. 

“Note to self,” I said to the recorder. “Please restock facemasks as soon as possible.”

I’d simply cut that part out later. 

I tucked my nose in my shirt and inhaled deeply. “I will now take the grimoire out of the box.”

The book was approximately twelve inches wide and fourteen inches thick. When I had dropped my hands in the box and grasped the edges, I could tell by the weight that it was about eight hundred pages long. It was a remarkable five to six inches thick, with a leather buckle holding it shut.  I placed the heavy object on the table with a gentle “thud and proceeded to unlatch the leather binding. Small flecks of dust seeped from the pages as the pressure was released from the latch. They painted the white table a subtle rusty brown color.

“It seems to me that the book has been stored in some kind of volcanic environment,” I observed, adjusting my glasses. “The dust particles have a reddish tint to them. This insinuates that the box must've been buried in iron-rich soil. This kind of dirt can be found near recently erupted volcanoes. Magma has high levels of magnetite phenocrysts, which hardens over time and creates magnetite iron.” I looked closely at the lid of the crate and hummed. “This theory is justified by the imperfections on the outside of the crate. There a subtle singe marks on the lib of the box and on the left side. This is interesting, to say the least.” I cleared my throat. “I will now peel back the cover of the book.”

True to my word, I took the cover of the grimoire in my hands gently and peeled it back to reveal the cover page. 

“There is a scripture written on the first page,” I said, bringing my face closer to the brown pages. “It’s quite, faded, but I will do my best to read it aloud.”

As definite as the sun

And consistent as the moon

The power of Ryomen Sukuna will possess us all.

The King of Curses is a God to Many

Ruler of all things dark and cruel

Father to the monster of the below.

He feasts on the innocent 

Lusts for the wicked 

And craves all things violent. 

“The last part is a little hard to read. There seems to be a substance covering the last stanza,” I mumbled, a little frustrated at the notion. I sighed deeply and adjusted my position at the table. I walked over to the far edge and dug into my tool bag. I pulled out a magnifying glass and a flashlight. I brought the touch a safe distance away from the book and clicked it on. With the magnifying glass directly behind it, I was able to decipher the words rather quickly. 

With the moon at a crescent 

And a lady nearby

Ryomen will come alive

She will call out to him

Bring him back to the land of living

And he will conquer it all once again

Suddenly, the light above the table began to flicker and buzz. The moment I raised my head to look at it, the light clicked off.  The room was shrouded in darkness, aside from the little flashlight in my hand. I used the little beam to direct myself to the room’s exit. I gripped the handle of the door and gave it a fierce turn, but it wouldn’t budge. It was stuck. With all my strength, I pulled and pushed at the heavy metal door. I tried my best to remain calm. I knew better than to let panic consume my body and make me behave irrationally. This wasn’t the first time creepy things happened when I conducted research on a haunted object. There were instances where the object flew across the room whenever I came near it. Other times, random scratches appeared on my body. I have had my fair share of weird things happening to me in the presence of cursed objects. But, locking me in the room with it was a new one. The entity attached to the artifact would much rather have me far away from it, not in the same vicinity as me. 

A warm gust of wind brushed against my back, making my body tense. I could hear the familiar crackle of fire in the distance as a purple-ish light filled the room. I turned my body slowly toward the table. My eyes widened at the sight. A flock of magenta flames had covered the surface of the black table, while black smoke filled the space around it. Within the fire, a deep, menacing laugh appeared. It filled the room instantly and brought shivers down my spine. My legs buckled and eventually gave out as I watched the scene unfold before me. My back slid against the metal door and my rear ended up on the floor. Gradually, a figure started to appear in the flames. 

There was a head covered in unruly, spiky hair; which led to a thick neck and shoulders. A set of arms started to materialize, followed by another. 

“Dear God. . .” The realization of what was happening had sank in.

That was Ryomen Sukuna.

I had summoned Ryomen Sukuna without meaning to.

I was utterly fucked.

The last part of the body to materialize was the eyes. There were four of them. The first set had sat normally on the face, while the other appeared beneath the. The bright red pupils seemed to glow in the heart of the flames and they seemed to be staring directly at me. A wide, sinister smile slowly formed on the King’s face, followed by a seductive lick across his pointed teeth. The laugh continued to echo throughout the room and it was the thing of nightmares. Something in my being had told me I would not survive the end of the night— that the King of Curses would slaughter me the moment he had the chance. He was not known for being kind, so I knew pleading would do nothing to help me. I would just have to accept my fate, which sucked in more ways than one. 

I would never be able to do all the things I always wanted to do.

Like traveling across the world, or sleeping in the Palace of Versailles. I wanted nothing more than to feel like a Queen, even if it were just for a day.

I would never learn how to be a sculptor. I had imagined my work being in museums all over Europe and people calling me the next Divinici. 

I would never tell Robert from Accounting how I felt about him. Granted the crush was still fresh and I had just realized my feelings a week ago. But, I was never one to act on those kinds of things. I knew that wanting love would lead to heartache and pain. My dating track record had been nothing short of a horror movie and I never truly had a partner like ever. Which was completely pathetic, since I was swiftly approaching thirty and never even. . .

The clearing of a throat snapped me from my head. I raised my vision back to the table and gulped slowly. The magenta flames had dissipated and the black smoke had cleared. Leaning on the edge was a man— a term I use very loosely. He was massive, probably standing somewhere between eight and nine feet tall. The thick, black-lined tattoos decorated his pale skin. They made him look even scarier. He was shirtless, and his broad chest had a dull sheen to it. He wore a pair of purple, wide-legged pants and traditional Japanese sandals. Even with their loose design, I can almost spot his muscular legs beneath them. Along with a semi-noticeable bulge in the crotch area. 

A fierce blush flared up on my face and I quickly looked away.

“So that is why you summoned me?” He teased, crossing both sets of arms across his chest. “The little lamb wanted to get fucked by a real man?”

The voice was deep and unnatural. It sent shivers through my body. The tingles weren’t from fear, however. They were from something else. Something a little more carnal than that. 

I slowly raised my body from the floor and pressed my back to the metal door once more. “Well, if we are being quite honest,” I said, clearing my throat. “You are not a man and haven’t been one for a long time. A very long time.”

“Oh?” He smirked, leaning forward just a little bit. “So, you summoned me to get fucked by a monster? Is that it?”

“That’s not it, at all,” I interjected, calmly. “It was not my intention to summon you at all. I was simply submitting your grimoire to our archives. I must have done it by accident, somehow.”

He hummed, unamused. 

 Sukuna’s four eyes were trained on me. He took in my long passion twists and how they were pulled back into a high ponytail. They traveled down my face, taking in my cocoa skin and plump lips. He held his gaze on my mouth for what seemed like an entirety before moving down to my neck and ample bosoms. He sped right past those and my midsection, before zeroing in on my legs. I had been wearing a skirt that fell just above my knees, so the chubby limbs had been on display. The four pupils seemed to be glued to the pale panty-hose covering the thick thighs beneath them. They seemed to be calculating something. Maybe he was determining just how flexible I was or pondering how a woman could be that tall. 

Whatever he was thinking about had swiftly left his mind the moment I cleared my throat.

The eyes snapped back up to me and a wicked grin formed on his face.

“There’s something. . . different about you,” he said, suddenly. “Something. . . off.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, adjusting my glasses.

“Well, if we’re being honest,” he mocked, completely mimicking my statement for moments before. “It is not easy to summon anything, especially a demon. Even a lower-ranking demon would require some kind of preparation before his expected arrival.” The hulking monster took a small step toward me, the smile growing wider. “And as you know, little researcher, I am not an easy demon to summon. It takes a really strong mage to summon me at all, let alone by accident.”

In the blink of an eye, he was right in front of me. His face was inches away from mine and his upper arms rested above my head. One of the hands from the lower arms had taken hold of my chin softly and tilted it upward. It forced me to look him in the eye. The smile on his face was devilish, but not at all sinister. Sukuna didn’t necessarily want to scare me it seemed. His other intention? I had no fucking idea. 

“I cannot smell fear on you, little human,” he growled. “Not one ounce. But do you know what I do smell?”

He waited. 

He wanted me to respond to his question.

“What?”

“Curiosity.” He let the word roll from his tongue like it was something precious.

“Well, of course,” I scoffed. “I am an archivist. It is my job to be curious.”

“No no no,” the monster shook his head. “That’s not it.” He brought his face closer until our noses were an inch apart. “You are curious about what I can do for you.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, wiggling my chin from his grasp. 

Sukuna moved his back and dropped his smile to a smirk. His upper arms were still above my head, while his lower ones were caging my body. “I can smell you, sweetheart.”

“What?” My eyes widened. “Smell what?”

“Your arousal,” he answered. “And it smells so, very sweet.”

My bottom lip fell between my teeth as felt the blush slowly rise up my cheeks.

His chuckle was deep and raw— and it made my panties even wetter than before. His eyes scanned over my body once again, revisiting the old territory. By the twitching bulge in his pants, I could tell the feeling was mutual. I could feel the heat radiating between our bodies and we haven’t necessarily touched yet. Mine was screaming and begging for my mind to take the opportunity. Finding Sukuna’s grimoire had taken up almost all of my spare time; making it even harder to seek fulfillment in other avenues. I didn’t know when was the last time I entangled my limbs with someone else’s. The temptation was real and strong. I almost didn’t know what to do. 

“Hand me the voice recorder,” I sighed with a stern look on my face. “It’s the little gray device near the box.”

With the snap of his fingers, the recording was nestled in my right hand. The King of Curses didn’t move one inch. I brought my eyes back up to his face and took in his devious smirk. It was so knowing and seemed unsurprised of my choice. He almost expected it and I hated that. 

I pressed the “stop” button on the device and tossed it aside. I made sure to never break eye contact with the eight-foot monster as my hands lowered to my shirt. My fingers found the buttons and slowly started to undo each one. The King of Curses swiftly lost our little staring contest and stared directly at my chest. My cleavage grew one inch at a time and it seemed he grew harder by the second. Once I was on the last button, Sukuna brought his hands up to touch my breasts, but I immediately slapped them away.

He laughed at the notion. “Oooh, feisty. I love that in a woman.”

“Do you?” I asked with a smile.

“They’re always the best ones to break,” he winked.

I gave him an unamused look. “On your knees.”

A look of genuine shock passed on his face. “Excuse me.”

“Get on your knees,” I enunciated each syllable in the sentence and kept that bored look on my face.

“I think you got it mistaken, sweetheart,” he quipped, bringing his face closer to mine. That time our noses actually touched. “I am the one in charge here.”

A dangerous smirk slowly inched up to my lips and situated itself there. “Tell me, Mr. King of Curses, did you summon yourself or was I the one to do it?”

“You were, but—”

“And according to my research,” I interjected, running a finger along his solid abs. “The summoner is in full control of the demon if there is no bargain made between the two. Meaning, I can keep you here as long as I want and do whatever the fuck I want until I present you with some kind of deal. In other words.” I allowed my hands to slide lower against his abdomen until they brushed against the protruding tent in his leather pants. “I have you by the balls and I am the one in charge.”

There was an expression in his eye that I couldn’t exactly place. It wasn’t anger or frustration. It wavered the line of infatuation and intrigue. Just like me, the nine-hundred-year-old emperor was curious. I don’t think people ever challenged him before, let alone women. It was easy to be afraid of the eight-foot-tall beast. He had four arms and two sets of eyes. All his teeth came down to a point and looked incredibly sharp. He had thick, lined tattoos on every part of his body, including his face. His eyes were an electric red and seemed to bore into one’s soul the longer they looked at you. There were muscles littered all over that massive body and he could move faster than sound itself. Sukuna Ryomen was an obvious apex predator to me and I was nothing but a lamb waiting to be slaughtered. 

He could have simply rejected my request and placed me on my knees instead. He had all the power to do it. 

Yet, he didn’t.

The King of Curses sunk to his knees slowly, keeping eye contact as he did so. He placed his hands on his lap and sat back on his heels. The demon looked up at me with wonder and a little anticipation. He had no idea what I was going to do next.

I let my open dress shirt slip from my arms and fall into a puddle at my feet. The only thing covering my top half was a simple cotton bra. It was pink and thin. When I looked down, I could see my perfectly pebbled nipples through the fabric. 

Sukuna could not stop staring at them either. 

Slowly, I lifted my left heel from the ground and took my leather pump into my grasp. I slipped the shoe off and tossed it aside. It hit the marble floor with a delayed “thud”. I repeated the action with the other one and looked down at the red-eyed demon. His eyes were still on my chest. I pressed my back against the metal door once more and lifted my stocking-covered foot to his lap. I rubbed my toes along the thick thighs and inched closer to the leather tent situated between them. Gently, I ran my foot against the erect member. My toes wiggled up the thick shaft, attempting to feel it through the thick fabric. I pressed the ball of my foot atop the member and felt Sukuna shiver beneath me. 

“Ooh,” I taunted with a smirk. “So you like that?”

“Yes,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Does it feel good, baby ‘kuna?” I asked, rubbing the ball of my foot against the shaft. 

“. . . Yes.”

“Bet you wish I would just unbutton your pants and use my hands, huh?”

The demon groaned and briefly closed his eyes. Sukuna opened his mouth to say something but immediately stopped. He tilted his head to the ceiling and murmured a few words in a language I didn’t recognize. While he was distracted, I removed my foot from his crotch; earning a growl from him. I dropped my hands to my thighs and slowly lifted up my skirt until it was above my rear. I pressed my thumbs in the waistband of both my pantyhose and my underwear and shoved them down. They slid down my smooth legs with ease and ended up at my ankles a moment later. Sukuna’s eyes were back on me. The curly mound was in his eye line and I could see his nostril flare a few times.

It was taking everything in him not to dive right in.

“Come here, pet,” I cooed, widening my legs for him.

The massive demon closed the distance between our two bodies in a heartbeat. Yet, his hands remained on his lap and his gaze was on my face. He was waiting for instruction. I almost giggled at the notion. A famed warlord and emperor was waiting for a mere human to tell him what to do. The situation was ironic in every sense of the word. But, it made my heart swell with pride. I had the deadly man, both alive and dead, on his knees before me. Sukuna was practically begging with his eyes to kiss my cunt. He was doing all he could to be a good little poppet. 

“Have a reward for being such an ob—”

My leg was hoisted on his shoulder and the other was hooked on his elevated arm. Both of my feet were off the ground. My thighs were wide apart and my cunt was exposed to the demon’s hot breath. The lower lips were slick and sensitive— which made the sensation even more pleasurable. His heavy, wet tongue slid against the tingling vulva and made my whole body shiver. A silent curse fell from my lips and I took a tight hold of his pink hair. The demon repeated the action several times, before shoving his face between my thighs. His hot mouth latched onto the weeping cunt and began to suck. The air in my lungs had grown thick and it was suddenly hard to take a full breath. In addition to the suction, his plush tongue was lapping against my clit. 

“Oooh. . . fuck. . . pet,” I hissed, rolling my hips against his face. “You are so good with that filthy mouth of yours. Keep going like this and I’m gonna cream all over that pretty face.”

Sukuna growled at the statement and pressed his claws into my thighs. The action was light but still heavy. He didn’t want to draw blood, but he still wanted to hold me very tightly. 

I lifted one of the massive palms placed on my stomach and lifted it to my face. I took in the thick fingers and the veins along the back of it. There were callouses on the fingers and a few on the inside. His claws were sharp enough to slit a throat, which explains his gentleness with them. I brought the bruised knuckles and gave them a tender kiss. I repeated the action on each finger until I was met with the claws once again. The longer I looked at his fingers, the more I wanted them in my mouth. I lowered my tongue from between my lips and ran the tip of it against the underside of the claws. The demon groaned in response and gripped my thighs tighter. I took long strides against the calloused digits and made sure to keep constant eye contact. 

“Can you lose the claws or not?” I asked, breathless. 

I could feel my peak gently rising over the horizon. There was a warm sensation slowly growing in my belly and my legs started to buckle. My hips were vibrating against his suckling maw and Sukuna had no intention of stopping any time soon.

Without warning, the claws on all four of his hands started to shrink back into his nail bed. Once they were close enough to the fingertip, the point widened and formed a standard fingernail. It was still black, of course. I smiled wickedly at the fingers and started to lick them all over again. Slowly, I started adding suction to the licks. I moved my lips to each digit, starting at the pinky, until I was left with the middle and an index finger. I bit my bottom lips lightly in anticipation. I was internally scolding myself for being excited over a silly thing. 

It was just a hand. It was nothing more. Sure, his palm was almost the size of my face and his fingers were twice the length of mine. It was a standard working man’s hand. The rational part of my brain couldn’t see why a girl would be so infatuated with something so mundane and ordinary. However, the irrational part of my brain couldn’t help but picture them within me. The fingers were so long and inviting— and not to mention pretty thick. Two of them were the width of a standard cock and would fill me decently. But a third would stretch me deliciously. It would do a wonderful job preparing for the monster between his legs. 

“Add a finger into my center,” I instructed, lowering his palm from my mouth. “And hook it upward.”

The obedient demon did exactly what he was told and pressed a finger to my center. The digit easily slipped into my awaiting hole. A low moan fell from my lips as he pressed against my G-spot. My hips rolled against his hand, greedy for more friction. 

“Add another,” I said quickly. 

The need to be stretched was becoming more prevalent and more prevalent. The second finger slipped into my canal and I shuddered. The subtle burn of the intrusion was glorious. The calloused fingertips pressing against the spongy area sent me deeper into bliss. His plump lips were still suckling my throbbing bud. The air in my lungs had gradually started to grow thicker and my body started to tingle. My mouth casually fell open as my eyes closed. My body was buzzing, vibrating from everything that I was experiencing. I had never felt this good with any partner I had. Many would complain about me even asking for oral. While others thought a clit lick was enough to make me cum. Yet, here was a Demon. The King of Curses on his knees feasting on my cunt like it was the last meal he’s ever had. A bloodthirsty heathen, at least according to history, was willing to treat me like a goddess and the mortal men thought me an object. 

