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mooishbeam · 6 months

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『♡』 Besotted

♡ featuring: yandere!ajax x f!reader

♡ summary: the love of your life knows you without asking, selfless and caring. however, you're slowly starting to realize the man you loved was a mask of the truth hiding underneath. wc: 12.5k+

♡ cw/tw: modern au, mentions of violence/blood, mentions of suicide, stalking, obsession, possessiveness, manipulation, rough sex, sideways sex, cockwarming, mating press, cunnilingus, drugging, overstimulation, praise, pet names (lots of them tbh)

notes: im so sorry i know it took me a long time but my time has been consumed by exams and its finals week soon so ahhhh. it's going to take me a little longer than usual until my semester is over, forgive me!! art by jam8366_dday on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

“Caramel macchiato for… Katheryne?” Your quiet voice deadens among the bustling crowd of businessmen, secretaries, and construction workers alike conversing through their morning wake-up. It’s incomparable to the serene appeal of a corner coffee shop—piled high with board games and books, the nooks and crannies decorated with some sort of trinket or knickknack you collected along the way, baubles that brought you joy and spread some to anyone that entered the cozy hole in the wall—“The Mad Hatter”. People are free to add stickers to the cash register, so convoluted with color similar to graffiti, including the pink-hatted cat Lyney glued to the top. Coffee tables share space with buoyant sofas, opposite of the display case viewing a multitude of extra sweet desserts and breakfast sandwiches. At night, the fairy lights bordering the wide veiled windows glimmered a dim hue that made feathery snow sparkle like stars during winter. You set the coffee under warm lights dotting the ceiling, emanating above the wooden interior. No one is finicky for your tastes; you are happy to see the familiar cheerful or grumpy faces entering the shop. You remember names, faces, and minute personal details they’d forgotten they shared over a steaming cup of latte left to warm because the art was too pretty to drink. They’re busy, but patient; they've acquainted you long enough to not be angry at the wait, and most times come to your defense against unruly customers.

It's the worst—or for you, the best—in the afternoons, swarming crowds waiting for an afternoon pick-me-up. You and Lyney work to the best of your ability, serving up group orders with a quickness unparalleled by nearby chain coffeehouse’s. You regard it as your passion, although your parents were disappointed when you told them you and Lyney would be buying and renovating an abandoned property states over all for coffee; your delectable drinks have the potential to form long lasting relationships between you and other customers, and there’s a certain creative merit you relish whenever a guest takes pictures of the swan-like artistry foaming on the surface. The taste of bitter beans sparks moments of merriment, longing, and love—in some cases, it’s the best form of intimacy.

Your best memories live in this shop; the ground powder that scattered everywhere and painted Lyney like a chocolate sculpture when he tried to push the inventory to the highest shelf or staying up after close in the middle of a blizzard to make flimsy homemade decorations for the grand opening with help from Lynette.

It’s extra special that the very place you stand is where you found the love of your life. You met him at the register, loose curls dipped in autumn tones spilling over his long lashes. The void in his eyes motionless like the ocean before a low tide. You both stared at each other for a moment, taking in the lines and details of your flustering faces. You must’ve been staring for too long, as Lyney tapped your shoulder with a side eye that alerted you to the awkward silence and line heading out the door. You fumbled for apologies and took his order; the ginger boy chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck—Ajax—such a rugged name for a pretty guy. You prepared the Frappuccino with a drizzle of affection bespoken for him. When you gave him the drink, his hand grazed against yours, a kiss without lips. It left you breathless, and with an airy coyness he said, “I didn’t get your name?” You told him, and he tried out the sound on his tongue. You wished he’d say it over and over. With a rosy wash across his cheeks, “A fitting name for your beauty. Have a good day, (Y/N)” was all he said before he walked away, leaving you stunned and smitten. Lyney was the unfortunate victim that dealt with your wearisome fantasizing about Ajax.

But Ajax already knew your name. And address, and friends.

How could he not? When he saw you hanging lights in the windows on a particularly sunny morning that made your glowing face shine with pure radiance unrivaled by deities, he sunk endlessly. He vowed to walk at a distance at that same time every day to ogle your lustrous hair, your soft skin that didn’t break a sweat, the curve of your lips. You soon became an itch he couldn’t scratch, a plaguing thought that wiggled in the wrinkles of his brain and made it hard to sleep or work. You, you, you. Is your laugh a heavy snort or more lighthearted, do you have the same sense of humor as him? You’ll like what he likes, think what he thinks.

You were constantly on his mind, he wondered if you were eating when he ate or how good you were sleeping as he drifted off to his. It’s not his fault that he snapped discrete pictures of your smiling face, you were too adorable to ignore. He valued coming home to kneel at the little shrine he made of your printed gaiety, surrounded by consistently fresh roses and citrus candles he thought you’d smell like. If he stood close enough, it was like you were right in front of him. The apron tied around your waist was a vibrant crimson—his favorite color. It's fate, the way the stars aligned and sent angels down to bless you with a pinafore of his approval. You had to know he was out there; he was already imagining returning to a cheerful home, and your swaying hips as you whipped up a glacé delight. He’d kiss you on the cheek, and you’d pop a tart blueberry in his mouth. Yes—it had to be this way, it must be what you wanted, too.

Ajax coincidentally found himself rummaging through trash cans in the vicinity for an inkling of receipts from the shop. He stumbled upon it, of course—it’s not like he waited out until nightfall right before garbage day to have the highest chances of finding identification. The jagged fragment of a receipt led to your family, social media, and blogs you dedicated to your baking progress. And he’d monitor the sites on different screens with multiple tabs, an infatuated glaze over those dull eyes that kept him glued to the updates for hours. He made many accounts, liking your posts fervently with flimsy justifications of encouragement. You became reachable day by day.

The day Ajax decided to pursue you upfront, it was a dream he hoped never to wake. He’d rehearsed it obsessively until the moment he stood in front of the glass door, a tremble in his restless legs at the thought of looking ridiculous. Seeing you up close felt like a special occasion. His heart was beating off-kilter in his quaking chest, as if jumping free fall out of a plane, and he held his breath until it opened. The confidence he mustered up before he got to the register did little to suppress the giddiness rolling in his veins. His pulse paced the closer he got. Two more orders and there you were; the center of his universe, and you didn’t know it yet. Pictures didn’t do you justice—no, he needed to see your grace preserved in museums depicted in rich Renaissance paintings onlookers could only fantasize holding or loving, but you’d be for him, and him alone. He drew a blank. “May I get your name for the order?” His eyes flickered with a brand-new luster, it melded certainty and delusion.

She wants...my name.

My name.

The sweet harmony of your words lulled Ajax to an addicting turbid spiral that swept fondness through the tempest and scattered infatuation in its aftermath. A feeling too tenacious, it must be love. The incessant burn urged him to protect and guide you to him. You need him. Now he watched compulsively with a winded jaw, your smile to other men who couldn't compare to his devotion. They don’t know you like he does. He could map out the corners of your house from the slim backgrounds of your blog posts or name every club you’ve participated in since middle school. Hunger spread where his fists craved contact, like sunfire corroding the taught skin on his knuckles. They’ve breathed your air and existed in your presence. It’s undeserved, they’re unworthy.

How fucking dare they.

How lost you must be without him, led astray by intruding greed; he selflessly assumed his responsibility. You are his, after all. So, he stalked behind cars shadowed by harsh streetlamps to ensure you got home safe and intercepted your packages to check for threatening substances. The accomplishment he felt whenever he completed his—in his words, “duties”—instilled exultation beyond any memory. Within the envelopes, he’d leave an elegant note embellished with hearts hinting at his infatuation and the care he put in to maintain your safety. One letter turned to two, then five, to the point where you’d receive a sleeve stuffed with increasingly unhinged letters from your secret admirer that fanned out when you tipped it.

On Christmas Eve, a limitless cloak of frozen stardust decided to flurry right before your shift ended. You covered Lyney’s shift so he’d have time to spend with Lynette and Freminent; it wasn’t like you had anything to do afterwards. You counted the flakes of the storm through frosted glass, thinking about the wellbeing of your family back home. Mailed gifts couldn't console the grief you felt during the holidays. A knock on the door turned your attention to the silhouette of a man wearing a slouched beanie with a pompom on top. You unlocked the door, and it swung open from the whirling heft of wind and smattered white across the wood from empty streets.

“Sorry, we just closed-” You looked up, no time to register the freckled face from months ago, that stole your heart with a smile. Icy grains kissed his cheeks, as red as apples, and fused to the wool scarf draped around his trench coat. “Oh! Hello, again.” You tried to play it off, but the crack in your voice teetered. You were suddenly nervous. Ajax grinned hard and shuffled slightly inwards to escape the chill.

“Hi (Y/N)! I was really hoping you weren’t closed, it’s a good day to grab a hot chocolate, y’know?”

“It is. You’re probably freezing, please come in.” You should’ve been home by now, but for Ajax, you could spare a few minutes. He unraveled his winter attire to reveal a tightly fitted turtleneck and took a seat at the chair closest to you. You wrap around the counter and start the kettle, struggling with what to do next at the gaze gripping your mind. “One hot chocolate, coming up.”

“How much I owe ya?” he chirped, arms resting on the table while he watched you grab two mugs. “No worries, it’s on the house. Consider it your Christmas present.”

“I appreciate that, thank you. You really are kind...Lyney left you by yourself tonight?” You wondered how he knew Lyney’s name when they hadn’t met, but quickly brushed it off.

“Yeah, I wanted him to spend time with his family.”

“And you don’t have any here?” You didn’t retain your usual weariness towards acquaintances. On this lonely night Ajax didn’t feel like much of a stranger.

“Nah, moved away to start this.” Your hands gestured to the quaint interior. Ajax scanned his surroundings, marveling at the scenery before he spoke. “What you’ve done with this, it’s lovely. Your ambition and dedication are apparent from the way you treat the customers, I can tell you’re passionate about what you do.” Your body flared like summer and succeeded in hushing the breeze. You poured a cup full of thick cocoa and plopped a dollop of whipped cream on both. “It’s not much, but-” the mugs settled on the table, and you sat across from him. “It smells amazing, (Y/N). You’re an expert at this” he interrupted. You traced the rim with your finger and rested your head on the other hand.

“Thanks...I assume you don’t have family here, either? Think you’d be ripping open gifts by now if you did.” He took another sip. “Yup, they live in a different country. I should visit them soon” he sighed and glanced at the jumbled wool scarf. “Did a sibling make that for you?” you asked.

“Yeah, my sister. A parting gift.”

“It’s beautiful, she’s very talented” you remarked, admiring the delicate fleece. The bittersweet smile in response stuck to your heartstrings. “She is.”

You both drank in silence and occasionally met each other's eyes, only to turn away. Something unsaid hung in the air. "Winter has a way of making us reminisce. It’s so depressing” you confided. You hadn’t told Lyney, but you were terribly lonely these past months. You replaced your emotions with extra shifts, but they came crashing down in the darkness of your bedroom. Ajax gazed at you like he could see through you.

“The sky appears magnificent under the snow's embrace. Its purity is like the moon's gentle radiance. I don’t think there’s anything like a world covered in snow" he soothed. His words flustered you, and you homed in on the white trails dancing in your lukewarm cup.

“I’ve never thought of it like that. I used to hate snow. It feels...intruding, I guess.”

“But if we don’t allow ourselves to be intruded, how will we love?” he blurted. It was comforting to hear in the moment, and you returned his smile.

“Is the hot chocolate good?” you asked.

“It’s perfect.... you’re perfect.” You chuckled at the notion, mistaking it for pity. “I’m not perfect.”

“But you are. The way you carry yourself, your intelligence, your courtesy. You’re flawless, gorgeous inside and out and you don’t even notice.” The way Ajax looked at you, on the verge of his seat and studying your face, lips, and hair. You couldn’t deny the flattery that drowned you and dragged you the more he persisted. “How would you know from one encounter?” His mouth fixed to say it, the truth, but he tight-lipped and reached into his coat pocket instead. He grabbed a blue velvet box and slid it to you.

“I wanted to give you this. Ever since I saw you.” It felt expensive under your fingertips. You unclasped the front, and it opened to a twinkling pendant. It was a cable chain dangling an oval sapphire gem, with 18 karat white-gold halo sunbursts surrounding it. It’s breathtaking, as if stolen from the tomb of a goddess.

“Wow, this is...stunning. Ajax, I can’t accept this; it’s too much” you pressured. You’ve never received a gift of this caliber from anyone, it didn’t feel right to look at it.

“Consider it your Christmas present” he repeated. You shook your head and held up the box to hand it back to him. “I can’t, I shouldn’t-”

“Please” he pleaded. He clasped your hands, a reassuring thumb gently caressing yours. You were so focused on its extravagance that you didn’t notice the note stuck to the roof of the box. Refined script dotted with hearts; the same style as the hundreds in your closet. Your mouth gaped.

“This letter...you...have you been the one sending me all those love letters?” You should've had your suspicions, or the urge to back away, but you weren’t afraid. You tried to string together his ability to find your address or mail, or how he knew Lyney, but your brain couldn’t clear the fog of feeling loved after so many years. It’s a warm hug to the blood that instinctively ran cold. Your heartbeat’s fast, half with anxiety and the other with desire.

Ajax solemnly hung his head and retracted his hands. He fidgeted with his thumbs. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, I thought about being upfront, but I was so scared of your response and I didn’t want you to hate me, so I thought maybe if I sent them anonymously you could start liking the person behind it or if I played my cards right you’d find out who it was...but that doesn’t make any sense now that I’m thinking about it, I just wanted to be near you. You’re so amazing and smart and beautiful, I just...s-sorry…I’m rambling. I hope you can understand; I-I didn’t mean to harm I just want to make sure you’re safe” he choked. The strained words tumbled over one another and broke in places, where they traveled off at the end. Ajax averted your eyes, pools of tears threatening to fall from the corners. The sudden mood change took you off guard, and you reached for his guilty hands. You were on the verge of divulging your entirety for him, be it the isolation of the big city or lack of attention. He didn’t seem like a bad guy; he might have been misguided. What’s the harm in giving him a chance?

“It’s okay, Ajax. I’m not upset, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered” you giggled. “The letters are sweet, I read all of them. They make me feel a little better about living in a shithole apartment. Thank you.” He looked at you, bottomless intensity searching for more. “I’m interested in you, too” you added.

“Then you’ll be my girlfriend?” It was phrased as a question but arrived as a proclamation. “...I would love that.”

Ajax moved around the table. You rose to wrap your arms around his neck while he squeezed your waist with his head lying on your shoulder. The duping tears vanished like they didn’t exist, and his shameful expression morphed into a conniving smirk stretching unnaturally in his triumph. Your authentic touch, the smell of perfume wafting in his nose. It’s not citrus, but it’s you. You, everything is you. This is how things were meant to be. His eyes curved like arches from sheer elation, biting his lip to stifle the cackle. You’re together, at last.

The snow stopped some time ago, but the blizzard was just beginning.

Your relationship with Ajax progressed fast after that day. A weariness dulled within you after you came to your senses from your prior confession, and you weren’t sure about the stability of his neurotic nature. However, when Ajax showed up with a bouquet of the loveliest flowers you’ve ever laid eyes on during an exhausting shift, it shined above all else. He showers you with consistent love and attention and worships the ground you walk on with doting devotion. He's clingy and somewhat suffocating, but his sick adoration blesses you with rose-colored glasses; you’re divinity on a golden pedestal in his eyes, and if he fell hard, you fell harder. The considerate, caring, good listener he is makes the small hiccups go over your head. In the first few months you were unequivocally enamored, the kind that tied your universe to his. You patter about him to Lynette, who gives you half-concerned approval at the story of how you met and the “little things” you cherish.

Like when he allowed you to move in without a second thought. The paint chipped around dodgy windowsills and fraying carpets, and your landlord wouldn’t pay for the fixes. Unfortunately, you needed a place to stay and couldn’t afford to speak up about the horrible conditions. You were used to your slumlord at that point, but the absence of working heat and busted appliances led you to the arms of your boyfriend, sobbing about the stress your landlord subjected you to. He scooped you like fragile glass as you faltered through shaky breaths grating your lungs and hushed your distress. Kissing your head, he rubbed your back and mumbled into your hair. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of it...I’ll take care of everything.”

A week later you’d found out that your landlord died from a gruesome suicide, and all tenants had to leave the auctioned duplex. Ajax took you in, and you began adapting to his midtown townhouse. Though you felt like a mooch at first, the welcoming interior had you snuggling between his downy bedding in no time. He shouldered your burden, accepted your genuine self and lavished generous replacements of the items you couldn’t carry. You don’t lift a finger around him, and he readily cooks and cleans for your comfort.

You’ve gotten accustomed to his presence. When you wake, he’s either watching you sleep silently or preparing food for you to take to work. Ajax follows you around like an obedient pet, smoothing your hair and highlighting how beautiful you look in your rough post-morning wake-up state. He’ll try to kiss you before toothpaste, and you playfully mush his disappointed face off to get dressed. He compensates by kissing in other places, your clothed knee as he ties your shoes or your hands when they interlock. Prior to departing, he attaches that sapphire elegance to your neck. You grab your tidy lunchbox and stroll together in the early hours of the morning for your opening shift. “Have a good day, baby” he says, and places sugary smooches from your lips to your forehead and back again. You’d stand there forever, embracing his warmth if your alarm didn’t notify you to start prepping.

When Ajax isn’t around, and you’re busy piping frosting onto cakes, there’s a profound hole in your happiness that can’t be filled with buttercream. The way his nose scrunches when he laughs hard, and those hot honey strands tickling your cheeks when you sleep because his face is directly on top of yours make you crave his sight and touch. Sometimes you ponder what you’ve done to deserve someone so over the moon for you. Hell, you’d give him the moon if that’s what he wanted; it’d barely cover a fraction of the benevolence he’s evinced. For now, you blink distraction away, and there's spread sloppily piled over the cakes and countertop. You simper to yourself; such a handsome, tender handful.

Your daydreams carry you through close, and you and Lyney remain as you wipe down tacky tables with rags lathered in disinfectant. You’re circling surfaces with vigor, quick to move to the next. You hear him laugh from another table. “Okay, speed cleaner. Missing your house husband?” he teases. You roll your eyes and pretend to throw the rag at him. “Hurry up, I wanna go home.” He fake cowers and throws his hands up in surrender. “Yes ma’am. Don’t waste all your strength, Lynette will be upset if you can’t dance with her tomorrow.”

“I’m not some old woman, Lyn. I can party.” You force away the memory of sleeping on Lyney’s shoulder in the lounge area of a booming club.

“Sure, grandma. Don’t forget your cane when I pick you up” he jokes. You chortle, and actually throw the rag this time. Too bad his agile form dodges it. “I gotta let Ajax know.”

“...Right.” Lyney loses momentum and stares at the steaming bucket for a pregnant pause, stirring the rag to buy time. You glance towards him, and he shifts a peccant look. You turn on your heels and lean on the back of a chair.

“Spill it” you demand.

“Spill what?”

“What you actually wanna say.” Lyney bites the inside of his cheek to physically restrain the itch that vents brutal honesty. “I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say.”

You narrow your brows and sigh in disbelief. “So what? We’ve been friends since high school, just tell me.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and gulps a deep breath. “Lyney.”

“It’s about Ajax” he exhales. “Oh.”

“I’m worried about you.” You weren’t expecting the serious air, it sounds like an intervention. It's unnatural coming from your easygoing friend.

“Really? Why?” you question. He blinks for a few moments, dumbfounded at the innocent audacity, or willful ignorance.

“Some of the stuff you say about him...it creeps me out. How is it not creeping you out?” he stresses, gawking at the exorbitant gem.

“Hmm, I’m not sure what you mean.” To you, Ajax isn’t the scary type. Mysterious maybe, but his affection prevents you from seeing him as anything but the missing half of your soul.

“Okay. You don’t remember telling me how he kept that rotting coffee cup from when you guys first met? Or how he watches you sleep? He made your favorite meal first try and called it a ‘lucky guess?’” The more he goes on, the more disbelieved he becomes.

“I think it’s romantic” you chide. He expels his frustration.

“(Y/N), I'm not saying any of this to be a hater, but all of this is unhealthy. Unhealthy might be an understatement. I mean, the man acts like he can't live without you. What if you were to break up, can you be sure he won't lose his fucking mind?” The hypothetical calamity of separation sinks seeds in puddles of doubt. It’s not possible.

“We love each other. That won’t happen.”

“It’s been over a year, and you know nothing about him. He comes out of nowhere, sweeps you off your feet, love bombs you, and you take it at face value. Maybe he truly is the one and it’s love at first sight, but this whole situation is...odd. I care about you, (Y/N), and this guy scares me. He’s hiding something.” You attempt to formulate a fact you’ve learned about him, a detail to prove how close you’ve gotten, and come to realize there’s none in your reservoir. You know naught of his friends or family or wealth. Ajax tells you safe verities, like his favorite food and hobby. You don’t thirst for personal space or secrets when it comes to Ajax, and the stygian plunge in his eyes gives you no hints, but you believe the pleasing words that escape his lips either way.

You glance at the empty Tupperware on the counter, that was once packed with a hefty sandwich and strawberries carved into hearts. He's effortlessly adorable, a small berry-stained note with a simple phrase: "you'll do great today <3". Your dream man, he wouldn't hide things from you, you won’t fathom the thought. “I-”

Ding

That dazzling toothy gapped grin spreads warmth across your chest and the room instantly feels a bit brighter. Ajax saunters like he owns the place, engulfing your frame in his stature and placing a kiss on your head. Lyney freezes though Ajax ignored his existence. “I’m getting ready to leave” you muffle into the musky denim jacket. He nods, but his action won’t follow his hands sturdy on your waist as you shimmy out. You make haste to the back room, past the pantry dry goods and collect your sweater and bag.

You’re about to push open the swinging door when you pause, catching a glimpse of Ajax and Lyney through the oval window. They don’t normally interact in the same space, and you thought it best to respect their boundaries. Ajax is turned away from you, but you can see Lyney clear as day, a stone solid unease skipping on his skin that makes calculated breaths too obvious. It’s silent enough to hear a pin drop. His arms are stuck to the sides, and you observe the apron jumbled in his clutches shaking ever so slightly. He’s trained to the hickory grain of the floor, and from a small portion of Ajax’s visible face, it’s a dreadful expression unbeknownst to you.

There’s an almost tenebrous loom towering over Lyney, and you feel an alarming shiver settle in your lower spine. Were his eyes normally this gloomy? Your heart rate palpitates when it shouldn’t. You want to look away from the swirling dark depths possessing your soulmate, shooting daggers at your friend. His jaw is clenched to popping, veins on his neck and hands chasing bone. He has a lethal grip on Lyney’s shoulder, and the rough tension pulls at the wrinkling undershirt. But he sneers—a twisted, coiling kind that doesn’t match his glare—an impersonation of affability.

“Ajax” you mutter softly as you sway the door. He turns sharply, and it’s like a flipped switch. The rage decays to ash swiftly and he’s yours again, your adoring admirer. “I'm ready.” He waits for your approach and tangles your hands. You make your way out, freeing Lyney from capitivity. He holds the door open for you to leave, and you shout “Bye, Lyn! I’ll see you tomorrow.” A shell-shocked cast on his face, he doesn’t say a word.

You sit at the dining table, feeling disconnected from reality while the kitchen rises with a clatter of pans and glass. You scroll through posts on your phone and occasionally peek over at the corridor to watch Ajax work. His passion shows when he cooks, rocking the skillet to upturn the veggies sizzling within. His broad back flexes with skillful movements, and he looks at you, winking with a teasing pucker on his glossy lips. You giggle. I was just imagining things.

He slides the plates on the table and sits across from you. Ajax sits like a giddy child waiting for you to try their creation, and you take the first bite. The bountiful flavor dances on your tongue. “It’s really good!” you muffle through bites. A tinge of pink sets on his cheeks. “I’m glad you like it.”

You chew haphazardly out of focus. You can’t help but notice how quiet your phone has been since you’ve moved in, it feels foreign in your possession. Not a single call from your friends came through, forgotten and invisible. You contemplate apologizing to Lyney tomorrow, it was wrong to get defensive towards compassion. Ajax interrupts his eating to track your fork picking at the meal.

“You okay, sweetheart? You aren’t eating.”

You awake from your trance. “Huh? Oh, nothing. Just feels kinda off.” Ajax’s back straightens, and he tenses throughout at a semblance of negative diction. “What does? The food? I’ll remake it” he stumbles.

“No no, the food is great. It’s, I don’t know. I haven’t got a call from Tiggy in a while.” The corners of Ajax’s mouth contort.

“Really...I heard he’s been hangin’ out with some new people.” His tone is dry, it strives to be nonchalant. His elbows rest on the table, and he carves his knife into bloody steak like struggling living bone.

“So, I guess that means he can’t message me anymore, huh” you chuckle. He twists the knife deeper, as if it’s digging in his back. “He’s just a bad friend honestly. Not consistent, you even said he missed your birthday last year. Who needs a friend like that?”

“I guess.” Meanwhile, you flip through your contacts searching for Tighnari’s name; come to find out he’s nowhere in your phone. In fact, a lot of messages and numbers seemed to have dwindled over time. Your own parents, vanished. Perhaps you were so overworked you’d forgotten they deleted. You start scouring for his profile, but it doesn’t come up. You can’t imagine Tighnari wiping out his entire presence, and it’s not just him. Outside him are the piles of male friends you seldom locate, and you become flustered at your blindness. You look at Ajax, and his eyebrows quirk up to inquire about your confusion.

“That’s so weird. I should try calling him-”

“Don't.” It’s not suggestive, its one note, stern demand. It rings in your ears, and when that mask slips for a terrifying moment, you hold your breath until it recurs. “’S not that I don’t want you to, honey. He clearly doesn’t care in the first place, that’s not a sign of a good friend. I’m just trying to help; you know I always have ou- your best interest.” There’s an unrelenting pit in your stomach telling you it’s wrong. “You seem tense since we left, Ajax. Are you alright?” He stops, it leaves you on edge when a formidable shadow casts over his eyes from his bangs that make them look as endless as the bottom of the sea.

“I feel like...you’re straying away from me. You’re becoming more secretive. Have I done something to violate your trust?” You don’t consider how Ajax knew Tighnari, let alone how he’d find the password to your phone. It was your fault, it had to be. The solemn quiver of his lips clears your suspicion. You’d forget it all to see him happy again. You stand and sway to his side of the table, sitting on his lap to take his face in your hands. “Not at all, babe. My phone’s been acting up, I didn’t mean to accuse you. I just asked because you and Lyney looked high-strung. ‘M sorry.” You kiss him softly with reassurance, and he melts in your touch. The foggy residue shows on his blushing face, and you introduce another to his cheek. “I’m going to a party with Lyney and Lynette tomorrow, so I wanted to see if Tiggy would come.”

“Ah...okay. Don’t worry, darling, it was a short conversation.” Vague and unassuming, but it didn’t matter now. Ajax can’t deceive you.

The state you drifted off—lying on Ajax’s chest with his arms embracing your lax figure—is not how you awake. A piercing scream rises, and you jump out of bed in a drowsy stupor. “Ajax?” you addle. Metal clangs to the floor, and the sheets hang low on your hips before you dart down the stairs and through the dining room to discover the cause of the noise.

He’s kneeling on the kitchen tile, compressing his forearm. Vermillion overflows between his fingers and palm and spatters his shirt. The knife, along with a clumsily chopped apple, is muddy with blood. “Oh my god!” You sprint for a towel and first aid kit crammed underneath the kitchen sink. When you return, Ajax is hissing from the sting, salty tears smeared on his eyelashes. You accompany him on the floor, ignoring the crime scene peppering the cabinets and gently glide his hands to get free view of the wound. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, now that you’re here.” It’s a nasty cut, not a gash but painful, nonetheless. You bring him to wash the excess blood, and pat it dry carefully. The fizz from disinfectant makes his arm jolt, but you hold him steady to apply. As you bandage his arm, he blinks away the twinge.

“I’m sorry, baby. You have work in a few minutes, and you’re here taking care of me. Go ahead and get ready, I’ll do it.”