Of course, it did help that he was attractive— in the worst way possible. 

My back arched against the metal door and my hips started to splutter against his face. All the air came rushing into my throat at once. My hand, shakily, gripped one of Sukuna’s spare ones. I interlocked our fingers and squeezed them tightly. I felt the demon tremble from beneath me. My messy cunt humped his pretty face as I rode out the climax. Silent curses fell from my lips like a goddamn sailor and my whimpers were barely audible. Stars exploded behind my eyes and electricity coursed through my veins. 

When the wave had come to a staggering halt, I pushed Sukuna’s head away from my oozing pussy. His fingers slipped from my sensitive walls shortly after. The demon set my shaky legs down and sat me on his lap while he rested on his heels. He stared at me with all four of his eyes. A tired smile fell on my lips as I gazed down at him, happily. 

“Kiss me.”

His lips were on mine before I could finish the last syllable. 

The kiss was slow and sensual. It made my heart grow warm and needy. It felt like something you’d give to a forgotten lover. Like a last effort to remind them of what they had lost. It engulfed me in feelings I hadn’t felt in a long time. Tricked my brain into thinking he actually had feelings for a mere mortal. 

I pulled away from the embrace to catch my breath. His kisses continued on. They inched down my jaw and along my neck. My shaky hand reached up to his pink locks and tugged lightly. My body rolled against his; desire was nipping at my heels once more. A pair of hands took hold of my waist and kneaded the soft flesh around it. I sighed, amused at the sensation. The skilled fingers moved lower and lower until they were palming my rear. He squeezed and pinched the soft flesh, growling while he completed the action. The hands moved lower and captured my thighs. He hoisted my body in the air once again. We were still attached at the lips. My hands were in his hair and my hips were rolling against his lap. 

"I need you," the demon growled against my neck. "I need to be inside of you. Right now or I'm going to paint the floor with my seed."

He wasn't the type to beg, I knew that for sure. The little statement was meant to suggest that he was nearing his limit. More than ever, he was desperate to be situated between my walls. 

A chuckle fell from my lips. "I barely touched you and you're already going to cum? You better not be a minute man, 'Kuna."

He scoffed and lifted his head from my neck. The intensity of his gaze made my insides rumble with delight and my head spin. “Don’t be mistaken, Historian. This little game of yours is truly something, but don’t let it go to your head. I could fuck you to the inch of your life and still wouldn’t reach my peak. You mortals are easy to break, all it takes is a few orgasms and some dirty words.”

I hummed, unamused by the comment. “Is that what you want? To break every woman you come in contact with?”

“Only the pretty ones,” he quipped, pinching my backside.

I didn’t even flinch. 

“Well, let’s see how long you can keep up with me, Your Majesty,” I said with a sigh. “Give me your worst.”

“You shouldn’t have said that, little human,” he snickered. “You’re gonna regret it.”

With the flick of his wrist, the remnants of my clothes were in ribbons on the marble floor. Never once did my feet touch the ground in the process either. He cradled me with one pair of arms while using the other to do his dirty work. I was completely bare before Sukuna, and our bare chests were pressed together. His upper arms were caressing and massaging the soft flesh along my back, while his lower arms hooked around my legs and gripped the underside of my thighs. The King of Curses brought his lips to mine once again, before lowering my body onto his awaiting member. I didn’t even notice that he had taken off his pants and exposed the massive rod into the cool air of the room. Due to our position, it was hard to catch a glimpse of what it looked like, but I did feel it. 

A gasp fell from my lips as my eyes fell closed. The stretch was delectable and stung marvelously. My oozing walls contracted against the throbbing member, almost begging him for inch after inch. The girth was unimaginable and it almost brought tears to my eyes. I dug my nails into the Curse’s forearms and tossed my head back. Silent moans kissed my lips as my walls continued to ooze all around him. Sukuna’s breath grew coarse and his grip on my thighs was tight. I could feel his eyes staring at me; taking in my lewd demeanor and the feeling of my tight pussy.

Before we both knew it, his entire length was situated in me and it seemed to shock him greatly.

“How fascinating,” he marveled, moving his upper hands to hips. “Never has a human taken all of me, without some resistance. This union is going to be better than I originally anticipated.”

“I’m ready when you are, ‘Kuna,” I said, gripping his forearms tightly. 

The eight-foot-tall curse started off slowly raising my body off his shaft and lowering back down gently. It was a cautionary measure to just how much I could take and how fast. Little by little he increased his speed and pressure. More and more my body bounced with such rigor and persistence. I didn’t start to truly make noise until the monster was basically dropping me on his awaiting cock as if I weighed nothing at all. Shouts mixed with moans spilled from my lips as I looked up at his face. Sukuna wore a cocky smirk with pride. It felt as though he was proud of himself for obtaining such a reaction out of me. I dug my nails into his forearms and watched as his smirk faltered from the sensation. 

Pain must’ve been the easiest way to his heart.

The heavy member was stretching out my poor womanhood in every direction. However, I could feel the plush head hitting a spot deep within my cunt, just beneath my cervix. The pleasurable sensation was making every nerve in my body sing. The longer his thrusts invaded my welcoming body, the closer I was being brought to orgasm. It wasn’t long before my thighs started to tremble from the insane movements of the monster. A thin sheet of sweat started to form on my body. I could feel my walls flutter rapidly against the massive cock and tension build in my lower abdomen. 

“Gonna cum already?” He snickered. “I thought you said I was supposed to keep up with you?”

I lazy smile fell on my lips. “Your ignorance is showing, baby ‘Kuna.”

“Please do share, Miss Historian.”

 Before I could reply to the statement, the King of Curse started to drop me even harder on his cock. The additional pressure on my a-spot had forced an electric shock through my body. My upper half jolted forward and my grip on his forearms tightened even more. I could see my knuckles begin to turn white from the hold I had on him. All the nerves in my body began to buzz and my abdomen started to ache. The climax was close enough for me to taste, but not close enough to devour. The need to cum had taken over every other thought in my mind. The worries about how dangerous the monster fucking me had slipped away. I no longer cared that he had been the most dangerous man in history, nor did I care about how completely insane the evening had been with him. I had never imagined being entangled with such a notorious curse and having him fucking me for the last hour with little kickback. I couldn’t believe how much I was enjoying having this monster at my beck and call. Nor could I believe that he sank to his knees and submitted to me. 

It wasn’t something I had been expecting, but I sure as hell wanted more of it. 

The orgasm struck my body like an arrow and threw me forward. Sukuna quickly repositioned his hands— wrapping two arms around my upper back and two around my waist. My thighs hooked around his hips and my arms were placed around his neck. My entire body was convulsed from the orgasm. I pressed my face fell against his smooth chest as I shivered against him. Curses and whimpers oozed from my lips as my cunt painted his dick with a thick creamy substance. He never stopped his thrusts. Sukuna kept the same, hard and quick pace as I became undone before him. The feeling was completely otherworldly and indescribable. I never wanted him to stop. I never wanted to be apart from him. I wanted our bodies to be joined together forever.

When the final wave of the orgasm left, an insatiable feeling had taken its place. An unrecognizable greed ate at my womb, begging the monster to fill it to the brim with his seed. The need wasn’t something I was ashamed of, but I wouldn’t dare share it with Sukuna. The King of Curses would let the statement go straight to his head.

I lifted my head from his chest and looked into his half-hooded eyes. He was studying me closely. Taking in my every reaction to see what my body craved the most. It made my heart flutter.

While his hips worked their magic, I leaned back into his arms and placed my hands on his shoulders. Slowly, I moved my left hand along his collarbone and placed it at the base of his neck. His eyes were focused on my face, a look of encouragement on his face. He wanted to be choked. His crimson eyes were practically begging me for it. 

But, I needed to hear him say it.

I moved my hand back to his shoulder but never broke eye contact. A look of disappointment flashed upon his face before he quickly washed it away 

“If you want something, pet,” I offered with a smirk. “You gotta use your big boy words.”

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he groaned, rolling his eyes.

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way,” I replied, the smirk widening to a smile. “Now, come on, baby ‘Kuna, tell your Mistress what you want her to do to you.”

A sigh fell from his lips and he briefly closed his eyes. “Will you. . . Can you. . . choke you me. . . please?”

I could feel my heart flutter once more from the broken sentence. I was almost tempted to ask him to repeat it, but I knew he wouldn’t no matter how much I begged. The shameful look he gave me when he opened his eyes made my insides stir. It added to the overall pleasure of the slow, deep thrusts he had been giving me. My chest was swelling with an emotion I didn’t fully recognize and I was almost scared to acknowledge it. There were remnants of love and longing in his gaze. I had seen glimpses of the emotions earlier, but I had tried to convince myself that I was going insane. Yet, the more I looked at him, the clearer his emotions seemed to me.

Slowly, I placed my hand on his neck and gave it a subtle squeeze. 

His eyes fluttered closed and a low groan erupted from his abdomen. “Harder. . .” The request was just above a whisper, but it echoed through my mind loudly. 

Like the good Mistress I was, I complied.

Realizing that Sukuna was far from human— and didn’t require air to survive— placed an evil idea in my mind. I mustered up all the strength in my right hand and squeezed his thick neck with everything in me. I watched my knuckles flicker from their usual color to a chalk-white as I did so. The massive monster shivered underneath me and his eyes fluttered shut. Deep, animalistic growls pierced the air around us. They were followed by the swift changing of his thrusts against my body. Instead of fucking me tenderly with a hint of aggression, Sukuna had switched to screwing me like he hated me. His hips slammed against my center with such rigor, I almost couldn’t think straight. My whole body bounced and jumped against his. My breath grew thick in my throat and my nerves seemed to sing. My thighs grew slicker and slicker by the second until I was sure my arousal was oozing all over his lap. 

“Fuck!” Sukuna growled, beneath me. “Why do you feel so good around me, mortal?”

I didn’t even have the air to respond to him. My head was doing a dangerous dance and jumbling all the thoughts within it. Even in my sedated state, I maintained the pressure I had on his neck. I could feel his thick member jolt and twitch within me. The reaction seemed to surprise him as well. His body took off in a smooth vibration as growls erupted from his throat. The King of Curses was nearing his end, only after about 30 minutes of constant penetration. To a human, that length of stamina would’ve been impressive. He would have been categorized as a good amongst men. But for a monster? It was questionable. Sukuna was known to fight for days without breaking a sweat. He could obliterate armies and leave relatively unharmed. There had been stories of his whore-ish escapades as well. Tales on how he had to reserve almost ten women in a brothel to get his rocks off. The stories, also, continued to say how each woman had to be given a “rest day” after spending a night with him and would happily do it all over again.

His hips vibrated against my pelvis and I felt his grip tighten on my thighs. A string of curses dripped from his tongue and he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“I’m gonna paint those pretty walls with my seed,” he growled, thrusting even faster into my cunt. “Mark my fucking territory so no other man can enter.”

The sensation in my belly was downright undeniable. The chilly approach to the climax had first taken over my toes. Numbness inched up the little nubs and to my calves. However, there was a change in temperature as it approached my thighs. I was no longer cold in that area, but insanely hot. There was heat that radiated from Sukuna and glittered over to me. My thighs felt as though they were burning and my stomach was on fire. Yet, it wasn’t painful. It was pleasurable. It gave me an added adrenaline boost. Instead of freezing like a fawn when the climax approached, I attacked like a bear. My nails dug into Sukuna’s neck and shoulder. I tossed my head back fiercely and felt the scrunchie holding my twists burst. Long strands cascaded over my naked, sweaty body. 

“Harder,” I growled, my head tilted to the ceiling. “Come on, pet. Fuck me like you mean it.”

My back hit the table moments later. My thighs were still spread open and wide for the monster. He pressed his body against mine completely— the closest we have been since this whole ordeal— and started to rut into me. Filling me over and over again with his over-sensitive cock. The pants coming from his lips sounded criminal and downright wrong. It was strange to hear a monster almost out of breath, especially when to sex. The activity was so natural in comparison to what atrocities Sukuna was usually up to. It felt like the King was giving me all he had in that last round. Mustering up his last bit of stamina to satisfy his mistress. 

That forbidden feeling was stirring in me once again. The one that felt dangerously similar to love. Even with my nearly fucked-out brain, I knew it was impossible to feel that way about someone I had just met a little while ago. It was even more irresponsible to feel that way about a literal King of Curses. A former menace to society in life and current pain in the ass in death. Just as much as Sukuna pleasured me, he annoyed the absolute shit out of me as well. His arrogant attitude and boastful demeanor almost made me hate him. Almost. It was his wavering obedience and the look I got when I choked him that changed my mind. I couldn’t hate him. At least not right now.

The orgasm was mind-numbing and  appeared out of nowhere. It was the strongest of the three and seemed to have sent me into the atmosphere. My back arched against the table and my nails dug into his ribs. My eyes rolled back and my mouth fell open. Above me, I could feel Sukuna’s body freeze for a few seconds. His hips jolted and trembled fiercely as his cock spasmed within me. Hot cum spilled from his slit and oozed into my awaiting pussy. Broken breaths fell from his lips as he gathered my body into his arms once again. Sukuna wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly. A searing kiss was placed on my lips as he lazily thrust into my slick cunt. It felt as though he wanted to empty every last drop into me before pulling away.

Yet, even when he finished emptying his load into me, the King of Curses still held me in his arms. The kiss had long been broken, but his forehead was pressed against mine afterward. His eyes were closed and his breathing was soft. There was a peaceful look on his face. He didn’t seem to be the massive warlord, the King of Curses, or the cocky bastard that blew my back out— he was simply Sukuna and that was enough for me. My hands found refuge in his hair. I stroked the pink locks tenderly and hummed sweetly. That forbidden feeling hadn’t left just yet. Everything about that moment oozed intimacy and, dare I say it, love. As much as I wanted more of it— as much as I fucking craved it— I knew it was not meant to be. I knew I had to be satisfied with just this. My hands in his hair and his body against my own.

“You stole something from me,” Sukuna spoke, finally lifting his forehead from mine. He opened his crimson eyes and searched my face. I didn’t know what he was looking for. 

I lowered my hand from his hair. “What did I steal?”

“My power,” he replied, wrapping his arms around me and pulling away. “You stole my power. Well, some of it at least.”

I sat up at the edge of the table and combed a twist behind my ear. “What are you talking about? How is that even possible?”

“It isn’t possible!” He snapped back with his back to me. 

His heavy feet paced around the small archive room and there was a quizzical expression on his face. The monster had been completely deep in thought. He was working out every possible answer, theory, or hypothesis in his head as to what the hell was going on. Wondering how a mere mortal could conjure him with any preparation. Thinking about how she was able to make him subtle to her with little effort. Questioning how it was even possible that she could steal  some of his power if she wasn’t a curse user. I knew what he was thinking because I too was thinking the exact same thing. The situation was bizarre for both parties and left us both stumped. 

Until my eyes dropped to the discarded grimoire on the floor and something suddenly clicked.

“I didn’t steal your power,” I said, watching Sukuna stop in his tracks at the sound of my voice. “I contained it.”

Slowly, his head turned to me as the thought penetrated his mind as well. A slow, cocky smile was pulled onto his lips. 

“You are my vessel,” he replied. “My anchor in the mortal world.”

“In other words, I am—”

“Destined to be mine. Forever.”

-------------------------

a/n: what's good y'all? I know I am hella late to kinktober, but here's my submission. I wanted to do something a little different for you y'all. do you we like the longer stories? how do we feel about the prompts? be honest tell me how you feel about it. i love reading your comments.

also, I will post a new story before the end of October, so watch out for that.

thinking about an official taglist. how do we feel about that?

see you soon.

-------------------------

[icycoldninja]

Lab Visit (Sephiroth x Scientist!Reader)

(Set in Crisis Core)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sephiroth was due for a physical today. He was supposed to receive new Mako injections and stamina boosters, as per Hojo's orders. You, one of Shinra's top scientists, had been ordered to complete this procedure. While the very mention of such a task frightened your fellow scientists, you were not to be deterred. Sephiroth was a bristly, rather cold person, but he wasn't as cold to you, which could probably be credited to the little friendship the two of you had built. Over the years, Sephiroth's visits to the lab had brought you company, real company, not the ramblings of some deranged lunatic who lurked about in the shadows. Sephiroth was different, both physically and mentally, though you could never tell why. There was something about him that enabled his very presence to be both calming and terrifying all at the same time. Yes, the man could be nice at times, but there were several disastrous instances where he lashed out in anger at anyone who dared approach him with a needle or syringe, though when you did it, you were a different story. One could even say...he trusted you. This trust allowed you to do things to him no one else could, such as take samples of his blood without him going ballistic and destroying everything in the lab in a fit of rage--or possibly, fear.

"Y/N," A low, sinister voice intoned, as an old man with greasy black hair tied back in a low ponytail emerged from the shadows.

"Dr. Hojo," You greeted, feeling yourself tense under his menacing gaze. Of all the scientists--no--all the people in Shinra, Hojo was who you detested the most. The acts he'd committed were unforgivable. Turning your own assistants and fellow scientists into mutant creatures for "research"?! Unbelievable! Not to mention the things he'd done to Sephiroth before you'd even arrived. You hadn't even uncovered the details of what happened, but you knew it had to be bad.

Still, Hojo was your employer; he was paying your wages and providing you with opportunities to learn and grow your experience--as well as chances to talk to Sephiroth more often, so you had to grit your teeth and bead it.

"The subject will be here soon," He finally said, sounding rather giddy. "Prepare the equipment. I want samples of everything." You gulped, knowing full well that when Hojo said he wanted "everything", he meant everything. Skin samples, hair samples, sweat samples, and more. You barely finished gathering up your gear when a familiar figure trooped through the door.

"Dr. Y/N, how do you do?" You spun around, trying--and failing--to hide the grin on your face.

"General Sephiroth, a pleasure to see you again. Do have a seat." Sephiroth nodded before tugging off his leather trench coat, revealing his lack of underclothes. He hung the coat on a rack on the wall and took a seat on the hospital-style bed you'd prepared for him. From the corner, Hojo watched, a devious glint in his eye. You busied yourself with gathering up vials and beakers, and such, while the two men glared at each other silently. After several minutes, Hojo departed, presumably to slither back into whatever hole he crawled out of, leaving the two of you alone in the room. Almost instantly, the tense mood was lifted.

"I can't believe you can put up with him," Sephiroth sighed, crossing his bare arms. You shrugged, sterilizing a needle with alcohol.

"Believe me, I'm trying very hard not to throw something acidic at his head." Your eyes met, smirks both plastered on your faces.

"I would like to see you do that," Sephiroth chuckled, extending his arm for you to prick.

"And to do so would be my dream come true," You responded, gently pricking his arm with the needle and drawing a few small drops of blood.

Sephiroth nodded, a smile on his face as he relaxed into the hospital bed. Over the course of the next hour, you collected all the samples Hojo would need for his sick creations, and once the Mako infusion drip was in, you were both free to chat, about work, about your own personal lives, about everything. Throughout the entirety of this short visit, Sephiroth looked happier than you'd ever seen him, even though he was in a place he hated. He was happy with you, and you were happy with him.

Once the infusion was complete and Sephiroth was free to leave, he did so reluctantly, for the only reason he braved the nightmares of this lab, the only reason he subjected himself to experimentation, was so he could see you.

[yuna542]

[2]<-

[3]

›Bad Idea<

Pairing: Hong Woojin × Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst, Enemies with benefits to Lovers

Warnings: 18+, explicit Smut, under 18 DNI!, Suggestive Themes, Swearing, pet names, oral (m & f receiving), hate sex, ANGST, overstimulation

Word Count: 8.3k

Note: There you go. Part 3. If you have requests about Bloodhounds tell me and I will write something <3

Summary: As GunWoo’s little sister he wanted you to finally meet his best friend. Unfortunately you don't get along. He gets on your nerves, you fight all the time and yet you can't stop messing with each other. One evening you get into a dangerous situation and end up bruised and bloody at his apartment. And you suddenly have to ask yourself: Why do you feel so attracted to that idiot?

Chapter 4:

The Café

It was a summer day, just a few clouds hid the blue sky, but nonetheless mornings were less busy during the week. Most people grabbed a coffee before work or on their break and disappeared again.

Just as you were collecting an espresso, the store doorbell rang and you said goodbye to the man in the suit who always got an iced Americano at this hour.

When you saw who came sauntering through the door with his hands in his pockets, your expression darkened like a thunderstorm.

Woojin had a gym bag slung over his shoulder, and when he spotted you, your nostrils twitched with less than enthusiasm. You pulled your ponytail tighter and brought the espresso and a piece of strawberry cake to the only guest who was reading a newspaper at a table, ignoring the seductive glare that followed you.

The old man thanked you and for the first time you cursed that so few guests came. Woojin leaned casually against the counter and waited until you were standing behind it again.

You felt his gaze wander up and down your body.

"What are you doing here? I'm working!" you snapped at him in a hushed voice so the old man with the newspaper wouldn't hear.

Woojin leaned over the counter until his nose almost touched yours and raised his eyebrows provocatively as he said just as muffled:

"I can see that. You look much more friendly in that apron, by the way. It suits you."

Uncomfortably, you tugged at the red apron you had pulled over your black miniskirt and top. Before he embarrassed you further with his seductive eyes that shone like bitter coffee, you cleared your throat and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

"Shut up. What are you doing here?" you asked with a meaner tone than you intended.

However, the whole thing was so awkward because you couldn't stop staring at his lips that had been kissing you all over just a few hours ago and his hands that you could still feel on your hips.

He propped his elbows on the counter and tilted his head. It was clear how much fun he was having annoying and embarrassing you.

In truth, he had only come here on the off chance, without knowing that you were working today. When he spotted you behind the counter, with that cute apron, Dr martens and knee socks peeking out from underneath, his heart skipped a beat.

"You just disappeared this morning... I wanted to see if you were okay. Since we yesterday..."

"What do you care? Nothing happened," you quickly replied, moving a few things from one place to another so you wouldn't have to look at him any longer.

"Right... Absolutely nothing. I‘m a bit broke right now. Do you think you could be merciful and give me something? For free? That strawberry pie really looks..."

"Stop it! You're not getting anything now. I‘m not my mother who falls easily for your charming smile. I'll bring the rest of the pastries to the hall later. So get the hell out of here!" you harshly interrupted him, and that's when a new customer came into the café. Immediately you put on a smile and shooed Woojin away with a wave of your hand.

You really couldn't stand the racing heart and strange tingling in your stomach. So you hoped it would go away with him.

Instead of leaving, he stepped aside and just came behind the counter while you were taking the order. You glared at him as you stood by the coffee machine and he casually leaned against the wall next to it as if he owned the place.

"Always so cheeky," he muttered so softly that only you could hear. By now your head was almost bursting with anger and you had to force yourself not to yell at him in front of the customer.

"I hate you," you hissed, before you turned to serve the finished coffee. The young man thanked you, paid, and by the time he disappeared in the doorway, the corners of your mouth hurt from the forced smile.

Instantly, you whirled around to Woojin and stepped close to him so he could hear you clearly as you growled dangerously:

"Get the hell out of here! Why are you getting on my nerves all the time?"

That's when he braced himself from the wall and was suddenly much taller than you again. An intimidating glint entered his eyes and he pushed you back until your back hit the counter.

"Because I like it when you glare at me so angrily. It’s kind of sexy," he replied in a muffled voice, and you swallowed hard as his breath brushed hotly against your lips. Concerned, you glanced briefly at the old man, but he was completely engrossed in his newspaper.

"Woojin stop it!" you gasped as soon as he propped one hand each to your right and left, trapping you between his chest and the counter.

His presence was so engaging that your knees went weak and you would have loved to lunge at him and rip that stupid shirt off. Instead, you jutted your chin defiantly and tried to look angry.

"I love it when you act all controlling like that knowing damn well I can leave you shaking under me," he muttered with amusement and your breath caught.

Your glares locked and you rolled your eyes.

"It wasn't even that good," you replied monotonously, hitting the mark. His jaw twitched and he laughed bitterly. Satisfied, you smiled sweetly, though you just clawed convulsively at the counter.

"Really? It sounded a little different yesterday..."

You shrugged indifferently.

"It was nothing special."

The lie came easier to your lips than you had expected.

"Then how do you blush so much? I'm not even touching you and you are falling apart", he continued to provoke, and his lips brushed yours for a teeny second. For a moment you closed your eyes, wanting to lean forward and check if he still tasted the same as yesterday.

Just in time you thought better of it, and you winced violently as the doorbell rang, announcing a new customer.

Woojin finally let go of you and took a few steps back. Only then did you realize you had been holding your breath. The customer was the owner of the bookstore across the street, who always went to get a few pieces of cake and sandwiches for her family.

"Good afternoon Mrs. Yang. Can I get you the usual?" you greeted her with glowing cheeks and you feared she could hear your heartbeat across the counter.

She adjusted the green glasses on her nose and smiled kindly.

"Oh Y/N. Is your mother not here today?"

Woojin walked back into the room in time to greet the man with a quick hand gesture, who looked up from his newspaper for the first time and only now seemed to notice him.

"No. I'm afraid she's indisposed."

Mrs. Yang nodded understandingly and looked at what you had already prepared in the counter.

"It's very nice to see you again, too. Give her my best regards!"

"Of course," you replied, daring a tense glance at Woojin, who was watching you. Why did he always have to look at you as if there was nothing else around him? You tried to deny the fact that he was looking directly at you by rolling your eyes, but when he did it more than occasionally with that infamous smirk on his face, it confirmed the theory that he just wanted to annoy you.

"I already put cake back for you," you remembered, and were about to turn around when she raised her hands defensively.

"Oh I think your friend was here before me," she said, pointing at Woojin, who bowed briefly. Before he could say anything, you fixed him warningly with piercing eyes that brooked no argument:

"No, not at all. He was just leaving anyway. And he's not my friend."

You emphasized the last sentence especially and that's when the lady looked back and forth between you in astonishment.

"Oh no? I always see him here and with you."

"He's Gunwoo's friend, and my brother is actually waiting for him," you replied, and Woojin's expression remained impenetrable.

"That's true. I should be on my way. Have a nice day," he wished and bowed to the old lady before strolling out of the store with his hands in his pockets as if nothing had ever happened.

"Strange boy," you heard the lady mutter as you prepared her order.

"You don't say," you replied, anger mixed with confusion. You had lost control and didn't know what to do.

"Well, but he looks good..." she added, and a hysterical laugh escaped you.

-

Chapter 5:

The Flirt

Shortly after you called it a day and took off your apron, your thoughts still turned to Woojin. As much as you wanted to banish him from your thoughts, you found it increasingly difficult.

With the basket full of leftover pastries, you made your way to the hall where Gunwoo and Woojin trained with their coaches and other boxers almost every day.

The pastries consisted of rice cakes, some stuffed pancakes that you would have thrown away and especially egg bread.

This was Woojin's favorite. The first time he had tried it in the store, his eyes had almost fallen out and he had eaten so much of it that he had been sick for days. When you caught yourself smiling at the thought, you pinched your arm in punishment.

As you walked into the hall, the boys' attention was immediately on you and the basket of goodies.

Normally your mother did this regularly, now when the boxers saw you they froze in front of their punching bags and the guy who was in the ring with Woojin almost got hit by a punch because he was just staring at you.

Gunwoo broke away from his spot where he had just been throwing punches with his trainer and put an arm around you as he led you to the center of the room.

"Nice to see you again Y/N," the trainer said and you returned his smile.

"I'm just bringing something to strengthen."

The tall guy with the short hair who was standing in the ring with Woojin climbed out and stripped off his boxing gloves. You deliberately avoided looking in Woojin's direction. He was shirtless, sweat glistening on his muscles, and you couldn't bear the sight of his damn perfect body right now.

You were, to tell the truth, too afraid to give in to the heaping testosterone and accidentally lick him. Woojin's looks were easy to overlook when everything that came out of his mouth was rubbish, you just became painfully aware of that again.

"Heaven sent you!" the other boxer said, daring to look into the basket.

The others gathered around you as well and you set the basket down at the edge of the ring, where the boxers pounced on it like wild dogs.

They were all muscularly built, sweaty from training, and you didn't know where to look among all the half-naked bodies. Your eyes widened for a brief moment as the shock of Woojin's body that you had seen many times, especially while boxing, it still amazed you how attractive this man was.

Gunwoo also got some of the egg bread and then joined his trainer. They were all preparing for important amateur fights to maybe make it to the professional league someday.

Just as Woojin was about to come your way, you turned the other way and joined the big guy with whom he had been standing in the Ring.

"How's it going?" you engaged him in conversation, and Woojin stayed with Gunwoo, though not without looking over at you again and again.

"It's going pretty well I think.... The competition is tough. But we can learn a lot from each other," he said, eyeing you unobtrusively.

You leaned against the wall next to the punching bag and looked at the boxer more closely. He was good looking, probably the same age as you, and had a nice smile.

"I'm Woonho, by the way," he introduced himself, running a hand through his wet sweaty hair.

"I'm Y/N. Gunwoo's sister."

Woonho nodded and looked over at your brother, and that's when he noticed Woojin's piercing gaze as well. It was like he wanted to stab him with it.

"That's cool. Gunwoo and Woojin are the best around. They talk a lot about you. How do you feel about boxing?"

The question reached you unexpectedly. Looking at him confused, you laughed lightly.

"I've never tried it before. I don't think it's for me."

"Oh. I thought because of the injury," he said, pointing to his own temple. Reflexively, you grabbed the spot and winced as you were painfully reminded of the bruise.

"Oh, that? I was looking at my phone and ran into a door frame," you lied, and there he was, smiling brightly. He had cute dimples and loyal eyes.

"I think you'd make a good boxer."

"Really?" you asked incredulously and he nodded vehemently.

"Sure. It's not that hard. All you have to do is make a fist, stand up right and punch."

He demonstrated and punched the punching bag. Smiling enthusiastically, he held out a hand invitingly.

"Try it!"

"Okay. But if I hurt myself it's your fault!" you chuckled wryly.

"I'll take that."

You stood as he showed and tried to strike.

Amused, he corrected your posture by touching your hip and wrists.

Woojin boiled inside when he saw you laughing and as soon as Woonho touched you too and you looked up at him with your warm eyes, he wanted to punch someone's face. Preferably Woonhos.

An animalistic growl rose from his throat and something stung painfully in his chest when he saw how much fun you were having with the younger boxer. He stopped following the conversation with Gunwoo a long time ago. His gaze was fixed on you and how you playfully brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

You were flirting that was more than obvious. He shouldn't care about that. He shouldn't care at all, and yet he pushed Gunwoo aside in mid-sentence and his legs carried him over to you as if by themselves.

Before anyone could comprehend what was happening, Woojin had already grabbed him, yanked him back by the shoulder, and was staring relentlessly into his eyes.

"Hey keep your hands off her, you hear me?" he snapped at him.

Woonho just raised his hands defensively and took a few steps back when he saw the anger in Woojin's eyes.

"Relax. We were just talking. I didn't know she was your girl."

Stunned, you stepped next to Woonho and glared angrily at Woojin.

"She definitely is not."

Woojin didn't respond. He was like in a tunnel and his anger was directed only at Woonho. Even though he was smaller, he seemed a lot more intimidating and you were starting to not be sure if he wasn't just going to punch him.

Completely perplexed, you could only stare at him.

What had gotten into him? The rest in the hall had also fallen silent and were watching the scene.

"Well did you get it? Piss off or do you want me to finish you off like in the ring?"

Now it was a clear threat.

Woonho didn't seem to think it would be worth it and gave in. Silently he grabbed his stuff and disappeared from the hall. Shaking your head, you watched as Woojin ran back to Gunwoo and continued the conversation as if nothing had ever happened.

His arrogance made you so angry that you gritted your teeth. The anger burned inside you, but you held back until Woojin was the last to disappear into the locker room. The rest were already ready to leave and were still chatting outside the hall.

You seized the moment and stormed into the locker room. The door flew shut loudly behind you and Woojin whirled around from his locker to face you.

"What the fuck was that about?" you yelled at him, but he just packed his boxing gloves into his bag, unimpressed. He was still wearing the red shorts and sweat glistened on his muscles in the orange light of the small room.

"I don't know what you mean."

You thought you were going to burst with anger. Quickly you ran up to him, slamming the locker shut with one hand so he'd stop occupy with it and look at you.

"Don't act even dumber than you are! Why did you do that?"

"Did you want something from the little shit?" he asked as if it was your fault, since you had approached him.

"That's not the point... You have no right to it! I don't belong to you. We were just fucking! Nothing more. And it was a mistake. A big fucking mistake."

He watched your eyes spark, and you could clearly tell from the twitch of his jaw that he was starting to get angry, too.

Or his anger was just now coming to the surface.

"Oh yeah, are you so in need of it that you want to get it from some random douche bag? Do you need attention that bad? I can call him, he'd fuck you right now."

His words causing you to growl and nearly punch him in the mouth. Maybe if you did it hard enough, he would never talk again. You heavily considered it.

„You fucking asshole. I don't know why I'm even talking to you."

Stunned, you massaged your temples and you turned around because otherwise you would surely punch him in his pretty face. He drove you crazy just by breathing. You wanted to leave. You wouldn't get a normal response besides insults anyway.

"What, are you just going to walk away? Are you that much of a coward?" he shouted after you and that made you spin around.

"Shut up already!" you yelled, and you would have loved to throw yourself on the floor and cry. But your pride wouldn't let him have the last word.

"You really are pathetic!"

"You went out of your way to flirt with him in front of me to piss me off, didn't you?" he hurled at you, storming at you until he was standing close to you, taking away any air you could breathe. You looked up at him, your lower lip twitching uncontrollably as you did so.

"Why are you getting mad at me for flirting with someone else? We slept together once, doesn't mean we're exclusive. You hate me! So what's your problem?"

Why was he staring at your lips when you were arguing? The lump in your throat was getting bigger and the tension in the air was starting to crush you.

"Yeah, well, I don't like seeing other people all over you even if we're nothing more than just two people who like to have sex with each other. So what about it? Even though I hate you, it bugs me."

No matter what you said, it just made everything more confusing.

"You have no right to do that! Act like a normal person for once and not an asshole!" you hissed emphatically.

"Then don't act like a desperate bitch!"

Anger shot through your veins like poison and before you even realized what you were doing, you lashed out and punched his face.

However, unluckily he was a boxer and caught your fist with ease before it even touched him. Saying you were flushed and flustered during the argument was an understatement. You felt like you were bathing in a sauna on a summer day. The anger that bubbled under your heated skin didn't help in cooling you down. It only made you more furious that his little provocations affected you so easily.

Surprised, he clasped your wrist and it hurt.

"Don't you dare do that again!", he growled and still you took out your other fist. Maybe just because of his threat.

However, he caught that one too and so he held both your wrists.

Before you knew what was happening, he was pushing you against the locker and pinning both of your hands above your head against the cool metal so you couldn't attack him further, which was probably wise since you wouldn't have stopped.

"I hate you," he growled, and you just took in his body pressed tightly against yours. The acid that spat from your mouth always ignited a fire inside of him that he's never felt from anyone else.

"I hate you too," you murmured, and already his nose was brushing your cheek. He shielded you from the room with his muscular shoulders, and the coolness of the locker door at your back completely exposed you to him.

Breathlessly you gazed at each other and the crackling energy was palpable.