“No way in hell am I leaving you like this. Don’t apologize” you insist, the end of your wrap stuffed to secure. You can’t conceive clocking in or partying tonight while Ajax suffers at home. “I’m gonna call out for a couple days so I know you’re well. Relax, I’ll be right back, okay?” He nods, and you rush to the bedroom to retrieve your phone. Ajax wipes his face on his sleeve, streaking insincere sorrow near the serpentine smirk.

You spent the day cleaning the home, wiping the kitchen top to bottom and making dinner for Ajax. He rests in bed, and you often check in on him. Treating him like an intensive care patient might’ve been excessive, but he accepts your gentle touch and hand fed meals nursing him back to health. You’re lying in bed with him, and the load of his brawny chest forces yours into the mattress with your legs on either side. You massage the pads of your fingers into his scalp, and your breathing weighted blanket emits a groan. Dazed and fully lax, lulling from the rise and fall of your chest.

The second day is the same, but the lack of pressure divides your dreary lids. It’s midnight, and it casts a fluorescent glow that permeates the room. You feel your way from walls to banister, and as you’re about to step down the stairs to get water, you pause before the living room. Crouched, peeking through the bars of the banister, you see Ajax on the couch in absolute quiet. Shade stands in place of his facial features, obscured besides the hazy veneer in his iris that bores into the journal in front of him. The collage catches moonbeams on the coffee table, crowded with tiny notes that peak out the uniform pages, and polaroid pictures glued to each sheet, stacked so thick it can’t close. He uses the pen you thought you’d lost moving in, running his tongue over the older bite marks on its base. Squinting your eyes fails at registering the specifics.

You suck in a breath and take another step, hoping the unreliable foundation won’t give way to whining wood. He skims across the words as if they’re memorized, and crows to himself. Eeeeir. It conforms, and the minute you press into it and that haunting sound whispers through the house, Ajax cracks his neck to your position. You stiffen, a deer in headlights. He puts down the pen.

“Oh, darling. I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he coos. You shoot to a stand, and Ajax meets you at the bottom of the staircase. “I-I just wanna get some water.” You feel meek and small, fairly avoiding his gaze. He enfolds your jaw with his bad arm like it doesn’t hurt, and pecks you on your forehead, light with anxious sweat. “I can get that for you, dear.” Before he can go, you interrupt.

“Ajax.”

“Hm?”

“The book over there, did you make it?” He alternates between you and the book and glisters his pearly whites. He delicately hauls it to you, “I was going to wait for it to be done, but you can read it now if you want.” You hesitate. You aren’t sure if you want to read it. Regardless, you ferry it in your arms, hefty despite being incomplete.

You unfurl the cover.

Page after page, your pulse pumps sonorously in your ears, uncontrollable where goosebumps surge through ebbing limbs. Without a doubt, you’re frightened. Aghast, gaping mouth with eyes the size of dinner plates. Dating from your first encounter, poems and chaotic paragraphs of infatuation. Your sleeping silhouette, columns of reverence, strands of your hair taped like art—pictures of you you’ve never seen taken behind cars and lamp posts.

The lengthy muddled captions emphasize how beautiful you are, how gracious you must be, because he hadn’t met you yet. On top of it all, written repeatedly in red and smothered in hearts, “I love you (Y/N)”. You don’t want to hold it. It’s broiling on your palms; you want it thrown in fire and scorched to shriveling. It almost reads as a manifesto, with jumbled threats sprinkled above overriding ink. Brutal crimes he’d commit if you were ever harmed, the gory actions he envisioned doing to your male customers. It’s incoherent and unorganized. The last page you flip to etches drought in your throat; A dried scrap of the towel you used to tend to his injury is taped inside. A new entry:

“ (Y/N) takes care of me! without her I am nothing my sun and star ♡ my blood and bone ♡ ♡ my goddess, my angel, the very essence of my existence ♡ ♡ my love is infinite and eternal you are destined to be mine ♡ ♡ forever, forever she is mine ”

You peek up from the book, not prepared to face the source. Ajax ogles you with heart eyes that can’t contemplate the absurdity. They surround you, limit you from speaking undulating panic. Part of you is fearful, the other reserves pure love you still have for him.

“Do you like it, honey?” No, you hate it. It’s scary and not the man you fell in love with. But those sonnets and odes dripping in honey—descriptions that trickle raw vulnerability and expose his truest intentions—are hard to detest when he treasures you earnestly. His expression, he’ll shatter to flecks if you devastate him. So, you scrape back the bile and oblige a strained smile.

“I love it, Ajax. Thank you.”

You’re excited to be at work, and relieved to see Lyney. His banter distracts you from the overbearing air at home. Ajax proceeds like nothing happened, or at least nothing for him. It’s fresh in your mind, torments your thoughts as you get ready for the day. His bare chest hugs you from behind while your brush your teeth and he trails groggy kisses from your shoulder to your jaw. It leaves heat on your ears, and dread in your stomach. The necklace going around you is a cage.

Closing arrives, and you start wrapping things up.

“Could you get the dark roast box?” Lyney asks from the bookshelf.

“Heard” you reply, strolling to storage to find that unnamed box squeezed beside larger product. Balancing the contents, you swing open the door, and let out a gasp to your shock.

“(Y/N)!” Hollers from the dining area. Collei, Tighnari, and astoundingly, Zhongli swarm near Lynette and Freminent. They’re removing their sweaters, but you don’t give Collei or Tighnari time before you charge at them with an immovable hug.

“Tiggy, Collei! Oh my god!” She welcomes your embrace, and you hear a labored sigh from Tighnari as he tries to pry your arms. “You might fracture my ribs if you keep hugging so tight.” Collei chuckles, and you break the reunion. “I missed you so much!” she bubbles, practically doing happy feet to exert her enthusiasm. You move to Zhongli and greet him with a lukewarm “Hello.”

Zhongli, your college boyfriend. The terms you ended on were neither good nor bad. He was a cold selfish player, who wanted to have his cake and eat it too. Unfortunately, he got clumsy with the surplus of women he juggled, and you found out you were a number among many. You shed misery in front of his dorm room, and he stilled a detached glare whilst you shouted through its paper-thin halls with unfiltered rage. It was one of the worst moments of your life. A couple years down the line, and you’ve learned to forgive him for his disrespectful, arrogant attitude.

“You look well” he charms with silky bass. “I am.”

The couple hours you spend catching up and playing board games goes fluently. Tighnari, Lynette, and Freminent rib about the rules they established mid-way through their card game, and you and Collei sit enchanted by the cozy villager simulation on her handheld console. One of her legs is on top of yours, and you’re leaning in her space. Zhongli can’t catch your sight, purposely projecting louder than usual as he enjoyed a drink made by Lyney.

“She’s so cute! What’s that one called?”

“Merengue, she’s my favorite.”

“Hope Merengue helps you with your PhD thesis” Tighnari intrudes, followed by an annoyed sigh at the “+2” card Freminent puts down.

“Ugh, don’t remind me!”

“I didn’t know you were going for a PhD, that’s great” you praise.

“I guess you wouldn’t know, since you don’t bother to call. Had to find out how you’re doing from Lyney” he jokes. You tilt your head. “Me? You have me blocked on everything.”

“You don’t come up for me either. I’ve tried calling you a few times, but it went to voicemail. I assumed you had a new phone” Collei supports. You reply with a dry chuckle, and navigate accounts you blocked, evidence they were restricted. It concludes with blank lists where their names should appear. Nothing, not even a way to add them again. This whole ordeal makes you feel like you’re going crazy. You feel bile filling the chambers of your throat, accompanied by a distinct unsettling swell on your temples. Collei notices your furrowed brows and rubs your back.

“Is everything alright?” Her voice is removed from static hammering your eardrums.

“Uh, y-yes. I need some water.” You move to the register, where Lyney is wiping down the counter. He slides you a water bottle from the mini fridge. “Don’t throw up, I just cleaned this.”

“I’ll do my best” you retort. He slants to you, whispering, “Sorry about Zhongli, they didn’t tell me he was tagging along.” You wave it off and take a swig.

“We gotta talk later. You were right...he’s hiding something.” He gives a comforting nod, and a slender hand enters your peripheral vision.

“You mind making another, Lyney?”

“God, you’re insatiable” he complains, and takes Zhongli’s cup for a refill.

“You both did an outstanding job with the café. It’s homely.” You snort, head resting on your hand. “Is that your way of saying it’s shit?”

Zhongli frowns, “I’m being serious, I’m proud of what you’ve done here.”

“Interesting. I’m surprised this isn’t a downgrade to you.”

“Anything you contribute to is an automatic upgrade.” That sad attempt at flirtation makes you scoff. “Guess your post-college affairs aren’t as frequent if you’re stooping this low.” Maybe you weren’t over it completely.

“How many times must I apologize?”

“Until you die.”

“I’m willing to do that, as many times as it takes.”

You huff, “It doesn’t matter, Zhongli. I’m in a relationship.”

“Are you happy?” You don’t have a quip for that question, and it rains on your emotions when you consider it. A flower struggles to bloom through intense downpours.

“Of course I am.” His smile is frail, and he places a mellow hand on your shoulder. “Then he has all he could ever ask for.”

The door abruptly opens. Collei’s holding it, and behind it, is Ajax. Dire tension hangs in the air, arid like the anticipation of disaster. Faint smirk and murky glower; the swirling spiral coaxes the same fear you felt last night, and the previous days. His face can’t decide what demeanor to convey, it forces gladness where darkness veils his stare. You tread away from Zhongli, praying he didn’t see the hand that was on you moments ago. Your friend's wave, but he doesn’t return the friendly gesture, instead firing a shaded cast of disgust. He saunters to you with wrenched posture, and each step makes your heart race.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t answer the phone. I was worried.” He guides you to him by your lower waist. Zhongli watches as Ajax kisses the corner of your mouth, and you beam from the one that tickles your nose. “’M sorry, not feeling so good.”

“You didn’t tell me you’d be at a party.”

“It was a surprise.”

“Ah, I see. These are your friends?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know.

“Yeah, from back home.”

“Hello” Zhongli chimes in, holding out his hand to shake. Ajax methodically turns his head to him. You swear you see a vein popping out of his forehead, a splitting stress on his teeth. “Who are you.”

“Zhongli, I’m an old friend of hers from college. We had a few classes together.”

“...Friend” he mocks with rictus, “I’ve never heard your name before.”

“Emphasis on '’old’. I figured I’d stop by since everyone else was here, it’d be a shame to waste such lovely weather-”

“You talk a lot” he states monotone. Zhongli sneers, “Some may say. I’m quite talkative during social gath-”

“So shut the fuck up.” The room hushes. You feel the witnesses shrinking themselves at the crushing tension.

“Excuse me?”

“Why were you touching her.” He’s jittery, suppressing the turbulent urge shredding through him.

“I didn’t realize she was your ‘property’” Zhongli scolds.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You put yourself between them, splaying your fingers across Ajax’s chest. His mood switches easily at your expecting gaze. “Ajax, baby, I’m tired. Can we go home now?” He pauses for a final glare at Zhongli.

“Of course. Let’s go.”

You breathe a sigh of relief and hold onto his arm as you storm out of the coffeehouse, no time for goodbyes from your friends. You center on leashing Ajax home. Blocks down, you hear the far-off patter of footsteps on stone getting louder. It’s too dinning to ignore, and as you turn around your free arm is snatched by Zhongli. You shriek, “(Y/N), wait, don’t go yet-”

Whack! His head flies back and pushes him off balance before his feet find stability. It happens so fast, and you look at Ajax, who has a most terrifying dusk pouring on his livid features. Blood gushes from Zhongli’s nose, but he straightens up tall with his fists held in front of him. Ajax cackles, and jabs between the fists that barely have time to block. His movements are fluid, swinging effortlessly after they fall to his sides. Zhongli paces back, and Ajax charges towards him with quick solid blows that make his loafers scratch on the pavement. He plants a mean gut punch to his torso, and Zhongli doubles over until Ajax punches him in the eye with steel knuckles. He collapses, but his fighting hands linger, any chance to defend himself against your merciless boyfriend. That is, until Ajax sits above him, and begins beating him to a pulp.

Whack! Whack! Whack! His hits are thundering and vicious, tracking blood to his skin from the momentum. You feel lost to time, lost on what to do to save this situation. It sounds like bone swimming in curdling clots and makes you sick. You dive to Ajax, gone by the dead visage. You snake your arms around his waist.

“Ajax! Please stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs. It falls on deaf ears, but you continue to scream. You’re sobbing into his back and yelling to a hoarse end, when suddenly the punches stop. He gets off Zhongli mechanically and braces your faint legs to rise. It’d be wholesome if not for the blood splattering his hands. He notices your tears and wipes them away, streaking faint blood across your cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here now.”

The entire walk home, he’s silent. You hate it when he’s silent. There are cuts spread over his hands and blood steadily runs from the top lip to his swollen bottom lip. He stares off in the distance, concentrated on something—rage, anger—stirring in his cotton-filled brain. You can't read him, and you wonder if you ever had that privilege.

The pieces come together themselves in a puzzle you unconsciously rejected. You can’t recall the last time you spoke to your parents. His ability to know your favorite meals without talking or gifting you outstanding presents that surfaced memories you’d long forgotten. Collei, Tighnari, Lyney, it’s unmistakable. You beg to be naïve again, hopelessly in love and enraptured.

You’d rather keep your eyes shut. The sinister rampage spilling out of him is miles apart from the Ajax who serves you breakfast in bed every day and places soft kisses on your body from head to toe. Love is enough, and you know how much he does to show it. Was there another way? Is it your fault this happened? You can’t focus either or organize your jumbled thoughts, and find yourself searching for reassurance within him, any inkling of affection to prove he still loves you. When you sheepishly reach out to grab his wounded hand, he curls around it, and the thump in your heart reignites. A pulse loud enough to subside the dread clamoring in your feet, warning you to run.

You make it home, and Ajax goes to the kitchen sink to wash away his crimes. He watches red cyclone down the drain, and you lean on a counter close to him.

“Ajax?”

“Yea?” he chirps.

“Zhongli...will he be okay?” you meek.

“Mhm. I didn’t kill him.” The matter-of-fact reply renders a shudder in your bones.

“Is something wrong?” The kitchen is small, and from the way you’re standing you’ve closed yourself off to him.

“No baby, nothings….nothings wrong” he says, that convincing tone, smooth like satin.

“But I’m worried. You’ve never acted like this before, tell me what’s on your mind.” He shuts off the water, and the cylindrical pull seeps a guttural groan. He grips the granite, and even that seems to deform. He finally turns to you, a hurt expression colliding with fiendish somber eyes and taut lips.

“Am I not good enough for you?”

“You are more than enough” you hearten. Ajax rebuttals a bitter laugh and spouts the candor he’d been gnawing on.

“I tried. I tried ignoring your kindness. I tried being pitiful, hurting myself so that your eyes were only on me”, he creeps towards you, and your feet move on their own backpedaling. The echo of his self-inflicted scar produces beads of sweat, distracting so that the back of the wooden chair presses into your back and you almost topple over. Nowhere to go, and now he overshadows you with delicate fingertips slithering across your paling cheeks and behind your jaw, “but you’re surrounded by love. People love you.”

His words drag and descend further, “Ohh, and it’s not fair at all.”

“Why are they allowed your attention. It should be me. Only me. Don’t you want me?” Laced with love, but you can’t taste it. His dilated orbs ping-pong as they scan your face for confirmation. You bring your palms over his and muster fading courage in timid waves.

“I love you Ajax. So, so much. But the way you’re acting scares me. It’s my fault and I could’ve gone home, but I haven’t seen them in a long time. I didn’t think things would end up like this.” He pauses, and engulfs you in an ardent embrace, his hand on the back of your head and another on your lower back. Oh, sweetie muffles through strands of your hair as he sways your bodies. You’re mannequin-like in his stifling sight.

“Nononono, it’s not your fault honeypot. You’re too pure for this world, so kind without thinking. So perfect” he mumbles, absurd drivel seeping through the coherent parts in formidable notes—how he loves you, needs you, can’t live without you— “but they’re leeches. They try to taint you, show you horrible, disgusting things. That piece of shit was looking at me, he was asking for a fight. And he tried to put you in the middle. You could’ve gotten hurt, or God know what. I’ll protect you, my sweet, at any cost."

“Ajax, I don’t need your protection.” It’s silent, profound when he retracts. You forget how to breathe or talk as he slides to your shoulders and holds them in place. His voice lowers.

“You don’t need…me?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying-”

“So let me help, let me be yours” he pleads. You don’t respond—you can’t. Each explanation you formulate sticks to the roof of your mouth and swells like a spell drunk in your throat. Ajax tenses, clinging to your skin. He reflects on a thought, and it blooms with a twinkle.

“What if I just...lock you up?”

“...What?” you say, hardly above a whisper. It’s arid to swallow, and shivers ripple under sweltering heat prickling your limbs.

“I wouldn’t put you anywhere bad. It’d be a pretty place; I’ll take good care of you like I always do. Wouldn’t you like that?” He has a hopeful grin on his face, and when he lets you go for a second you jerk away from his reach. Your back hits the opposite wall, nauseous and lightheaded, shaking your head aggressively to push away the existence of the idea. He wrenches his neck, and you glimpse the deluded flush on his face. “No... I’m not gonna do that.”

“Ah, sweetheart, I know it sounds scary. Can we try it first?”

“You’re not gonna put me in some fucking cage like an animal” you assert. His eyebrows furrow, offended at your assumption that he’d trap you somewhere unpleasant.

“I’d never do that to you. I love you.” He inches towards you, and you inch farther. The keys are in front of him, you can’t leave on your own. The steps you take feel critical.

“Let’s sleep on it, we can discuss in the morning.” No. No no no no. You pan to the staircase, and Ajax curiously watches your paranoid glances. Before he can grab you, you sprint for the stairs. Wind travels in your ears and settles at your graceless movement catching hold of the banister, leverage used to leap. Adrenaline flows steadily in your veins, and your senses feel muddled to mush, focused on pushing your legs to proceed. There’s no room for thinking past the will of your body. You hear airy tsks coming from the dining room, and a singsong “Don’t make me chase you, baby.”

Suddenly, the creaking floorboards succeed at a roaring parade marching behind you. Closer and closer, a sound you didn’t know he possessed. You don’t dare turn around; the squeak waltzes with your deafening heartbeat. You change direction, making haste to the peaceful bedroom you share, now eroding under his hearty stomps. You clash with the door, and barge in. Slamming it shut, your shaky hands promptly lock the knob. Ajax stops in front of the door and lets his fingertips dance along the wood, “Open the door, please.”

The knob shakes aggressively, rattling in the socket and threatening to pop. It’s pulling against the edges of the door that rive at his harsh yanks. He perpetually pulls and twists it, “Darling, c’mon open the door, my sweet.” You’re sure if you don’t, he’ll axe his way through instead.

“Please let me in, baby. Please, I’m dying without you.”

“I don’t wanna fight anymore... please”, his tone barely lifts above the depth of wood, but you hear the faulty voice keeling in cracks. You know you shouldn’t open the door, but his sorrow beckons you as it often does. He wails so hopelessly, as if you’re punishing him for an unavoidable inevitable. It’s an innocent sob peerless to the ruthless violence he displayed hours before; the harrowing glare of the man you thought you knew was all too terrifying. But he’d never do that to you, would he? You’re his darling sweetheart, his infinity now and forever. You filled his divergent heart and sutured it anew. He needs you.

Though your hands fidget to stay at their sides from common sense tucked in a forgone crevice of your headache, you force your hand up, and turn the knob. Maybe you should’ve never let him into the shop on that cold night, instead bidding him farewell and trudging in the snow to your crumby apartment. You’d continue running the shop as usual with Lyney. Things would’ve been different, wouldn’t have been so complicated to cut loose from tangling lies knotting the more he consumed you.

But no, that couldn’t have happened. He would find you, it’s destiny that you’d never part. Stalking in bushes and narrow alleyways until the perfect moment he could walk towards you and catch your eye again, and you’d fall for another pass of courting words.

Ajax stands there with sparkling sadness streaming down his cheeks that mingle with his quivering lips. He drops to his knees instantly in prayer and looks up at you with doey puffy eye bags that nearly make you overlook everything, about Zhongli, about the red flags that grow green the more you squint. It’s just you and him, that’s all it had to be. In times like these you reminisce about the sweet boy you cuddled and confided in, and things feel as they were. The messy-haired Ajax you remember pulls your lower half close to him with large hands that latch onto your waist the more you adjust. His face is mushed to merging in your stomach, and he sighs heavily, taking in your scent like the last breath he’ll ever have. They snake around you, and you meet eyes again. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I love you angel. So much I’d rip my heart out and put it in your hands…. you control me” Desperation clings to Ajax, and you urge to console him. You intertwine your fingers through his hair.

“Ajax, this can’t happen again. Okay?” you caution, a warning dripping with compassion.

“Mhm. Okay.” Unexpected warmth blooms over his cold aura, but the light doesn’t reach his eyes. His hands travel the contours of your hips and thighs, occasionally squeezing with an appreciative huff. He parts your legs and dips to your inner thighs to mold the doughy fat as his lips traverse your lower abdomen, decorating it with wanton kisses. “Love you so much” he utters. His touch is impassioned and fluid, he softens underneath your bottom and circles his thumb like a masseur. Ajax takes his time navigating your sensitive points, and switches between fluffy and solid pressure that licks down your back. Skin to skin contact wasn’t enough, he wanted to crawl in your ribcage and live in your lungs so he could sense your steady breaths. He wanted to bask in your existence, feel the radiance of your touch and ethereal voice curl and melt into him, to make him nothing and all in your eyes.

Your digits tangle in his hair, and when he nips your tummy, you tug his scalp. “Fuck” Ajax groans, strained through his lips. The peachy wash draping his cheeks is cherubic, appeased by the rhythmic kneading. One hand slinks under your shirt and guides a fingertip vertically on your spine, the other sculpts your rear. It’s dizzying how easy it is for Ajax to captivate you, a trance that turns your knees to jelly and leaves you at his mercy. You ignored the impulse igniting your muscles to push him off. You want him closer, suffocating you so deep the clouds of his scent dismantle your fear. You take his chin and redirect his attention, and he waits for order like a loyal dog.

“Ajax.”

“Whatever you want, princess” he toys, that boyish simper releasing butterflies through your body.

“I want you.” He hoists you up without a word and carries you to the bed. He brings you down, a priceless vase above the pillowy cushioned bedding. “You comfortable?” You nod, blushing from the way Ajax gawks at your half-hiked shirt, and shorts hanging low on your hips. “Good.” He’s breathless, restraining his impulse to pounce and devour you. No matter how restive he was, Ajax usually prevented himself from indulging beyond your comfort; but tonight is different. It's starving while a succulent meal taunts you, only satiated by the sight of it. He hastily removes his shirt and pants, freckled muscles flexing as he discards them to the floor. It’s hard to avoid the growing spot staining his stretched white briefs. Spreading your legs, he crawls between them. He regards you for a second, but when you reach behind his head he plunges into a longing kiss.

A longing kiss followed by hungrier ones. It’s abruptly rough and needy against your bruising lips, some skimming the corner of your mouth and tracking to the main course. He frees you for a breather, but the space doesn’t subdue the dull ache thrumming in your core. His nose brushes against yours, and you pull his flyaways back to get the full scale of his feral demeanor, sweating and reddening in the unshakable heat.

You collide again, hands behind your head through the wild exchange. You can’t keep up; he bites your bottom lip and relieves it with the glide of his tongue. Your slow and steady lover begs for entry with a ravenous push, and you allow it to ruin you. The wet appendage invades your senses, explores your mouth in nonsensical shapes and withdraws with a filthy sound before returning. “So. Fucking. Good” he exhales through your intertwining tongues. You’re moaning into each other, lasting in the moment, forgetting everything. His hips start to grind against you, practically dry humping your clothed lower half. You wrap your legs around him and steer his twitching length to roll into you, nudging the inseam of your shorts to your neglected clit. He engulfs your moans, and retreats with strings of spit connecting your tumid lips.

Ajax descends to your neck, and places damp and eager kisses along it. You feel the piercing remnant of a bite accompanied by sucking. His fangs pinch and snag and make you whimper. A budding purple and blue blend blotches to your collarbone--draining you like a vampire. His hands stay busy committing your curves to memory in greedy gropes. Ajax doesn’t notice his low rambling, “yea, you’d never leave me, right? I’m all you need”, to “you're mine.” It’s overstimulating, and so is the hammering pulse in your clit.

Your abused neck is exposed to the delicious sweep of cold air, and he hurries to your shirt. In one swoop, it comes off with the impatient unclasp of your bra. He submerges a stiff peak in warmth while he works the other. His tongue swirls around the nipple, pushing in with a stiff tip and trading it for sucking. It elicits a moan where teeth graze and tweak the bud. “My pretty girl” he murmurs and delivers attention to the next. Ajax massages your spit-soaked tits firmly and diligently in fondling motions. His passion renders him shameless, and it encourages you to fold. You find yourself swerving your hips to his bulge to goad his thirst. He responds with languid nudging, and glances at the space inside your shorts, coated with slick film from your panties. Whine caught in his throat, he salivates and unconciously holds your legs apart. You impel him downwards, and he nuzzles the line to the hem of your shorts.

“Can I taste you, princess?” It had to be hypothetical, since he was already unbuttoning them with his teeth and tearing them off. “Please?” he pants, a half-lidded mess itching to immerse in your desire. Before you can answer, a rrrip shreds through the room; the culprit of your mangled underwear remains, and you shriek. “Ajax!” you scold, but he’s not bothered when he rips the rest of it to display your arousal. “I’ll get you new ones, I’ll buy you the whole store” he sighs, forcing your thighs rearwards with his hands. He angles himself like a sniper and submerses in your pussy.

Ajax doesn’t rush, he lazily trails his tongue around the outside and plays with the folds shlicking against him. He outlines the clit and meticulously weaves his skillful tongue, caring for the spots that make your back arch; paying special attention to your entrance, as he teasingly delves in just enough to coax a moan, then laps a flat tongue over your wetness. Ajax’s ministrations are torturous, rapturing all while ignoring your release. He parts the labia and plashes the juices covering his chin and glossy lips. Your heart is in your ears, winding and coiling at the flicks of his tongue, his fingertips forging red indents on your thighs. Ajax begins to rock himself into the mattress, a fleeting friction comforting his sore erection. His leisurely grinding matches the pace of his mouth making out with your pussy. Mmmf he groans, and the vibrations oscillate. He gently slurps your lips, gasping for another mouthful and lapping at your clit. Your back levitates, and you tug his scalp. It only earns another growl, and faster swipes over the sensitive bud.

“O-oh fuck” you moan, watching Ajax lose his composure and rut himself into the bed like an animal. He’s panting with a quiver, whimpering some rendition of your name until he sputters. He jolts from the material emptying his balls and soaking the sheets, but his energy doesn’t deplete—It seems to motivate him as he hoists you to his mouth. Ajax always prioritizes your pleasure, but it’s difficult to stop him once he’s invested. And he isn’t done feasting, sloppily eating you up with little concern for your fluttering senses. He rides out his orgasm and brings you to yours, and you hardly realize the intoxicating slide over your clit spelling his name. Ajax, Ajax, Ajax, marked into you; It brings you to a chant as you come undone. Ajax doesn’t waste a drop, avidly cleaning up the juices pulsating out. “Thank you, fuck, thank you so much” he whispers. He swills the bud, and you spasm and squirm from ecstasy in his iron grip. “Ajax, p-please.”

“I got you.” He gives one last French kiss before exiting tranquility. A combination of spit and arousal blankets his mouth, and he smiles like the happiest man alive. “You okay?” Not a thought in fruition, tender mellowness smothering you. You wince from the prolonged position, and he immediately puts you on your side.

“Need to feel you.” He wrings his underwear down, and reveals his pulsing shaft adorned with beads of come dribbling down the rosy pale tip. He’s above you, trapping one leg over his shoulder, and aligns himself with your sex. “Perfect tits, perfect pussy. You’re so beautiful, all for me.” The bulb slips in effortlessly, and he sighs at the muscle clenching around him. Each inch drives seamlessly into you, stretching your unadjusted frame. He lulls on your ankle, absorbed by the coziness enveloping the base until he bottoms out. Then it’s unmoving. Agonizing, even, the way you feel him twitch inside. “Y-you can move now.”