His eyes gleamed lustfully and you unconsciously bit your lower lip as he pushed your legs apart with his knee and stepped even closer to you until your hips were firmly against each other.

He wasn't just hot, he was beautiful. From the symmetrical lines of his cupids bow to the dark lashes framing chocolate eyes, he was hypnotic. And he had you completely under his spell.

The anger and hatred between you turned the energy into arousal and the two of you crashed together with teeth and lips, a brawl of desperate hands and angry grudges. He pressed you against the locker at the waist, let go of your hands and grumbled as you pressed your body against his. Fingers tangled in hair immediately, tugging and scratching. His lips were pillowy and soft, addictive. He couldn’t stop watching you. Hair a mess, eyes blown wide, and lips swollen. It was a glorious sight.

He rushed under your shirt, pulled it over your head and you got rid of your shoes in parallel. While your hands were occupied on getting rid of your clothes, neither of you cared about anything else but finally feeling each other's bodies to blow off steam.

After he also undid your bra and threw it aside, he ran his fingers over your covered cunt.

"You're already so wet and I haven't even done anything yet," he murmured, cupping your breast with one hand while the other pulled off your panties.

He circled his index and middle fingers over your clit until you gasped into his mouth between kisses. The kiss was rough, full of hatred. Both of you fighting for dominance, not willing to lose it, not even for a second.

You impatiently pulled down his shorts and underwear, which he also kicked aside. Finally you felt his length again, which you had been thinking about constantly.

"We don't have much time. Gunwoo is waiting," you said, stroking his shoulder blades, while he was already hard again. Excitedly you looked up at him, but your heart skipped a beat when he looked at you with the mischievous grin. There was an insatiable hunger in his eyes, yet he pressed a kiss to your jawline and murmured:

"Say it! Say what you want!"

You couldn't bring yourself to say the words- couldn't stand the thought of asking your mortal enemy to fuck you in the locker room at his own boxing gym.

"Tell me you want me to ruin you," he whispered in your ear, putting more pressure on your clit so that your body melted in his hands.

"I want you to fuck me, Woojin. Ruin me, please!" you said, rolling your hips against him, making him gasp sharply.

"Good girl," he replied, and you got goosebumps. Without further ado, he grabbed your ass, lifted you up and you automatically wrapped your legs around his hips. His tip was already stretching your entrance, but it wasn't until your back was pressed firmly against the locker that he slid inch by inch inside you. As he did so, a sigh ripped off him as your walls snuggled around him. A whimper escaped you and he held you with ease.

When he was fully absorbed in you, he looked at you urgently.

"You have to be quiet or they'll hear us," he stressed, and you had completely forgotten that everyone including your brother was still in the hall cleaning up.

He didn't give you any time to adjust, one hand grabbing your hip, the other groping your breast, as he started to slam into you at an unforgiving pace. The temperature that began to rise on your cheeks was spreading to your limbs, muscles slowly coiling as the pleasure continued to build at your core.

The locker creaked dangerously with each thrust and you tried to stifle your noises, but it wasn't easy as he thrusted deeper and deeper, your eyes almost cloudy from how good he truly felt inside of you. Another sensual kiss ensured, the combination of his raspy moans and your desperate whines slipped into each other, trying to stay quiet and muffle both of your sinful noises with messy kisses. The locker hitting the wall with each thrust.

It was almost ridiculous how fast your orgasm rolled on while he slammed into you.

You didn't really want to admit how good he was at fucking you, but by now there was no question. The knot in your lower abdomen tightened and while you tried to be quiet, you clawed into his back so hard you would definitely leave scratch marks.

"Your so tight... Fuck," he growled, spreading wet kisses down your neck that made you whimper. Desperate, you struggled to stop your naughty noises.

"Woojin... Don't stop!" you moaned, and he felt your body tremble.

"Come around me! It's okay, dollface," he gasped and even stepped it up a notch.

Your body betrayed you, obeying his command instantly, your body sucking his cock in deeper, ready to fall off the edge. You dissolved into the pleasure, pressing your hand over your mouth so as not to let everyone else in the hall know how well Woojin was fucking you.

But as the climax washed over you, he didn't stop.

As if it spurred him on even more, he continued to penetrate you and the look on your overwhelmed face made his dick twitch excitedly inside you. Your pussy was pulsating and overstimulated. Each of his thrusts you felt all the way up your spine and you feared fainting if he was going on at that pace.

As your nails dug deeper into his back and you tried to push him away, as it was all too much, he put a hand around your neck and pressed you against the locker, making it hard for you to move.

"I'm not done with you yet!" he pressed out between clenched teeth, and gradually his thrusts became more irregular.

Like a wild animal, he fixed you and when he increased the pressure on your neck, your eyes rolled back.

"I won't stop until I've filled your tight sweet cunt up and you can't walk anymore."

"Fuck you," you gasped in a trembling voice and by now you were sure you couldn't walk anymore. It was a power play that would never end. His hand on your neck and his never ending abuse of your pussy had you floating in the clouds.

The second orgasm rolled in with a ferocity that made your legs tremble. The sight of your fucked out face, your breasts bouncing with each thrust and your sore pussy finally brought him over the edge and you came together.

Like drowning you clung to each other and savored your orgasms.

Then he lowered you slowly and you had to sit down on the bench first. He also let himself fall on it, breathing heavily, you tried to bring your pulse under control.

Silently you gathered your clothes, got dressed and tried not to let on how difficult every step was for you. Your legs trembled incessantly and calmed down only after you had finished dressing.

Woojin also slipped into his clothes, but the silence was not unpleasant. It was soothing and even though you had argued and you were still angry, you felt comfortable with him.

At the door you paused for a moment and looked over your shoulder.

"This changes nothing i still hate you," you assured him and he nodded.

"Sure you do," he replied and the brief moment you looked at each other you smiled stupidly.

-

Chapter 6:

The Headphones

The next few days were not as strange as you thought they would be. In fact, everything was the same as before, only the meaningful looks between you were new.

Just like the racing heart that would kill you when he accidentally touched your arm at dinner or pushed you to the side while you were walking.

Relatively quickly, you realized that it was really nothing more than a fuck for him, and it should be for you. When he visited Gunwoo, you got a disparaging look and when it came to food, he still pushed you aside roughly to be the first to get Mom's famous omelet. But it didn't let you rest easy that he was the only one who made you feel such intense things.

Surely it couldn't just be him?

You tossed and turned in your bed a week later, once again plagued by thoughts of the jerk. He wouldn't let you go and even haunted your dreams. It was a catastrophe and you would have liked to forget everything that had happened. But you couldn't.

Nothing had happened between you for a week. In fact, you argued more often and were even more hostile, but without the sex.

Your body longed for it. Sighing, you stared at the ceiling. Today you were alone.

Gunwoo was out with Mom and so you had the house to yourself.

Lost in thought, you stroked the fabric of Woojin's shirt that you still wore at night.

You just haven't had a chance to give it back to him yet. At least that's what you told yourself.

You slept in it and it smelled so nice. It was stupid and naive, but when you closed your eyes and smelled it, you imagined that he was with you, touching your body and kissing your neck.

With your eyes closed, you played with the hem of the shirt. Underneath you only wore panties. You didn't want to leave the house today anyway. It was raining and you were afraid of being tormented by those damn thoughts about that arrogant idiot all the time.

The racing heart, the heat in your cheeks and the fluttering in your stomach had become annoyingly loud by now.

Your fingers danced on your belly and caressed your thighs. Closing your eyes, you imagined again how Woojin's fingers firmly but lovingly touched your soft skin. It was like a drug, that saved you from loosing it and keeping you sane.

Slowly your fingers found their way between your legs and you let them slide into your panties.

You inhaled deeply as you concentrated on the movements, trying to give yourself the same pleasure that Woojin had gave you. You first ran your fingers down your slit, collecting that sweet arousal until it coated your fingers. You then moved up to your clit, rubbing it in quick circles.

Soft sighs escaped you as you tried to chase the feeling, kneading your breasts through his shirt until you contorted your face in annoyance.

Touching yourself had always given you satisfaction, but the liberating feeling was gone. That was all Woojin's fault. Ever since you slept together, nothing felt comparable.

"Do you need a little help?"

You almost screamed and jumped out of the bed. Completely startled, you straightened up and stared at the curly-haired man leaning casually in the doorway, his cheeks flushed despite his annoying grin.

Staring at him in disbelief, you wrapped the blanket around your body, like it would hide the embarrassing situation he bursted into.

"What the hell Woojin? Do you like stalking women and breaking into their houses?" you yelled, anger equal to shame turning your face red and made your voice stumbling.

He raised your front door key in the air and jingled it as he said:

"Actually I didn't break in. Gunwoo gave me the key."

"That doesn't answer why you're here!" you snapped at him, wishing you could have sunk into the ground.

"I forgot my headphones."

He pointed to the black headphones that were now around his neck, the ones he always carried around. He took them off and waved them in front of you, as if it would made it any less awkward for you.

It was such a simple answer that you could only stare in confusion.

"Can I come in?" he asked, as if he hadn't just caught you masturbating.

"What, no?" it ripped out of you, but he had already pulled the door shut behind him and was wandering around your room. With his hands in his pockets, he looked around at your dressing table, your plants, and the pictures on the walls that often featured Gunwoo, Mom, and your friends from highschool.

Stunned by his audacity, you watched him from your bed. Today he looked annoyingly handsome again. His curls fell tangled in his forehead and he wore a tank top that was cut wide at the sides so you could see his abs.

"Can you get out of here?" you asked, and that's when he turned to you and said:

"Is that my shirt you're wearing?"

You almost choked on your own words as you wanted to hurl some insult at him, but the sudden racing of your heart stopped you. By now your head was as red as a tomato. You had to be running a fever.

"How long were you standing at the door?" you asked a little more meekly, pinching the bridge of your nose. If he watched, while you were touching yourself in his shirt, you would definitely take the next flight and never come back.

Curiously he pulled open one of your drawers and pulled out a pair of black lace underwear.

"Long enough..." he muttered, grinning as you jumped off the bed, ripping your underwear out of his hand and slamming the drawer loudly shut.

"What are you even thinking? Stop touching my stuff!What are you doing here?" you asked harshly, poking him in the chest with your index finger.

He eyed you with amusement as your body lay softly under the fabric of his shirt and your bare legs extended out underneath.

"Just my headphones. That's when I heard you and came to see if you might need help."

The shame made your hands shake at the thought of him hearing your desperate sighs and moans.

"Great."

You turned your head toward him, trying to look confident and unbothered by his whole presence.

"Now get the fuck out of my bedroom! I don't want to look at your annoying face for a while."

"I can help you..." he murmured challengingly, suddenly pulling you closer by the waist. A startled gasp escaped you as his thumb traced circles on your hipbones and his eyes bored into yours.

"What do you mean?" you asked, completely distracted by his lips once again.

He gestured to your bed.

"I can make you come... You just have to ask nicely, dollface," he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement as you exhaled in annoyance.

Hong Woojin was a flirt, and a good one. You were experiencing his best lines. And the worst part was they worked. You wanted to push him away, maybe even slap him for his audacity, but you were desperate.

There was this desire and your body was on fire just by looking at him.

You nodded, which caught him completely off guard. Because he had actually also expected a blow and not a commitment. He wanted to tease you, to see that seductive blush on your cheeks and the way you bit your lower lip when you were angry. He knew you were a lot of things. Sarcastic, blunt, mean towards him, or so he thought. But he didn't thought you would be a tease.

"Okay. Good... Please make me come."

Your words were already making his jeans feel uncomfortably tight, and everything inside him tingled as he brushed a strand of hair out of your forehead.

"Then lie down and spread your legs, baby girl," he murmured and you got goosebumps all over your body. He was smug, overconfident. Irritatingly attractive.

You did as he said, sat down on the bed and spread your legs a little.

He looked at your panties with a hungry glint in his eyes. He knelt in front of the bed, between your thighs, and your heart hammered excitedly with anticipation. With both hands he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you to the edge of the bed with ease.

Then he slowly rolled your panties off your legs and pushed your knees apart with his hands. With an animalistic smile, he looked at your shiny middle.

"So pretty..." he murmured, and you were already getting so wet from it that you fell gasping onto your back.

He kissed your inner thighs and sucked lightly on your sensitive skin until he worked the spot with his mouth right next to where you actually wanted to feel him.

He smiled contentedly and when his tongue met your clit directly, an embarrassed whimper escaped you. He began circling the bundle of nerves with his tongue and sucking on it. He was addicted to the way you sighed and the way your body arched at his every touch. He never understood it, but when he was at your door and saw how flustered you were, it finally clicked.

He wanted you. Desperately wanted to make you feel good.

He enjoyed the view of the lines of your curves peeking out from under his shirt and your narrowed eyes as you tried to block out the noise. He licked a long strip across your slit and sucked hard on your clit, making you curse:

"Fuck! Woojin... Stop that damn teasing!“

Hearing his name come across your lips in such a filthy way made the heat shoot through his veins. Briefly, he stopped and looked at you.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked just to annoy you. With fluttering eyelids you sparkled at him, but he looked so beautiful, that you couldn't resist him any longer.

The dark curls framed his face like an engaging portrait, his eyes shone like liquid chocolate and his pink lips glistened from your wetness.

"For gods sake Woojin! I'll smash your face if you stop!"

The vibration of his chuckling laughter transferred directly to your core and you shuddered. With a smug smirk, he continued to itch your clit, giving you a blissful friction that had your eyes rolling. Once his tongue licked into your entrance, your stomach tensed as you bit your lip forcefully, containing all of your noises.

He started to eat you out as if you were his last meal, putting your legs on his shoulders to thrust even deeper with his tongue and his nose bumped teasingly against your clit.

It wasn't fair that he was even incredibly good at this. You clawed your fingers into the sheets and his name flowed like a mantra across your lips.

You almost forgot about his hand on your thighs until he squeezed them, slid down and grabbed the soft flesh of your ass to press you further against his face. Stars began to gloss over your vision as heated lust fogged up your mind.

His tongue penetrated you with increasing intensity. His mouth and chin were now full of your juices and he had rarely tasted anything more delicious.

If you let him, he would live forever between your legs.

"You taste like heaven, babe.... so good," he murmured, muffled by your cunt.

Then, as he sank two fingers into you and sucked on your clit, you felt your body float into the sky until you were seeing the clouds of pure ecstasy surround you. He was taking his time with you, partly for himself, savouring the moment, enjoying in the way you fell apart before him and partly to tease you into insanity.

You were afraid to explode as your orgasm washed over you without announcement.

Out of your mouth came curses and his name with the most pornographic sounds he had ever heard. You melted in his hands and as soon as your high faded he licked it all clean. Your pussy was sensitive and your hand flew into his hair as he continued.

Like an addict he kept fingering you and his plush lips kept working on your aching cunt.

"Woojin it's too much," you gasped overwhelmed as he brought on the next orgasm. He paused for a moment, looking at you and wishing he could have taken a picture. You looked beautiful with those puffy lips, buzzed look and beautiful eyes.

"You can take it, sweetheart. One more, okay?" he purred and with his sweet little smile, between your legs, you couldn't refuse him anything.

As his mouth rested on your pussy again and he pumped his fingers in and out, you began to see black dots. The next orgasm made your legs tremble around his head and you knew nothing more except his name flowing continuously over your lips.

The way you moaned his name, like it was the only one you knew, the only one that mattered, made his jeans feel impossibly tight. He started palming himself to get some relief.

But even then he didn't stop.

"One more baby. You can do it!" he said cheering you on, and you feared fainting with your next orgasm. However, your body craved it and pushed your hip right at him.

There was nothing left in your head but incoherent mass and as he pumped his fingers into you faster and low growls hummed from his throat, you came a third time. Only this time the world spun around you and your entire body was flooded with energy.

With a rattling breath you opened your eyes. You hadn't even realized you had closed them and looked down at Woojin who was wiping his mouth with his shirt.

"Fuck you squirted all over my face," he said, climbing up to you and propping himself up on the right and left sides of your head to look at you. You didn't even know you could do this.

You were still hovering somewhere between consciousness and drunkenness, unable to say a word.

"Are you all right?" he asked, lovingly stroking your temple, along your jaw, and with his thumb over your lower lip. Gradually you managed to fight your way back to reality and when you saw his brown eyes above you, you breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's all good..." you sighed even though your legs shook that much that you would probably never be able to walk again.

"Was that good?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested. Instead of answering, you pulled him down to you by the back of his neck and kissed him. Immediately your bodies were pressed against each other and he moved his lips against yours as if he had been waiting for this for days.

"Was that a yes?" he murmured against your lips and you both grinned, your foreheads pressed together, your hands tangled up in his hair.

"That was a yes," you replied, and before his confidence could grow any more, you pushed him back by the shoulder, pushing him onto his back and climbing on top of him.

Amazed, he watched you do it and put his hands on your hips as you looked at him from above. You felt even through his jeans how hard he was and just a small movement of your hips was enough to make him hiss.

"What do you think? You want me to return the favor?" you asked mockingly, pushing his shirt up agonizingly slowly.

He helped you take it off and dug his fingers into your hips so you would stop wriggling on his lap like that. Otherwise, he'd come right in his pants.

"That would only be fair," he replied, and you traced the contours of his rock-hard abs with your fingers. The bruises were just dark shadows by now, that you brushed one by one with your lips.

„God my head is about to explode“, he managed to say between needy sigh’s.

His cheeks were flushed and you could see how much he needed it. Now it was your turn. With a mischievous grin you climbed down his body until you were kneeling between his legs.

Only then did he begin to realize what you were up to.

With nimble fingers you opened his pants and he wiggled his hips to pull them down as fast as possible. When you pulled down his boxers as well, he gasped pathetically. His hard cock popped out and its tip was already purple. You had tortured him quite a bit.

You put a hand around his shaft and he watched you with widened eyes as you licked a little precum off his tip, keeping eye contact with him.

He had never seen anything hotter and a sweet sound rose in his throat as you began to slowly move your hand up and down his shaft.

"Holy shit... Fuck..." it tore out of him and he snapped his hips at you.

Teasingly you left your hand still and licked your lips.

"Take it in your mouth!" he commanded with a cute whine and you realized your chance to pay him back some of his bullshit. His eyes widened as he realized the position he had put himself in.

"Beg!" you said with a mean grin and he stubbornly pressed his lips together. Desperation made him gasp softly and you could see him struggling with himself. But he gave in faster as you moved your hand slowly along his length.

"Please, suck me off! Please I need to feel your mouth so bad!"

That was enough to convince you. Satisfied you palmed him faster again and finally you let your tongue circle around his tip until you took him all the way into your mouth.

His head fell into his neck and a loud moan escaped him as you bobbed your head along his dick. He buried his hand in your hair and soon he was guiding your head at a steady pace.

"Your mouth is so warm. So good. Ahh," he murmured to himself, watching his throbbing dick disappear between your full lips.

His grip on your hair grew increasingly tighter and as he pushed himself down your throat, tears welled up in your eyes. You gagged because of his enormous length, but that turned him on even more .

Gasping, he chased his own high and fucked your mouth restlessly. You couldn't breathe through your mouth anymore and his entire dick was full of your spit. Whimpering, you clawed at his thighs as he pressed your head so hard against his dick that tears ran down your cheeks.

It was intoxicating and despite the pain in your throat, arousal pulsed inside you.

"That's it, baby girl. Can't believe you let me fuck your mouth like the needy little slut you are," he growled and held you pressed onto his length for a few seconds until he continued thrusting into your throat.

"You're my little fuck toy! Mine alone!" he pressed out and his dick twitched inside your mouth.

The wet sounds, your dirty gagging and the sight of your glassy eyes made his motions become sloppy and with a few final deep thrusts, he pushed his dick all the way down your throat until your nose touched the skin of his belly and held you there.

You couldn't breathe and he came with an animalistic moan down your throat before releasing you and letting you breathe again.

By now tears, spit and cum were mixing in your mouth and on your lips. As his high ebbed he let go of you. You ran the back of your hand over your mouth and he had never seen anything more beautiful than your fucked out face. Suddenly he grabbed you and kissed you with his entire soul. You were confused by the intensity and blinked at him, when he let you go. It were so many emotions at once, that you couldn’t assign them to reasonable thoughts.

He pulled his shorts and jeans back up. Just in time as you heard the front door slam shut.

"Shit!" it escaped you in panic and with a glance at the clock you realized that you had already been messing around in your bed for two hours.

"Gunwoo and Mom are already back," you whispered, jumping off the bed to toss him his tank top, which he quickly pulled over his head.

As he stumbled out of bed, you pulled a pair of underpants out of the closet and slipped into panties and jeans.

As he stood at the door, he paused and turned to face you. Briefly, you nodded and he opened the door as quietly as possible. Your brother and Mom were carrying the groceries into the kitchen and gossiping loudly.

Just as he was about to slip out quietly, your Mom turned and spotted him.

"Ohh Woojin. You're here?" she exclaimed delightedly and Gunwoo now turned to you as well. She never looked so happy, when you came through the door…

You turned white as a sheet as your brother just stared at his best friend, while he was slipping out of his sister's room.

"Yes. I got my headphones," he said quickly, joining the others in the kitchen. Before Gunwoo could ask, you followed Woojin and said as normally as you could:

"I had them in my room. I wanted to try them out."

Woojin raised his eyebrows and looked at you obviously amazed by your excellent lying abilities.

"You mean you were going to steal them", he spat at you with the perfect amount of hatred to hide the truth.

"As if I needed to. You leave your stuff everywhere", you shot back venomously, and Gunwoo nodded sighing. It seemed all was the same as usual.

"Stop arguing and help me instead!", he demanded and threw a whole net of potatoes at Woojin.

Silently, you breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief when Gunwoo didn't ask further, and started to help him clean up the groceries.

That's how it went on for the next few weeks.

->[4]

—

© Sky-yuna — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

Taglist (open):

@marked-unknown @littlebaby-bunbun @officialshania @choisoorin @fanaticnae @hoe4wonwoo @lola2004sworld @penny44224 @artisticbirb @amnmich @spaggedy @tasteskz-sworld

[iwritefandomimagines]

MORE THAN THAT — ROBERT CHASE

masterlist

pairing: robert chase x reader

description: when one of your best friends turns up at the hospital with her daughter unwell, you introduce chase as your colleague. considering you’ve been seeing each other for nearly five months now, he does not like that one bit. [based on a request]

warnings: swearing, a tiny bit of sad!chase so hurt/comfort, fluff galore after that

author’s note: robert chase i <3 u ! this was based on a request for insecure chase so i hope this was ok!

“Y/N!” your best friend cried out for your attention as she saw you and Chase approaching down the hospital corridor, “Hi, hi— Lola is with a doctor now, Mark’s in there with her because I was away for work so I only just got here.”

You frowned immediately, worried about what might be wrong with her daughter — your goddaughter.

“Is she alright?” you pouted, hoping it was nothing serious. You were so used to dealing with life-or-death situations that you tended to catastrophise, “Do you need me to convince House to help?”

She shook her head with a small smile, “No, no, she’s okay. Stomach pain but it’s nothing serious, she’s had a few tests and it’s just a bug. She’s being discharged this afternoon, I just wanted to be here with her.”

You heaved out a sigh of relief, pulling her into a hug, “Thank god. What room is she in? We’ve got some files to drop off really quickly and then we’ll come and see her—, oh, sorry, I’ve not introduced you guys.”

You glanced across at Chase now, who looked shy now that he had finally been brought face-to-face with your lifelong best friend.

You’d been together for almost five months now, and he’d not met any of your friends from outside of the hospital.

He already worried that you were embarrassed by him, but you were both so busy that he’d eventually let himself resign to the fact that that was probably why.

“Y/B/F, this is my colleague Dr. Chase,” you gestured between them, emphasising the word colleague because your best friend knew about the mysterious doctor you were dating and you wanted to gently let her know it was him, “Dr. Chase, this is Y/B/F, my best friend since we were literally crawling.”

Chase looked down at the floor for a moment, shifting on the balls of his feet uncomfortably.

“Hi, it’s lovely to meet you,” he forced a tiny smile that you recognised immediately was false, but Y/B/F was smiling broadly enough for the three of you now.

“Amazing to meet you, Dr. Chase. I’ve heard great things about you,” you sent her a shut the fuck up look at that, not wanting to give away that she knew about you, and not realising that Chase had been relieved when he’d heard that, “One of the best doctors here, hm.”

That sunk his heart again — were you really so embarrassed by dating a work colleague that you couldn’t even tell your best friend?

He gulped awkwardly, chuckling, “Ah, thank you. Not at all, though. Well, I’d better get on.”

“Not without me,” you touched his arm, smiling softly up at him before returning your gaze to your friend, “I’ll see you in fifteen, OK?”

“See you in a bit, Y/N. Lovely to meet you Dr. Chase. Hopefully I’ll see you again very soon!”

As soon as she began to disappear down the corridor, you headed back to your office with a sad looking Chase at your side. You didn’t pry until the door to your office was closed behind you.

“Babe, what’s the matter?” you frowned, hand rubbing up his arm soothingly as he looked at you like a kicked puppy, “Sorry if that was awkward.”

“Nothing, no it was fine,” he mumbled, pretending to busy himself with looking at the papers he’d been carrying, “She’s nice.”

You narrowed your eyes confusedly, “You seem upset, please tell me what’s up. I’m sorry if you felt uncomfortable.”

He shook his head, “I just… I—,” he seemed to be contemplating whether or not to be honest with you, and your brows furrowed further in concern as he sat down on the edge of your desk defeatedly and placed down his files, “Are you embarrassed by me, Y/N?”

Your heart lurched at that, practically breaking at the notion he would even consider that you would be embarrassed by him.

“Embarrassed? Why on earth would I be embarrassed by you?” you flew to stand right in front of him, watching his glossy eyes avoid contact with yours briefly.

He shrugged sadly, “I just— I figured you must be if you won’t even introduce me to your best friend. Well, not as more than your colleague, as you so kindly emphasised.”

You let out a small gasp, “Oh, babe, no! I emphasised colleague because she does know that we are far more than that so I wanted to subtly let her know you were you. I just didn’t feel like in the busy corridors of work was the best place to talk about it properly… I was going to invite her and her husband Mark over for dinner with us next week so you could meet them properly.”

He looked up at you hopefully now, his racing heartbeat thudding in his ears as he saw the sincerity of your expression.

“You’re not just saying that to be nice?”

“Robert, why the hell would I be embarrassed to be dating you? You’re amazing,” you leaned to peck his lips quickly, “I’ve told Y/B/F everything since our first date… She just works away a lot so I’ve not had a chance to have a proper introduction.”

You could see the relief practically wash over him as his hands snaked around your waist, “Well now I feel embarrassed for being so awkward.”

You leaned in closer to him, pushing his hair from his face and cupping his cheeks to kiss him gently again. He held you close to him, deepening the kiss for a moment.

“Don’t be, I can see how it would come across like I was deliberately avoiding telling her, so I’m sorry,” you twirled his hair around your fingers at the back of his neck, “I’ve been desperate for her to meet you as my boyfriend. I just thought you might find it awkward in the middle of the hospital corridor. I didn’t want it to be too much.”

His thumb caressed the base of your back comfortingly as he stared into your eyes, “It’s alright. Now I understand why she said, ‘hopefully I’ll see you again very soon’, because that did confuse me.”

You laughed, “Yeah, I can see how ominous that sounds… She’s been really excited to meet you. I think you and Mark will get on really well, too. I can’t believe you’d think I’m embarrassed by you… I’m punching so hard.”

He pulled a face, “Are you kidding me? You’re perfect, Y/N. I’m the one punching. And lucky for me I have House to remind me of that every single day so i don’t forget it.”

You chuckled at that, knowing how much stick he got from House for your relationship and how often House would tease him about you being out of his league.

“Uh, I see that and I raise you the fact that pretty much weekly when we’re on a case together someone asks me if you’re single,” you scoffed, thinking of all the times patients and their family or friends had cornered you for your boyfriend’s number, “Although I do get a lot of satisfaction out of telling them you’re not. Just wish it wasn’t unprofessional to tell them you’re alllll mine.”

The exuberance in your words warmed his heart, pleased that you were just as proud to be his as he was to be yours.

In the time you’d been together, he’d fallen completely and utterly head over heels for you.

“All yours, huh,” he smirked smugly, pulling you closer by your waist so that your noses touched from the proximity, “I like that.”

You smirked back, kissing him once more and taking a step back, “Mhm.”

He stood up straight now as you moved away, “Sorry for getting so weird, I just got a little worried.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for, baby,” you shook your head, biting your lip as his expression had fallen a little, “But you’ve also got nothing to worry about. I love you. And I’ll tell that to anyone who’s willing to listen.”

At that, he was beaming again.

You’d not exchanged I love yous yet, but to have you say it first had made his fucking day — given that he’d been fighting the urge to tell you that for weeks now.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he grinned, watching your every movement with intensity, “More than anything.”

“I really wish the day was almost over, I just want to spend time with you now,” you pouted exaggeratedly, knowing that you wouldn’t be working with him for the rest of the day, “But I’ll see you later, yeah? Gotta go check on Lola.”

He nodded, “See ya later gorgeous. I love you.”

“I love you too, pretty boy.”

———

thanks for reading !!! i feel like this was total dogshit but i saw the request and kinda ran with it lol please let me know what you thought :-)

here is my masterlist! feel free to request too <3

[fossilprep]

There's a lot this article touches on, but the parts about fossil preparation are kind of in poor taste. I'll go over some of it under the cut.

There's a reason we usually don't publish on things we prepare. They say it right here - we can literally, whether purposeful or accidental, modify fossils as we see fit. We could imitate pathologies or create marks with air scribes or picks that are misinterpreted as pathologies, remove or obscure parts of a fossil that may be diagnostic, etc. (Of course we don't endear to do these things, they're just possible).

Whether through inexperience or poor dexterity some budding preparators can cause damage that only someone with a trained eye could notice. Preparators aren't always required to be trained in the sciences or have thorough anatomical knowledge, and thus can reconstruct things wrong, without scientific guidance. Like filling holes where there's supposed to be… holes! Like a fenestrum or foramen, for example. This is why we have references, but more importantly, we do the minimum unless instructed to do otherwise by a supervisor or exhibits team - one of a few scenarios where a curator can rightfully step in.

This is why we're trained to preserve almost any bone we see. Often there are small isolated bone chunks hovering in matrix that are thrown in a box with the specimen. A lot of pieces can't be reattached because they're too weathered or of indeterminate origins (“IBF’s” for short).

"Creating" something "artistic" is another way of implying we're making it up as we go.

If someone hands me a fossil and tells me to look at this "multimedia sculpture", I'd be confused. It's a fossil, not an art project.

Academic fossil preparation is fundamentally a scientific endeavor that also requires artistic abilities, but not creativity. We use various methods that are tried and true (and sometimes experiment with new ones) to expose an element from matrix.

The act of preparing a fossil is not providing new data. The fossil itself is the data. We just make it available. That being said, if we provide measurements, take and analyze samples of the matrix for various analyses, then that's providing valuable data. Would that warrant an authorship? Maybe.

This raises another question though. If anyone who worked on a fossil gets an authorship, then can authorship compound?

The person who found the fossil but didn't do anything with it afterwards - just dug it up and sent it to the lab, for example. Do they get to be an author? On our field crews we have up to 30 people over the whole season. 30 coauthors and 99% of them are not scientists.

The collections manager who just painted a number on it, catalogued it, and put it away?

How about the curator who allowed a researcher access to the collection who didn't collect any data but just answered some emails and opened the drawer for it to be studied?

The land owner who gave you permission to dig?

Finally, the preparator who just exposed it from the rock. They do more science inherently than the others, but if no parts of the scientific method were conducted and no data was produced (save for the fossil simply being brought back into the world), do they get an authorship?

tl;dr We don't need authorships for the act of preparing fossils unless we provide data and go through the scientific process (like what's usually required for any authorship). Many parts of the process is not science. Just acknowledge our work in your paper and we'll be more than happy.

[writingstreetspirit]

This Family Is Our Fortress

Summary: Years after the war against the sky people, your family have found peace

Pairing: Jake Sully x Fem!Na’vi!Reader

Warnings: Reader is a mom of soon to be 4, pregnancy, reference of war

Word count: 0.9k

A/N: I had a craving for something tooth achingly sweet, so a Sully family piece was born. In this Neytiri is essentially replaced by you, sorry. I love you Neytir, maybe next time. Thank you all for reading! If you enjoyed reading, please like/reblog/comment/follow to support me and to let me know if I should do more of this type of content! 🥰🫶🏻

—

You had many things that you felt grateful to Eywa for. Some where your clan - your family - the Omaticaya. For your Sa’nok (Mother) and Sempul (Father) and their love for you. For Eywa’s love for everyone and everything, for her allowance for you to to breathe and walk on her planet. 

You were thankful for Jake Sully. Former human, a sky demon, who came to Pandora and learned the way of the People, and in turn becoming one. You were thankful for Turuk Makto (Shadow Rider) who brought peace to Pandora by defeating the humans, despite having worked for and been one himself. You were thankful for Jake Sully, who became your mate. 

What you were the most thankful for was the blessing of your and Jake’s children. Neteyam was your first son, who was conceived just before the battle against the sky people. His birth was a beacon of hope and new beginnings, and the start of a family that would eventually become six. 

Around that same time came Kiri, the sudden and unexplained daughter of Dr. Grace Augustine. Grace had been part of your life since childhood, and her tragic death was a heavy loss on the clan. But her passing would then reveal itself to not be the end of Grace’s legacy. Jake and you took Kiri in without doubt the second you knew of her existence. Sweet little Kiri, your daughter in all but blood. 

After Kiri was the second and last son of yours, Lo’ak. His birth was a joy for the whole family, and a great happiness for his brother and sister that would become older siblings. With your second itan (son), you and Jake though that the family was officially complete. That was until you feel pregnant once again when Neteyam and Kiri was 7 and Lo’ak 6. You were currently almost halfway through the pregnancy, and you and Jake couldn’t be happier of your big family.

”Alright kids, it’s bath time!” Jake called out for Neteyam, Kiri and Lo’ak who were running around playing in the mud outside of the hammock. You were preparing the last of the food that you’d eat after the children had bathed. 

They slowed down, Neteyam and Kiri pouting while Lo’ak full out whined at the news that playtime was over. ”But Sempul (Father)! Please, just a few more minutes?” 

Jake shook his head, hands on his hips. ”Nope. Come on, food’s almost ready.”

They collectively groaned but obeyed their father, to which you smiled. With one glance at them, you realized that today Jake would need your help to bath them if you wanted the meat to still be warm when they were done. So with that you rose up onto feet and followed them down to the body of water, Kiri’s little hand creeping itself into you own. 

Bath time took a little longer than usual due to the excessive amount of dirt and small sticks in-beaded in your children’s hair, but with the help of Jake you all made it back to the kelku while the food was still somewhat warm. 

Dinner was as usual a time where everyone shared about their day. Lo’ak, Kiri and Neteyam did most of the talking, excitedly telling vivid stories of all the adventures they had during the day. You and Jake offered played out reactions to spur them on, asking followup questions to hear more of their excitement. That exited retelling steadily faded away to slow blinking and yawns escaping their small mouths. You smiled, getting the small ones to bed wouldn’t be hard this night.

”Lets get you all tucked in now.” Jake fondly said to the kids, and they did not complain this time. They instead nodded and rose from the floor. Kiri and Neteyam rose up their arms in request for their Sempul (Father) to carry them, which Jake did. Lo’ak looked up to you, arms asking for you to also pick him up. You did so with a coo, pressing a kiss to the boys forehead. 