“Let’s just stay like this for a little.” He rubs your leg, savoring the serene patter of rain smacking the wide windows and toasty light dusting your dazed appearance. It’s intimate and placid minus the rise and fall of your bodies, and you’re surprisingly shy. You rush to cover your face, but Ajax grabs you. “Don't hide, pretty girl. You’re stunning” he flirts, kissing your hand.

“Do you love me?” His blinks are exaggerated, confused that you’d ask such an obvious question.

“Of course.”

“What do you love about us?” He brings your hand to his cheek. “You complete me. You’ve forgiven me, loved me, and accepted me for who I am. I can be open around you.” He kisses your wrist, silken as to quell the trivial thoughts resurfacing.

“I’ll love you until the end. I’ll find you in the next life and start all over, even when this universe collapses. I won’t let anyone get in our way, so love me forever.” Ajax pulls out to the tip, and you whine at the loss of wholeness. Then, he drives his sticky cock unhurriedly to the hilt. You mewl, and he palms your chest. “Shh, ‘s okay.” The milky translucent trail links you and erupts obscene syrupy noises. “What are you thinking for baby names?” You can’t focus, the swinging strokes graze your g-spot. You’d say anything to him at this point; you need him deeper. He casually thumbs your clit and continues at a sluggish tempo. “I really like the name Aleksei” In and out, veins embellishing your walls. You meet his thrusts and shudder, though he stops occasionally to redirect the sopping length.

“A-ahn, you’re so wet, it keeps slipping out” he moans. He picks up the speed, squelching stirring with whimpers. “I love you, honeypot. Sosososo fucking much, just wanna breed this pretty pussy every second of the day. Ah- you wanna be a mommy, yeah? We can have a big family, hah, just you me and the kids. Wouldn’t you like that, darling?” He’s drilling into you, stuffed to bursting. You feel yourself approaching and seize his wrist. “’M close!”

“Give it to me, fuck, please” Ajax whines, and you climax under him, juices saturating his balls. You don’t get time to recover; he fucks you through your orgasm. You’re reeling, clawing at his forearm when he puts you flat on your back. “Wanna come inside. Can I, please? I want it so bad” he pleads. He adjusts you to a mating press with brute force, and plummets inside.

It’s vicious, staggering plap’s and squelching audible from outside. The headboard bangs on the wall while he pummels your pussy. A sheen of lust shrouds his eyes, and his heavy balls smack against your ass as he wrecks you. More, more, more drowns him in senseless fucking, precome frothing at the base. You convulse around him, and he burrows full throttle. When his tongue finds yours, you interweave through the sloppy pumps. His balls tighten, and he chases his high frenetically bobbing. “O-oh, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.” Harsher, meaner strokes hit you quick, and Ajax melts into endless whimpers striking his climax. Ropes of thick white paint your insides, teeming to globs where they crowd your pussy and leak to your ass. Ajax bucks into you, and you milk him dry. The shakes eventually stop, and he goes limp on top of you. You feel him softening, his steady inhale. He smiles at you, showering you with affection you couldn’t resist.

“I should use the bathroom” you suggest, patting his back as a signal to get off. “Sure. Wait here, I’ll get you cleaned up.” He returns after an eternity, with cloudy water and a tepid towel.

“Here, drink this.” You take the cup and sip. Ajax tips it a bit, urging you to gulp. He wipes you down lovingly while you swallow the contents. He disregards your vulva, however, collecting the come on his fingers and pushing it in. Oddly, you’re leaden—insanely leaden, so much so that your head tilts to one side and threatens to give up entirely. Your knees are wobbly, and your bones are lost in a dreamlike state. Ajax passes the towel under your chest.

“You know, I didn’t feel bad about it, when I strung his guts across the wall. I only thought of you.”

No. It can’t be true.

You can’t scream or fight, and simply gape at the words hulking through your numbed rationale. The towel cools your sweat, but the fear persists.

“I met him behind your complex. He was bitching about rent, sleazy fucking scum. I asked him if you live there, and he went on a rant about it. Saying nasty stuff no one should ever say about you. I couldn't help it, (Y/N), I had to see his organs carved out of his body.” Your jackhammering heart doesn’t compare to your sloth behavior. You want to run, move in with your parents again and pretend; pretend like your life hasn’t been propelled into disarray, pretend that the ginger boy caressing your face didn’t butcher a man.

“Ajax, let me go” you cried, a teardrop coursing across your temple. He wipes it, “I’m not holding you, dear. You can’t stand on your own right now, but the effect will wear off after you sleep. Rest for now, okay sweetie?”

“What did you put...in my...” You’re swooning, ferried by the effect of the unknown medicine sprinkled in your cup. With no will to combat, your eyes reluctantly close. His pupils are desolate and obscure, the night of a severe blizzard.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

tags: @zhochikennugget (if anyone else would like to be tagged, dm and i'll tag you on the next one :)

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin au #ajax smut #ajax x reader #tartaglia smut #tartaglia x reader #childe tartaglia ajax #childe smut #childe x reader #genshin impact #genshin tartagalia #i need ajax BAD #so sorry about the wait this time

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astrobydalia · 7 months

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🍂Cozy observations 🎃

Itssss fall you guys!!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰 It’s actually super hot still where I live but that won’t stop me from living my cozy era. Anyways, I want to avoid collecting posts on my drafts for centuries so here’s more general observations!

work by astrobydalia

🍂Aquarius placements are simultaneously the most understanding and empathetic people ever and the biggest assholes out there. I don't know how they pull that contradiction off but it's true (I mean this in the best way possible btw)

Moreover, I’ve noticed Aquarius placements are way more appreciative of kindness and social harmony than Libra tbh. Libra's desire for harmony can be just for the sake of keeping appearances but they are actually very judgmental. Aquarius on the other hand tend to appreciate authenticity and have a “live and let live” philosophy where they accept people unconditionally that’s why they attract popularity. Underdeveloped Aquarius tho do have a tendency to break social harmony due to pick-me behavior

🍂 Cardinal moons are serial daters. I swear every person I’ve met who had a rather active love life or were always crushing on someone was more often than on Cardinal moon

Also, Cardinal moons are always very dominant people even when don’t intend to be. They have a very summoning aura/personality that just demands engagement. They also tend to be social butterflies, even when they’re introverted they always end up surrounded by people somehow

🍂 I like to think Pisces is the final movie while Virgo is all the behind the scenes and editing

🍂I've seen this endless times where people with Mars in Libra or 7th house always end up either in law or business (mostly creating their own business, freelancers, entrepreneurs, etc)

🍂Any Venusian influence on the MC/10th house/6th house indicates a career or job where you’re required to dress up and appear very put together, having a certain aesthetic can be important in your career

🍂Saturn square or opposite MC/10th house ruler indicates the native was forced into a career they never chose/wanted in the first place or they had to wait a long time to finally have the opportunity to pursue their ideal career OR the path towards the career they chose could have been harder/more unfulfilling than they expected

🍂 I also like to think Taurus stops to smell the flowers and creates a flower bed for herself. Virgo studies the flowers and learns all about photosynthesis and shit. Capricorn creates a flower business and monopolizes the flower market

🍂 Those with Mars influence on their moon (Moon-Mars aspects, Aries/Scorpio moon) are really good at throwing shade but they’re unable to take it themselves. They don’t like to feel called out.

🍂 Mars in the 12th house people will 👏🏼hold 👏🏼 grudges 👏🏼

🍂 To be quite honest with you, every single Virgo sun I’ve met had a very standoffish personality.

🍂 Saturn retrograde individuals raised themselves. That’s why this placement is known to have issues with authority and discipline because their parents didn’t really parent them at all, so they had to set their own boundaries, rules and systems to navigate life. Getting their life together and materializing their ambitions could take extra effort for them

🍂 I usually like Capricorn Moons cause I always find that they are very loyal to everyone (friends, family, partner, etc) but honestly they are not as emotionally mature as you might think. They have a really hard time moving on from the past to the point where they can stay stuck in their wounded child self and spend a big chunk of their lives trying to overcompensate this with work, productivity and success. Tendency to depression, low emotional intelligence and being emotionally stunted. Deep down they feel like the victim of their own story

🍂 Aquarius sun+Scorpio moon: I’ve met quite a few people with this combo and with all of them I’ve noticed they always have a cult leader kinda mentality towards their friendships and connections (might apply to Aquarius+Scorpio combos in general). You’re either with them or against them. If you're not a follower they’ll hit you with the "cool kids table" attitude

🍂 My mom has Mercury in the 4th house and she once said "I don't mind moving abroad but I can't live in a place where people don't speak my native language. I need to hear my native language"

🍂 When it’s said that Venus in the 1st house people know how to make themselves look good it doesn’t mean just physically. The know how to present themselves as a more virtuous person than they actually are...

🍂Mutable risings, Mars in a mutable sign/house: their motto is “work smarter not harder”. Their first instinct will always be to find a way around challenges and difficulties. They usually aren’t the most action oriented people, but they are cunning. Their way to success is basically beating the system to make things easier for themselves.

🍂I can easily recognize Taurus Sun because they always ooze BDE. Also they always tend to have very rugged and bold physique/features

🍂From what I've seen Gemini Venus is a placement that easily makes someone stereotypically extroverted. Golden retriever energy

🍂Has anyone else noticed that succedent houses (aka fixed houses) are all related to money and wealth in some way?

2nd house: your resources, what spend your money on 5th house: gamble 8th house: shared resources, investments and debt 11th house: production of wealth

🍂All Gemini and Cancer risings I’ve met had some sort of hypersensitivity to stimuli. Gemini rising is more mental; anxiety, overthinking, information overload, etc they easily get triggered by immediate stimuli, specially noise around them. For Cancer risings this manifests more in the senses (photosensitivity, very sensitive to smells, flavors, etc) and heightened intuition just like Spiderman with spider-sense

🍂I’m sorry but why are Cancer Mercuries so elusive in their communication??? Everything they say has this "well, maybe. I don't know" or "I guess" undertone to it, they never openly say what they really mean. They are good listeners tho

🍂Underdeveloped Taurus placements feel entitled to use and dispose of people to benefit themselves. Tend to be very selfish and stingy. They do something for you they'll hang it over your head forever and act like they have ownership over you. You do something for them, they owe you nothing.

🍂Pisces Moons grew up in their own little bubble. It's very likely they missed out on 'normal' mundane experiences and this makes them feel very separated from the rest of the world and the rest of the people which is why they often come off as clueless and disconnected. They often give off the impression they've been living under a rock or a parallel universe. A perfect example of this is when Kim Kardashian said she's never been to a grocery store💀

Every single Pisces moon I’ve met never ever wanted to have kids and if they do have them they tend to not be too present in their kids’ lives. The harsh truth is pisces moons are not reliable, generally they are the ones who want to be saved and cared for

🍂I've noticed earth Venus and Venus-Saturn aspects are a little bit too good at showing contempt. To some degree they always remind me of Disgust from the Inside Out movie 😂

🍂 When I see Moon-Saturn conjunction in a chart I flinch a little tbh cause idk what’s worse the fact that their mothers couldn’t be bothered to give the native any sort of emotional comfort or the fact that these natives have normalized conditional love as the only kind of love possible. I've also noticed they grew up with strong authoritarian values and were never allowed to question hierarchies or status

Also, natives with Moon-Saturn conjunction are extremely shady people if you ask me. It's true they are insanely observant but what people don't seem to notice is that they are observant in a Joe Goldberg or Light Yagami kind of way without the murder They do be having inner monologues like that. They come across as calm, intelligent, respectful and trusted. Can use emotional expression (theirs and others') in strategic ways to influence others. Big tendency towards materialistic, utilitarian and/or elitist mindset too. I can't quite put my finger on it but I've met a lot of people with this aspect and the deeper I dig the more I keep feeling something very dark and/or disingenuous about them

🍂Venus square Neptune people and their lack of self-respect… 🙁

🍂Aquarius Moons always give off the impression of having a rather lazy or passive personality. I'm not talking about their productivity but the fact that they seem to always have a "meh" attitude towards everything to the point where they can feel a bit disconnected similar to pisces moon

🍂Virgo risings often have freelance jobs due to Aquarius ruling their 6th house

🍂People with Industria rx (389) may actually dislike their work environment even if they like their job. I’ve noticed they often find the industry they work in to be toxic, depleting or too demanding

🍂Enterprise rx (9777) might always feel unsatisfied with their position, they might be the type to always want more and more

🍂 Aries Moon women and always attracting very immature and selfish men omg I've seen this time and time again

🍂 Scorpio moon/Moon 8th house is an underrated wealth indicator imo. I've noticed they always have a "from rags to riches" kinda life story. They however often face issues with fraud or debt along the way cause they have a tendency to take huge financial risks

🍂 you ever heard about the crabs in a bucket phenomenon? Well Ive actually observed underdeveloped 4th house placements do tend to have this kind of clingy and envious behavior particularly towards people that are really close to them. You can also experience this with people you have 4th house Synastry with; you get too attached to the comfort zone they provide to the point where they stifle your growth

🍂Pisces placements 🤝 falling for people who are bluntly abusive, controlling and narcissistic. They want to believe they’re living a beauty and the beast love story when in reality they’re trauma bonding

🍂Libra/Taurus Mars people ARE problematic and petty as fuck, they’re just good at the social game and making it look like they didn't do anything. Underdeveloped Venus energy is the opposite of peaceful, it gives major mean girl vibes and Mars being debilitated in these signs easily brings out this hostile side of Venus. The type to passively instigate drama just to make themselves look better. Very hypocritical

🍂What natives with Saturn in Taurus will consider first when choosing a career is make sure that it is well payed and gives them financial status. Other factors come second

🍂Fixed+cardinal combo in the luminaries is hands down the best sun-moon combo I've seen tbh (specially fixed sun+cardinal moon), they're a force to be reckoned with. Very charismatic, outspoken and confident people with healthy ego if developed. Most people I've met with this combo were very extroverted and/or excellent leaders

🍂Sagittarius placements 🤝 this pose 😜✌🏼

🍂Libra/7th house Lilith have a tendency to judge a book by its cover all the time

🍂I've noticed Pisces MC/10th house natives aren't very ambitious. They seem to not really care about things like self-development or being on top. From what I've seen they mostly aspire to have a pleasant and glamurous life that frees them form real life mundane worries and could desire to retire as early as possible. In some cases I've seen they could want a "princess" kinda lifestyle where they literally have no responsibilities. They want a career that liberates them from any pressure of achieving material expectations and allows them to just go brain dead all the time following a higher power/inspiration/knowledge. That's why many artists have this placements and I've also seen cases of Pisces MC people who wanted to be nuns and nurses. I've noticed that when they genuinely don't care about recieving recognition or achievements but rather do things bc it aligns with their soul that's when they become successful

🍂Scorpio placements have a tendency to be very cynical I've noticed, specially mercury and mars

🍂Gemini/3rd house Lilith can spot lies from miles away and will not be sacred to call it out

🍂As per my observation the water sign that gets idolized the most is not Pisces but Cancer 100%. Yes Pisces does get idolized but I’ve noticed that’s actually very short-lived, people tend to switch up on them SO fast cause they project a deeply unrealistic image on them and eventually fall off the pedestal. Cancer placements on the other hand are not infantized like Pisces, they are consistently very sought after people I’ve observed. They always come across as emotionally reliable even when they’re not, people always go soft for them while simultaneously respecting them so they’re always seen as perfect,kind,charming,etc. Their personality naturally portrays an energy of unconditional love and understanding so people easily get obsessed and addicted to them

🍂I always find that Pisces Venus natives have a very whimsical and juvenile personality. They also have a very extravagant taste they may like anything with bright colors, glittery shiny stuff, squishy toys, etc. they have a tendency to be a bit tacky and corny I’ve noticed

🍂Every fixed moon I've seen avoided any sort of emotional rehabilitation like the plague unless it’s strictly necessary. They believe no one can begin to understand them better than themselves and they got it all figured out already. Now this is more my opinion but I feel like they low-key underestimate the amount of healing they actually need to do cause they really struggle taking emotional accountability. They have a tendency to act like their needs and feelings justify everything so there's not much to "fix" or heal

🍂People who have at least 2 out of their big 3 in cardinal signs are often seen as the golden girl/boy

🍂Capricorn/Virgo moons will be literally the best at what they do and make it seem so effortless. If you ask them how they got so successful they'll be like "idk I guess I just practiced a lot"

🍂I’ve noticed your 8th house sign(s) represent themes that people are consistently using against you as the fastest way to tear you down, so you always end up feeling powerless here at some point. That’s why you tend to resent this energy and have toxic dynamics with people who have their planets here. This house is literally the death of you (8th from 1st), but it can also be the source of your empowerment once you claim this energy so it's best that you keep this house to yourself as much as possible. Some examples:

Gemini 8th house: using what you say against you. you could have a hard time with people believing your words, what you say is always scandalous and/or rubs people the wrong way. Gossip or information that makes you look bad. People always think you’re lying or deceiving or have ulterior motives Cancer 8th house: you could struggle with getting sympathy and emotional support from people. Others think you’re just being vulnerable and complaining for clout. Any display of emotion or care will be seen as manipulative. People trying to break or ruin your relationship with your family or closed ones Capricorn 8th house: you struggle with people respecting you, others don't take you seriously and don't see you as a valid authority. Any attempt to make yourself respected will be seen as dictatorial or elitist behavior, any desire to succeed will be seen as you being power hungry. People try to dismiss or belittle your achievements

work by astrobydalia

#astrology #astro #astro observations #astro notes #zodiac #birth chart #astrobydalia

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kingtomura · 1 month

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Cat and mouse

synopsis: Your ex boyfriend has some nerve texting you at three in the morning — an entire week after the disaster breakup you had. You should really go over there and give him a piece of your mind. Well, you know what they say about famous last words. wc: 6.1k | crossposted to ao3 content: tomura shigaraki x female reader, no quirks au, toxic tomura, reader is kinda toxic too tbh, unhealthy relationships, breaking up and making up, vaginal fingering, overstim, breeding kink, piv, dubcon creampie, degredation, threats of baby trapping, hurt/comfort, sweet at the end idc

You’ve told your friends time and time again to stay out of your business. They never listen.

“Oh my god, Kirishima? Is he even twenty yet?” You drag as you watch your friend flip through several pictures of the redheaded boy like he was a member of the bachelor.

She smiles, scrolling her phone for more options, “no, but he will be in a couple of months!”

“No!” Your words are sharp. You love Mina but god, you don’t want her to play matchmaker with you. It’s not like you’re a charity case or something.

She gasps and you swear you could see the lightbulb go off above her head. “What about Denki? He’s fun!”

You groan, falling back onto the bed and covering your eyes with your arm. “Mina.”

“Hey, just give her a break okay? It’s only been about a week.” Your saving grace Yaoyorozu speaks up and it’s nice to finally have someone on your side.

“Thank you.”

“Seriously? So we’re just going to sit around and watch you mope about all day?” Mina questions, irritation clear in her voice and it grates your ears.

“Preferably, yes! Just let me be.” You roll over, face officially shoved into your pillow. It’s been a rough couple of days and you haven’t gotten a single call or text from Tomura. Not that you should be expecting one. You broke up with him after all.

It’s just.. this time feels different. Usually there’s more arguing and he’s fighting for you to stay around, but this time there was nothing. No quips, no insults, just “fine, get out then.”

That hurt the most.

You had no idea what he was up to.

Maybe he was as depressed as you were.

Maybe he’s found someone else.

The thought makes you stop in your tracks. The idea of Tomura, your tomura with someone else is enough to make you nauseous.

You jump to your feet and rush to the bathroom, locking yourself in and falling to your knees.

God, what if that was why it was so easy?

You pull out your phone, the device lighting up and unlocking with your facial id.

Tomura doesn’t use social media much but you could still check to see if he’d blocked you.

To your surprise, he hadn’t.

He hasn't posted anything either and there’s no new person in his followers.

You feel yourself exhale a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. No change is a good thing.

There’s knocking on the door and you thank the stars you locked it. Your friends would judge you so hard if they saw you lurking through your ex’s social media.

“Hey, are you okay in there?” It’s your saving grace Yaoyorozu again and you almost feel bad for shutting her out.

“Yeah, I’m sorry if it feels like I pressured you! I’ll give you some space.” Mina's regretful voice calls and it makes your heart clench. You know she means well but she just doesn’t understand. None of them do.

Whether you want to admit it or not, you love Tomura.

Yes, you argue and yes, you fight, but he just gets you. He’s so cynical, but so caring — in his own special way. Too bad he was such an asshole. The argument wasn’t even supposed to go that far.

There are tears beginning to blur your vision and you wipe them away, willing the feelings down and standing to your feet.

If he wanted you to stay away, then fine. You could do that.

You splash cool water onto your face and take a breath, steeling yourself and getting ready to face your friend once more. It was Saturday and they were convinced you needed a fun girl’s night.

It takes a lot to refrain from cringing at the phrase, but you believe they held some truth with the idea. You definitely didn’t want to be alone right now.

You unlock the bathroom door, meeting Mina and Yaoyorozu’s worried expressions with a smile.

“We should probably get ready now, huh?”

Mina’s eyes light up, smile blinding and excitement contagious.

“Yes! Jirou and the others are here now.” She starts to clap, excitement buzzing around her, “Girl’s night is going to be amazing!”

—-

Girl’s night was a bust.

The moment everyone arrived the apartment quickly filled with chaos. Noisy and busy, it was all giving you a headache. Until someone decided it would be a good idea to pregame before going out.

In preparation for the night your friend’s insisted that you get dolled up, hair makeup and skimpy clothes you wouldn’t look twice at on any normal day.

You had to admit it made you a little more excited to get out and at least feel like your world isn't crashing around you. It was supposed to be a fun little night out. Somehow one drink turned into two, which turned into three which turned into Mina swearing she could beat everyone in a dance battle.

The group only got more riled up as everyone indulged in this silly challenge.

One challenge leads to another, which leads to more drinking, which then ends in everyone being too drunk to function and knocking out — all laid out in odd places around your living room floor and couch.

The groggy feeling came first, your arms radiating in dull pain as you vaguely recalled trying to beat Mina in a contest of who could do the most push ups. It sure as hell wasn't you, but the drunk version of you thought it was possible to move mountains.

You blink a few times, trying to will your eyes to rapidly adjust to the darkness of the room and find out what this odd buzzing noise beside you had been. Turning over, you find your phone, squinting as the too bright screen lights up your face and you see that it is three a.m.

You had fallen asleep with everyone else.

The phone buzzes again, lighting up and you have to squint further to read the contact name.

Tomura.

Your eyes widen as you scan over the three texts he’s sent you.

Wasting no time, you rush to your feet and into the bathroom so you can look at your phone without the chance of prying eyes overlooking your shoulder. Even though they were probably going to be out until late morning.

Tomura’s messages were short, no paragraphs, no essays but three different messages sent in succession.

When are you coming to get your shit?

I’m tired of waiting.

And I’m deleting our farm btw.

The first two messages don’t get much of a reaction from you, especially since it’s three a.m and he knows you’re usually asleep around this time.

But the third message…

Your Stardew Valley farm that you’ve had and worked on together for almost two years being put on the line and threatened? What the fuck was his problem?

This farm was a constant in your relationship. Throughout the ups and downs and back and forths. You were sure that hell would freeze over before you both would give up that progress. But here he is, threatening you while you would have been asleep. What an asshole.

Your feet are moving before your brain can stop them and you make your way to the front door. Since your friends were all passed out it would be easy to sneak over to Shigaraki’s place, give him a piece of your mind and then sneak back. In and out, quick and easy.

Your decision is made and you grab your coat, deciding to just go over there as you are. You hadn’t changed out of your outfit that was supposed to be for the night out, but it didn’t matter. You only needed to get over there and get there fast.

Once you arrive at Tomura’s doorstep you waste no time knocking. It’s around three in the morning so he should still very much be awake.

There's a chill in the air as you wait for his answer and you wrap your jacket closer to your body. A rumble of thunder caught your attention and it's then you notice the rain clouds rolling in. You knew it would only be a matter of time before the bottom of the sky falls out and rain drenches everything. You were on borrowed time if you wanted to make it back before then.

After what feels like forever the door finally opens, revealing a very cozy pajama-clad Tomura, who seemed a little too pleased for his own good — if that sly smile he was doing a bad job at hiding was anything to go by.

You don't give him a chance to greet you or say anything for that matter, stopping his words in their tracks as you cut him off. “What do you want?”

He doesn’t bother hiding his smirk now, the expression making your fists clench and your anger boil. “What do I want? You’re at my door, in front of my apartment.” He scoffs, clearly getting the exact reaction he had wanted from you, “I should be asking what do you want?”

Caught like a deer in headlights. Whatever, you don't let that stop you as you pull out your phone to show him his text. “You sent this, I know you’re bluffing. What do you want?”

Tomura shrugs, leaning against his door frame and giving you a pleased look. Expression relaxed and content. Not a care in the world. “To talk.”

“Well, I'm here now, so let’s talk.” You spit, crossing your arms and waiting for whatever else he would throw at you.

“Sure, but you should come in first.” He starts, looking up towards the darkened sky, confirming his assessment. “It’s gonna rain soon, you know.”

Of course you knew that.

You just didn’t want to give him more time than you had. But you agree and go in, ignoring the fighting feeling in the back of your mind screaming at you to turn away and hightail it out of there.

Tomura’s home is the exact way it was the day you left, give or take a few more containers of takeout littered around the place. You have half a mind to scold him about it, but quickly remember that it isn’t your place to do that anymore.

So instead you stay quiet, following him into the apartment and into the living room. Opting to stand as he sat, and resisted the urge to get comfortable.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You try, done watching him pick up a controller and boot up a video game. Seriously?

Your patience was wearing thin now as you watched him ignore you to play some stupid game. You try calling to him again, knowing this was probably a waste of your time and groans.

“I was in the middle of something before you got here. Let me finish and we’ll talk.” It's flippant the way he waves you off and continues the game. The lack of care only hurting your feelings further and making you realize this may have all been a big mistake on your part.

You shouldn’t be at your ex boyfriend’s house being ignored. You should be at your house getting drunk and hanging out with your best friends. There was no reason to stay somewhere you’re obviously not valued.

It’s a simple choice when you put it into perspective.

But things are always easier said than done.

You sigh, the air puffing out your cheeks, a bad habit you had when angry, and walk right in front of Tomura’s TV. There was more satisfaction in making him lose the game and then announcing your departure than just leaving quietly.

He cranes his neck to see around you, but it doesn’t work, finally giving up as his character inevitably dies. “What!?”

“I’m leaving!” You announced, turning on your heel and heading towards the front door.

“You had to make me lose first? I said I was almost done!” He spat back, rising from the couch to follow you.

You shrug, “I don’t care. Why invite me in if you’re just going to ignore me?”

“Didn’t think you had the patience of a child.'' Tomura stands in front of you, cutting through your path and stopping you in your tracks.

It's almost comical the way he insults you. “Okay pot, meet kettle.” You try to brush past him, but he side steps with you.

“What are you dressed like that for anyway? Did you go out tonight or something?”

“No!” You deny, a little louder than intended and then pause. “But it’s none of your business what I do anyway.”

Tomura hums at this, taking the words in and running them through his mind as he gives you a once over, eyes scanning from the too-tight shirt you wore — showing a generous amount of cleavage, down to your mini skirt that left little to the imagination.

“Could've fooled me.”

“What do you mean by that?” You hate when he gives you cryptic answers, like it’s impossible to pry into his mind to see what he was thinking at the moment.

“You knew you were coming to see me so I dont get why you're wearing that skimpy shit. Unless you wanted me to check you out.”

“Not everything is about you, Tomura. Maybe I just wanted to dress up and look nice.”

“Bullshit—”

“God, Tomura you always fucking do this!” You yell, walking right up into his face. The excitement in his scarlet eyes sends a chill up your spin, but you can’t back down.

He gets closer, matching your tone and you can still see the grin he’s trying to hide. It makes you see red. “Do what? Tell you the truth? You know I’m not wrong.”

“Yeah, you think you know everything, but you don’t. I’m dressed up because I want to be, not because of you.” You’re insisting at this point, frustration threatening to tip over and spill out into the form of another pointless argument. Why did you think you could actually come over and have a decent conversation with him?

Tomura is a master at getting under your skin and hitting where it hurts. In all of your arguments he’s never really pulled out the big shots but you wouldn’t put it past him to do so now.