Jake and you carried the children to the place your family slept, cuddling up into a nest of tangled limps. It wasn’t every night that you all slept tangled up like this, what with your children growing older, but tonight was one of those night. 

”Goodnight Ma’ite (My daughter).” You cooed, pressing a kiss to Kiri’s little head, which Jake copied. She smiled, murmuring a goodnight in return. You then did the same with Neteyam and Lo’ak. ”Goodnight Ma’itans (My sons).”

”Sa’nok (Mother), can you please sing?” Neteyam requested bashfully, Lo’ak going in with small pleading and Kiri nodded enthusiastically also in agreement. Jake laughed a little at the familiar request they had asked so many times before. You smiled warmly, agreeing instantly. ”Yes, Sa’nok (Mother) can sing.”

The children settled back, relaxing into their parents warm embraces as you started to sing the same lullaby that you’d sung over a thousand times by now. Barely halfway through the song, your children where peacefully asleep. Your voice faded away as you and Jake shared a loving smile. 

Jake lend his neck down to kiss you softly. You hummed against his lips, as content as can be. You relaxed back against his strong shoulder, closing your eyes. Jake’s hand settled gently against your swollen stomach, where it would remain as a protective blanket for the rest of the night. ”Night, [Name], sleep well. I love you.”

”Goodnight, Ma’Jake. I love you too.” You whispered before letting yourself fall asleep, safe and happy in the arms of your family. 

[writemekpop]

Torn (Part 2) | Huang Renjun & Lee Jeno

Summary: When Renjun found out you cheated on him with Jeno, he kicked you out and left you naked on the floor. You lose your memory, and Renjun hides the truth about what he’s done.

Genre: Angst, cheating AU, Renjun x Reader, Jeno x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Part 1 | Part 2 💚

You opened your eyes, grimacing at the bright white light.

You realised you were lying in a bed, wearing a thin white gown. It had to be a hospital. You slowly lifted the sheet, and saw bruises darkening your skin. Your feet were wrapped in bandages.

Fear turned your throat to sandpaper.

You tried to sit up, to get out, but there was a pain in your head, sharp, like a blow with a baseball bat. You collapsed back onto the bed, dizzy.

The last thing you remembered was Renjun finding out you’d cheated on him with his best friend Jeno. His anger. After that, you had no memory. Your blood ran cold.

“Just tell me where she is!”

You gasped. You’d recognise that voice anywhere.

Renjun.

The door to the hospital room swung open.

“Oh my god, Y/n!” Renjun cried. He dropped to his knees beside the bed, his hazel eyes brimming with tears. “I am so sorry, baby! Are you alright?”

“R-renjun…” You reached forwards, running your hand through Renjun’s dirty-blonde fringe. “What happened? How did I get into the hospital?”

Renjun frowned. “You don’t… remember?”

Renjun’s eyes flicked up to your forehead, and his mouth dropped open.

You smoothed down your fringe, blushing at his intense gaze. Only, when your fingers touched your forehead, you winced.

Renjun reached forward and gently brushed your hand aside. He inspected your forehead. His touch was familiar, intimate – it made your heart race. 

The scar began in your hairline, travelled down your forehead, and ended in your right eyebrow. It was jagged and wide, a marker of a past violence that your mind had blocked out.

 Just then, a woman in blue scrubs came into the room. “Good to see you’re awake, Y/n. My name is Dr Jay. Do you want me to explain what’s been going on?”

You nodded.

“You hit your head really hard, Y/n. You’re suffering from something called retrograde amnesia. It means that your memories from the last day or so have been wiped.”

You blinked twice. “Amnesia…”

The doctor turned to Renjun. “You must be her boyfriend.”

Renjun gulped. His eyes flicked to you – as if he was waiting for you to confirm it.

“Yes, he’s my boyfriend,” you said quickly. Renjun visibly relaxed at your words. Why was Renjun acting like he was the one who needed forgiveness?

“I need you to help Y/n fill in the gaps of what happened last night.” With that, the doctor left.

You lifted the blanket, beckoning Renjun to lie in the bed with you. He cradled you to his chest, stroking your hair softly.

“So you don’t remember - anything?” he whispered.

You shook your head. “All I remember was you finding out about… the texts from Jeno.” Tears pooled in your eyes. “I am so sorry, baby. It was a one-time thing. It didn’t mean anything, I swear!”

Renjun shushed you, pressing his lips to your hair. “That’s okay,” he said hurriedly. “I guess we… we all make mistakes. I forgive you!”  

You frowned. Renjun was the type of person to hold a grudge for months. He still brought up the time you spilled ketchup on his favourite shirt – three years ago.

But you shrugged the doubt off. You had to be projecting – you were the liar in this relationship. Renjun would never lie to you. The thought made you want to cry.

“The doctor said I was lying naked on the street,” you said. “What happened?”

Renjun rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… I guess you were so upset about me finding out about Jeno that you- you ran out.”

“Without my clothes or shoes?” you said, mouth agape. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

Renjun’s face went red. “I… I tried to! I begged you to come back inside, but…. but you ran away so fast I couldn’t catch up.”

“I… outran… you? Barefoot?” you asked in disbelief.

Renjun clutched you tight in his arms, so tight it nearly hurt. “Darling. Let’s talk about this later. Let’s get you better first.”

You had a gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach. Something told you he was lying.

You were about to speak up, but then the pounding in your head started again. You squeezed your eyes shut.

Renjun nuzzled into your hair. It was so comforting, you couldn’t help feeling sleepy. Maybe you were just overreacting.

“I love you, baby,” Renjun whispered.

---

It had been two weeks since you’d been discharged from the hospital, and you were back in the house you shared with Renjun.  

Ever since then, Renjun had become the most devoted boyfriend – he’d bring you fresh flowers every day, he’d brush your hair, he’d even bring you breakfast in bed.

You couldn’t help but feel guilty at his affection. After all, you were the one who had cheated. With the way he was treating you, it was felt like Renjun was the guilty one, not you.

It was a Saturday evening, and you were lying in bed, face buried in a book.

Renjun came in, handsome in his grey sweatpants and hoodie. He was clutching a steaming bowl of noodles.

“Here, baby! I brought your favourite.”

Smiling, you took the bowl from Renjun and placed it on the bedside table.

“Thank you, honey, but you didn’t have to! I’m stuffed from those pancakes you made an hour ago.”

You pulled Renjun to sit down next to you. You gazed at his almond eyes and plump lips. Your eyes were drawn south, to his sweatpants, and more importantly, what lay underneath.

“I’m hungry for something else,” you whispered.

You pulled Renjun’s lips onto yours in a steamy kiss.

You and Renjun hadn’t slept together since that night. You’d been nervous after the Jeno incident, and you’d been giving Renjun space. But now you couldn’t wait any longer. Especially after this morning, when you walked in on Renjun in the shower and laid your eyes on exactly what you had been missing all this time.

You lay down on the bed and pulled Renjun on top of you. Renjun moaned, jerking his hips against yours.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. His hand brushed the side of your breast, sending sparks shooting through you.

You shimmied out of your bottoms. Renjun did the same. He pushed himself inside.

The feeling of having Renjun inside you was too good for words. You wished you could stay joined like this forever. Gripping his shoulders, you pulled his body tighter to yours.

However, the more relaxed you became, the more Renjun stiffened. “I-“ he said against your shoulder.

“What is it, baby?”

“I can’t,” he breathed.

“Renjun, what’s up? Do you not… want to?”

Renjun let out a shaky breath, tickling your neck. “Y/n, I have something to confess. Something I should have told you weeks ago… when we left the hospital.”

Your blood ran cold. You sat up, unhooking your legs from around him. Renjun was panting, his dark hair dishevelled, and his lips were bruised and red.

“What is it?” you said.

Renjun opened his mouth to speak. “I-“

But he was interrupted by three loud thuds on the front door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

You and Renjun looked at each other in confusion.

"Let me get that!" Renjun jumped off the bed, dressed, and bolted towards the door.

“Wait, what were you going to say?” you called.

But Renjun had already gone. The cold air bit your bare legs.

You heard Renjun open the door. Then you heard muffled shouting.

You peered out of the bedroom window. When you saw who was standing at the door, you gasped.

It was Jeno, looking unusually intimidating in his black hoodie and baseball cap. He was in a shouting match with Renjun.

You bolted down the stairs. You got there just in time to catch the end of their conversation.

“You just couldn’t wait to screw her, could you?” Renjun yelled. “I thought you were my friend!”  

Jeno scoffed. “You kicked her out and left her naked on the street. What kind of psycho does that?”

You stood in the hallway, mouth agape.

“You left me… where?” you said.

Both men turned towards you. Jeno was no longer scowling, and Renjun looked guilty.

“Listen, it’s not what it sounds like-” Renjun stuttered, his brown face turning red. Renjun ran and reached for your hand, but you yanked it away.

“What does Jeno mean about you… kicking me out?” You said, focused completely on Renjun. “You told me that I ran out myself, and that you tried to stop me.”

The edges of your vision began to blur. The man who had been feeding you, washing you, cuddling you at night, the man whose touch still burned all over your body… was a liar?

Renjun bit his lip. “I…”

Jeno cursed. “Don’t believe a word he says, Y/n. I came to check on you because I couldn’t believe when I’d heard you’d gone back to him.”

It was all clicking into place – Renjun’s over the top romantic gestures, the way he couldn’t quite meet your eyes… and he was about to confess something before Jeno interrupted him!

Your entire life felt like a frozen TV, the image stuck, the pixels finally visible. Who was Renjun, really? Who were you?

“How could you do that to me?” you asked, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Renjun huffed, hands balling into fists. “You started it, by- by cheating on me!” Renjun scowled. “Maybe I should have left you out in the cold… you- you slut!”

You gasped. But before you could react, Jeno lunged forwards and punched Renjun in the face.

Renjun staggered backwards, yelling, hands grasping his nose. You could see blood trickling down his chin.

“Get the hell out, both of you!” Renjun cried.

You turned to Jeno, looking at him properly for the first time. His dark hair was ruffled, and his eyes were wide. He held his hand out for you.

“Come on, Y/n, you can leave with me.”

You grasped his hand. The contact sent sparks shooting through you.

You nodded. “Let’s go.”

You ran out into the driveway, hands locked with Jeno. Before you made it into the car, you heard glass smashing and Renjun’s roar from inside the house. You shuddered.

You let Jeno pull you into the passenger seat of his beat-up truck. Your hands were trembling, your entire body was numb from the shock. The scar on your forehead throbbed.

You sat in the passenger seat, too dazed to put on your seatbelt. Jeno leant over you and clicked in your seatbelt for you. He was leaning so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from his firm body. The smell of his mint shampoo drove you crazy. Was Jeno always this attractive?

Jeno’s hand brushed your breast as he adjusted the strap of your seatbelt. His breath faltered. You gulped. The last time you’d been in this truck with Jeno, you’d had sex with him.

Jeno cleared his throat. He walked around to the driver’s seat and got in.

You and Jeno drove in silence. You watched the sun sink down beneath the trees. The reality of your relationship with Renjun weighed heavy on your chest.

“What do I keep doing wrong?” you mumbled, after a while.

Jeno frowned, eyes darting away from the road to look at your face. “What do you mean?”

“Why does no one want me?” you asked, not really answering his question.

“Renjun left me, you left me…” You thought about your father, who moved across the world when you were six, and had never sent you so much as a birthday card.

“Y/n!” Jeno said with an urgency that make you snap your head towards him. He pulled over into a side road.

You watched as Jeno panted, broad shoulders rising and falling.

“You’re wrong,” he said. “I want you.”

“You do?”

Jeno’s eyes lingered on your bare legs a little too long before he met your eyes. “I do. Y/n, I need-“

You leant over and smashed your mouth onto his, shutting him up. Jeno grunted against your lips, kissing you back with equal passion.

His lips never leaving yours, Jeno grasped your waist and pulled you and onto his lap, making you gasp at his strength.

Your hand slipped down to where your body met his. You pushed your clothes out of the way and kissed the moans right from his lips.

You fucked him until the windows steamed up and your thighs started to tremble from the effort.

After, you and Jeno sat on the hood of his car, both desperately trying to cool down your burning bodies. One of your bare legs was draped over Jeno’s. Your fingers traced invisible circles over his chest, trying to find the places that would make him shiver.

Jeno pulled your hand to his lips and kissed it. “I want us to be together, Y/n. You and me.”

You hummed, your mind drifting between the two men that had been inside you that night.

“You know,” Jeno said, staring out at the horizon. “I’m kinda glad that Renjun kicked you out.”

You frowned. “What?”

Jeno smiled lazily. “I mean… that was what sent you to my house… and that convinced me to finally break up with my girlfriend. I realised I wanted you.”

You started to smile, but something stopped you in your tracks. You pulled your hand away from his, crossing your arms over your chest.  

“So… I came to your house the night that Renjun kicked me out?” you asked, lightly, trying not to reveal your panic.

You were suddenly conscious that you were on an empty dirt path, hidden from the main road by trees… with a man you barely knew.

Jeno hummed in agreement.

“But the doctors said they found me alone on the street… does that mean you kicked me out too?”

Jeno sighed. “Okay… so that did happen, but who cares? We have each other now!”

“Who cares?” you shouted, your voice getting louder with each word. “Who cares? Is that all you have to say, you jerk? You’re just as bad as Renjun! No, you’re worse!” 

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Jeno left you on the street like you were nothing!

Jeno looked at you strangely. “Calm down, Y/n, you’re overreacting.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” you screamed. Your head started to spin. Renjun, Jeno… all these men did was treat you like an old Barbie, something to play with and throw out.

“I- I hate you!”

Before Jeno had a chance to respond, you grabbed your things and started to run. You ran down the street, as fast as your legs could take you. You didn’t stop running, not when your chest started to ache, not even when your feet throbbed.

You eventually ended up outside a tiny motel at the edge of the highway. Your shoes were worn, and your head was spinning. You had no choice but to go in.

The inside of the motel was warm and cozy.

There was a man behind the front desk. He was wearing a woolly brown jumper and circle rimmed glasses. He had gorgeous dark hair and tall cheek bones.

You almost laughed out loud at how ridiculously handsome he was, and out of place he looked in this tiny motel.

When he saw you, he straightened up. You realised he was tall too, and lean.

He smiled dazzlingly and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jae-“

“I don’t care what your name is,” you said, cutting him off. “I just have one question.”

The handsome stranger lifted one brow. “Anything.”

“Can you help me forget about all the bad men in my life?”

The man bit his pink, plump lip, thinking. After a moment, he smirked, and said:

“I can certainly try.”

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

Taglist: @nctstrawberrycow @legbouk @saltysouldreamathlete @simpforseungkwan @jenlvr01 @alwaysthefirstsight @anonjyxd @prejsm @yixingtion @daegalfangirl @xmhnrk @2baddies-1porsche @sunshine-skz @yuskitty @starcherryberry @morningsunandnightsky @haech4n @sunincity @bockhyun @summeerrr @multifanbisexual @glitching-wren @kpoploverxx-12 @noidnoentry @yksthings @legbouk @shwizhies @beomibeom @fullsunbabe @desi-brownie @bigzaddydwaekki @o0parkjimin0o @mk-id @so1ugh

[thefallennightmare]

Arranged-nine

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Authors Note: Tags for this will be open, just shoot me a message or comment if you're interested!

Tags: @alexxavicry @mdpplgtz03 @broadwaybabe18 @samsgirl93 @cherryflavoureds-blog @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @clqrosmgc @loumaaria-blog @queerqueenlynn @pampeop @cjand10 @purplerain85 @savannahcole99

Arranged Masterlist

The smell of coffee was trapped in my nose as I poured two full cups before setting the pot back, a smile on my face. Thoughts of last night kept replaying in my mind and I haven’t been able to stop smiling since I woke up a bit ago. 

Bucky had returned home last night sometime after midnight and let me know with a soft kiss to the forehead before retreating back into his room. When I awoke this morning, there was a note from him saying he had a meeting right away at 10 am but was free the rest of the day so we could do whatever I wanted. 

The only thing I wanted to do was pick up where we left off last night before Steve interrupted. 

With both mugs in hand, I quickly made my way down the long hallway towards Bucky’s office, knowing I had a few minutes before his meeting and figured he would like a warm cup of coffee to start it. 

The door was open so with a soft knock, I walked in only to freeze in place at what I had seen. 

There was one man who I had remembered seeing outside of the lab the other day holding open a briefcase that held 10 vials of some kind of blue liquid. 

Dr. Banner, I remember Bucky and Steve calling him that. 

There was another man, darker skin than the rest, and he stood behind Banner with a hand ghosting over the gun on his hip. 

Steve and Bucky were standing across from the two men, them each holding a vial of the liquid. When I walked into the room, both of their eyes landed onto me. Anger filled Bucky’s eyes and he hurriedly placed the vial back into the briefcase before slamming it shut. 

His jaw glanced while lips snarled  in anger, eyes cutting deep into me. 

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Bucky asked. 

I held up the cups of coffee before setting them down on his desk. “I thought you would want some before your meeting. Clearly it started earlier than you said.” 

Bucky gripped my elbow and led me into the hallway, spewing curses falling from his lips. 

“Did you even bother to check the door?” He snapped.

I ripped my arm out of his grasp and placed my weight onto my left foot. “Yes, it was wide open and I even knocked before coming in.” 

“Go upstairs, I’ll talk to you later.” 

I sliced my eyes into him. “Are you going to tell me what I just walked into?” 

Bucky grasped my wrist and began leading me towards the stairs which only made me more furious and this time, I yanked myself free while pushing him back slightly. 

“Don’t you put your hands on me again!” I pointed a finger at him. 

He ran a hand over his face. “Y/N, I’m not saying it again. Go upstairs. NOW!”