“Oh, so you come over to my place dressed like a slut and you expect me to believe you don’t have some hidden motive?”

And there it is.

Your last straw. He could be so egotistical and mean — you’ve had it.

You regret it the moment you do it, but your body moves before your brain can process your actions. You push Tomura. Hard.

He doesn’t fall back far but you know it’s enough to piss him off. And he’s never been one to hold anything back, so he shoves you back and your back hits the wall.

Tomura has you pinned before you know it and there’s a thrill that runs through your body in a way you know you shouldn’t be feeling. Your knees feel weak for reasons that are not related to fear and your panties were gradually becoming more wet.

His voice is low and his eyes are narrowed as he pins you against the wall, pressing your cheeks together with his other hand. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

You have to bite back a smile, knowing this has taken a turn and you aren’t strong enough to stop where it’s going. Not that you would want to.

“Oh yeah? If I piss you off so badly then why are you hard?”

He doesn’t look down. He can feel his own arousal just as well as you can while it’s pressed against your abdomen.

Tomura pushes off of you — maintaining some distance as he turns away.

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Sure am.” You supply, chipper and certain as you trail behind him.

He’s walking further into the apartment, and you follow. Legs moving on their own accord as you go further into the lion's den, exchanging quips and insults. You jab your finger into his shoulder, bothered by the way he continues to ignore you, it's a pathetic attempt at catching his attention and it works. Kind of.

The only response being him slapping your hand away with a glare and muttering a soft fuck off as he walked on.

You both went back and forth. Like the sun and moon, you just can’t stay away from each other.

It was how these things usually went between you and Tomura. He would start up, make a petty argument and you would never back down. Tomura is someone who was used to getting his way and others simply did what he said with no objections.

But that was not how you were.

And he loved it.

You knew by the way he would get that devious glimmer in his eye when you would challenge a point, starting up a debate. Sometimes they were heated enough to make you both break up. It never lasted more than a few days. A week being the longest.

Push and pull.

Tomura made his way past you again, ignoring your calls about how you hate being ignored. At this point you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose to rile you up more but you can’t help but take the bait. You grab his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and face you as you point a finger in his face.

“Stop walking away from me!”

He grabs your wrist and pulls you closer, making you stumble on your feet and almost lose balance. You were so close you could feel the heat from his body and smell the fresh linen scent of his shirt. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

You snatch your wrist away from him, tension between you two growing hotter by the second as the space between you got thinner.

“What are you going to do about it?”

The narrowing of his eyes only made your grin grow wider as you watched the gears turn in his head as he thought about just how many things he would do about it. All of it enticed you, so you beat him to the punch.

You reach forward again, fully intending to shove his shoulder again for another reaction, another glare, maybe even more words, but he stops you. It was fast, the way you both tumbled through the hallway as Tomura crashed his lips to yours. The relief of finally feeling his lips again meshed with the excitement of how rough he was with you.

You lose yourself in the kiss, welcoming him in with open arms as you vaguely register the dark walls of his room and posters plastered along the walls in your scuffle.

It was exciting, probably the best part of breaking up and making up. At this point you think the whole point of falling apart is coming back together again. An endless cycle where the reward is worth the punishment.

Cat and mouse.

You end up on top of him, straddling his hips while your smug smile beams down at him. Tomura gives you an unamused look in return, yet the way his hands rested on your thighs gave away the ill hidden interest. It was all the encouragement you needed as you leaned down, hovering above him with both hands on his chest.

“Not so tough now, are you?”

It’s bait. You know it’s bait, he knows it’s bait, but he takes it anyway — the way you knew he would.

Tomura wastes no time flipping the both of you over, quickly reversing your positions as he settled himself between your legs. It’s dangerous the way his actions riled you up further, and you have to bite your lip to keep the smile from betraying your false anger. You couldn’t let him know how excited you were to be back in his bed.

He presses your cheeks together and rocks your head left to right, tone mocking and eyes wild with fever, “Oh, look who’s become a firecracker all of the sudden. Where did that flame come from, huh?”

You want to respond, but Tomura beats you to it, releasing your cheeks and pointing a nimble finger against your forehead, “Don’t be dumb.”

His eyes trail from yours and then down to your lips, then finally down to your exposed cleavage. The movement was swift as he cupped one of your breasts in his hand and dipped down, claiming your lips again. It was softer than the first time but not by much, especially not when he matched his pace by grinding his clothed erection into you, making you moan at the contact.

Your skirt was so short and it made you feel even more exposed than you already were. Tomura had easy access to you and the thin fabric of your panties made everything feel so much closer.

You moan at the contact, swiping your tongue against Tomura’s bottom lip and wasting no time deepening the kiss as you pull him closer. You needed more and you needed it as soon as possible.

Tomura pulled the low cut front of your shirt down, easily exposing your breasts from the confines of the shirt and massaged them, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your nipples and making you cry out from the sensitivity.

He pulls away from you, eyes gazing into yours and you swore in that moment he put you in a trance. Tomura’s ruby red gaze always left you mesmerized and you can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips, brows furrowed and eyes wanting, “Please.”

“Please what?” And he’s not taunting you, he’s not mocking you. His eyes are soft as he brings a hand to your cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Fuck, you’ve missed him. “I just want you.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he strokes your cheek, soft look in his eyes making your heart flutter, and then it’s gone. Replaced by a hardened gaze as he moves to remove your shirt and bra, fully exposing you to his hungry eyes, and then moves to remove your short skirt.

His hands hover there for a moment, debating whether or not he should keep it on and fuck you in it, but then decides against the idea and pulls it off, taking your soaked panties down with it as well.

The air in the room feels cool against your skin as you shiver in anticipation.

“Fuck,” Tomura whispers, now eye level with your cunt. You gasp as he runs two fingers between your wet folds and holds the digits up to show you. Syrupy clear slick clung to them, slowly trailing down as Tomura rose back up, eye level with you once more.

“You’re so wet…” He murmured, bringing the digits to your mouth and you opened, taking them into your mouth and tasting yourself. You kept eye contact as you watched his eyes widen in delight — Tomura loved it when you put on a show for him.

There’s another moment of Tomura pressing against your tongue with his fingers and then he pulls them out, opting for a kiss in exchange, his tongue dipping into your mouth and groaning as he could taste what’s left of your slick on you as well.

The pleasant feeling and linguid action of your movements made your shoulders relax as you practically melted into his soft bed, the feeling of his body above yours bringing you mountains of comfort. It was a distraction, of course.

You felt the same two of Tomura’s fingers prod at your slick entrance before pressing in fully and all the way down to the knuckle. The stretch was intense but the pressure was euphoric, making you squeeze your eyes shut and grip him closer.

He didn’t make you wait long as he pumped his fingers, quickly finding that sensitive spot so deep inside of you that only he could pinpoint and brushing against it over and over.

The feeling was so good it made you pull away from the kiss to breathe, thighs twitching and toes curling in pleasure. You wouldn’t last long like this.

“Tomura, fuck..!” You moaned, drowning in ecstasy as he continued his abuse of your spot, never letting up or slowing down, aiming to make you cum as quickly as he could. It was obvious he wanted you to come undone as soon as possible by the way he watched your every expression.

The way your brows furrowed to the way you bit your lip. Tomura eagerly drank every expression and gave it back to you in the form of pleasure.

“What?” He started, unphased by your dilemma, “Gonna cum?”

It took a lot of focus and effort, but you nod — done with fighting for the night and accepting the fact that you will come apart quickly. So you give in to the pleasure.

Tomura smiles, a devious grin splitting his features as he curls his fingers, hitting the spot one more time for good measure and you lose composure, your climax crashing into you like a tidal wave. There was nothing you could do besides ride the feeling while holding on to Tomura tight — like you would get swept away if you didn’t.

He fucks you through it with his fingers, eyes never leaving your face as you come down from your high.

“Pent up, huh?” He questions, and this time there is that little hint of teasing. It brings you back to reality.

Yes, you have been pent up. You haven’t been able to get off to anything since you’ve broken up and it’s been hell.

You have no time for the games, you just want him and you want him now.

So, you take Tomura’s face in your hands, making him look you in the eyes. The flecks of black in his carmine eyes always makes you remember why you come back. Every single time.

“Fuck me, please, Tomura.” It's soft and filled with desire that you cannot be bothered to hide, and Tomura has never been one to deny you.

He quickly discards his own clothes, making sure to not stay away from you for long. His cock is hard and leaking precum from the head as he strokes it in preparation. You feel giddy at the thought and watch as he slides the head of his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, and rubbing against your clit. The action makes your hips twitch up towards him.

He loves to tease and make you wait, but today he doesn’t make you wait long. Tomura leans down after lining himself up with your entrance and places his free hand behind your head, right above the nape of your neck. His hands were warm and the feeling of those hands cradling your head felt so comforting in the space of his familiar dark bedroom.

You bring a hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in his ashen locks as he pushes forward. The stretch makes you whimper and Tomura captures your lips in a kiss again, swallowing the noises and releasing a groan of his own as your walls tighten around his cock.

There's something about the way Tomura drags his hips, the way he starts off at a slow pace, winding you up as he steadily increases his speed and force. It happens so gradually that you don't realize you’re screaming his name until he tells you to shut up — threatening to cover your mouth because he didn't want his neighbors to hear how much of a slut you were.

It drove you mad the way he said it all with a smile and fucked you harder. Almost daring you to be louder so he can punish you with a hand over your mouth.

Tomura knew how rough you liked it and he always delivered, giving you back arching pleasure as he pounded into you. It leaves you gasping and struggling to keep your voice down. Your hands find the surface of his back, trying to hold on as much as you could with building pleasure on the horizon.

“Tomu— Tomura..! Please,” you cry and he doesn’t miss a beat, driving his cock so deep against your sweet spot it makes you see stars. “Fuck..!”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Tomura cooed, eyes filled with mischief as he brought you closer to the edge. “Cry for me.”

And you do, your body feeling euphoric as the feeling buzzed up your spine and filled your brain with the fuzz of ecstasy.

“What are you gonna do, huh?” He starts, his hips grinding against you, the closeness of his pelvis rubs against your clit, making you cry out again, “What are you gonna do when I breed this pretty cunt and make sure you’re stuck with me forever?”

He’s bluffing, you know Tomura doesn’t want kids. He’s just trying to gauge your reaction. Your dedication.

“Tomura…” You only moan, breath catching as he hits that spot inside you that he knows so well.

Tomura is smiling, wild and devious, as you look up at him with glossy eyes, so close to crying from the feelings, “I’m gonna do it. I’ll make you mine forever and you can’t do anything about it.”

“Ah!” You should stop him, tell him to calm down but he has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your back arching off of the bed. Everything is blurring together and you can only slur words as the drool from your earlier kiss trails down your cheek.

You are completely at his mercy like this and you know your friends would be beyond disappointed.

It just feels so good the way his cock drags in and out of your body pulling moans and whines from your throat. He was relentless in the way he pounded into you — beyond the point of being soft and slow because he knows that’s exactly you like it.

“Say you want it.” The command comes with the slowing of his hips and you whine, high and needy as Tomura slows to a near stop.

“Tomura, I—“

“Say you want it or I swear to god I’ll stop right now.” It’s a threat and you don’t want to find out if he’ll go through with it. Tomura never goes back on his word.

“No, please, don’t— I want it!” you pant, frustrated and aching for more movement.

“I want you to,” you stammer, desperate to have your release. “I don’t care if you cum in me. I need you so bad.”

“That’s my girl,” He coos, dipping his head down onto your shoulder, “Fuck.. love you s’much”

You stop — you’ve never heard him say that. Ever. You doubted he would ever say it since it’s been so long.

He doesn’t give you a chance to ruminate on it because he's picking up the pace again and giving you the friction you were so deeply in need of. The feelings are swimming in your head as your cries reach new heights. Tomura is too far gone to stop you or care and you’re thankful. You couldn’t stop yourself if you tried.

The build of your orgasm crashes down and sends you with it, making your thighs quiver in pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut. Tomura’s mouth meets yours before you could cry out, the warmth of his tongue guiding you as he fucked you through it.

He didn’t last long after, the way your walls tightened around him with the force of your orgasm has Tomura’s pace erratic as he chased his own high.

The bed shook as Tomura finally finished, hips stuttered as he released inside of you, hot seed coating your insides and making heat rise to your cheeks. He really did it.

You watch as he slows to a stop above you, his eyes closed as he enjoys the feeling of release. Tomura’s breathing was heavy and you couldn’t stop yourself from bringing him down into another kiss, traveling from his lips to his cheeks and then back again.

It was intimate and you were worried it may have been too much, given the reason you were both in this situation was because of a stupid breakup.

Tomura’s pulls out of you, making you wince and taking the feeling of being so full away from you. He doesn’t go far, opting to stay on top of you and rest his head on your shoulder, wanting to keep you as close as possible.

“You really piss me off.” He mumbles into your shoulder, out of breath and tired. “God, why can’t you just stay with me.”

“Tomura…” Your hands run through his hair, the sweat is making it stick to his forehead as you wait for him to keep talking.

“Stop leaving me.” His voice is firm, unwavering.

“You told me to go.”

“I didn’t think you fucking would. I would never actually want you to.”

“I can’t read between the lines Tomura, I’m not in your head.” You make him look at you this time, pulling his hair a little to get him to raise his head. “Did you mean it?”

“I just said I didn’t—“

“No, the other thing you said.” He gives you a look of pure confusion and you lose a little bit of hope, “when you said you loved me?”

You stare into his carmine eyes, hoping, praying it wasn’t just pillow talk from the heat of the moment.

He looks at you for a long time, frustration still wearing on his features. If you didn’t know any better you would say he was pouting. “Of course I meant it. I’ve always felt like that.”

“But you’ve never said it!”

“I show it!”

“How?” This is getting frustrating and going in circles.

He groans, sitting up and taking his warmth with him. “I’m not going to sit here and list everything I’ve ever done for you. I don’t think it works like that.”

You open your mouth to counter, irritation on your tongue because that’s not what you meant, but Tomura stops you again.

“I don’t know how to explain it, okay?” He shakes his head and sighs, laying next to you on the bed and looking up at his ceiling. “It’s weird. I have these strong feelings, but it’s not hate, it's not anger. It's the opposite of that.”

You stare at him as he focuses ahead, keeping his eyes trained on the uninteresting ceiling above.

“Father said it’s a weakness and I should feel that way but,” There’s a pause as he looks away from the ceiling, meeting your eyes finally, “if it’s so weak of me, then why are the feelings so strong?”

Your heart aches. It's clear that he’s torn, and with the strange way he was raised you know that he can’t help the way he is.

“Tomura…”

“And it won’t go away. I can’t fight them down or push them away like I can with everything else. It eats me up and I… guess I lash out because of it.” He shakes his head and for the first time Tomura looks defeated. You’ve never seen him this way — he’s always been filled with confidence and self assured. “I just don’t know what to do.”

You bring a hand to his cheek as you press your forehead against his. It kills you that this is what’s been on his mind and you aren’t sure what you could do to fix it. Maybe there was nothing you could do, physically, but you would do your best to be there for him emotionally.

“Sometimes,” you try to be careful with your words, knowing how much Tomura looks up to his foster father even though the man has been nothing but strange to him. “People say things that aren’t true because they don’t know how to live with it.”

Tomura’s guardian cannot live with love nor the idea of it.

“That doesn't mean you have to live that way.”

And it’s the truth.

Tomura doesn’t say anything, just watches you with heavy lidded eyes, ruby red nearly glowing in the low light of the room. He was so much more than what people thought they knew of him and you didn’t care if it took time for others to see that.

He leans in, closing his eyes and you meet him halfway into a kiss.

It's warm and it's soft and you know that even when your phone is buzzing from dozens of missed calls and texts from your friends, it will be fine.

You and Tomura would take things one day at a time.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura x reader #mha x reader #my works #tomura shigaraki smut #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you

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freedomfireflies · 10 months

Text

Five to Go Live*

Summary: The fifth and final part to One for the Money*

Mr. Styles, your boss (and the CEO of the company you work for), offers to help you expand your OnlyFans business.

But maybe you want more.

And maybe he does, too.

Word Count: 11.5k (I have no idea what happened tbh)

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Good morning, Mr. Styles.”

The tense frame of the man pacing in front of the window stills when he hears your greeting.

You’re five minutes early, coffee in hand, ready to begin your workday.

However, he doesn’t turn around as you enter his office. But the slight glimpse of his profile lets you know he’s acutely aware of your presence.

He stays by his desk, offering nothing more than his silence as you set down his drink and move for the couch.

“Good morning,” is his brisk greeting. It’s not any warmer or colder than usual. It’s just him. “Do you have the reports I asked for?”

“Right here.” You drop them onto the coffee table. “Ready for your meeting this afternoon.”

“Good.” He stares out at the city, unwilling to look you in the eye. “And you’ve confirmed with Nadia?”

“Yes. She’s calling for a driver as we speak.”

He nods once, fingers flexing beside his thighs before he finally ventures a glance over his shoulder. “And I suppose you’d like to talk to me about the other day.”

You flip open the laptop and pull up your email, eyebrow raised. “The other day?”

He turns to you, and you feel his heated stare. “I believe I owe you an explanation.”

“Not really,” you respond, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “You agreed to help me with the video, and you did. I didn’t expect you to stay, Sir.”

Your peripheral catches his slight frown. “You didn’t?”

“No.” You open his schedule and begin jotting down a few notes from Nadia’s email. “You’re not exactly the cuddling type. Probably would have been weirder if you had stayed.”

His hands disappear into his pockets as he regards you. “I never meant to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” Another shrug. “I knew what I agreed to, and now we’re done. No harm, no foul.”

The frown deepens. “Still, I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that—”

“Mr. Styles,” you interrupt, turning to face him, “I wasn’t under the illusion that things would change just because we fucked. I didn’t need aftercare, I didn’t need your words of affirmation, and I didn’t need you to stay.”

Something unrecognizable passes over his features.

You lean forward. “We’re good, Sir.”

The office goes quiet. You know him well enough by now to know what it looks like when he’s biting back a response.

And you imagine there are quite a few things he’d like to berate you for, but instead, he merely clamps his jaw shut and nods.

“All right.” He returns to his desk and takes a seat. “Let’s begin.”

The rest of the workweek carries on like usual. Things return to normal. Or at least to the way they were before he admitted to knowing about your outside activities.

And you find that you’re grateful for that. It’s much easier to only imagine him as your boss instead of your…business partner.

What happened that afternoon in the hotel room was great. Fantastic, even. But it was only ever an act of generosity. A favor, more like. He helped you exactly the way he said he would and now it’s over.

You won’t ever have to think about him like that again.

So…you don’t.

At least, you try not to. But it proves quite difficult.

After deciding against posting the whole video for your channel, and instead only uploading the part where he comes on your tits, it becomes harder to ignore what you two have done.

After all, the response is overwhelming. Positive, excited, and extremely lucrative. Most of the requests are for more of the mysterious man they’ve come to know, and you try not to feel disappointed when you realize there won’t be any more guest appearances.

You wonder if he’s watched it. Wonder if he remembers that day the way you do.

Sometimes you slip up, and you watch the beginning just to hear him talk to you. You watch the way you undress him. Watch the way he kisses you. Watch the way he drives himself inside of you and begs you to come for him.

But then it hits you. Like a fucking freight train. It won’t ever happen again, and lingering on the one time it did isn’t healthy.

So, you turn it off, and attempt to resume life as normal.

You reach out to Max to apologize yet again for what happened, and he’s incredibly understanding. He asks if you’d like to meet for drinks and go over another scene for the future.

And you agree because you will do anything to put Mr. Styles in your rearview mirror.

You don’t mention the meeting to your boss. You figure it won’t do any good, and even if he disapproved, it’s not like he would tell you.

This is your game now. Not his.

So, with a new lease on life, you head for the bar to meet with Max, eager to find out what he has in store.

He’s happy to see you. Pulling out your chair and refusing any attempts at apologies that you offer.

Which you’re more than appreciative of, although you can’t help feeling a bit guilty that he didn’t get the content he’d been wanting.

“Seriously, don’t even worry about it,” he repeats for the third time since you sat down. “Honestly. I get it, once other people get involved, it gets complicated.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, sheepishly glancing down at your lap. “But still. He shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have let him run you out like that.”

He smiles. “It’s fine. Listen, your boyfriend has nothing to worry about. Really. And we can proceed however you feel is best—”

“Oh, no, he’s…he’s not my boyfriend,” you interject, head shaking quickly. “No, he was just…nobody. He’s nobody. Anymore.”

Max studies you for a moment, seemingly curious at your insistence. “Oh? Does…he know that?”

You swallow thickly and take hold of your glass. “Yeah. He does.”

A beat before he nods.

“All right.” Max takes a swig himself. “As long as you’re sure this is something you want.”

You nod but can’t help finding yourself hesitating. “Yeah, it’s…yeah. Of course.”

His expression softens. “Boyfriend or not, he still has a hold over you, doesn’t he?”

And you grimace because you hate the way it sounds. Hate how obvious it must be to everyone else. Hate that it’s even a thing at all.

“No, he just…he’s infuriating,” you argue. “I mean, you were there. You saw what he’s like.”

“I was and I did,” he agrees with a smirk. “Infuriating is the nicer way to put it.”

“He’s a dick,” you correct, making you both smile. “But I trusted him. And I trusted his judgment. And him being so…blunt is sometimes a good thing. Because there’s no room for overthinking or questioning what he really wants. He tells you. Exactly how he feels, exactly how he feels it.”

Max nods thoughtfully, urging you to continue.

“And yet there are so many things I feel like he’s keeping from me,” you murmur. “And maybe he doesn’t owe me answers. Maybe it doesn’t even matter, but I just…there was this moment when we were on the same page. When it felt so seamless, and easy, and good. And now…”

Max sighs. “Now he’s nobody.”

You both grow quiet as you let this settle.

“Yeah,” you whisper, taking a sip of your drink. “He’s nobody. And it’s nothing. And it’s over anyway, so…I’m free to do whatever I’d like.”

He laughs. “That’s a great attitude.”

“Why thank you very much.”

“Of course.” He rubs his hands together. “Well, I guess in that case…maybe we should go over—”

“Peach Valentine.”

And almost as if you spoke him into existence, that familiar voice finds you. Cutting right through your conversation as chills fly up the back of your neck.

You almost don’t want to look. Want to pretend that this is merely a subconscious projection of the very last man you want to see.

But you can feel his presence behind you. Can smell his cologne and can see the surprised look on Max’s face.

Of course he’s here.

Slowly, you turn around, letting your eyes find the tall figure looming only a foot or two away.

He’s wearing an expression you know all too well. The one that tells you exactly what he’s thinking without him having to say a single word.

And your stomach sinks.

“Sir,” you whisper, voice oddly timid before you clear your throat and straighten up. “Hello.”

For a moment, he’s quiet. Offering nothing more than a blank stare. Then, he looks at Max. He looks at you. And nobody speaks.

Finally, his jaw sets, and his hands bury themselves deep within his expensive pockets. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m…I’m meeting with Max,” you reply, shooting a smile toward your new friend.

Mr. Styles frowns. “You didn’t tell me you were meeting him.”

“I didn’t think I had to,” you retort, lowering your voice as you send him a pointed look. “Seeing as we’re not partners anymore.”

His eyes narrow. “You’re still my assistant. And your well-being is my concern.”

“Oh? I thought what I did with my personal life didn’t concern you.”

“It does when it has to do with him.”

Your glare begins to mirror his. “Well, since I am in need of a new business partner, I figured Max would be the perfect one to ask.”

Mr. Styles rolls his shoulders back, regarding you carefully. “And since when are you in need of a new business partner?”

“Since my old one walked out on me.”

This does it. His features twist into an unforgiving and rather harsh look of disdain as he steps closer and drops his tone. “I told you, I needed to explain—”

“No, you don’t need to explain,” you correct. “I’m not upset. I’m not bitter. I’m not angry. But that doesn’t change the fact that our agreement is over.”

His teeth grit. “Just because I left doesn’t mean I was ending our deal—”

“It does in my book. I don’t have time to wait for you, Sir.” You sit up, leveling the playing field. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”

His fingers suddenly wrap around your upper arm, tugging on you until your feet hit the floor, forcing you to stand. “I need to talk to you.”

A bit surprised, you blink rapidly and attempt to pull yourself free. “Mr. Styles—”

“Now, Peach.”

You want to argue. Want to fight him on this. Want to stay strong, stay with Max. Send the mean man away.

But you know him, no matter how belligerent he’s being. And there’s something in those eyes that you’ve found yourself lost in that persuades you to nod and follow him to the hallway.

The moment you’re alone and the loud music has been dulled to a quiet hum, you step away from him. Put the necessary distance between your bodies as he watches you go.

“You shouldn’t be talking to him,” he says simply, almost as if it were obvious. “In fact, you shouldn’t be here at all.”

You scoff, rearing back to stare at him incredulously. “I’m sorry…you’re joking, right?”

“It’s a work night,” he replies, still infuriatingly cool. “And we agreed you wouldn’t do business with him—”

“We agreed?” Your eyebrow raises. “No, we didn’t agree on anything. You ran him out of the room without so much as checking with me first. And since when are we a we at all?”

He’s far too calm for your liking. “I told you, I’m still your boss. And partner. I want what’s best for you—”

“Really? Is that why you left?”

Once again, he scowls. “I told you, I had things to do—”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you snort. “Look, I don’t care why you left. I don’t even care that you left. But you did leave. So if I want to film with Max, I have every right to do so—”

“You do,” he agrees. “But you’re much smarter than that, Peach. And you know it.”

“Yeah? And what makes me so smart, hm? Sleeping with you?”

His expression twists into something you don’t recognize. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Sleep with you? Or point out that we did?”

“Peach—”

“No, you know what?” You take a brave step forward. “You have no right to come in here and demand that I leave him. Max is a good guy. In fact, of all the people that I’ve messaged on OnlyFans, he’s the only one that hasn’t said something skeevy or inappropriate.”

His expression falls. “Are you being harassed?”

“Not if I don’t respond. The block button exists for a reason. And that’s not even the point. The point is that you told me to do this. You told me it would be good for my channel to collaborate—”

“But not with him.”

“Then who? You?”

The hallway stills as Mr. Styles leans back. “This was never about me.”

“No. It wasn’t. It was about me,” you agree. “That’s what you promised. That this would be about what I wanted to do. And I want to meet with Max.”

The glare returns. “If you’re trying to punish me—”

“Punish you?” You laugh but it’s void of all humor. “Punish you for what? For being exactly who I thought you were?”

“You shouldn’t be here with him,” he says again, and your eyes roll.

“Then where should I be, huh, Sir? Should I be at home? Like a good little girl?” You take another step forward. “Should I be on my knees, waiting for you? Should I be fucking myself with that toy you bought? Pretending it’s you?”

You notice the muscles in his jaw constrict as he steels himself and throws you a look of warning. “Peach—”

“Because if I can’t fuck Max, and I can’t fuck you, then what do you want from me?” Another step. “You’re never happy. I can never make you happy—”

“Peach—”

“I get that this meant nothing to you. I get that.” You’re only inches away now. “But…you’re so confusing. You’re so goddamn confusing, and I never know what you really want. Sometimes I think I do, and other times…”

His lips purse shut but his eyes are soft.

“I feel like we used to want the same thing,” you admit quietly, heart in your throat as you stare up at the beautiful man before you. Your rage dwindles down to a contemplative annoyance. “And now we don’t. So…excuse me for trying to find somebody who does want me.”

Suddenly, he surges forward. Stepping up to you so quickly, and with so much power that it forces you to stumble back into the wall.

He cages you there, his broad chest brushing against yours as he peers down, features hard and unmoving.

“And you think that somebody is Max?” he sneers, almost as if mocking you. “You think that he wants anything more from you than the money you’ll make him?”

“Who cares?” you argue, but it’s weaker than you’d like. “It’s an investment, you said so yourself—”

“I am your investor. Not him,” Mr. Styles nearly barks, practically chastising you. “How could it ever be him—”

“Because he’s everything you aren’t.”

He doesn’t even flinch, instead cocking his head to the side as he smirks. “So that’s what this is? You’re trying to replace me? Trying to find somebody better?”

“Well it’s not hard.”

The Cheshire-like grin grows. “Fine, Peach. Let me ask you this…do you like who you are with him? Do you like the role he puts you in?”

Your lashes flutter. “I don’t…I don’t know what you mean—”

“Yes, you do.” His head dips until he’s fully in your space, making it impossible to know anything else but him. “Do you like how he treats you as though you’re nothing more than a means to his end?”

A breath catches in your throat.

“Do you like how it’s never about you? Only him?”

You squirm back into the wall, once again attempting to create a bit of distance, but failing miserably as he places a hand next to your head.

“Do you like how insignificant he is?” His voice has dropped to a dangerous purr, like silk that slips across your cheek. “Or did you like it better with me?”

A question meant to trap you and you can do nothing more than stare at the buttons on his shirt as you will yourself not to gasp.

“Because I think you like yourself better in my reflection,” he murmurs, his other palm now smoothing across your hip, subtly tugging you into his body. “The way I make you beg for me. The way I touch you. Kiss you. Fuck you.”

The words weigh heavy on your chest, making it hard to breathe as his nose softly ghosts against yours.

“Everything is better with me. And you know it. So why are you wasting your time with him? Hm, Peach? Who are you really trying to punish? Me…or you?”

And you could just slap him. You really could. Could fucking slap the dimples right off his face for being so smug.

“I’m not punishing anybody,” you whisper, nails curling into your palms to brace yourself. “I’m just doing what you told me to.”

“Well now I’m telling you to leave him.”

“Why?”

His eyes flick between yours. “Why do you think?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I want to hear you say it.”

The frown returns. “Peach—”

“Say it, Mr. Styles,” you repeat. “And maybe I will leave him. Maybe I’ll walk out of this bar, and never look back. I’ll delete his number, I’ll block him, I’ll never think of reaching out to him again. I’ll leave. With you.”

You can see the way he internalizes this. Can feel his grip tighten, can see the muscles in the arm beside your head flex.

“Just say it,” you mumble again, reaching out to brush your fingers down his chest. “Tell me what you really want. Because maybe I want it, too.”

Everything moves around you. The world, time, this moment.

But neither of you move.

And as the seconds pass, you can’t help but silently will him to finally be honest with you. To finally succumb to what he really needs. To make everything that’s happened mean something.

Then, his eyebrows weave together, and his lips turn down. “I want you to go home,” he finally says, and your heart drops so fast, it makes your head spin. “You’re drunk, and you shouldn’t be alone with him.”

“I’m not drunk,” you retort, now shoving on his sternum to create that space you so desperately need. “I’ve had one drink. And I’m not alone. You’re here.”

And maybe it’s too dark in this hallway to be sure, but you’re almost positive you see something painful flash behind his eyes.

“I won’t be for long,” he replies as he pushes off the wall and steps back. “I have other things to do besides babysit you.”

And that is your slap to the face.

Your hands ball into fists by your side. “You are such a fucking asshole. I never asked you to babysit me. I didn’t even want you here—”

“Clearly you need it,” he argues. “Since you aren’t capable of making decisions on your own. Even when you’re sober.”

You scoff so loud, it makes your throat sore. “I was doing just fine without you—”

“You were scraping by,” he corrects. “And you could do so much better if you realized that he’s nothing but a waste of time and sperm.”

Your nose crinkles as you make your way to the end of the hall, ready to rid yourself of him. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t…I can’t argue with you over the same goddamn thing. Okay, Max is nice to me. He tells me what he actually feels, and that’s something you could never understand.”

You think you see the briefest hint of disappointment, but it’s replaced just as quickly by a look of unamused indignation. “Fine. If you’d like your sex life and your career to be as mediocre as his cock…by all means. The choice is yours.”

“It is,” you agree coldly, ready to turn on your heel and run. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Styles.”

With that, you exit the hallway, leaving him behind.

And he lets you.

The following day, things aren’t as awkward as you expected. Mr. Styles doesn’t mention your run-in at the bar, nor does he attempt to restart the conversation about Max.

He treats you the way he did when he first hired you. With nothing but professionalism and distance.

At first, you’re thankful. There are no more sly comments or lingering stares at your chest. He follows your terms to let you make your own decisions. He lets your business be yours.

And he’s nothing more than your boss.

But as the days progress, you can’t shake the nagging thought that something bigger is afoot. Almost as though something is wrong. Off.

Maybe it’s just in your head. Maybe you want to believe he’s more affected by this little falling out than he pretends to be.

But you’ve known him for over a year. You know what it looks like when he’s upset, and this…this is not it.

However, you decide to push away the inclination altogether, and carry on with your work as usual. Because even if something is wrong, it’s none of your concern anymore.

That is until Nadia mentions it over lunch.

“Listen, he’s a very complicated man,” she says when you comment on his odd behavior, waving her salad fork through the air. “He tries so hard to appear uninterested, but I know it’s just an act. Nobody is that heartless.”

You swirl your French fry around in your ketchup, mulling this over. “I don’t know. He doesn’t…I don’t think he’s heartless. I think that’s just…who he is. He has a one-track mind.”

Nadia snorts. “Please. You should have seen him before…”

Your little lunch corner goes oddly silent as she suddenly presses her lips together and winces.

“Before…?” you repeat curiously, head tilting.

“Nothing,” she’s quick to reply, dismissing the comment with a flutter of her hand. “No, nothing. He just…he was more open when he first started the company, that’s all.”

You know there’s more to that story than she’s letting on, but you don’t push. Instead nodding your head as you return to your burger, letting the inquiry rest.

However, the subject is changed for all of three minutes before she sighs, and finally says, “Okay, look, it’s none of my business. And I don’t even know all of details, but maybe this will help make your job…easier?”

Once again struck with curiosity, you motion for her to continue.

“He had an assistant before you,” she begins. “His first assistant actually. I don’t know too much because I was working the mail room. But I do know that they were really close. Maybe friends, maybe more. I don’t know. But they were close.”

You lean back in your seat, endlessly intrigued as you wait for the rest.

“And everybody loved them together. She made him so happy. He was always smiling, always laughing, always walking around the office talking to everybody. Engaging in chit chat and catching up on everyone’s lives.”

It’s odd to picture your boss so open. So…infatuated. In fact, this fantasy she’s painting doesn’t sound like the man you know at all.

You have to wonder how different things would have been if he were still the same.

“Anyway, I don’t know what happened exactly, but something bad,” Nadia sighs. “The rumor was that she was seeing somebody he didn’t like. He got crazy possessive over her, and it drove them apart. She quit, and he became this sullen, hollow version of himself. And now that’s just who he is, I guess.”

“That’s…so sad,” is about all you can offer, frowning some as she nods.

“Yeah. It was,” she agrees. “After her, he didn’t hire another personal assistant for quite some time. Until you, actually. Which was kind of surprising, and I think we were all a little worried for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, you seem to be handling him just fine, which is great. But…I don’t know. He just became very…cold. Distant, I guess. Doesn’t really create personal relationships anymore.”

You have to admit that this makes sense, although it doesn’t exactly help make things any clearer for you. “That must have been hard for him.”

“Yeah. And maybe he taught himself not to care, but…I think he hides who he really is because of her,” she admits with a shrug. “Which sucks. ’Cause he’s such a good guy, deep down. He just…he’s afraid, I guess.”

You hate the way your heart breaks for him. Hate the way this humanizes him. Hate the way it makes you second guess every interaction the two of you have ever had.

“Does he ever talk about her?” you ask next.

“No, never. I don’t even remember her name, to be honest. It was forever ago. Five or six years, at least.”

“Wow.”

“Mhm. As far as I know, he doesn’t date, either. I think he fucks around a bit. I mean, he’s a guy, after all,” she teases. “But he doesn’t really do anything…meaningful. Maybe he doesn’t know how anymore.”

Your stomach twists around an invisible knife. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Yeah,” she hums, digging back into her salad. “I don’t know. If he’s being rude, just tell him to fuck off. That always works for me.”

You laugh as the subject is dropped and the two of you carry on with your lunch.

But you think about it for the rest of the day, the information following you back to his office where you’re quick to find that he’s left for the afternoon.

So, you sit with this discovery as you go through your tasks. Unable to stray from the thought for very long before your throat constricts, and you feel a wave of disappointment.

You text him as you’re leaving for the evening. A simple, “Finished prepping the presentation. Hope you’re okay,” before you tuck your phone away and head home.

Hours go by without a response. Not that you really expected one, but you can’t help feeling slightly guilty for the role you played in pushing him to open up.

And no matter how out of line he was, or how justified you were in asking for his honesty, you know how hard it must be for him to be honest with you.

Especially if what Nadia said is true.

After messaging Max for a bit about your upcoming video, you decide to run yourself a bath, letting the bubbles fill the tub as you watch the water rise.

You’ve barely slipped out of your socks when your phone vibrates on the porcelain sink, making you jump some at the sudden noise.

The familiar name flashes across the screen, making your heart skip as you hesitantly hit the green button and bring the phone to your ear. “…hello?”

“You did it, didn’t you?” Mr. Styles says, but even through the static, you can hear that there’s something off.

“Did…what?” you ask hesitantly.

“You fucked him,” comes the reply. Blunt and void of any civility. “Max. You fucked him, didn’t you?”

With narrowed eyes, you turn the water off and step out of the bathroom. “I don’t believe that’s any of your concern—”

“So, yes,” he answers for you. Then, you hear him chuckle to himself. However, there’s something chilling about the way he laughs. Bitter, almost. “You’re very easy to read, Peach.”

You can feel your expression fall into one of annoyance as you lean against the wall in the hallway. “Mr. Styles—”

“Was he good?”

You glower. “Mr. Styles—”

“I already know the answer is no,” he continues. “Even your own fingers would be better, but…maybe I just wanted to hear you say he wasn’t.”

You contemplate this for only a moment before you cautiously ask, “Are you drunk?”

You can hear the subtle slur slip through the speaker, and your eyebrows raise as he snorts.

“No, I’m curious,” he retorts, but it makes your heart pound. “And I’m still a subscriber. So I want to know what to expect.”

Your stomach wrenches. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Why are you avoiding my question?”

“Mr. Styles—”

“You like to torture me, don’t you?” he interrupts, and there’s a hitch in your breath. “You always have. From the first day I met you. You were wearing that really nice dress. And your hair was up in that pretty ponytail. And you walked in like you were trying to walk into my life and ruin me.”

Your head falls back into the wall, eyes fluttering shut. “Sir—”

“And I let you,” he carries on. “I let you ruin me. I let you do the one thing I promised I’d never do, and now what? Now you’ve gone and strutted your way into somebody else’s life.”

And maybe he doesn’t know what he’s saying, but you feel this overwhelming rush of emotion, anyhow. “Mr. Styles, where are you?”

“Where would you like me to be?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Says you.”

You huff. “Mr. Styles—”

“Tell Max I said hello,” he says instead. “And then tell him I don’t mean it.”

“Mr. Styles—”

There’s some sort of loud noise on his end before the line suddenly beeps three times and the call goes dead.

And you can only stand there, flabbergasted, as you stare at your phone. Wondering what the hell just happened.

You’re frozen for a good minute or two, running through your options. He normally doesn’t reach out when he’s drinking, at least not to you, and definitely not this late.

Maybe it’s a silent cry for help or maybe he just wanted to bother you one last time.

Either way, it breeds something unnerving in your gut as you groan to yourself and head back to your room to retrieve your shoes.

You don’t imagine he’s out. He has to be at his apartment, so at least you know he’s probably safe. But you don’t know what he might do. You don’t know what that sound was, and if he’s managed to hurt himself, but you don’t think anyone will be there to help for quite a while.

You grab the key he’d given you a few months ago. It was meant only for emergencies, although you’ve never needed to use it.

Tonight, however, you decide that this is as good an excuse as any.

You call an Uber to take you to his place, the lavish apartment building smack in the middle of downtown, quite a bit away from you.

Thankfully, the traffic isn’t too bad this late at night, and you’re grateful for the quick trip as you’re brought to a stop just outside the sidewalk in under thirty minutes.

You jump out, greet the doorman, and book it for the elevator before hitting the button for his apartment at the top of the building.

It’s a good three-minute ride before you finally reach his floor, and once those doors open, your heart leaps into your throat.

Even the hallway is exquisite, and your dirty Vans squeak along the newly waxed floors as you approach his apartment, and fumble with the key.

You unlock it as slowly and quietly as you can, hoping not to startle him if he is in fact inside, and the moment the door is cracked, you call, “Mr. Styles? Are you here?”

Everything is dark as you enter. Not a single lamp to be seen, only the soft glow of the city lights outside of his many large windows, and the pale shadow of the moon cascading across the floors.

You see silhouettes of furniture, walls, and a few appliances. Enough that you manage not to trip over anything as you make your way into his living room.

And then, you see him.

The shape of his body is outlined by the window to your left. He’s sitting on the floor, back against the wall as he stares out at the tall skyscrapers before him.

Your heart sinks as you pocket the keys and approach slowly. “Mr. Styles?”

He’s still. Deathly still, in fact. As if he hasn’t even heard you. He doesn’t even bother to look over or investigate your presence.

And then, he murmurs, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Your breath hitches. “Maybe not,” you reply quietly, taking another cautious step. “But I was worried about you.”

He snorts, arms slung over his knees, a crystal glass in one hand that’s only got a few drops left. “How nice.”

“Mr. Styles,” you try again, “are you all right?”

Now close enough to catch a glimpse of his profile, you see the sweaty hair matted to his forehead. The strain in his jaw and the red rim around his eyes.

“M’fine. You can go,” he calls.

You take another step. “You didn’t sound fine—”

“Well I am, all right?” he suddenly sneers, turning to face you as you lean back. “I don’t need your fucking pity.”

“It’s not pity. It’s concern,” you correct briskly. “You’re drunk, and upset—”

“Yeah? What was your first fucking clue?”

You shoot him a look of warning as you bridge the gap and hesitantly crouch down to his level. “Why are you drinking?”

“Because I fucking can,” is his reply, his normally soft green eyes now as sharp as the edge of a sword. “Is that a problem?”

“Maybe. Do you remember calling me?”

“Of course I fucking do. But I don’t remember asking you to come here.”

“You didn’t,” you agree. “But I wanted to. Because I was worried.”

“Why? Don’t you have better things to worry about now?”

You’ve never heard him sound so insecure, and you’re reminded again of Nadia’s story as you glance over his expression. “I haven’t slept with Max.”

This is the only thing that seems to reach him, his lashes fluttering as he leans back, although his scowl remains put. “Why not?”

“We just haven’t yet. We’re still planning the video.”

“So you’re going to?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“You think so.”

“I plan to.”

He scoffs beneath a quiet breath and looks back out the window. “And you needed to come here to tell me that?”

“I came here because I wanted to make sure you were okay,” you tell him again. “And to set the record straight.”

“Why? You were right, it’s none of my fucking business.”

“It’s not, but you still seem to care.”

He snorts. “I don’t fucking care who you sleep with, Peach.”

“Sure, okay. Is that why you tried to keep me from doing it?”

“I was trying to help.”

“You’d help me a lot more if you were honest.”

“I am honest. I’m always fucking honest.”

“Not about this.”

His eyes return to yours. “I told you, you can do better. That’s my honest opinion.”

“Fine.” You take a moment to study him. “Then why did you offer to help me?”

His head drops back against the wall as he mulls this over, but his gaze never leaves you. “Because you needed the help. I knew you could make more money if you just did things a little differently, and I was right.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“What else would it be?”

Your head tilts. “Why did you agree to be in the video with me?”

“You said you didn’t have anyone else.”

“Why did you get me custom jewelry with your initials?”

His teeth begin to grit, the grasp on his glass tightening some. “What?”

“The peaches would have been fine. My initials would have been fine. But you wanted me to wear your name,” you remind him. “Why?”

“I already told you, I wanted him to know who your real partner was—”

“Yeah? Then why did you leave?”

His lips press together. “I thought you didn’t care—”

“I do now. Why?”

“I had somewhere to be—”

“Where?”

“Yes, where? Where did you have to be?”

He seems to fight himself on the answer before finally admitting, “The gym.”

You lean back, blinking quickly. “I’m sorry, you rushed out of there to go to the gym?”

“Yes.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff as you shake your head. “Wow. No, I should have assumed as much. Makes perfect sense. Clearly that was so much more important than just telling me I made you uncomfortable—”

“You didn’t,” he suddenly interjects, shooting you this look like he’s disappointed in your response. “I left because I knew I couldn’t stay.”

“You couldn’t stay? And why the fuck not?”

“Because—” He stops himself, once again clamping his jaw shut as if wrestling with the truth. Then, he drops his head, eyes finding the floor as he glares at the marble beneath. “Because I couldn’t.”

And you want to scream because you don’t know if he’ll ever be honest with you. Don’t know what to do to reach him.

“You know what I think?” you finally huff, and he looks up. “I think this is about her.”

Confused, he glances over your expression. “Her who?”

“The girl who used to work for you. Your first assistant. The one who left.”

Instantly, the atmosphere changes, his entire demeanor shifting on a dime as he presses his back into the wall and shoots you a venomous look of intimidation. “Oh you do, do you?”

“Yeah.” You hold your ground, keep your shoulders stiff. “I think you loved her. I think you were honest with her. I think you let yourself trust her, and I think…she broke that trust.”

You can tell he’s not quite sure what to do with this, furrowed brows still knitted together. “And where the fuck did you get that?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s true, isn’t it?”

His finger taps the edge of the crystal in thought, but his contemplative expression remains. “Even if it were, what does this have to do with us?”

“Everything,” you say simply. “She broke your trust, and you chose not to get close to anyone again. But then you started helping me. And we got closer. And created a bond—created trust. And the second you realized, you ran for the hills.”

He snorts again, but he doesn’t rush to deny it.

So, you carry on. “Max coming along only made things worse for your fragile little ego. And maybe you were trying to keep it from happening again, but you did a really shitty job of it. And now here we are, sitting on your floor, saying everything but what we really mean.”

He’s angry. He’s so very angry, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly, fighting himself on what he really wants to say.

You scoot closer, gently reaching out to take the crystal glass from his hand so you can place it on the floor. Then, you rest your palm atop his arm, and meet his eye.

“Harry,” you whisper, and he sucks in a sharp breath, tensing beneath your touch. “I’m not her. And maybe that’s a good thing, maybe it’s not. But I have only ever wanted it to be you.”

He’s quiet but you have his full attention. And the intrigue in his features urges you to continue.

“Even before you told me that you watched, I imagined you,” you admit quietly. “I’ve always imagined you. Your voice, and your hands, and your face. And yeah, I didn’t mind keeping things…professional. Strictly about the content and nothing more. But…you have to know I wanted more.”

Once again, the back of his head meets the wall, as if bracing himself from your honesty.

“I wanted more,” you repeat. “And I thought you did, too. Maybe that’s why it’s been so hard, and maybe that’s why I tried to use Max to move on. But I never wanted Max. I only wanted you. I just…I wasn’t sure I could have you.”

He looks down at your hand, gaze softening when he sees the way it looks on his arm. Like he’s mesmerized by your touch.

“And I need you to tell me right now what you want,” you say softly. “I need the truth. I have to know if we’re running around in circles for no reason, or if…maybe we can get off this ride together.”

He’s silent for quite a long stretch, letting himself ponder a response as the apartment fills with a solemn quiet.

You study his face in the soft glow of the moonlight, wonderstruck by the sharp curve of his jaw in contrast to the soft curls near his cheeks.

Even now, he’s breathtaking.

Finally, he clears his throat. “Ellie.”

“What?”

“Her name,” he says, “was Ellie. And you’re right, I did trust her. But I ruined it. Not her.”

Now it’s your turn to listen as he recalls this memory to you, nodding gently for him to continue.

“She didn’t…she loved somebody that wasn’t me. That was her only fault,” he murmurs, once again staring at your hand as your thumb strokes his tan skin. “And it wasn’t even a fault. But I hated it. Because I wanted it to be me. And it was never going to be me. We both knew that.”

Slowly, his arm turns over, allowing your gentle touches to dance along the more sensitive skin.

You smile.

“I crossed so many fucking lines,” he admits quietly. “As her boss, as her friend. I pushed her away only to drag her back and try to keep her close. I suffocated her. I let myself need her in ways I shouldn’t have. She had every right to leave. In fact, she should have left sooner.”

You feel the tips of his fingers brush against you as he subtly grabs on.

“And then you,” he whispers, eyes still locked on where you’re connected. “I’d been doing so good. Didn’t let myself slip again, and then you came along, and everything was fucked. Because I knew I couldn’t do to you what I’d done to her. But I let myself think about you anyway. Even when I shouldn’t have.”

You can feel tears crawling up the back of your throat, and the wounded look on his face is like a fist to the heart.

“And for some fucking reason, I thought offering my advice would allow me to know you without ruining anything,” he sighs, tugging you a bit closer until your knees collide with his. “Which obviously didn’t work. And then I was looking for excuses to be with you. To have you. To touch you. Even though I knew better. Even though I had to know better.”

He takes a deep breath. Holds it.

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he eventually exhales. “And I got scared that the only reason you felt like you wanted more was because I somehow tricked you into it. I confused you, I manipulated the situation. It wasn’t real. And I wanted it to be real. But then Max, and I got so fucking angry, and I knew I was doing it again. And I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to you.”

He won’t look up. He won’t meet your eye, and the hard set of his jaw makes you take hold of his other arm and squeeze it tight.

“Harry,” you whisper, but his head shakes quickly.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” he barrels on, fingers wrapping around your elbow, keeping you close. “Because I can’t have it. I can’t have you. And you were right, I can’t be your partner anymore. I can only be your boss.”

You frown but it’s sad. “Harry—”

“Mr. Styles,” he corrects, finally shooting you a look of warning that breaks your heart.

But you aren’t deterred. Instead, you release him so you can wedge yourself between his legs and take hold of his face. “Harry,” you repeat, urgent but gentle. “This? It’s not the same.”

He struggles a bit in your grasp, tensing up as he tries to pull away. But it only lasts a second before he’s settling into your embrace, allowing you to guide his attention to you.

“It’s real,” you whisper. “It’s so fucking real. It was real even before you called me poor and badly dressed.”

This earns you your first smirk of the evening, and the butterflies that explode in your gut nearly make you dizzy.

“You’ve tried to push me away over and over. But I’m still sitting here, on your floor, begging you to talk to me.” Your thumbs delicately brush across the bags under his eyes, and he seems to nuzzle into your palms. “It’s not the same. You’re not just my boss or my investor. You’re my partner, Harry. And I can’t do this without you.”

His arms slowly slip around your middle, encouraging you onto his lap as his legs drop.

And you eagerly oblige, straddling his hips with ease as you look down at him.

“I don’t want to do this without you,” you murmur. “So don’t make me. Please.”

For a moment, you aren’t sure what he’ll do. What he’ll say or feel. He’s still somewhat tense, and far too quiet.

Then, he tugs, crashing your lips into his.

And it’s the most honest thing he’s ever done.

“Turn around.”

The strong command leaves no room for argument as you quickly spin on your heel, eager to obey.

Your ass is revealed to the camera. Bright red from the many spanks Mr. Styles has landed to it. It complements the dark black lingerie set he recently purchased for you, something you’re both rather proud of, and perhaps the main feature of this video.

You hear him hum his approval as he approaches, large hands slipping over the curves of your hips. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs before shoving you onto the bed. “Think it’s time we show them what a wet little whore you are, hm?”

You feel his finger hook into the crotch of the panties before he’s ripping them aside, allowing your swollen cunt to glisten for the lens.

You gasp as the cool air hits you, but it quickly melts into a desolate whine when you feel his touch ghost up the back of your thigh.

“Look at you,” he muses, palms pulling on your cheeks to spread you open, giving your audience a firsthand glimpse of your mess. “So fucking pathetic, aren’t you, Peach? And all I’ve done is spank you.”

“Can’t…can’t help it, Sir,” you pant, steadying yourself on your hands and knees as your eyes flutter shut. “Just want you.”

“Oh you do, do you?” He kneads your bruised flesh with admiration. “Do you think you deserve it?”

You squirm a bit as you whimper, desperate to lean back into his touch before he lands another smack to your thigh, reminding you to stay still.

“Yes,” you finally answer, chin meeting your chest. “Wanna deserve it for you.”

You hear him chuckle under his breath as he allows his touch to travel toward your dripping pussy, large digit pushing through your folds just to make you mewl.

“I bet you do,” he replies, running up and down your cunt to collect you. Tease you. “But we have a deal, don’t we, honey?”

You want to kill him and kiss him all at the same time.

“Yes, Sir.”

“We do.” He pats you again, this time gently. “Go on and grab it, all right?”

With a nod, you outstretch your shaky hand for the object sitting on the bed only a few inches in front of you.

Already tender and slightly swollen from the way he played with you earlier (casually and much too cruel), you feel a rush of excitement as you hand him the chain.

After taking hold of it, he moves to sit in front of you, allowing him better access to the front of your body as he motions for you to sit back on your ankles.

“You ready?” he asks quietly, eyes flicking between yours as he looks for your consent.

You nod. “Always.”

With that, he reaches for your exposed tits and begins preparing your nipples for the clamps.

You swallow a dozen whines and whimpers as he works them shut, the subtle ache quickly dissolving into an immeasurable type of pleasure.

And he’s smiling so big, like he’s so proud of you. Proud of the way you look, proud of the way you feel, proud of the way you obey.

It makes the yearning in-between your thighs that much worse as he travels the other end of the chain down to your clit.

Once again, he plays with you. Drags his fingers up, down, and through to make you writhe, and make sure you’re ready.

Then, with great care but devious intent, he slips the clamp along the base of the sensitive nerves and secures it.

You choke on a gasp, body stilling as the sensation becomes a bit more familiar. It’s quite thrilling. Not painful, but prominent. Taunting you with its power as you glance down at the way it holds you.

Harry leans back to study you, carefully observing every pull of your brows or hitch in your breath. “You okay, Peach?”

You nod, lip sliding between your teeth.

He frowns. “Color.”

“Green,” you say quickly, nails digging into your thighs as you release a heavy exhale. “It’s just…new.”

His expression softens as he reaches out to grasp onto your chin and squeeze once. “I know, my love. But you’ll take it for me, won’t you?”

And you say, “Yes,” with so much adoration and excitement that it returns those dimples to you.

His eyes drift toward the computer, checking the status of the livestream you assume before he leans forward and presses his lips to yours.

You know your faces aren’t in the frame, but it makes your heart pound nonetheless as he offers you a moment of his affection.

“How’s your ass?” he mumbles between kisses to your bottom lip.

You nod gently and sigh into his mouth. “Good. Sore.”

And he chuckles as he sends you a devious wink. “Good.”

With that, he stands, and begins to undo his belt as he returns to his spot behind you. He doesn’t plan to be gentle today. Not for your first live appearance, and you’re grateful for his punishing hand as it ghosts down your spine, guiding you.

It travels between your thighs, tapping them briskly as a reminder to keep them spread as you bend back over.

And once you’ve braced yourself against the mattress, you feel those long, skilled fingers nudging at you again.

“Sir,” you whisper, desperate for the friction as he keeps his touch light, merely tracing patterns along your folds while humming to himself.

“Yes, Peach?”

You swallow thickly. “Please?”

“Please?” His thumb moves up to brush over your tighter hole, and you gasp again as you await any sort of contact. “Please what?”

“Please…please touch me?”

“Touch you,” he repeats thoughtfully, as if considering it. “I don’t know. Have you disobeyed any of my rules?”

With a quick shake of your head, you glance down at the duvet beneath you, the expensive fabric soft beneath your clenched fists.

“Have you used any naughty language?” he asks, the tip of his middle finger lowering to circle through your arousal.

“No,” you breathe.

He begins to push in, leaving your other opening alone. At least for today. “Have you called me by the wrong name?”

Not aloud, you think, biting back a smirk as you murmur, “No, Sir.”

The digit travels a bit further, the feeling of him pushing past your tight walls like heroin as you reel.

“Have you taken your punishment like a good girl?” he inquires next, and you chew on the inside of your lip as you nod.

“Yes.”

And you can’t exactly see him, but you can practically hear his smirk as he suddenly adds a second finger in beside the first, just to surprise you.

“Yes,” he agrees. “You have. Been my perfect peach, haven’t you? Guess you’re showing off for them, hm? Letting them think you’re actually an obedient little cock-whore?”