I jumped slightly at the sudden change in his voice but didn’t let it phase me. 

“Is it drugs? Is that what this whole secrecy is because you’re selling or buying drugs?” I questioned with my arms over my chest. “Was your guy going to shoot the doctor after he gave you those vials? Got what you wanted so now you don’t need him anymore?” 

“It’s none of your business,” Bucky began. 

“The hell it isn't!” I snapped, my voice without a doubt being heard by the men in his office. “You brought me into this mess the second we signed the papers!” 

It had only been a few days but I was already sick of the lies and secrets, I needed Bucky to tell me the truth on what he’s into. I was his wife now. 

“Why did you even sign them?!” Bucky wondered, hands on his hips. “You hesitated signing them.” 

“Oh my god,” I pinched my eyes shut, a sudden headache rattling my brain. “It was nothing, Bucky; nerves.”

“Bullshit! Why did you hesitate?” Bucky drilled the question again.  

“Because I don’t want this!” I screamed. “I wanted to marry someone I love, someone that I can see having a family with. Someone that doesn’t hide shit from me. And someone that doesn’t fucking kill people for a living!” 

Bucky’s eyes flashed with hatred at my words. “You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” 

I scoffed while standing on my toes. “I thought that after last night we were finally in a good place. I was starting to feel something for you. How fucking wrong I was.” 

He sliced his eyes into me. “What kind of woman needs her parents to set her up in a marriage? How pathetic. I’m starting to think I should have found the first broad I found in the city and married her. At least she would give me what I want.” 

My heart shattered, falling into the depths of my stomach and I could feel the corner of my eyes well up. But I refused to let him know that his words cut deep. The Bucky from last night was nowhere in sight. This one was meaner and I suddenly wanted nothing to do with this one. 

“Go fuck yourself, Bucky. We might be married now but that doesnt mean I have to be seen with you,” I seethed. 

With another shake of my head, I left him to go back to whatever he had been doin prior in his office; tears falling freely over my cheeks. 

Silence. 

That's all that was heard throughout the large home for the last couple of days, me being the only one here. After our huge fight, Bucky left for a business trip, Barb’s words. She was here the first day he left but I told her she didn’t need to stay for me and gave her the rest of the week off. 

Something she was grateful for. 

Steve had to go with Bucky, meaning that if I were to go out it would be on my own without any protection. Which really didn’t matter to me because I ended up being held up in my room. He had sent me a text earlier today to let me know that he would be arriving back home tonight. I didn’t even bother to reply. 

There were some hurtful things hurled by the both of us and it wasn’t something I was going to sweep under the rug. I would be willing to apologize, only if he was as well. 

My phone began to buzz on my table and I answered it with a groan, not bothering to check who was calling. 

“Well hello to you too, dear. Rough day?” 

I sat up in bed more and sighed. “Hi mom. Sorry, I was asleep.” 

“Oh sorry for waking you. I just wanted to check in and see how marriage life is going?” 

“Great,” I lied, not bothering to tell her about the fight. I didn’t want her to think things weren’t great. 

Even if they weren’t. 

“Good! Your father and I knew Bucky was the right choice for you, you two complement each other so well.” 

I shook my head. “Mom, do you even know who he is?” 

“He owns the laboratory in town. All the papers say he’s been finding the next cure for some kind of sickness, ya know? He’s such a good man, Y/N.” 

“Look, I’m tired and don’t really feel like talking right now. Can I call you later?” I asked. 

“Sweetheart, everything alright? Because if it’s not, you can talk to me.” 

I scoffed. “No offense mom but the reason why I’m feeling like this is because you guys forced me to marry this complete stranger who you know nothing about! I barely know him and you and dad practically threw me into his arms. Did you even ask if he wanted this? Because he fucking doesnt!” 

“Watch your language, Y.N! I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.” 

I squeezed my eyes shut while pressing a hand to my forehead. “I’m really not in the mood to deal with this shit now.” 

Before I could hear my mom yell some more, I hung up the phone and tossed it into the drawer of the table next to me. The last thing I wanted at this moment was to deal with her disappointment in the fact that I wasn’t giving this marriage a try. 

I went back to the book that I had almost forgotten I was reading before the phone call and let the rest of the night pass with no other issues, that was until Bucky returned home. With my open door, I heard Bucky ascend the stairs, letting out a deep breath once he reached the top. I peaked over the top of my book and looked out into the hallway where Bucky stood with his hands deep into his pockets, tired eyes staring at me. 

Even if I was upset with him, he still looked breathtaking in his black sweats with a matching sweater. His usual combed back hair was a mess, strands falling all into his face due to the traveling. His whole aura screamed ‘cuddle with me’ but I needed to hold my composure; I wouldn’t fold first. 

My eyes returned back to my book and I heard Bucky let out another deep sigh before he disappeared into his room, the door slamming behind him. 

Some time had passed and my eyelids became heavy, sleep slowly overtaking my body and I set the book down, ready to close my eyes and forget about the last week. My phone, however, began ringing non stop in the drawer next to me. I ignored it, thinking it was my mom again, but when it rang for a third time, I knew that it had to have been something more important. 

“Hello?” I answered. 

“Hi, is this Mrs. Barnes?” 

My heart flipped. It had been the first time I heard myself being called that. 

“Uh, yeah. Who is this?” 

“This is Detective Roth with the NYPD. We’re calling on behalf of your parents.” 

I sat up in bed with a quick start. “Are they alright?” 

“No, I’m sorry. They’re bodies were found in their homes just a few minutes ago. We believed that they were murdered.” 

The detective's voice had become white noise as my brain began processing the new information. 

My parents were dead? 

Murdered?

In their own home? 

I then remembered the phone call I had with my mom just an hour ago and I let out a strangled sob, realizing that was our last conversation. My bottom lip trembled as I let out a shaky breath before the tears began to fall, droplets falling onto the blanket and a loud sob choked its way out of my throat. Tears collected into my eyelashes, and I swatted them away. 

“No!” I wailed, tossing the phone across the room. “NO!” 

Sobs attacked my entire body as I writhed underneath the blanket, the pain overtaking me as I continued to scream. 

“Doll?” 

Bucky’s voice was muffled through my sobs and he was blurred due to the tears filling my eyes.

“What’s going on?” 

Bucky was in my bed in an instant, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his chest. I grasped at hsi shirt, tears staining it immediately. I sobbed, loudly, as I tried to tell him what happened. 

He hushed my cries with a kiss to my hairline and rubbed circles on my back, hoping it would calm me. 

“What happened, Y/N?” Bucky asked once more. 

I looked up at him, tears falling from my swollen eyes. “My parents are dead. Someone killed them.” 

Sobs broke out of me again as my body writhed in his grasp and I buried my face back into Bucky’s chest. I hadn’t noticed the large scowl that came to his face as he wrapped his arms even tighter around me. 

“It’s alright, doll. I’m here.” Bucky cooed into my ear.

[thesakuragarnet]

Carnal Addictions (Dabi X Fem! Reader)

Summary: After a rough day at work, you come home to find your wanted lover lying in wait.

[Part two of my Yandere Dabi X Support Course Graduate Fem!Reader mini series] Sequel to Crimes Of Passion

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY! S3XUAL TAGS WILL BE HIDDEN BELOW THE KEEP READING BUTTON!

Non-Spicy Tags: swearing, smut, Yandere-ish Dabi, drinking, childhood friends, Support Course Graduate Fem!Reader, Second Person POV, established relationship, possessive/obsessive Dabi, making out, questionable relationship (Toxic but also non-toxic...like edible playdough), Dabi has that tongue from that one Horikoshi drawin where he's in the suit (the stans know the one), cuddling, b!nge dr!nking (just a wee bit)

Word Count: 2,101 words

AO3 link

Spicy Tags: explicit s3xual content, 0ral fixation, ma$turbat!on, drunk s3xy times (Dabi is just h0rny and drunk basically), finger sucking, rough 0ral s3x, overst!mulation, d!rty talk, slight choking, bl0wj0bs, cunn!lingus, 69, n!ppleplay/licking, face-f*cking, vag!nal f!ngering, v0cal during s3xy times, neck kissing, c0me swallowing, praise k!nk

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It'd been a week since your encounter with Dabi...and, truthfully, you still didn't know what to make of it. He was obsessed with you to a point where it was crucially concerning...and yet, you weren't exactly complaining. You loved the attention. He was comfortingly familiar; your best friend and guardian angel brought back to life in the form of an animalistic villain who would burn the world for you. It was certainly the most thrilling part of your life...and the most exciting that it had been in years. Dabi was very adamant that you remain at your apartment rather than bring you to the League of Villains' base. He wanted to keep you safe...away from anyone who may seek to use you as leverage or bait. Still...it was apparent that you two were...something of a couple at the very least. Dabi was staying over every chance he could, and the feeling of someone watching over you was now sickeningly stronger than ever. You would look over your shoulder as you worked, expecting to see his silhouette, but he was always out of sight. 

...

You'd finally finished the prototype for the temperature controller, and, rather than hand it off to your client, you'd decided to bring it home for Touya to try out. You carry the briefcase in one hand and your apartment keys in the other as you shove them into the lock of your apartment. The second you turn the keys, you're blasted with the scent of alcohol and smoke.

"Finally home, princess?" Dabi's gravelly voice echoes off the walls as you slip inside the darkness, closing the door behind you. As your eyes adjust, you can make out the familiar blazing cerulean flame that casts shadows across the walls, gently dancing from a candlewick. He's sitting down on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table with a tall bottle of booze in his hand. He lifts the bottle to his lips, his eyes trained on yours intently as he gulps the alcohol, draining half the bottle without taking a breath. The collection of empty bottles sprawled on the floor tells you that he's been rooting through your stash that was meant to just be for parties and special events. 

"How long have you been here?" You scoff, your cheeks tinting pink when you realize his eyes are starting to drag across your body...borderline analyzing you. Dabi chuckles darkly when he puts the bottle down, visibly very drunk; he simply shrugs, snickering to himself as he leans back, putting his hands behind his head and staring at you lustfully. 

"Long enough. You shouldn't have kept me waiting," He mutters snidely, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Y'know...you're looking-hic-looking pretty good tonight."

"I'm in my work clothes," You reply flatly, walking toward him and setting the briefcase on the table, "I brought you something to try."

Dabi clicks his tongue, and he reaches out, grabbing your wrist. "There's something else I wanna try," He grins, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes. 

"Touya, I really think you need to see this-" You start, only for Dabi to forcefully jerk you onto the couch, where you land with a grunt on the cushions beside him. He roughly grabs you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him before he sloppily presses his lips against yours. He reeks of alcohol and ash, and you can taste the liquor on his long, warm tongue as it prods against your own. He practically sticks it down your throat, and you can feel the healed stitches in the back of it as you tentatively tease back. You raise your hands, trying to push him away when he wraps his arms around your body, pulling you even closer as he groans lowly into the kiss. Your eyelids flutter shut, coating your vision in darkness. 

"Mmmmm, I missed youuuu," He pants as he briefly pulls away before his lips smash against yours once again. "You taste so good, baby," He groans, the alcohol clearly filling his brain with nothing but lewd ideas. His words send a chill down your spine, making you shudder. You have to admit, Dabi's possessive obsession with you is exhilarating. His upper lip is soft while his scarred, bottom lip is rough, and the contrasting sensations in his kiss always make your heart skip a beat. Dabi's tongue traces the roof of your mouth, and one hand roughly grips your shoulder while the other one disappears. The faint sound of rustling fabric reaches your ears, followed by more intense groans from Touya...borderline moaning between each hasty kiss. You open one of your eyes, squinting through the darkness as you continue to kiss the villain. You can see Dabi's arm moving, and it doesn't take you long to realize he's palming himself through his jeans, hips slowly grinding his clothed erection against his hand. 

"Touya!" You gasp as you pull away, eyes trained on the straining fabric; the unmarred flesh between Dabi's scars on his face glows red. 

"Couldn't help it, princess. I'm so-hic-so...I want you so bad," He slurs, his other hand coming up to caress your cheek before he gently pulls down your bottom lip with his thumb. You freeze, unsure of what to do before he slowly presses his thumb into your mouth and onto your tongue. 

"Suck," He commands under his breath, and, as if in a trance, you comply, completely hypnotized. Dabi's eyelids flutter, and he leans forward to softly sink his teeth into the side of your neck. He pulls you into his lap, and you gasp when you feel his hard cock pressing against you through both of your clothes. Dabi pulls his thumb out of your mouth and thrusts his middle and pointer finger in its place, almost making you gag with how far he sticks them inside. You cough, and Dabi chuckles under his breath, dragging them across your tongue as you attempt to suck on them. 

"Good girl," He practically growls, reaching up under your pleated skirt and pulling your panties to the side. Roughly, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth...and promptly slips them into your dripping cunt. You cry out in surprise, and Dabi shuts you up with another deep kiss that makes you relax. 

"So wet for me, baby," He hushes, biting his bottom lip as he pulls away from the kiss. He unbuttons your blouse with his free hand while his fingers pump inside you. He's being a little rougher than usual because he's drunk, but he's certainly more vocal and reactive. 

"My beautiful princess," Dabi slurs out in a breathy whisper as he pushes your bra up above your breasts, not bothering to unclasp it before he wraps his lips around one of your nipples. Your moans pitch higher and louder at the combined stimulation, and you look down to see his ocean-blue eyes boring into you. "Mine," He whispers around your tit, attempting to force the whole thing in his mouth as if his life depends on it. He squeezes your other breast, his warm, calloused thumb ghosting over one nipple as his tongue teases the other. 

"Oh Touya~," You whimper, and he groans at the mention of his real name. He curls his fingers in just the right spot, and you cry out even louder. 

"Fuck, I need more of you," Touya rasps, and, hastily, he pulls his fingers out. Before you can protest, he takes hold of your shoulders and flips you over. You frantically put your hands on his legs to brace yourself from falling, and you feel Dabi grab your thighs, jerking your pussy toward his face as he lies down. You slide up his body until your face is just above his clothed erection. 

WHOOSH!

In one swift motion, he tears off your skirt and panties, leaving you bare, and without a word, he shoves his face between your legs. His enchantingly warm tongue traces up and down your slit, and he sighs at the taste, muttering soft words of drunken praise. It feels so fucking good. The moment his tongue touches your clit, you flinch, only for him to pull you closer, forcing you to let him pleasure you. Your name is on his lips, and, in the heat of the moment, you start unzipping his pants, pulling out his throbbing cock. Dabi gasps as you wrap a hand around his dick, slowly leaning forward to place your lips around the tip. 

"Fuck," He moans before slipping his tongue inside your slit, gently lapping against your insides, making you squirm. He digs his sharp, serrated nails into your thighs as he tongue-fucks you, moving your hips. 

"Touya," You whimper with your mouth full of his cock as you feel pleasure building up in your lower back. You bob your head up and down, sucking like your life depends on it. Effortlessly, Dabi pulls his tongue out and lifts you up higher to suckle your clit, and you deepthroat in response, taking him all the way in until your eyes are watering and your nose touches his balls. 

"Ohhhh, damn princess," Dabi growls, swirling his tongue around and around in just the right spot, making your heartbeat race as pleasure stirs deep within. You pull back, a string of spit connecting his tip with your lips as you dissolve in pure ecstasy. 

"Touya-Touya-I'm-" You gasp breathlessly between wanton moans as Touya holds you up, eating you out with an intense hunger. 

"Come for me...Come for me princess...I want it...I want it so bad," Dabi snarls desperately, and your voice pitches higher and higher until your orgasm comes crashing down through your entire body. Even after you've came, Dabi still doesn't stop. 

"Fuck, you taste so good," Dabi moans like a porn star as he continues to devour you, despite your overstimulated whimpers that spill from your lips. Frantically trying to distract yourself, you turn your attention back to Dabi's dick, which twitches the moment you press your lips to his leaking tip. Immediately, one of Dabi's hands crawls up your lower back and presses down harshly as he thrusts his hips, forcing your head down and making you gag. 

"Suck that cock, baby," He groans, finally pulling away from your overwhelmed cunt to lean back and sigh in drunken pleasure. Your eyes brim with tears as you breathe heavily through your nostrils, completely submitting to Touya as he face-fucks you. He rocks his hips, breaths coming out labored and heated as he twitches in your mouth. 

"You're doing so good, love," Touya slurs, his hand that's putting pressure on your back snaking up to gently grasp at your hair. Your heart flutters at the praise, and it only takes a few more seconds before he's spilling down your throat.

"Fuuuuuuuck," He moans loud and low, his fingernails raking down your back as you swallow it all. You take a deep breath, gently pulling back and wiping the tears from your eyes and the spit from your mouth before moving to lie on top of Dabi on the couch, resting your head gently on his chest. 

"That feels...so much better," He hums, laughing softly to himself before he yawns. 

"Rough day?" You ask, looking up at him as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. 

"Why'd ya think I've been drinkin'," Dabi sighs, looking down at you with a serene, content expression. 

"You wanna get into something more comfortable and come to bed?" You propose, your fingers tracing the bit of unmarred flesh on his pecs that's exposed by his V-neck. 

"May need help...I'm...pretty sloshed," Dabi admits with a grin.

"I can show you what I brought for you in the morning. C'mon," You sigh as you slowly get off the couch and extend your hand for him to take. Dabi looks up at you with tired eyes and a blissed-out smile from the afterglow before he grabs it. Carefully, you help guide him to the bedroom, where you both officially strip down to nothing and cuddle close under the covers. 

"I wasn't too rough tonight, was I, princess?" Dabi yawns as he spoons you, burying his face into the top of your head. 

"Never," You grin softly, bringing the back of his hand to your lips and kissing it. Dabi chuckles darkly behind you, and you can hear the alcohol-fueled grin on his face as he says:

"Don't say never...you might be giving me a challenge."

[bagdaddyb]

Could you do a fic about Alpha!Nat mating and breeding Omega!reader, but Nat doesn’t think she’s good enough so when reader goes to nat to tell her she’s pregnant Nat cuts her off and tells reader that she was just In rut and that it meant nothing to her, so reader runs away. But then she runs into Nat 3yrs later at a café, and then you can choose how everything goes from there just a happy ending please

We Should Of Been

Pairing: Omega fem!reader x Alpha!Natasha

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI NSFW. Angst, Fluff. Implied black reader but no characteristics ever described.

AN: I hope you like this it took me a bit longer because I immediately thought of the perfect angst ending, so it was hard for me to make this a happy one. I only changed where they meet three years later cause a single mom isn't very likely to be caught in a cafe.

Alt Ending

You were so beautiful. That's all Natasha could think everytime she saw you. Previous to your pressence she'd never even given an omega a second glance the desire to mate assumed to be trained out of her by the red room. But when Sam brought you to the compound one day everything changed. The visit was harmless you were an upcoming nuclear scientist with the dream of one day meeting and working with Bruce Banner and Sam was a cocky man out to claim the title of best cousin ever. You hadn't wasted time being star struck by the compound or the Avengers within walking through the building as if it was any other office. You didn't stop to greet the team only pausing a moment to hypothesize about Jarvis. Natasha's sure if she hadn't needed to deliver a paper to the lab she'd never even laid eyes on you, and what a crime that'd of been. Crossing the threshold she froze momentarily, your pressence not only a surprise but a distraction. Her eyes stuck on you taking in your features, your voice, your smile. Natasha couldn't remember the last time she felt heat in her cheeks or a nervous turn in her stomach. After she approached interrupting your conversation as politely as she could you merely smiled and said hello before turning back to the matter at hand. The warmth in her cheeks turned into a burn and her usually steady hands became clamy. Not long after you left that day Natasha couldn't hide her curiosity finding her way back down to the lab to ask Bruce just who you were exactly. It was a week before Natasha saw you again. You'd returned for Banner's opinions on your project having changed things according to his previous suggestions. You walked out of the elevator like you owned the building passing by the Alpha without even a second glance. Her eyes were glued to you warmth coming on in her cheeks as she watched you pass.

"Nat... Natasha!"

Clint yelled as Natasha's water began to overflowed onto the table in front of her. Snapping out of her trance she cursed under her breath moving to quickly clean up the area. She wants to meet you, needs too. Pacing the common room she the next day she contemplated how to approach you. Wondered what she should and would say in your presence. Would you even want to talk to her? Even give her the time?

"Excuse me."

Your familiar voice made Natasha freeze in her tracks. Her eyes glanced around the empty room before turning towards the noise. You stood there with a soft smile on your lips papers in hand and purse still on your shoulder. Warmth covered her face as she took you in and suddenly she was a nervous wreck.

"Y-yes *ehm* Yes ma'am, how can I help you?"

You smiled a little wider at her.

"No need for the ma'am, my name's (Y/N) I was wondering if I could get your help with something. I need not only a fresh perspective but also a guinea pig of sorts and Dr. Banner referred me to you."

She could kiss Bruce.

"Yes of course, what's the project?"

You laughed lightly visibly surprised by her answer.

"Wow I've never seen someone so eager to help another they don't even know. I honestly expected resistance considering the stories I've heard from my cousin but I'll chock that up to him being the head strong handful he is."

Natasha's blush deepened at how deep her crush is being thrown blatantly in her face.

"I am developing an anti-radiation suit that will absorb natural radiation in the air or body filter out the good and infuse the bad into a sort of blaster for the wearer. Dr. Banner mentioned that the design was something close to your widow bites so I was wondering if you'd take a look?"

While the question was more or less out of her grasp with Bruce and Tony having taken on the majority of her suit and weapon production Natasha still agreed unable to give up this opportunity to get to know you.

"Sure."

Over the next few months Natasha's first time crush grew to pure adoration. You were everything to the Alpha and the only person who didn't seem to know it was you. It was a simple Wednesday morning after lab runs on the suit. Natasha tried out the blaster and pretended to help with the calibration. Gripping her coat tightly due to nerves she turned back to you on her way out.

"Hey (Y/N) I know a great coffee place down the street, would you like to grab a cup with me?"

You looked up from your computer meeting soft eyes.

"I'd hate to take up more of your day than I already have. You go have a great time I promise the suit is almost done then you'll be free of my pestering."

Natasha fought back a grimace at your rejection. Again. Was she doing it wrong? She was sure she'd paid close attention to all of Clints advice.

"Have a great rest of your day then."

With that the red head turned and left retreating to the compound. Once there she immediately sought out Clint not knowing what else to do.

"I just don't get it. Am I asking wrong?"

The older alpha couldn't help the smile and soft chuckle as he watched the younger one pace. Thinking back to his younger days.

"No, a girl like (Y/N) is so caught up in her work she can miss the simple things right in front of her."

"Its true."

Sam tuned in from the kitchen, even he was feeling bad for the alpha.

"I bet (Y/N) doesn't even realize you're into her."

The red head let out a frustrated huff hands gripping her hair. Forget all this advice and subtly. Next week she was going to be blunt with you. While the red head was determined to make your next interaction work your cousin was not inclined to wait as long. The next day Sam strolled into your office unannounced not even knocking on the large door before entering despite the risk.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure?"

You said clearly displeazed with his abrupt entrance.

"I'm here to point out the obvious to the smartest girl I know."

That made you giggle turning to give him your full attention you cross your arms.

"And what might that be?"

"That a certain alpha who works with you once a week as your lab assistant is crushing on you something aweful."

You laughed audibly this time.

"Natasha? You're kidding. She only sees me as a colleague."

"She has asked you out; and I mean this literally, eight times. She asked you out yesterday for crying out loud. How can someone so smart be so oblivious?"

"No she...."

You pause truly thinking back on the moments Natasha'd invited you places. Remembering her nervous posture. Her let down face at your same response. Remembering how everytime your fingers brushed she blushed or how everytime you smiled at her she stared. She'd always been eager to help you with your project even from the beginning. Thinking on it even then she'd been a blushing mess right in front of you. Your eyes widen in sudden realization.

"Finally."

Sam announces as you raise your hand to cover your dropped jaw.

"Oh my gosh."

"Exactly."

Sam said and suddenly you felt a wave of anxiety wash over you.

"I never thought..... How could I of been...... And she always asked......"

You let go of a sigh rubbing your temples before standing abruptly.

"I have to go see her. She's such a sweetheart and I've been unknowingly rejecting her time and time again. I'm such a dope."

"You said it cousin."

You frown punching him in the arm causing him to flinch.

"Hey what the-"

"Just because I said it doesn't mean you agree dumbass."

The two of you continue to bicker like the siblings you basically were the entire ride to the compound. Your walk to the common room is quick asking Jarvis to summon Natasha to the area politely you think of what you should say. You feel heat in your cheeks due to pure embarrassment shaking your head at yourself.

"Hey (Y/N)."

Natasha's surprised voice rings in your ear and you turn and smile at her.

"Hey Natasha. Listen I want to start off by apologizing. For all my knowledge in science I can't seem to match it in social skills. Believe it or not I've been completely oblivious to your advances until just now I truly thought you only saw me as a co-worker but.... if that offer for coffee is still up in the air, I'd love to go out with you."

Natasha's whole face was on fire after your little speech. Unable to form words she quickly nodded before clearing her throat.

"Of course let me grab my coat."

It's only your sixth date when you go into heat. Natasha was the best. Caring, attentive, patient maybe that's what made you go into your heat a week early or maybe it was the ways her muscles flexed as she pulled herself out of the pool infront of you bending over your body to grab a towel from your shared stack causing your eyes to roam while you locked your bottom lip between your teeth but either way telltale signs of your heat began

to flood your body. By the following day you'd fully succumbed keeping it to yourself in an attempt not to rush your new alpha you locked youself in your apartment letting your boss know before tossing and turning in your own bed. Natasha was happy no she was extatic, elated, floating. Words couldn't descibe how happy she's been this past month with you. She'd always imagined what it'd be like to have you as her partner but the reality of it was so much better. Pulling up to your lab with a budle of red roses riding the euphoria she's been feeling for days she couldn't believe how excited she was to see you. Smiling softly to herself as she made her way into the building she wasn't allowed to get far stopped quickly by the kind beta at the front desk.

"Ms. Romonoff! I'm sorry Dr. (Y/L/N) isn't in today."

An eyebrow rose on the Alpha but she nodded thanking the beta all the same. You hadn't mentioned you wouldn't be in, you were always in your lab. Beginning to worry she quickly dialed Bruce who luckily answered after only two rings.

"Hello?"

"Do you have a meeting today with (Y/N)?"

"No our meetings are usually Thursday but she actually just called this morning and cancelled this week."

"Thanks."

Now Natasha was panicking. If she'd been using her logical brain she probably would of been able to piece together why you suddenly weren't at work and cancelled on Bruce only this week. But she wasn't, the first person she's cared for on a deeper level since the red room suddenly disappearing only caused huge red flags to pop up in Natasha's mind. Rushing to your apartment that she shouldn't even know the location of she couldn't help the way her leg jumped nervously and how her hands uncomfortablly gripped the steering wheel.

Please be ok. Please be ok.

Natasha wasn't going to let anything happen to you, she couldn't. When she arrived at your apartment she didn't even bother with the flowers ignoring the elevator to take the steps two at a time. She made it to the fourth floor in record time heart bumping and short breaths coming out of her quickly. Drawing her weapon she knocked on the door three times before beginning a count down in her mind.

5....4....3....2....

You cracked open your door slowly, not expecting visitors and honestly not in a state for small talk. Your eyes doubled in size when you saw the red head on the other side while Natasha let go the loudest sigh of relief you've ever heard. Pushing past your door with ease she invites herself in wrapping you in a tight hug that clouded your thoughts entirely.

"I'm so glad your okay. I wanted to surprise you at work but you weren't there and Bruce told me you cancelled this week I thought the worst."

You weren't exactly sure what she meant by that but you didn't care your alpha was here. You took a deep breath in of her scent eyes dialating at the smell. Arms coming up to hold her close hand slipping into her hair. You wanted her, needed her.

"For someone so smart it's hard to believe you couldn't come up with a logical solution as to why me. An omega. Cancelled her plans for a week."

Suddenly Natasha noticed your strong scent in the apartment, your near naked appreance, the whimpers you kept letting go in her ear.

"I didn't say anything because I didn't want to rush this but you came to me anyway alpha."

Red flushed Natasha's cheeks as she began to strain against her pants. For a moment she felt stupid so easily pushed into a state of panic but that moment faded as your nails lightly scratched at her scalp pulling her attention back to you.

"My alpha."

Its was a whisper one you let go into her neck but a trigger for Natasha all the same. She needed you, wanted you, had to have you. You were hers and hers alone.

"My omega."

Natasha whispered back placing her nose against your scent gland as she kickes the door shut behind her. Something primal inside Natasha ached for you, she needed you closer. Her roaming hands gripped at you as yours did the same.

"Alpha. Alpha. Alpha."

You whisper taking in her pressence her feel. You've never had an alpha this close during your heat. Honestly you hadn't even considered this a moment that would happen to you. Never thought you'd find a mate like all your friends and family had.

"Mine."

Was all Natasha could respond. She backed you into your couch not romantic but in your collective states neither of you cared. You aren't sure how either of you stripped but you were aware of the drug like euphoria Natasha's skin on yours was giving you. Your hands couldn't stop moving rubbing, touching, and squeezing at every piece of Natasha you could reach. Natasha returned your touches in kind her soft lips pressing against every part of your body before pressing into your own. The kiss was feverish, needy. The contact was enough to make you moan into her mouth causing her length to harden painfully. Your body began to lift against Natasha's in search of friction.

"More."

You weren't sure what you wanted, what you needed more of. You just knew there was something missing.

"My beautiful little omega."

Natasha whispered against your lips moaning out as she began to run her member through your slick.

"Gonna make you my gorgeous mate, gonna fill you with my pup."

You nodded in eager response, nothing had ever seemed more right than this moment.

"Please."

Natasha begins to enter you slowly. Stretching you out in a way none of your dildos ever have. You moan loudly tightly grabbing the back of the red heads neck and pulling her into a seering kiss one she returns eagerly. The moment is all heat and skin. Natasha's hips pound into you on their own accord. Your eyes roll back signalling your first release but it isn't enough for Natasha. She continues her pace like a woman possessed and before you can comprehend your cumming again almost violently.

"Yes omega just like that."

Natasha takes you in, your gorgeous face, stomach full of her. She's going to make you a mother fill you with her pup. Her mate all hers. You feel the heat before you see her face. Natasha's release pushes you into a third of your own.

"My alpha."

You whisper again.

.......

The days that follow as Natasha falls out of her ruts haze she begins to doubt. Sitting on the quinjet on the way to Siberia she can't help but wonder if she's actually ready for this, even deserves it. She has red in her ledger, alot of it and a few months ago she wouldn't of even considered mating. With anyone. How could she be a mother? How could she be a mate? How could she be what you deserved? The week in the cold did nothing but push her further away from you taking her back to her days in the red room which then took her back to her dark past. She couldn't do this. Not with you, you would never live a full life, constantly on the move never safe never happy. You deserve more, more than Natasha can give you. Three weeks later upon her return you await with others on the landing pad. So excited you can't help but bounce the positive pregnancy test burning a whole in your pocket. You were nervous this was the first time you'd see your alpha since your heat and with big news as well but you shouldn't be she was your alpha. Yours. As the quinjet landed your heartbeat quickened to an alarming pace. You bounced on your toes eyes eagerly searching for the soft ones you'd come to dream of. Instead you were greeted by a different alpha though physically the same her body language was different she looked cut off, not meeting your eye. Her exterior seemed hardened. You approached her cautiously, you'd never been here after a mission not even for Sam but you were sure the emotional tole had to be high.

"Welcome back."

Your soft voice sent pain through Natasha. You being here meant what she was about to do was truly about to happen.

"I..."

"(Y/N) listen....."

In an instant you shut down. You should of know better.

"What happened the other night was a mistake. I was distracted by my rut and..."

You grip the pregnancy test in your pocket so tight you're surprised it doesn't break.

"No need to finish. I get it, I should of known better."

You say before walking off. You kept your head held high refusing to let Natasha see the tears you so badly wanted to let go. Your words only cut Natasha depper than her own already were. What had she just done?

.........

Three Years Later

Natasha tied her long red hair back in a loose ponytail as she walked out of her trailer saying a passing goodbye to her cat. The drive into town was long her dark thoughts able to creep up as the time passed on. Exiting her car she entered the small local grocery store. The trip being a necessity otherwise she wouldn't of bothered leaving her safe house. She went up and down the isles grabbing canned foods for both her and her cat. Items that were long lasting so that another trip like this wouldn't have to happen for months. As she turned down the isle full of cereal a young girl catches her attention. Something about her was familiar as she stood studying the cereal alot more complex than someone her age should. Natasha couldn't help the small smile on her face as she appraoched the girl.

"Need some help?"

Green eyes turned to look up at her the little girls face holding a perplexed look.

"Mommy says I can only get one cereal but I don't know which one."

"Hmmmm"

Natasha hums pretending to be just as perplexed as the little girl.

"Well which cereal is your favorite?"

"I like fruify pebbles but mommy like captain cruch."

"Hmmmm that does seem hard. Well who do you love more yourself or your mommy."

"I love mommy bunches."

"Well I guess you should get Captain Crunch."

The girl smiles in response and in that moment a voice Natahsa never thought she'd hear again rings through the small grocery store.

"Avery. Come on love, Did you pick a cereal? I have to get home to start dinner."

Natasha can't help but be mesmerized by your form as you turn the corner eyes not looking up from your phone and basket as you appear to double check all your shopping items.

"I picked your favorite mommy. A nice lady helped me."

Avery says as she carries the box over to you. You smile putting your phone away as you take the box from your little bundle of joy.

"That's great baby, did you tell the nice lady thank......"

Your voice fades as you look up to see the one face you hopped to never see again.

"(Y/N) it's really you."

The red head in front of you whispers and you clamp your mouth shut face hardening.

"Come on Avery its time to go."

You turn your cart around quickly lifting your two year old in your arms.

"(Y/N) wait!"

Natasha moves around her own cart frantic to get to you.

"Please wait."

She moves to grab your arm and you violently jerk from her grip stoppinv your cart to hold your daughter closer.

"What Natasha?"

Natahsa stares. Taking in every detail of the face she was sure she'd never see again. You were just as beautiful as you'd been three years ago.

"(Y/N)...... words can't even begin to express how sorry I am. I wanted you as my mate, I still want you as my mate but I had red on my ledger I was being tracked by the red room. The day I showed up at your apartment I thought that the one person I ever cared about on a deeper level the red room had gotten to. I didn't want to leave you, to separate from you but I couldn't risk putting you in danger. I couldn't risk loosing you. There hasn't been a day that I haven't thought about you. I'd always hoped you would move on and find happiness and I'm glad you did..."

Natasha wiped tears from her own eyes. Tears she had no right to be letting loose.

"You said the red room was after you.... implying that they're not anymore."

"No I... I took them down with my long lost sister believe it or not...."

Natasha said through a wet laugh.

"But that's a story all in its own and I believe you said you had to get home to make dinner."

As the red head goes to turn you let go a sigh of your own and kiss your daughters head.

"I never found happiness..... the only happiness in my life was delivered to me by you."

Your grip on Avery tightens as Natasha turns back around clearly confused.

"Natasha, meet your daughter, Avery Wilson Romanoff."

Natasha's jaw drops as fresh tears spring to her eyes. What more than fate could of led you here together, after everything she'd been through what would of brought you to this little town in the middle of no where with her daughter none the less other than fate. She wasn't going to ignore it twice. It was her turn to be happy. Y'alls turn.