And maybe you are showing off, at least a little, but it’s hard not to obey this man. He just makes it so…worth it.

“Yes,” you call again, desperate to please him. “Only for you, Sir.”

Suddenly, you feel his fist against your scalp, scraping through your roots as he furiously yanks, forcing your head up.

“Only for me,” he nearly seethes, dipping down to press his lips against your ear. “Want you to fucking say it. Every time I touch you. Every time I make you come. Want you to say it. Remind them who you really belong to.”

Apparently, having his initials glimmer from your nipples isn’t enough, but that’s more than all right with you.

You’ll happily vow your life to him as many times as he needs. Because there’s something empowering about having a man beg you to be his.

And for the first time since you’ve met him, you realize…you’re on the same ground. Equal partners. Equal power.

You and him.

One.

With that instruction, he curls, now stroking and thrusting into you with a fervent need to force you up the mountain.

“Only you,” you whisper between salacious moans for relief. “Only, Sir.”

“That’s right,” he hisses, smacking his other palm against your ass before groping at the tender skin. Soothing it and stimulating it at the same time.

The pace increases, faster and faster until you feel as though you can’t breathe. Until you’re trying to meet his rhythm by rocking back into his touch, but the hand on your hip holds you steady. Makes you patient.

“Only you.” It’s almost inaudible, released through quivering lips as you begin to slip into your first. “Only you. Only…”

He plunges in to the knuckle, beckoning you toward your release as it hits you hard. Fireworks go off behind your eyes as you keen, sweat beading around your hairline, and chest heaving.

“God, only you,” you barely manage as you fight for air. “Just you, Sir. Always.”

He takes his fingers out, allowing the world to see your come drip along the insides of your thighs. And the loss of contact makes your chest ache as you whimper and peek over your shoulder for a glimpse of his face.

He’s smug. Because of course he is, endlessly pleased with the way you’ve come undone so quickly.

Wet digits quickly outstretch for your cheeks, pushing on your lips to accentuate your already obvious pout.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he warns darkly. “You know better.”

You glance up at him with remorse and desperation, hoping your tiny hum will be enough to sway him. “M’sorry, Daddy.”

It’s the first time today you’ve used the nickname, and you watch the effect it has on him as he tightens his grip and scrapes his teeth together.

“Peach,” he grumbles, “don’t fucking test me. Not today.”

“I’m not. Promise. Just wanna feel you.”

And that’s the truth. It’s all you ever want. Want his cock, his time, his attention. Anything he’ll give you, and he knows this.

Because he wants you just as bad.

And maybe, if he had the strength, he’d punish you for this little game. He’d waste hours just making you wait for him. Tying you up, leaving you to beg, taunting you with something you can’t have.

But today, that would punish him, too. And you can see that he doesn’t have the capacity to go without you, not even for show.

So, he releases his hold on you only to land a very firm and sharp smack to your cheek. And it stings but it feels so good, forcing another groan as you lean back.

“And you will,” he finally decides, settling behind you again as he begins to tug his pants down. “Gonna feel me for days, honey. Make sure you can’t fucking sit without thinking of me.”

Just the image of you in one of those boardroom meetings, legs still bruised and clenched tightly together as you sit for hours on end makes you gasp.

He’s gotten braver recently. Normally, he’s tame. Making you rest on his lap in the privacy of his office while he absentmindedly runs circles over your clit. Answering emails as he plays with you. Like it’s just an average workday.

But now he tries to tease you in public. In meetings, at lunch, when you’re apart. Making you sit with a remote-controlled toy deep inside your cunt during a meeting with the board of directors. Changing the tempo over and over again while forcing your silence. Leaving you to squirm in your seat as you silently beg him for mercy.

Sometimes he gives it to you. Most times…he does not.

You imagine this week will be no different. Especially after today. He always gets a bit more insatiable after the two of you have posted a video together.

He’ll make you watch it in his office. His now favorite tradition. And the comments and response will encourage something in him that makes you giddy. Possessive yet proud. Like he wants to outdo himself next time. Make you come harder, longer, faster. Make everyone watching eat their fucking hearts out.

You feel the tip of his swollen cock brush down your folds, lazily rubbing against you as he alerts you of his presence.

Just the feel of him makes you breathless, back arching as you silently plead with him for more.

He won’t give it to you, at least not yet. Not until he’s had a chance to watch you soak him.

He presses his hand against it, trapping it to your cunt while gliding it through your arousal. Gentle thrusts that have you clenching around nothing until you hear him curse to himself.

“Beg me,” he calls, grasping onto your ass cheek to pull it apart, allowing him a better view. “Beg me to fuck you, Peach. Beg Daddy to make it better.”

“Please,” you comply instantly, a subtle quiver in your voice. “Please, Daddy. Need you. Need to feel you. Hurts.”

“Oh, honey,” he coos, finally circling the rim of your aching hole and pushing in only an inch just to pull back. “Bet it does. Know I’ve been teasing you all day, haven’t I?”

You whine again. “I deserved it. Always love it when you tease me.”

He chuckles under his breath, and you know you’ve made him proud. “That’s right. Know you do, my love. Because you know I just wanna make it better for you, hm?”

“I know.” You attempt to wiggle back into him, but his unrelenting grip keeps you frozen to your spot. “Always do, Sir. Always make it better.”

He slides in again, further this time, allowing your body to stretch for him. Then, he slides out, leaving you to wilt as you swallow a groan.

“And I always will,” he answers, knee knocking into your inner thigh as an instruction to spread your legs a bit further. “Just have to behave for me. Think you can do that, Peach? Think you can be good for me?”

And you’ve never wanted anything more, head nodding quickly before he finally thrusts into you with such power and dominance that it knocks the wind from your lungs.

Truth be told, you never know what you’re going to get with him. What rhythm will drive him. But you’ll take anything he offers. Because hard and slow or fast and eager…it’s perfect. Sets your nerves on fire and leaves you desperate and depraved.

The sounds of him pushing through and pulling out are sure to be captured by the microphone. You can’t see the computer, but you imagine the audience is loving it. They always seem to enjoy sounds as much as you do. And Harry’s sounds are the best.

Your quick breaths intertwine seamlessly with his unforgiving grunts. Like a melody for the soul, and you slowly slide down until your chest meets the mattress, although your ass stays up.

He seems to like this angle, nails scraping down your spine before he lands another smack to your cheek. “There she is.”

Both sets of clamps are stimulated as you’re pushed against the bed, making your eyes roll back every time he drives himself to the hilt.

The pain is delicious. Exactly what you’d needed, and just when you think it can’t get any better…he slips an arm around your stomach and forces you back up.

Instantly, his hand is on your throat, tugging your back into his chest as he settles you down on his cock.

Dominant fingertips press into the sides of your neck, playing with your airways as you gasp. And for a moment, you are nothing more than his toy. Just a body for him to use, and the idea makes you clamp down on him until he groans and nuzzles his nose into your shoulder.

But you know it’s more to him than that. Know that you’re not just this thing for him to abuse and ruin. He wants to worship you. Treat your body like the divine gift it is, and even though this display of aggression is uncouth…it’s meant for you. To make you feel good. Everything he does is always for you.

“So good, baby,” he whispers, just quiet enough that only you can hear. “Fucking love the way you feel, Peach. Always so warm for me. So wet. My perfect hole.”

You shudder, nails reaching for his arm to scratch down his skin. Desperate to be even closer to him.

His hand then drops to your chest, finding your breast and groping at it mercilessly as you cry out. The clamps are tugged, stimulating the rings, and forcing your back to arch. So many sensations are being exploited that it’s nearly impossible to think straight. Your mind is mush, focused only on one thing to keep from drowning:

Him.

“Wanna come, don’t you?” he taunts, now louder so the audience can hear. “Wanna come on my cock, so they see what I do to you?”

You nod quickly, unable to vocalize your agreement. But he doesn’t need it. He knows. Can read your body like a book, and it makes him smile into your heated skin.

“Good,” he whispers, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck before reaching down to undo the clamp around your clit. “Go.”

The moment the pressure is released, it hits you. Your toes curl, your eyes roll back, and you make so many noises, you wouldn’t be surprised if the people below Harry’s apartment can hear you.

He works you through each ripple and aftershock, perhaps hoping to send you into a third, but your body needs a moment to recharge.

And this is more than fine with him because it gives him a bit more time to watch himself disappear into you. His favorite part.

You collapse in his hold, held up only by his strong arm that’s thankfully bare, allowing you to glance down at his tattoos.

He takes his shirt off for almost every video now. He knows that nobody will be able to recognize his tattoos, but he especially knows how much you love them. Love to lick them, trace them, stare at them.

Your perfect pastime, and you think this now as you grip onto his wrist and squeeze.

He exhales into your shoulder before he’s suddenly cursing and pulling out, the sound of his slick cock slipping from your cunt making you whimper.

With a single pat to your hip, he growls, “On your back.”

You nearly throw yourself down onto the bed, finally able to face him fully as you’re met with the sight of his flushed cheeks.

He’s so beautiful when he’s turned on, and you feel nothing but grateful to be able to witness this sight firsthand. Even your audience is denied such a pleasure, and it makes it feel that much more special to you.

He pushes your legs apart and settles between your thighs, grasping onto his cock before guiding it toward your chest.

He never comes inside you on film. He claimed it was because they don’t deserve to see it, and you didn’t argue. You like the idea. Occasionally he’ll capture a short clip of the way he leaks out of your pussy, but it’s never posted. Instead saved just for the two of you to watch whenever you need.

So while you’ll miss feeling him inside of you today, you know that it’s worth it. You like that you get to keep something for just the two of you. You like this possessive side of him.

Love it, in fact.

Nodding at your breasts, he silently instructs you to grab them, to which you do, pushing them together as he brings his swollen and soaked cock closer.

Slowly, he slides between your tits, disappearing beneath the supple flesh as you both groan your approval.

He’s already seconds away from his own release, but he edges himself by fucking your tits for as long as he can. Staring wordlessly at the way he looks beside his initials on your nipples.

“Fuck, Peach,” he breathes, brows knitted together as his jaw clenches. “Like it like this, don’t you? Like it when I come like this?”

And you do, a soft sough of agreement all you can offer as you look down at the way his tip pokes through the valley you’ve created. The contrast of his pink flesh against your skin is beautiful. Artful, even. And it makes you smile, wider than you have all day.

His pace is slow, allowing you to feel the slickness paint your chest before he’s suddenly tensing, the muscles in his stomach contracting quickly.

You await his offering eagerly, practically panting as you watch him run his palm along his cock before he’s releasing all over your torso and chest.

He falls forward, bracing himself with a hand beside your head while you throw your arms around his neck to keep him close.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you whisper as he milks the last few drops. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You feel a shiver roll across his body at your comment before he’s smashing his lips into yours, dancing his relieved sighs across your tongue.

It takes a good minute or two for you both to find your bearings, but once you have, he reaches toward the nightstand where the remote lies.

Aiming it at the camera, he clicks a couple of buttons, and the red light turns off, signaling that the livestream has ended.

Now alone in his massive bedroom, he grins down at you. “My sweet fucking girl. Did so well for me, honey.”

You bask in his praise, nuzzling your nose against his before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “That was fun. Like it when you fuck my tits.”

“Yeah?” He’s smirking again, palm now smacking against your breast just to watch it jiggle. “Good. ’Cause I don’t plan to stop.”

Your arms snake tighter around his neck until he’s forced to lay his chest against yours. “Think they liked it?”

“I know they did,” he murmurs, face disappearing into your neck as he breathes you in, sweaty or not. “They love you, Peach. You’re so good to them.”

You press your lips into his hair.

“You’re good to me, too,” he adds quietly, sliding his hand across your body until he can hold onto you. “Always so fucking good. Best thing that ever happened to me.”

A sort of flutter happens in your stomach as you squeeze him tighter. “Ditto.”

You stay there for a few minutes at least, teetering on the verge of sleep before Harry declares you need to get clean.

He scoops you up and carries you to his large bathtub, dipping you into the warm water once it’s ready and settling himself on the other side to face you.

You talk for what feels like hours, until you’re pruned, and the bubbles have disappeared. You go over the scene, go over what you think the comments will be, and even go over his schedule for the upcoming work week.

It’s weird the way you’ve managed to balance the relationship of boss and lover. You’re able to distinguish the two and create the appropriate boundaries. Making it easier to work together without driving each other nuts.

Something else you’re grateful for.

You stare at his wet abs as he talks, smiling to yourself as you admire every curve of his stomach, and every nipple he has to offer.

He splashes some water at you when he realizes before grabbing hold of your ankles and sliding your closer.

You kiss until you can’t breathe, and life feels really good.

Really fucking good.

Once you’re out and dried, you make your way back to his bedroom to make sure everything from the livestream is in order.

You scroll through a few of the responses together, making mental notes of what to do next time. And once you’re both in agreement that everything looks good, he adds it to your shared profile.

Appropriately titled,

Peaches and Cream.

I have no excuse for this or explanation, I'm just gonna blame it on the sick meds I took 🙃

I already miss them but I'm absolutely going to be doing some extras and maybe that'll make it not hurt so much 😭💞

Thank you to everyone who's read and been so kind and supportive!!! You have my entire heart forever and ever, I cannot tell you how appreciative I am 🥹♥️ This has been so fun!!

Peaches and Cream forever!!

Previous Part:

~ Four to Go*

~ Full One for the Money Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Credit for the incredible and perfectly peachy dividers to @firefly-graphics!!

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @narry-heart @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @likeapplejuicenpeach @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz @finelinesss

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myfictionaldreams · 10 months

Text

Winter Soup // Mafia!Stucky x F!Reader

Summary: There was no better feeling than a bowl of hot soup when you're feeling unwell and, what's even better is when it's delivered to your door every day by your new guard. It tasted amazing and you could always trust everyone in the Mafia... right?

Requested by: @senjoritanana thank you so much, I hope you enjoy all the angst!

A/N: PSA I don't know the specifics of how poisons work and didn't want to risk it on my google history lmao so please ignore any inaccuracies. Please read the tags if you're affected by near death experiences, please proceed with caution and if I've missed any tags/warnings, please let me know!

Warnings/Tags: 18+ readers only, hints of smut, angst (LOTS BUCKLE UP), fluff, polyamory relationship, poisoning, blood and injury, anxiety, crying, begging, near death expierences, reader is injured, pain, emotional hurt/comfort, hospitalization, protective Steve Bucky and Sam, everyone needs a hug tbh

Words: 7.7k

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The warmer months were slowly starting to shift into winter and for some reason this year, the weather change was beginning to affect your health. You’d heard of the phrase ‘seasonal depression’ but you were convinced that it was due to the cooler weather that was making you feel this rubbish.

It had been happening for a week now, and some days you’d feel fine, normal in fact but then others your chest felt so tight as if an elephant was sitting on top of you, nausea, vertigo and heart palpations that would have you clutching your chest with fear you might explode. With each passing day, you would be praying for the summer months to return, especially as the snow and ice increased with intensity outside of your home.

You were fine for the most part, good days and bad; yes you might be getting worse with each passing day but you were adamant that the seasonal illness would pass. However, the frosty weather was also a minor blessing because it was your excuse to stay home and be a pretty housewife for Steve and Bucky. Being able to stay home made it easier to keep the illness to yourself as well, it was a busy time within the Rogers mafia and you didn’t need them wasting their time fretting over your wellness when they had a lot of other things to do. They had many international deals that were so close to being signed for and contracted that every waking hour was spent at the office, on phone calls, and emails, trying to talk to locals across the world to attend meetings on their behalf so the boys were thoroughly busy.

There were a few occasions you’d attended with them to the office if you were feeling particularly needy or lonely but it unnerved you to drive on the snow and ice so when you suggested that you might stay at home, Steve and Bucky offered no complaints.

At home at least you were able to mop about, trying to perk yourself up with movies, pyjamas and your favourite bowl of warm soup. Over the last few months, you’d been trying to improve your cooking skills, especially to impress Steve who usually cooked for three of you. This became more interesting as the colder months drew in over Brooklyn as this meant you could cook more homely, hearty foods such as soups and stews, especially as you had recipe suggestions from the newly hired grounds guard Rafael.

He’d been recommended by a friend of a friend for Steve to hire which was perfect timing because the last grounds guard had retired. There were a few occasions when he was the guard to bring the post to the front door from the front gate and you soon found he was enthusiastic and easy to talk to, even though he was a little bit older, which was how you found out he had previously been a chef and offered to give you recipe ideas. As winter drew in, Rafael began turning up when he knew you were by yourself to deliver some of his momma’s family recipe soups, hoping that the meal would perk you up which it did, they tasted so delicious that you were secretly hoping he would keep bringing them to you, especially as you continued to feel unwell.

“What is it today?”, you asked voice full of hope and trying to sound as upbeat as possible. Even though you were desperately holding onto the door handle as your head was spinning and scared you’d fall over.

“Potato and leek soup and they’re all grown in my back yard so hopefully you’ll love it even more than usual”, Rafael smiled as he handed over the container, his smile broad and causing the aged creases at the corner of his eyes to deepen.

Gleefully you accepted the soup, opening the lid slightly to smell the delicious meal, your stomach grumbling with hunger. Your appetite had reduced significantly over the last few days due to always feeling nauseous however it seemed the only thing that you could stomach was his delicious meals and therefore his arrival was always welcomed.

“Thank you so much! Please will you let me pay you this time? You’re being way too kind to me, always giving me free meals, you’re going above and beyond a usual guard”, you pleaded whilst also having to return holding onto the door handle as it felt like the ground was moving with your dizziness.

Rafael held up his hands and shook his head, taking a step back, “Absolutely not! Just wanted to give you something to make you feel better and make the fairies go away”.

The guard halted, a look of embarrassment passing out his features as he realised what he just said, especially as you asked, “Fairies?”

He awkwardly looked down at his shoes, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to explain, “Yeah it’s just something my momma use to say. If we were feeling unwell, it’s because the fairies had crept into our stomachs and were being naughty and making us ill and now I’ve said it out loud to another person I’ve realised how insane that sounds so I’m going to stop talking”.

You squeezed your lips together to try and contain your laughter but that lasted a moment before you were both laughing which only turned into you losing your balance against the door and swaying to keep yourself upright. The laughter died in Rafael’s eyes as he reached out to you, “Woah, you ok, Ma’am?”

Quickly brushing him off, you took a step back into your home, trying to ask nonchalantly about the situation, “Yeah sorry, probably just the fairies pushing me over”. Your joke didn’t seem to comfort him in any way as he continued to look uneased by your appearance.

Thankfully Rafael didn’t push the situation any further, seeing that you wanted to escape back into the comfort of your home, he took his step back with a simple smile. “Get back inside before you catch another cold from this snow. Eat the soup whilst it’s still warm and I’ll be back tomorrow to hear the verdict on the taste.”

“Thank you Rafael! Enjoy the rest of your day!”. You waved him off and rushed to slam the door, sliding down to the floor against the wood, losing all energy that you’d built that morning just for that one conversation. Ok yes, you were feeling sorry for yourself as you tried to catch your breath, heart pounding violently in your chest that it also echoed in your ears and your vision was still seeing double of everything.

However your stomach continued to gurgle with hunger so without wasting any more energy, you opened the lid and ate the entire contents then and there. Releasing a satisfied sigh at the delicious meal, you took another couple of minutes to gather your senses before dragging yourself over to the living room, collapsing onto your back on the couch and letting sleep take you into a dreamless realm.

A violent shake of your shoulders by a hard grip on your shoulder was what startled you awake as Sam’s voice then surrounded you as he shouted, “Hey! Wake up!”.

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever been close to hating you Sam Wilson”, you croaked before coughs shattered your chest, rocking your body as you tried to sit up and suck in any air between the painful coughs. Finally, you calmed down enough to collapse back against the decorative cushions of the couch and open your eyes to look at the three Sam’s that hovered over you. After a couple more blinks, they merged into one, very distressed-looking bodyguard, eyebrows knitted together and jaw muscle clenched harshly.

Sam reached towards your face, pressing against your cheek in concern, “Why didn’t you tell me you were ill?”

“What? I’m not ill, I’m just tired, can’t a girl nap around here?” you questioned with a raised eyebrow, trying to look as relaxed as possible.

The man didn’t look convinced as he sat on the edge of the couch next to you. Releasing a heavy sigh which only twinged something in your chest that made you want to cough but you refrained from doing so as you emphasised, “Sam seriously, I’m fine”.

Sam gave you another serious glance, eyes hardening as he explained, “You didn’t sound fine, you were wheezing so hard in your sleep I thought you were going to stop breathing”.

There was no denying the panic that filled your heart and would explain the tightened feeling in your chest but you tried to not let the fear show on your face as you rolled your eyes, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

“I appreciate your concern Sam, but I feel ok, I’m just tired, I was probably just sleeping in a weird position and look, no wheeze now!” Taking a deep breath to show there was no more noise coming from your chest, however, it didn’t seem to comfort him in any way.

“Yeah well you’re still looking peaky and why are you so tired all the time recently, you’re never usually like this”.

“It’s probably just the cold weather or something. If I start to feel unwell, you know I’d tell you. I’m a big baby when I’m ill, you’ll be the first to know”. Sam looked to be contemplating believing you and all you were silently begging for was that he didn’t call Steve and Bucky, they just didn’t need this stress right now. Even though it was in his contract to call them at any sign of injury or illness but as Sam looked at you, other than looking tired, you seemed to be fine and still joking with him. Finally, he gave you a simple nod and you couldn't hold back the thankful sigh. “Do you mind if I go back to sleep for a little while longer or do you need me for anything?”

“You’ve been sleeping a lot recently”, he stated his earlier point again.

“What, so I’m not allowed to nap now?” you teased him with a subtle smile, hoping to crack his worried exterior. It only half worked as he shook his head to himself, standing up and pulling the fluffy blanket that had been left behind you on the couch and throwing it over your body. Before you could even thank him though, sleep had stolen you back into its resting state.

Sleeping for a few more hours, Sam was nowhere to be seen but he usually liked to check the perimeter ever so often and speak to the other guards so you weren’t worried about his whereabouts. As you shuffled to the kitchen, you couldn’t tell if you felt any worse or better after all the sleeping, haven’t wasted another day feeling sorry for yourself, you tried to snap out of it by glancing through the refrigerator and cupboards and deciding to ssurpriseSteve and Bucky with a romantic meal.

The house was soon filled with delicious scents of sweet and savoury as you’d baked and were in the process of cooking their dinner. You were in your own little world and had only stumbled a handful of times with dizziness and the headache that was building was currently mild in comparison to others you had, it was fine you determined to yourself

Still lost in your own thoughts, you hadn’t even heard the front door open as you were suddenly enveloped by a muscular chest and arms, a smile aching your cheeks as you nuzzled back into Steve’s body. His lips danced over your cheek and down your neck as he held you close, the roughness of his beard comforting. “I didn’t hear you come in”, you commented, turning your head slightly to chase after his lips, sighing deeply in your chest as he held you tighter for a second, hands dipping beneath your shirt at your waist so that he could feel the warmth of your skin.

“I did shout”, he revealed whilst moving back to neck, not to kiss but just to smell you in, his body almost melting into the floor as he felt at home with the familiar scents. “I’ve missed you”, he whispered against your skin.

Goosebumps instantly flooded over your body as you shivered, turning in his arms to hug him properly, your fingers scratching through his hair that was beginning to curl at the ends where he’d allowed it to grow out over the winter months. “I’ve missed you too”, you whispered against his lips, lazily kissing and breathing each other in.

“Come with us tomorrow, I want you to be near me”, he admits with words that were making you cling to him harder.

You wanted to say yes and the word was on the tip of your tongue but then your thoughts drifted to the soup coming. “I’ve got a delivery coming that I can’t miss, I’m sorry”.

“The guards can get the delivery”, he counters.

“It’s fresh soup I want it whilst it’s hot”, an embarrassed smile finds its way to your lips as he leans his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he just enjoyed the moment of the two of you being together.

“Soup? But we could order that to the office if you wanted it, you know that’s no issue”.

You pout dramatically, hanging off his neck as you whisper with a childish tone, “But it won’t be the soup that I’ve ordered and want”.

Steve rolls his eyes but you know he's being playful, he could never find a reason to be upset with you. Rolling back his shoulders, he stands back to his full height, opening his eyes to cup your cheek with his massive hand but this was when he took you in and a frown dawned on his face just like it had on Sam’s. “Are you feeling ok?” The hand on your cheek moved towards your forehead, expecting to feel a temperature but it felt normal.

“I feel great”, you say with as much cheer in your tone as possible, still holding onto his neck but mostly because another wave of dizziness had rushed through you and you needed some support to stay standing.

Steve didn’t seem convinced, “You just … look a little off”.

You playfully rolled your eyes, similar to how he had just done, “Wow thanks Steve”.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that”.

“I know, I’m joking, I’m fine - really, it's nothing to worry about”. He eyes you and doesn’t fall for your grin so you tried your next trick up your sleeve. Leaning on your tip toes whilst pulling his face closer, you whispered against his lips, “I love you, Stevie”.

The tension momentarily eased from his shoulders as his grip around you tightened, “I love you too”.

“Sorry to interrupt your love fest but I want my own loving”, Bucky broadly announced from the entrance of the kitchen where he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes however as you pulled back from Steve and he could finally see your face, the happiness seeped from his face. “Woah, what happened? Are you ok?”

You gave a frustrated huff, finally releasing Steve’s neck as you pointed in the direction of the decorated table. “Right, both of you go and sit down before I decide you don’t deserve any food for being mean”.

Steve shuffled away first as you continued to cook the food, Bucky looking ashamed as he came over and kissed your cheek but before he could pull away, you quickly captured his lips in a kiss to show you’d been playing before and weren’t upset.

“Why are there only two plates on the table?” Steve questioned as he took a seat.

Without looking over your shoulder at him, you casually answered, “I’ve already had mine, I wasn’t sure when you were both going to be home and I didn’t want to wait”. They both seemed to accept your lie and you happily sat with them as they ate, asking about how the deals were going. They both seemed to be agreed that they were sure to have contracts signed tomorrow and had even been able to pay off some of the international police so that shipping of the goods could occur. In truth, after the soup, you were not feeling at all remotely hungry and even the smell of the cooked food had turned your stomach over.

A couple of hours later, the three of you were preparing for bed. Steve is in the middle and you are to his right and Bucky is to his left. You and the mafia boss had been kissing deeply for a couple of minutes, his hands beneath your shirt, brushing against your breasts, rough fingertips peaking your nipples as you ground down on his thigh. You were soaked and he could feel the evidence of it as you weren’t wearing any underwear but the longer the touches and kisses went on for, the more you were feeling unwell.

As his teeth tugged on your bottom lip and he began to trail open-mouthed kisses over your jaw and down your throat, you noticed Bucky was doing the same thing but to Steve’s neck from behind. However, there were two Bucky’s instead of one as your vision swayed and it felt as if you were on a water bed with how unsteady you felt. The headache was close to a full-blown migraine as well now which only continued to make you feel nauseous so even though there was nothing more you wanted than to continue where this intimacy was leading but, for once, you had to stop it.

“Wait, just- just one moment”, you pushed against Steve's shoulders at the same time. The blonde's hold on you loosened as he moved his face back to look into your eyes but you’d closed them, trying to hide your face from him and Bucky who had also sat up further to check on you. “I just- sorry I’m tired and I… I’m not sure- sorry.. I don’t think-”.

Steve’s fingers tipped your chin up to look at him as he smiled softly down at you, “If you don’t want to do anything, we don’t have to. If you’re tired then I’ll just hold you close, ok? Please don’t apologise for not wanting any of this”.

You relaxed in his arms, feeling grateful for him but also bad that you could feel how aroused he was against your stomach. “Thank you. I’m just feeling so tired today. Please don’t let me stop you both, continue without me, I just want to go to sleep”.

“You don’t have to give us reasons why you don’t want to do it, baby, we’ll do whatever you want to do. Me and Buck don’t have to fuck if you want to be held, I don’t want you thinking we’re neglecting you”.

Affection and love warmed your heart as you kissed Steve’s lips and then reached over his shoulder to kiss Bucky. “I love you both but seriously please continue, I like watching you both anyway so that’ll satisfy me enough if I’m not asleep by that point anyway”.

They both gave their love back to you with praises and pecks to your face before rolling away from you and beginning their exploration of each other's bodies. You watched with a smile on your face for a couple of moments and your core ached with need but as a burst of pain pounded through your temple, your eyes shut automatically to help ease the pain and from there, they never opened again as sleep took you soon after.

The next morning, your migraine had gone but your entire body felt weak and drained of any energy. Steve and Bucky took one look at you and determined that they’d be working from home, wishing to remain near you but they still needed the comfort of their home office upstairs whereas you remained downstairs, pretending to watch TV.

Somehow, you had continued to hide your seasonal illness, they just thought you still looked peaky. Today was the worst you’d felt so far, even having to use the wall as support whilst walking around the home, silently coughing into cushions so that the boys wouldn’t hear upstairs and this only increased the sharp pain shooting through your chest.

At lunchtime, Sam came over to visit and found you at the table in the kitchen, head lying against the table top as you dipped in and out of sleep. You were too tired to even pretend to joke and thankfully for once he didn’t pester you with being unwell, especially knowing Steve and Bucky were home, he assumed they had seen how bad you were so he just sat next to you at the table, easing his hand under your head so you had some comfort against the hard surface.

Soon after, Rafael knocked on the front door with your soup delivery. Usually h,e would stay at the door, never coming into your home but Sam insisted that he come out of the cold and deliver the soup to you in person.

“Yay!” you croaked, reaching out for the warm container, seeing the soup within and seeing that it was a deep red colour today, possibly tomato.

“I didn’t know you cooked, Rafael”, Sam noted, taking his seat next to yours once more as the new guard stayed standing at the head of the table. Other than Natasha, Sam was the lead of the security and guards and technically Rafael’s boss.

“Oh yeah, he used to be a chef”, you explained to Sam, whilst opening the lid of the container, smelling the delicious food and confirming your theory that it was tomato soup.

“Chef? I didn’t know you worked as a chef”, Sam remarked with a frown, eyeing Rafael with confusion as he’d been the one to complete the job interview and didn’t remember seeing chef on his CV.

Rafael casually shrugged his shoulders, looking somewhat tense at the questioning but still forced a smile to his face to please his boss. “I didn’t think it was relevant to the job, to be honest”.

“We’ll have to get you on the bbq when the weather perks up, maybe that’ll stop the arguments between Steve and Bucky”, Sam mused over the thought.

You tried to chuckle but the exhaustion had you slumping against the table as you mumbled, “I feel like shit”.

Sam tensed next to you, “Maybe we should call a doctor. You know, I’m surprised Steve and Bucky aren’t down here right now looking after you, do they even know how bad you’re feeling today?”

“Wait, they’re both here?” Rafael asked Sam but he ignored him, his focus solely on you.

Once again you’re too tired to think of an answer and shrug your shoulders, turning your head to look up at Rafael, “I think the fairies like me too much”.

“Fairies?”, Sam questions thinking that you’d become delirious.

You smile genuinely to Sam, reaching to tap his shoulder, “Inside joke Sam, keep up”.

There was no further discussion of fairies as more hacking coughs ripped through you. It took a couple of moments and Sam rushed to get you a glass of water before you slumped back against the table in exhaustion.

“Why don’t you have the soup and then see how you’re feeling later? Maybe the rest is all you need”, Rafael suggested, filling the silence with his voice.

You couldn’t see it but Sam gave his employee a scathing look, “Rest is all she’s been doing. I’m calling the doc and then I’m going upstairs to tell Steve and Bucky”.

“Aren’t they busy?” Rafael continued to question Sam. “I’ve heard they’ve got that deal coming up from Italy and France, they might appreciate it if you wait a little bit before calling Doctors”.

Sam’s voice was quiet and stern but you were too tired to notice. “That’s not common knowledge, how do you know that?”.

Massaging your temples with the pounding thuds that hadn’t stopped since your coughing fit, you decided that Rafael was right, usually sleep made you feel better. Reaching for the soup one more, you opened the container as you addressed your bodyguard, “he’s right Sam. I just need today for all the work stuff to be over and then I’ll call the doctor. The boys don’t need any distractions, especially today, one more day isn’t going to kill me”.

Sam didn’t look happy as you began to idly sip on the thick, delicious soup. As you thanked Rafael for the meal, Sam finally looked back to him, his frown deep and unmoving as he asked, “Don’t you have work to do?”

Rafael’s spine straightened, “Oh yeah, right. Sorry, sir” and with that, he left to return to work.

“You don’t have to be so bossy you know, he’s just trying to help”, you tried to reason with Sam.

However, your friend ignored you and moved to hold your hand to pull your attention away from the meal and towards him. “I’m giving you until the evening, wait no- if you get any worse before the evening, I am calling the Doc, no arguments, understand?”

“Yes sir”, you say with a little salute.

Finishing your soup, your boyfriends finally came downstairs and you attempted to straighten your posture and plaster a fake smile on your face. Bucky paused in the entryway, sniffing the air and asking, “What’s that smell, I know it's from somewhere but can’t put my finger on it”.

“Is it my soup?” you say, trying to stand up and act like the floor was spinning beneath you.

“No, it’s not that”, he pondered, still looking around and trying to smell whatever he recognised but couldn’t pick it up again. Steve and Bucky both walked past you, kissing the back of your head as you casually explained that you were going to lie down for a little bit. “Wait, let me come with you-”, Bucky started but you held out your hand to stop him.

“You’ve got a busy time at work and I’ve got Sammy boy here anyway so you two continue with your work and we’ll have a nice evening in, Ok?”

“Yes Ma’am”, he mutters before continuing to make his lunch. It wasn’t often that he listened to your instructions but both men were so busy and overwhelmed with work and the consequences that could come from it all that they were all over the place.

The next hour passed by slowly and you didn’t manage to sleep even for a moment because your symptoms were making you feel so awful. You were wheezing so bad that each breath felt like you were suffocating, your eyes began to roll with how much the room was spinning and a violent tremble rocked through your entire body, you didn’t feel right, something was wrong and it was beginning to scare you.

“Sam?” your voice was nothing more than a rasping whisper but he still was able to hear you from where he had been on the phone with the doctor from across the room, having noticed your deterioration in health. He was kneeling by your side in a couple of broad steps, the phone balancing between his cheek and shoulder as he rested a hand on your temple, feeling your spiked temperature. “I don’t feel good”, you admitted, voice full of terror before more coughs ruptured through your chest, leaving you struggling to breathe.

“Steve! Bucky get down here right now!”

“No… no, I just need to sleep”, the fear had disappeared from your voice as you wished for the exhaustion to take you completely, hoping that in sleep you wouldn't feel the pain destroying your insides.

“Hey! No! Don’t go t sleep, need you to stay awake for me, Doctor Banner is on his way but you can’t go to sleep”, Sam urgently tapped your face, rousing you from the sleep as Bucky had all but jumped down the entire flight of stairs at the shouting.

“What’s going on- What the fuck? Doll?” he replaced where Sam was so that he could continue to explain to the doctor what was happening.

“I’m just not feeling ok, it’s fine Bucky go back to work”, you were somewhat delirious, still not really opening your eyes but leaning into the coldness from Bucky’s hand as he cupped your face. Bucky looked to Sam for answers, his eyes bright and alert with fury and worry.

When Sam shrugged his shoulders, not having any answer as to why you were suddenly so unwell, Bucky quickly turned back to you and assessed your deteriorating health and noticed just how laboured your breathing had become. As he spoke, it was with surprising gentleness but still held authority, “I need you to take a deep breath for me, honey, I want you to try and fill your lungs with air”.

“I’m trying, it’s just seasonal illness, it’ll be ok”.

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asks, not letting go of your face but just moving in closer.

“It’s just seasonal”, your words began to slur as you became incoherent.

Steve finally descended the stairs with just as much purpose as Bucky as he demanded to know what was going on but Bucky couldn’t answer him as he continued to talk to you and keep you awake. “It’s not seasonal, you’re not breathing properly, it’s not-”. Bucky was leaning so close that he was able to smell your breath and he froze, it looked like he now wasn’t even breathing.

“What is it Bucky?” Steve demanded, kneeling next to him and reaching over to take your hand but also feel your pulse, which only made his own increase with worry.

Bucky leans closer and smells your mouth again, so close that you tried to move away as his nose nudged your lips. “What did you eat?” Bucky asked in a tone that forced your eyes to open with concern.

“Huh? Um just my soup”, you say whilst blinking quickly as he still wouldn’t come into focus.

“Soup? Where is it? Where’s the container?” before you could answer, he was on his feet and running into the kitchen as Steve continued to demand answers from his boyfriend, his hand now moving from your wrist to directly over your heart, continuing to count the beats.

Bucky cursed so violently that it actually made you shrink into the cushions but the movement only made you cough more and chest tighten as you struggled to breathe. He returned to the room, his face a deathly white and green shade as he uttered just one word: “Hemlock”.

There was just one brief second where not a body in the room breathed or even moved, one single second to process the poison that Bucky had spoken, the planet that he only knew about because of his time as the Winter Soldier and using it on his target. The poison that he could now smell on your breath, that originated from your container of soup.

It was Sam to speak first, Sam to snap the two men out of their frozen states as he gave the orders from Doctor Banner who had heard the word over the phone. “We need to get her to a hospital right now”.

Steve picked you up, and his entire body began to tremble with adrenaline and fear as no one even stopped to properly dress for the snow outside, only putting their shoes on before rushing to the car. Sam thankfully was able to use the adrenaline to remain headstrong as he climbed into the driver’s side of the car so that Steve and Bucky could both hold you in the back seats and try and keep you awake.

You were lying with your head in Steve’s lap with your body lying across Bucky’s as they clamped their arms around you as makeshift seatbelts. You had heard the word that Bucky had said and even though you knew what it was, you didn’t want to believe it, even as you continued to feel worse. “It’s not poison, it’s just soup”.

However, those words triggered something within your throat and once more you were coughing so hard that you thought you were going to vomit and cringed as metallic warmth filled your mouth and leaked out of the corner of your lips.

You slumped onto Steve and Bucky, head lulling back but Steve was quick to grab your face, tapping it and forcing you to stay awake, “Baby don’t go to sleep! Please stay awake for me! Stay with us, we’ll be at the hospital soon, I promise”.

You were scared, even though you were half-conscious, you were terrified now realising the severity of the situation, knowing that you were coughing up blood which was now soaking the front of Steve’s shirt and hearing how panicked your boyfriends were only made it worse. Through all the scary, dangerous times in your life, they always remained calm and in control but now they were both frantic and frightened.

As all three men continued to plead with you to stay awake, you forced yourself to open your eyes, only allowing yourself the luxury of blinking occasionally as you kept looking into Steve’s ocean-blue eyes. With his body and face so close to yours, you used him to ground you in the situation, trying to copy his breathing which had slowed since you’d opened your eyes; ignoring the pain from the breaths and resisting the urges to cough even though blood continued to fill your mouth.

“Am I going to die?” you whisper, not being able to ignore the questions now in the back of your mind anymore.

Steve’s breath hitched for a second before he tried to confidently whisper, “No, you’re not going to die”.

You didn’t believe him, especially as the trip to the hospital was delayed by the snow, every second feeling like it could be your worse, you didn’t want it to end like this.

“I love you.”

“You’re going to be ok, just keep looking at Steve, keep breathing”, Bucky pleaded, squeezing your freezing cold hand.

“Please, just say it back”, your voice was hardly audible anymore as your mouth was so full of blood.

“Stop talking and save your energy for when you’re feeling better”, Bucky tried to keep his composure but you knew he was close to snapping.

Your breaths were wet and laboured, wheezing so violently it rattled and echoed around the car but you still managed to plead, “Say it back-”.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much, please don’t leave me, baby”. Steve snapped first, his eyes were wide, fearful and yet beautiful with how stark the blue was as his eyes filled with tears, leaking down his cheek and into his beard.

You were thankful, for both of them, for everything and you wish you could have told them, wishing that you could have heard Bucky’s own declaration of love and adoration for you but the pounding of your heartbeat became so loud in your head that you couldn’t hear anything anymore.

But you continued to hold on, never once looking away from those pretty eyes of Steve’s as Sam finally screeched to a halt outside of the hospital. Once more, Steve carried you and there was a flurry of people in different coloured scrubs suddenly surrounding you as you were placed onto a cold bed.

One moment you were staring into Steve’s eyes and the next you were looking up at a stranger and the comfort you’d once felt, the thing that was grounding you to life was now gone and you couldn’t find him again, no matter how much you moved on the bed, even as the strangers poked and prodded at your body until you couldn’t deal with it anymore and finally closed your eyes.

Do you ever have those naps where you wake up and forget where you are, or what time or day it is? That was currently how you felt except the added sensation of floating encompassed your body as well. The only sort of normality felt throughout your body was a cool feminine hand stroking across your temple in a soothing, repetitive manner.

Your toes wiggled firstly and then your eyes behind your eyelids and even though you knew who was stroking your forehead, you still croakily asked, “Steve? Bucky?”

“It’s just me Sugar” Natasha sounded calm and peaceful as her fingers didn’t stop with their soothing motions. “The boys are going to be so pissed that you’re awake before they’ve got back”.

You huff and dared to open your eyes, grunting at the brightness of the room but thankfully your eyes adjusted and only one, still, Natasha smiled down at you. Seeing that you weren’t going to vomit or freak out, Natasha sat back in her chair, moving to hold onto your hand to give you some comfort. “You gave us a real scare”.

You thought back to everything that happened, some of it was a blur but most of it still played through your mind like a horror movie that you couldn’t look away from or escape. “Was I really poisoned?”

There was one thing that you appreciated about Natasha and that was her blunt honesty, not one to ever sugarcoat her words, “You were”.

“But… But how? I mean… the soup, Rafael, he wouldn’t-”. You stopped yourself talking, trying to envision all the interactions you’d had with him but only one thing repeated through your thoughts: Don’t trust anyone. That was one of the first rules Steve had taught you. “I don’t understand why? He seemed so nice to me, is his name even Rafael? Was everything a lie?”

“That’s what they’re just finding out. Apparently, the friend of a friend rouse was made up including his credentials, usually, our background checks are very thorough but he had some help to slip through the cracks”.

“Do you know what help he had? Who it was, I mean?”

Natasha for once seemed to think before she spoke which unnerved you, knowing that whoever’s name she spoke next wouldn’t be good news.

The monitor displaying your heartbeat began to beep as it increased with the dread that was settling through your body.

“All signs are currently pointing to Pierce”.

Your eyes closed as you tried to remember how to breathe. You knew about Alexander Pierce. Everyone did. He was ruthless and had plenty of finances and power to pay for his success but not only this, he had been one of the top employees of Hydra and usually in charge of the Winter Soldier. So yes, you all knew a lot about Alexander Pierce and his name was one to send fear through any of those involved in the Rogers mafia, even Steve.

As you opened your eyes again to look at Natasha, you could tell she wanted to tell you more but was holding the information to not panic you further but you needed to know. “Please just tell me whatever it is you’re not telling me”.

“We think he paid this guy to come and spy on Steve and Bbucky and it seems he put his sights on you. Specifically.. Because you’re their biggest weakness and it seemed like everyone knows that”.

Your face warmed with fear and anger, as fear prickled the corner of your eyes, “So what, now I’m not even safe in my own home?”

“That’s not-” Tasha began to lean forward in her seat but another voice cut her off.

“No, you weren’t safe in your own home”. Steve stood at your hospital room door, dressed casually in a black shirt and jeans, looking nothing out of the ordinary but his face was wrath of calm and anger. Your eyes snapped from him to Bucky who had looked just as serious but as your eyes connected with his, the hard lines of his face smoothed out into a weak smile.

The two of them step into the room as Natasha stands, informing everyone that she’d give us some space and guard the door.

You’re trying desperately to keep the tears at bay, to keep them from slipping and cascading down your cheeks, not wanting your boyfriends to feel any more guilt but as you took a deep breath in, a sob erupts through you and you can’t keep the emotions back anymore.

You attempted to hide your face with your hands, even with the added difficulty of having tubes and wires attached to the backs of your hands and the tips of your fingers. The realities of everything that had happened began to destroy any hope that you had. You’d nearly died, in your own home where you were supposed to be most safe.

Steve and Bucky sat on either side of your hospital bed, moving silently as they always did and with careful ease, gently took a hand each and pried them away from your face, stroking away any tears that continued to escape.

“I’m sorry, I just- I don’t know… It’s a lot”, you tried to give reason for your crying, even though it was unnecessary. Bucky tilted your face towards him, his voice was so soft and caring that it nearly made you sob with how careful he was being with you, “Don’t apologise for crying, I tell you this all the time, Doll”.

You offered him a wet giggle, taking a few deep breaths before rambling on with your anxiety, “I bet I look like a right mess right now, I don’t even know how long I’ve been asleep for”.

They let you calm yourself down before Steve praises with his low captivating voice, “You always look beautiful, no matter how much snot is on your face”. He smiles as he manages to make you laugh before he turned serious, “It’s been 5 days, baby”.

Your face drops, “5… I’ve been asleep for 5 days?!”

“You passed out when we arrived and when they could finally stop the bleeding you-”

“Bleeding?” you questioned, remembering you were bleeding from the mouth but it didn’t seem like that much.

“The poison you’d ingested that day was a higher dose and caused internal bleeding. After they were able to stabilise you, they needed to detox you from the poison and make sure your body was healing so it was safe to keep you asleep”.

You tried to process everything that Steve had told you, it felt confusing for you to have been through so much and yet feel such little pain in your body.

As if reading your mind, Bucky once again captivated your attention as he asked, “How are you feeling? Are you in pain?”

“No I’m not in any pain but I feel wrong like my body is floating in the water or something”.

“That might be due to the medications that they’ve got you on, they’re pretty strong Sweetheart”, his pet name helped to calm your disorientated mind, clinging on to the familiarity and focusing on the way both of their hands were holding yours and stroking tiny circles in your skin,

“Did you get the answers you wanted, from Rafael, or whatever his name is”.

Steve and Bucky shared a glance between each other but Steve decided to be the one to answer. “We got the answers, it was as Nat was explaining. Pierce wanted someone in the gang, spying and getting as close to us as possible and I guess they somehow managed to weasel their way in and tried to succeed with their plan to hit our weak spot”.

You took a deep breath to try and reduce the rising anxiety in the pit of your stomach before asking tentatively, “So what happens now? With Pierce I mean.”

“That’s a problem for another time, just need you to get better first”, Bucky interjected, lifting your hand to kiss the few fingers that were attached with clips or wires.

You tried to smile at him, wanting him to know how much you appreciate him but the feeling never met your eyes and this seemed to twist something in Steve and Bucky. Both of their demeanours changed, no longer were you looking at just your boyfriends but also the mafia boss and his second in command, mixing business with family.

Bucky began talking first, tone strong and husky, “This isn’t something we are taking likely. Sam’s already spent the last day and a half revisiting everyone’s past, making sure there are no other moles that have slipped through the cracks. No new faces are allowed anywhere near our home or you.”

As he spoke, you managed sure to nod your head and try to squeeze his hand in understanding. Steve shifted in his chair, capturing your attention as he continued the discussion. “You are safe and you should have been safe but we let you down, you were vulnerable when we weren’t there to protect you like we promised we would. We let you down, we broke our promise, we could understand if you didn’t want-”.

“Whatever you’re about to say you better forget about it right now”, you say sternly, heartbeat beginning to race on the monitor again as Steve’s mouth shut quickly with a snap. “The idea of being your weakness has always frightened me but, I could also be your greatest strength. I mean - Look at what you’ve been going just to protect the house, to protect me. I know you feel like you’ve let me down but I don’t feel let down in any way. Yes, of course, what’s happened is scary, especially in our home but I doubt it’ll ever happen again. They can try and tear us apart, they can try, but they won’t break us, they can’t break us. We have to remain on top ok? I always feel safe and trusted when I’,m with you both so please, don’t ever feel like I'm not because I am. I’ll always love you both, I’m not going anywhere”.

You sucked in air greedily after your short speech, the building emotions spilling freely everything you truly believed to the men beside you, not wishing for them to ever feel doubt for the relationship or how you felt.

Looking between them both, your heart sank as you noticed Bucky quickly wipe the corner of his eye. “I thought you said no more tears”, you spoke softly whilst trying to wipe away a stray tear.

“That’s before you decided to swoon me with your speech”, he quipped back, the light returning to his eyes once more as you laughed.

“I love you Bucky”.

“I love you, Doll”, standing from his chair, his metal hand stroked over the side of your face as he captured your lips with his, lingering for a few beautiful seconds before sitting back down.

Steve had lifted your hand during your speech and was kissing your palm and you reached out to stroke his beard, “I love you, Steve”.

He too stood, just as Bucky had but he kissed your forehead first, breathing you in for a moment before doing the same against your lips. “I love you too, so much baby”.

As Steve sat back down, your eyes began to feel heavy, all of the strong emotions exhausted you completely. “Will you both be here when I wake up? Not that I’m complaining about Natasha but she doesn’t spoon me like you both do”.

They both chuckle under their breath before Steve promises, “We aren’t going anywhere, sleep, Sweetheart”.

#stucky x reader #stucky smut #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #stucky #bucky x reader #bucky smut #bucky #bucky barnes #marvel smut #mafia au #mafia stucky #mine*

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kimberly-spirits13 · 7 months

Text

How Bruce Wayne Is On Your Period

This is really just meant to make me feel better tbh- lol kill me

He won't tell you, but he knows that it's starting

like come on- the mood swings are terrible, you get more violent on patrol (you put Joker in the hospital for a few days), you're quicker to be snide towards shady business partners, you cried when you dropped a cracker and then went right back to normal, like seriously

When you start to get bad PMS symptoms, you don't do patrol for the week

It's hard to control feelings, thoughts, and painful cramps while fighting crime

You're basically on probation from patrol

You and Alfred make a lot of food (or Alfred makes it happily and you devour it)

Bruce tries not to stay away during patrol for too long since you start to worry about him and he really, really worries about you when you're not feeling well

He makes sure to bring home lots and lots and lots of chocolate and meds if that's what you need

Goes to your favorite bakery and gets a massive amount of whatever you want

Makes sure that you get plenty of water

like all the water because it helps so much

Is totally fine with you raiding his closet for any sweatpants and massive t shirts

doesn't care if there's blood anywhere or if you ruin a set of sheets

he's a billionaire, it's not a loss

he makes sure you aren't uncomfortable or if you need space, that you have it but you know that he's there when you need

Sometimes being around guys when you're on your period is gross and idk why it's just like ugh get away from me you trash bag

speaking of trash bags, if anything grosses you out or starts to make you feel icky (even if it usually doesn't), he totally removes it from your presence

for me, it's cheese and weird or strong smelling things

or anything that looks slimy or too rough *bleh*

If you're ever feeling bloated or just really really gross, Bruce is the hype man

"no gorgeous, you're stunning, exquisite, perfect, amazing, I'm in the presence of an angel babe." he'll spin you around and press kisses all over you

"No, don't say that about yourself, you're so pretty, you're not gross."

I mean he's like this all the time, but he'd definitely play way way into it if you're feeling down

If you're married and wearing a wedding ring, he gets the ring custom made to be adjustable incase you fingers swell

I can see you expressing something nasty about yourself like that you hate a scar or you feel like you're stupid or something and he'll start crying when you start crying

like don't say that dude it's not nice to yourself

You feel like a sweaty hog because your body is pushing out blood and tissue

you're going into mini labour, leave yourself alone

When you can't sleep, he pulls you very tightly into him and plays with your hair

braids it into a hundred tiny braids or brushes it

anything that relaxes you

you probably have a treasure trove of comfort movies and tv shows and if you can't sleep or just want to watch something, he'll happily stay up with blankets wrapped around the two of you and watch whatever

rubs your back and makes sure that you're taking pain medicine every few hours to stay in your system

sometimes when he's working in the cave and you're lonely but not feeling good, you'll wrap yourself in a large blanket and sit on his lap, head against his chest while he works

He thinks you're like a cat and finds it adorable

You basically turn into a cat for a week and maybe some change and he finds it very very funny

makes sure that there are no galas or any meetings that you have to deal with

plans events and meetings around your periods to make sure that when you're on it, you don't have to deal with high society because they make anyone's blood boil (no pun intended)

When you get mad or start crying, he doesn't take it personally at all and just lets you get it out

sometimes laying in the fetal position for a few hours and falling asleep is the best thing that can happen for periods and he will happily cuddle you the entire time, even if it's not the optimal position for cuddling

he tries to stay as neutral as possible on subjects when you're on your period so that you don't kill someone because he seemed equally as unhappy

trust me, period mood swings are incapacitating, it's not a snarky thing, it's just so so sosososoososososoooooooo bad

please don't talk to me when I'm in my mood swing phase, I'll accidentally insult you and then cry about it later or decide never to talk to you again

Local villains will not pull insane shenanigans while you're on you're period because they're terrified

Terrified.

if batman has to call in the calvary, its the calvary call out of hell

You're busting skulls and taking names the entire time

Bruce is scared, the villain is scared, everyone is terrified of this blood thirsty being that wants everyone to be in as much pain as they are

Bruce knows that the world is insufferable and being super hormonal and feeling disgusting and being in pain doesn't help ignoring that fact, or even just living with it

He just wants you to feel better

Bruce gets sad when you don't feel well 😂

#dc x reader #dc comics #dc characters #batfam x reader #batboys x reader #batfam #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x batmom #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne x reader fluff #batman x y/n #batman x batmom #batman x you #batman x reader #batman imagine #batman fluff

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abbyromanoff · 6 months

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CHOKEHOLD

PAIRINGS: Emily Prentiss x bsf’s child!reader

WORD COUNT: 2704

WARNINGS: smut, anal play, kinda dark Emily, manipulation, poorly written smut tbh, innocence kink, possessiveness, fingering, multiple orgasms, Mommy (E), squirting, cnc, somnophillia, R is JJ’s kid, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“Love you, Mom. Bye, guys!” Emily watched as you kissed your mom goodbye, the sweet gesture causing her to grin. You waved to the group, walking through the glass door and heading towards the elevator. She knew it was now or never, this was her chance to make her move.

“Alright, I think it’s about time I get home. Why don’t you guys get an early night?” She was usually the last to leave, which is what confused the team. JJ furrowed her brows, spinning in her chair to face the older woman.

“You never go home early, not even on Friday nights.” She noted before a smirk took over her face. “Unless, Emily has somewhere to be.” She teased, causing Garcia to coo as she took a seat next to the blonde. She rolled her eyes, eyeing the clock as she estimated the time of your arrival.

“I didn’t sleep much last night, I’m tired.”

“And why didn’t you sleep much, hm? Were you too busy, say, entertaining other parties?” She flipped the woman off before disappearing past the doors, cursing herself for staying so late before rushing to her car. She started the engine in no time, instantly pulling out of her spot as she followed the coordinates. Her mind never once left you, and she started to worry if she absentmindedly blew a light or took a wrong turn. But she didn’t care, all she wanted was to get home to you.

Her fist came pounding on the wooden door, her gaze falling on every crack and seam that could be used as easy entry, she’d have to warn you about those.

“Em? I, uh, what are you doing here?” You questioned, only to be silenced as she pushed you into your flat, shutting the door behind her while your back hit the cold wall.

“What the fuck, Em-” She cut you off quickly, placing her fingers atop your lips as your breaths became the only sound to fill the room.

“There’s someone after you, and I’m here to protect you.” You furrowed your brows together, kicking away her digit as she towered over you. Her gray hair framed her face, and every line only showed her experience.

“Wha- Why isn’t my mom here, then?” She bit her lip, causing you to repeat yourself. She knew she had to act fast before threatening your trust in her lie.

“They don’t know, okay? Look, you have to trust me-”

“No, I want to know what the fuck is going on.” You pushed, scoffing when she remained silent for far too long. She shoved your shoulders back, forcing you to remain still as she took a moment to admire your expressions in a time of such weakness.

“There’s someone from my past that- that the team doesn’t exactly know about, and when I parked here last week to give you back that sweater you forgot at your mom’s, I noticed his car and I saw him leave the moment he saw me. I- I can’t risk putting you in danger, and since I already have, I’m going to do everything in my power to protect you from it.” It wasn’t entirely false, there was a time in her life when she was haunted by her past, causing her arrival in Paris. But that was when you were so young, you wouldn’t remember a single thing, which she used to her advantage.

“You don’t need to believe me, but all I ask is that you let me stay here, and you let me protect you.” You bit back a snarl and sighed, brushing her off as you brought yourself to the couch.

“I don’t have a spare, you can take the bed.”

“No, this is your place, I’m not going to take that from you. I say we share but if that’s not what you want, then I’ll have the couch.” She debated, crossing her arms over her chest as she examined the building. She wanted it to seem like she was checking in fear of danger, but really she was trying to get a picture-perfect memorization over every inch. That way she could have a better view from beneath her blankets when her fingers were buried deep inside of her.

“Fine, we’ll share.” You mumbled, clicking through endless amounts of channels before losing hope and tossing the remote to the side.

“You don’t have to stand there like a brick wall, you know. We’ve known each other since I was little, you’re allowed to speak.” She took a breath before taking the spot next to you, adjusting her suit jacket before ruffling it off. Your eyes fell to the biceps threatening to break past the tight blouse, but looked away before she could spot you, little did you know she knew the entire time.

“So, you graduated correct?” You nodded, leaning on your hand as your elbow rested on the wooden frame of the sofa. “What was your major again? Psychology?”

“Yeah, I guess I just really wanted to follow down my Mom’s footsteps.” She mimicked your pose, letting the tightness in her muscles loosen with a sigh.

“Well, I think she’d be very proud of her little girl following her lead. In fact, JJ goes on and on about how lucky she is to have a child like you, and I agree, she is quite lucky.” She chuckled at your darkened cheeks, using her thumb to stroke the soft skin after brushing a hair out of the way. It felt right being with you like this, everything seemed to feel right with you. She didn’t know why, no brain she studied had ever given her a clear image as to what differed from hers. She just felt so protective over you, she didn’t want anyone else to get close to you. Knowing you were here, all alone, with no protection until she arrived, it scared her more than she could express.

“I don’t know about that,”

“I mean it! Anyone would be so happy to have someone like you in their life, not only are you such a hard worker, but you’re also the sweetest person I know. Just don’t tell your Mom I said that, she thinks she’s my favorite.” You laughed, slapping her chest lightly as you felt your chest warm. You instinctively shuffled closer, your feet digging under her legs to search for warmth while her hand rubbed your thigh softly to provide you heat.

“Now I feel bad for yelling at you by the door.” You admitted, bringing her to scoff playfully, showing that she wasn’t truly mad at you.

“Oh, don’t stress it, love, I would be pretty annoyed if someone came pounding at my door too.” You gave her a soft smile, letting the comforting silence embrace the both of you before you leaned your head onto her shoulder. She kissed the top of your head gently, getting a small whiff of your shampoo, making her hum in delight.

An hour later she found herself lying next to you, sighing as the comfort of the sheets embraced her. You were in the next room brushing your teeth, and she didn’t try to stop herself as she peeked under the short bottoms you wore.

“I’m keeping my gun nearby, I hope that’s alright with you.” You crawled next to her, tossing the covers over your frame as you shut off the small lamp. She did the same, frowning as your back turned to face her.

“Yeah, that’s okay.” She hesitated before wrapping her arms around your tired body, letting her face press into your neck with a soft smile. You stiffened but eventually relaxed in her hold. You let yourself fall into a slumber, a peaceful sensation falling over you as images flashed through your mind regularly.

Emily admired the softness in your small snores, she felt grateful to be let in, but she felt worried at how easily you let her pass by with a lie. Anyone could’ve made up something similar and got free entrance, she was just lucky you knew her well enough to trust her.

She knew there was no hope in holding back now, this is what she came to do, to make you hers. She didn’t care if you were her best friend's child, you were old enough to make your own decisions and she was going to lead you into making the right one.

“‘M sorry, baby girl, I promise I’ll make you enjoy it.” Her fingers trailed below your large shirt as they pinched your sore nipples, her breath coming out shallow as her eyes fluttered shut. She pressed her crotch into your backside, letting her false cock rut into you.

“You wouldn’t mind if I just,” She brought them lower, causing her palm to rub against your clit as she teased your tight hole. “Touch you right here, would ya’, baby?”

She wished you were as pure as she wanted you to be, she wanted to be your first but could easily tell that she wasn’t. Instead, she let herself picture it late at night when she was all alone. She’d draw her digits in-and-out of you while you clung onto her, begging her to let you cum for the first time. She hoped you thought about it too, but she doubted it. She could read anyone, but you were like a closed book someone forgot to pick up.

“Fuck, you’re so warm, I could stay like this forever.” She inhaled the residue of your perfume and lotion, they were fading but she basked in all of it. She could feel her wetness grow, biting her lip as she continued to grind into your backside. The strap teased her clit, bringing her great ounces of pleasure.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” She kissed down your shoulder blade as her mouth parted, a loud moan escaping her. You shuffled in your sleep, your eyes fluttering open as you adjusted to the dark room with minimal light coming from the window. You gasped, your hand falling to meet her touch. Her fingers were plunged deep inside of you, thrusting in and out as you gushed around her.

“F…fuck! Em, g-get off,” She chuckled, using her free hand to rid you of your bottoms completely. A slap came to your ass, eliciting a groan from your end.

“If you really wanted me to stop, you would’ve left by now.” You looked down, noticing she was no longer keeping you hostage in her hold. You still didn’t move, gulping as you settled in. Truth was, you had a crush on the older woman since your teen years. It was normal in the beginning, that was until you moved out and your loneliness grew. With the loneliness came a deep arousal that was unable to be removed, the only way to cure it was desperate women at the bar that reminded you of the woman. Your fingers were never enough, but you knew hers would be more than needed.

“Please, Emily-“ You chewed your lower lip, regretting the words the moment they left you. She smirked through a chuckle, sighing as she slowed her pace, bringing a high-pitched whine from past your lips.

“What was that? Please, what, Y/N?” When you came up unresponsive, she repeated her question, slowing even further until she was stilled completely.

“No- d-do that again, please,” Your hand lowered under your shirt as you palmed at your chest, shuddering as your sensitive nipples hardened to a peak.

“Mm, aren’t I already giving you what you want? I thought you wanted me to stop, so I stopped.” You couldn’t bear to face her, not in this moment, not in this level of heat.

“I…I want you to keep going, it feels really, really fucking good.” She hummed, and that’s when you felt the strap pressed into you. You were so consumed in the threshold of her long digits, you failed to notice what else she was planning.

“God, I want to fuck this ass so damn bad. You want that? You want Mommy to fuck your tight ass, yeah?” Her breath was ragged, her lips in a frenzy on your neck. You choked out a whimper, nodding your head slowly as you mumbled a small agreement.

“Would I be the first, hm? Is Mommy going to be the first to stretch out this little hole?” She lowered her pants, the fabric tight against her skin as they were a borrowed pair from you. You insisted she got out of the jeans she wore to work, even if they fit her body perfectly.

“You’re the first, Mommy.” That was all the permission she needed as she thrusted her hips forward, the tip teasing your hole in a rough, yet gentle manner. Her lips came close to your ear, her teeth sinking into the skin as you yelped in pain.

“Oh, don’t I love making you cry like a whiny little bitch.” She eased in the first few inches for what felt like years but only lasted a few minutes. It felt painful, as if there was a fire pooling inside of you. That was until it slowly started turning pleasant, causing a satisfying sensation to take over you. Her digits slid in and out of you slowly, her thumb taking to rub your clit in small circles, but it was enough to cause your brain to fog up. Your tongue peeked its way past your lips, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your hips had a mind of your own, grinding against both penetrating objects.

“Such a good fucking girl, Mommy loves her little girl so much.” You cried out, gripping her arm tightly as you shoved your face into the pillow to muffle the noises she forced out of you.

“No, no, you’re going to let me hear every single moan and whimper and cry; I’m not letting you off that easily.” Her length was now more than halfway through the barrier you set. You followed her hand, feeling a small bulge touching the surface. You pushed yourself impossibly closer to her, letting out a weak whimper.

“Mommy, I,” Your legs shook as you clenched tightly around her, soaking her fingers in your sweet nectar.

“It’s okay, baby, make a mess all over me. That’s it, Mommy is so proud of you, sweetheart.” She drove her hips with a harsher pace, watching as your hole squeezed her until she could barely move. She didn’t stop her ministrations, making you twitch in excitement and pain.

“It’s t-too much, Mommy.” She rubbed your clit faster, her groan evident as your juices sprayed across the sheets. You wept loudly, not caring for the neighbor's complaints the next day, they already disliked you, there was no point in trying to amend that.

“No, it’s not. You can go back to sleep, dove, Mommy just wants to play for a little bit longer.” You both knew there was no possibility of you resting after this, you’d both be continuing until the sun rose.

“Your Mom is going to fucking kill me, but, God, I want to taste you so bad.” Your eyes widened as you remembered the plans you and your mother were having the next day. She was supposed to come over for lunch before the two of you would leave to go shopping as she insisted you needed decorations for your new apartment. Emily couldn’t be here when she arrived, she’d instantly get an understanding of who left the dark marks over your neck, anyone who saw you would easily be able to guess the activities that were to be had the night prior, but it didn’t help that it was her job to read people like books.

“I don’t care, just fuck me, Mommy…please?” The moment you spoke she knew she was going to fulfill whatever request you made, and your small, tired voice only proved that. She bit her tongue, leaning close as she placed her digits on your lower lip, dragging it down as you took the offering with a grateful sigh.

“Whatever my girl wants, they get.”

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss smut #Emily prentiss fluff #Emily prentiss angst #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #Emily prentiss x reader smut

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calummss · 10 months

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Do You Get Déjà Vu | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

summary: thomas doesn’t come to pick up his daughter. you decide to take her home only to find a man of a table with a bullet in his chest and a lot of deja vu

pairing: fem! reader x thomas shelby

words: 1.6k

a/n: just fluff and comedy tbh… not my usual angst i promise also, this takes place in 1919 because season 1 tommy has my heart. helena is around 9/10 years :)

How you disliked summer. Sweat pearls dripping simply sitting and breathing. Delicate fabric sticking to you like a bee and its honey. It was simply too hot for a woman to be wearing layers of modest clothing but here you were, sitting in front of your desk; no countertop in sight, too many different documents sprawled across the surface, each waiting on your eyes and conscious to scan it and then evaluate whatever category it fell into.

‘Miss Verys?’ Katie’s voice pulled you out of your slump, yet your heart skipped a beat when you saw her come closer with an arm full of newer papers that acquired your attention.

‘Please tell me you are joking…’

‘I fear not, Miss,’ she pressed her lips together as she placed them onto the right corner, the surface area with less than ten documents. ‘But these are all for the week.’ She smiled.

‘Finally some good fucking news,’ you huffed, ‘Sorry,’ you tilted your head when you realised Katie was taken aback by your choice of words.

‘Also I don’t wish to add more to your plate but Helena is still present. It seems Mr. Shelby has yet to pick her up. Do you want me to stay and wait with her?’

‘Katie you are truly an angel, really, I am so grateful but you are being paid to work on from eight to three, I couldn’t let you do that. Legally and from my heart.’ You curled your lips, fingers rubbing against the sheet of paper you were waiting to flip. ‘Just tell Helena to pack her things and to come to my office. Since I will be busy reading through all of these I might end up staying for quite a while.’

‘Of course. And thank you, Miss Verys, have a good day.’

‘You too.’

Katie left and you were stuck in front of an ocean of paper. If you had known that directing a school was so strenuous you might’ve thought about inaugurating a school twice. But it was a lovely institute. A school for girls with the most brightest and innovative minds, no runner up to men but competition with finest ideas.

Momentarily Helena came through the door and patiently stood at the door frame, her bag in her grip.

‘Hello Helena,’ you smiled at her. ‘Your father is not here yet?’

‘No.’

‘That’s okay, just wait here with me. I have much work and since we’re the only ones here I thought company would be nice, no? Sit,’ you pointed to the chair, Helena still standing at the entrance barely having moved.

Helena hummed in response.

‘So,’ you grabbed one of your quills to start signing documents that needed your signature. ‘What do you like to do when you’re not at school or doing homework? I am pretty sure you like horse riding?’

‘I do.’

‘Something else perhaps?’

‘Recently we bought a family car,’ Helena had sat down in the chair, laying her bag beside her as she relaxed into the seat. ‘When we got it we drove through the countryside…it was so thrilling. The wind on my face felt different to when I am riding. Daddy looked so happy too. I like cars.’

‘My my, what a riveting experience.’ You glanced at her from your work. ‘I remember my first time in a car. Felt exactly like how you described it.’

Helena beamed back you, her bright blue eyes gleaming with excitement, ‘My uncle Finn liked the car ride at first too but we had to stop because he got sick,’

‘And did you?’

‘No, I felt great. I love cars.’

‘I too think cars are the greatest innovation since the marvellous idea to roast and ferment cocoa beans to make chocolate.’ You let out a lighthearted laugh, infecting Helena with the same giggle.

‘I like chocolate.’

‘You do?’ Your lips curled. ‘Do you want one? I might have a bit stashed somewhere between all this energy-consuming work,’

‘I’ve only had it twice,’ Helena began another story, ‘It is very expensive and my father says it is bad for your teeth and that you mustn’t eat too much of it. He said that when he was visiting London he met a man outside of the sweet shop who became so round, simply for eating a lot of chocolate.’

‘Well best you have only one piece then,’ you put a piece into your mouth before giving her her piece. ‘This is my favourite. Got it from Cornwall. They make the best sweets.’

Taking the piece you handed her, she started eating it, her eyes in awe.

‘What about your father, Helena?’

‘What about him?’

‘What does he do for work?’ You asked, amusingly raising your eyebrows before taking the second heap of documents before you.

Helena hesitated. ‘I don’t think I can say.’

‘Why not?’

‘Family business…’

‘Family business?’ You looked up, Helena nodding her head in response. ‘I’m just curious that’s all. When you speak of him, you speak endearingly. You seem to have a very good relationship.’

‘We do.’ She ate the last bite, looking around the room. ‘If he wasn’t my father he would be my best friend.’

‘How sweet.’

With an easy lead conversation, time passed quicker than expected. But an hour later and Mr. Shelby still hadn’t come to pick up Helena.

With minutes passing you realised that Mr. Shelby wouldn’t show up anytime soon. It was also way past closing time so you had to start locking up the building. You thought it best to walk Helena home to see if anyone was there and if not you’d take her back to yours so she would have a safe place to stay until anyone got in touch.

‘Hello?’ You knocked against the door, the hard wooden door aching your knuckles as you repeatedly hit against it. ‘This is Miss Verys from Small Heath Institute for Girls. I have your daughter Helena with me as she has not been picked up yet.’ Your breath ricocheted off the door.

Seconds later you could hear the lock turning and were greeted by an older woman, her hair all over the place as her dark eyes burned into yours. Feeling as if she were about to take a jape at you, you quickly jumped back into your sentence. ‘I’m so sorry to intrude but I grew worried when Helena still hadn’t been picked up yet. I hope that all is well.’

Your eyes left her frame, seeing figures surrounding a table where there seemed to be a man laying down upon, quick huffs and puffs echoing from behind.

‘Arthur, shut up and just get this out of me.’

‘Drink this, Tommy. It’ll help with the pain.’

The unravelling scene before you had your full attention, completely forgetting the woman at the door.

‘I—oh no don’t do that!’ You raised your voice, pushing past her, now standing in the living room with three men staring at you. ‘I’m sorry to intrude but I was a nurse at the front and seeing you just stick your fingers inside his wound just rang my bells.’

The man on the table had blue eyes that protruded from the dim light within the room, his chest covered in dry and fresh blood, sweat dampening his skin and clothes. You overheard that his name was Thomas Shelby, Helena’s father.

You stepped closer and examined his wound. A bullet wound. Minimal surface damage and easily removed.

‘If someone could get me some bandages, an unopened bottle of alcohol and some tweezers with a bowl of warm water.’

‘I’ll get it.’ Helena walked past you to what seemed to be the kitchen.

‘The cheap one, Hallie,’ the light haired one yelled after her, his toothpick sitting between his lips. ‘If you open that rum from the Caribbean, I swear to you that I won’t give you any more sweets.’

‘You give her sweets?’ Thomas lifted his head.

‘Sometimes.’

‘Mr. Shelby if you could just relax for a short time longer. I will get that bullet out of you as swiftly as possible.’

Further taking in his naked chest you noticed his tattoo. Similar to sun rays just above his right chest. You had seen this tattoo before…

‘Mr. Shelby, can I ask you something?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you perhaps have a scar on your lower back? On your right just above your glutes?’

‘How do you know that?’ He stared up at you, holding your gaze as Helena came back with the supplies you needed.

‘Given it was a back injury you were transported to the tent on your stomach,’ you grabbed the alcohol to clean the wound, a hiss escaping him as you grabbed the tweezers, ready to pull out the metal embedded in his flesh. ‘I was the nurse that treated you. I was covered in ugly drapes and bloods, can’t say you could recognise me,’

Thomas winced as the ends of the tweezers dug around to grab the piece of metal, a small smirk on his lips. ‘You don’t say eh?’

‘I’m sure you’ll be having a déjà vu when I pull it out,’ you grabbed it and pulled it out, a loud growl escaping his lips as air pushed past his lips.

‘Thank you again.’

‘No problem, Mr. Shelby.’ You disposed of the bullet in a dish Arthur held out to you. ‘Next time Helena is not picked up I’ll bring her home and bring my first aid kit with me.’

‘That’s actually not a bad idea,’ he pulled himself up, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it. ‘Small Heath is starting you feel like a battlefield,’

‘Then I’ll be your nurse ready to care you to health.’

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ohbo-ohno · 6 months

Note

If I chant noncon puppy play enough times will you grace us with more ghoap x reader noncon puppy play?

I would really love to see what you could do with Ghost coming across Soap and reader who are in a relationship but it’s rapidly becoming toxic with Soap becoming pervy and flirty with other people and reader being frustrated with it and the unsatisfying sex she’s having now because of it. And Ghost just takes one look and goes “yeah, I can make them happier” and then puts them in crates.

I like to think he’d put them in separate crates so they can’t actually touch each other but he’d make sure they were tied together so they couldn’t escape each other -💙

if you THINK noncon puppy play hard enough i'll probably feel it through the force and try to write it

also i fucking LOVE this ask and concept i love you for sending it in. this post is kinda scatterbrained though because i didn't want to write an actual drabble lol

im not a big fan of cheating in fics so im gonna exclude the idea of soap flirting with other people, but!!! i really really enjoy the idea of soap and reader being wrapped up in a toxic relationship and ghost going "let me get in on that". peak humor tbh.

i think this version of ghost would be sort of like howling and barking ghost - way more... subtle? puppy play. he's not taking you two home and shoving you in cages, he's getting you two conditioned to certain tones of voice and his whistles.

this is kinda difficult to come up for something with, because im trying to think of ways for ghost to slide himself into your relationship that even feel a tiny bit natural

my fave one (off the top of my head) is maybe you and johnny have been trying to pick up a third like every weekend to spice up your sex lives (you end up having near violent sex and arguing through the third person, and they're usually not down to hook up again) and one weekend you just so happen to ask ghost. he'd usually never take up an offer like that, but he sees the little fissures in your relationship pretty immediately and figures "what the hell?" might as well wreak a little havoc. unfortunately for him he gets far too attached as soon as he gets his hands on you two

i like to think he sort of just... becomes your third. at first it's just hookups (regularly, because you and johnny are fighting a lot recently and you love to do it with a third there instead of alone in your apartment and ghost never says no a threesome) but he pretty quickly establishes himself in your lives

from there, the training is easy. you and johnny are both fighting for power in your relationship, and you're too focused on your little game of tug-of-war to realize that ghost is swooping in and taking control of both of you instead. you're too busy working against each other to realize what he's doing to you

to be fair, he actually is helping you and johnny out quite a bit. you two are both hotheads with a lot of energy, fights happen very quickly and get very heated. ghost is there to step in, to knock the two of you on your asses and make you talk. you would not believe how often he sticks you in time-out, otherwise you two would say things you don't mean and end up pissy

he kinda literally talks to you two like you're dogs. a sharp "hey!" for bad behavior, scruffing one of you by the neck to hold you back, whistling to get your attention instead of saying your name, one word commands like "sit", "stay", and "come" instead of "wait a minute" or "come over here". pups need simple commands they can actually understand

he works on fixing your manners too :/

first step is to get you two waiting for permission to start dinner. sits down at the table and glares when either one of you eats before him, clears his throat all obnoxiously, does that horrible "thank you" when you drop your utensil. it's too awkward to push back against him (especially when you know how quickly he could stomp you down) and it's easier to just... listen. you get a pleased hum and a solid pet over your hair, a "good boy/girl" and the trade-off of waiting for permission to eat is worth it

(ghost places both yours and johnny's plate in front of you, smirks when he walks away and neither of you move to eat. fixes himself a plate, sits down, takes a few bites. neither of you move, you both get a little squirmy, huff a bit. he gives you the command word, and praises you both so good in bed that night. neither of you even notice that he's the only one at the table with utensils)

he sleeps between the two of you in bed because you both get jealous and possessive :/ wakes up to johnny snarling over his chest at you, grabs him by the jaw and hisses don't make me fuckin' muzzle you, rumbles all satisfied when johnny settles a bit

anyways you and johnny genuinely are happier with ghost <3 you're also more well-mannered and understanding of your positions!!! you're just a pup, pups shouldn't have an attitude, and they wait to eat until they're told, and sometimes they have to sleep in a crate when they've been bad :/

(when he crates one of you he has to crate the other. if he locks johnny up you spend the whole time trying to taunt him, and vice versa. also you two are more well-behaved when you know you both get in trouble for your misbehavior)

it took a bit of work to get you two used to the crates. really ghost fights you with the pure power of nonchalance. you're both already Attached, and he's in control of so much of your lives (more than either of you really know), and he treats the crates like they're normal. Expected. he's not someone who changes his mind, and both you and johnny know that. you can pitch as much of a fit as you want, but you're going in that crate no matter what. there's just... a sort of inevitability around ghost

#💙 anon #asks and answers #ghoap x reader #bo writes #favorites

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wooahaes · 1 year

Text

i just want to give you everything

pairing: non-idol!mingyu x fem!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 0.7k~

warnings: pouty boyfriend gyu. food mentions. terms of endearment (honey, my love) used.

daisy’s notes: pouty gyu is my specialty tbh

Mingyu was quite literally on his knees, pouting at you while you laughed. “It’s not funny! It’s a big deal!”

“I told you that it’s fine!”

“It isn’t!”

The two of you had been going back and forth like this for maybe ten minutes now. The moment that you came home and crashed on the couch, Mingyu was there in front of you, going quite dramatic compared to how he normally was. He’d pouted, and gotten down on his knees in front of you, already apologizing for something you hadn’t even. It had, admittedly, thrown you for a loop when he finally admitted what the big deal was: he, ultimately, forgot your birthday at first.

Not that it bothered you. With the late night that he had, he finally came home to you late last night and pretty much collapsed into bed. He’d woken you up when he came in, and exchanged a sleepy kiss as he settled into your arms, body as heavy as bricks with fatigue. It’d come to you as a surprise when he woke up this morning when you were leaving, long enough to steal a kiss from you and mention he made you lunch when he came home last night. No ‘happy birthday’ in any form, but you had chalked it up to the fact that he was barely conscious when you were physically there with him. He’d texted you hours later with a long, sappy message about how much he loved you and that he was going to make you your favorite meal tonight.

You had insisted that his forgetting was fine. Mingyu, however, heavily disagreed.

“I’m supposed to be your boyfriend,” he pouted, cheek pressing against your thigh. “It’s my duty to be the first one to tell you happy birthday.”

You had quelled your laughs, despite the way his pout (like a kicked puppy) almost brought them back up. “My parents would disagree.”

“One of the first!” He said, lifting his head to frown at you again. He sighed, “Why didn’t you say anything this morning?”

You reached out, taking his face into your hands. “Gyu. You were barely awake. I really, really don’t care--”

“I saw Cheol at the store when I went grocery shopping,” he huffed, “and he gave me this smug look! He asked if I had ‘plans with the birthday girl’ and then made fun of me when I had to admit that I forgot and that was why I was getting groceries...”

“Oh, Gyu...”

He sighed again, “Wonwoo told me he was the first to text you this morning... I didn’t even do that until after he said something.”

“Mingyu,” you squished his cheeks a little, just to get his attention back on you, “I mean it. You worked late, and you work long hours.”

“I didn’t even put a note in your lunch,” he pouted. “How are you supposed to brag about me like you usually do if I don’t even do that?”

It earned another laugh from you, so full of love, followed by a quick kiss against his lips. “Lunch was delicious and I always get to brag about you during our break. It annoys Seungkwan a little, y’know.”

“I should have put a note,” he huffed, “I could have made them more jealous. I should have--”

You frowned again. “Mingyu... I mean it. It doesn’t bother me at all. I know you’re upset because you love me, but we’re busy people and you were exhausted when you came home this morning.” You ran a hand through his hair soothingly, letting out a sigh. “If it really bothers you so much, then you can make it up to me later. But... I can smell the delicious dinner my husband material boyfriend made for me,” you cupped his cheek with a giggle, “and I’m pretty sure it’s getting cold now...”

Mingyu sighed, slowly rising up to his feet and staying before you. He offered his hands out to you, and, with ease, tugged you so you were standing in front of him. Yet he didn’t move right away, instead choosing to linger there with you for a moment longer. “I mean it,” he said, “I’m sorry I forgot. I love you,” he leaned in, lips capturing your own for a short moment. When he pulled away, he found himself smiling at the pretty way the lights seemed to reflect in your eyes. Or maybe it was you glowing with love for him as you always did. “Happy birthday, my love,” he cupped your face, pressing one final kiss to the crown of your head. “I’ll make it up to you after dinner.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @cinnamoroxie

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #seventeen x you #svt x you #mingyu x reader #mingyu imagine #mingyu fluff #kim mingyu imagine #mingyu x you #wooahaes.23

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azulsluver · 11 months

Note

I just want to ramble a little bit but- My personal scenario/headcanon for Bully au (which by the way, I love your writing) is that maybe one day reader decides to disappear, even if for a little while, maybe they just hide in some place for a long period of time (or hilariously and sneakily find a way to avoid their bullies throughout an entire day, or even crazier a whole week!!). They're so emotionally destroyed that they start to actually believe their insults and awful treatment they endured, and so they decide to just isolate themselves further somewhere no one can "be burdened by me"- Which in turn causes everyone else to at first get pissed off and then more and more (slightly, very slightly) worried that their punching bag is missing.... Perhaps, even have escaped them? 👀 I would love to see who loses their composure first, even if they don't admit their obsession at all lmao

Anon you don’t know what you’re doing to me //0//

tw. Bully!characters, no one takes you seriously kinda, yandere, stalking, baby tantrums.

This was more crack than anything serious…idk what happened but rants bellow!

They genuinely start tweakin:

Riddle, Deuce, Kalim, Malleus, Jack, Silver, Ruggie, Idia, Vil

They’re the ones that usually have their eyes on you, to find out that you’re missing and not at a place they SPECIFICALLY told you to be/stay flares their attention. Sure they can last a couple of days without you but a week? Nuh uh, they think they’re responsible for whatever you do, once they find you you’re getting a whole lecture. Telling you they’d get in trouble if they hadn’t found you sooner but let’s be real here.

But if you hid in a place far far away from them (which is impressive and impossible tbh) they’re already having a meltdown. Biting fingernails, aggressively running their fingers through their hair. All of that, and the ones who usually stay composed in situations like these (Ruggie/Riddle/Malleus) start to overthink so bad that they look beyond stress. It’s the thought that maybe you ran away from them or worse got kidnapped or lost. Which makes them have more of a reason to keep a tighter leash on you.

Ok but Kalim, Idia and Deuce cry like babies and throw tantrums.

Let the imagination work so think of Vil sitting on the kitchen table with his hair tied up and a face mask on while wearing a robe, a cup of coffee in his hands as he stares off into the distance that looks like he’s about to stab someone. He deadass thinks he’s growing grey hairs and has eyebags because his favorite punching bag is missing after two weeks. Who is he gonna step on now..

Gets pissed off:

Leona, Ace, Azul, Sebek, Epel, Jamil

“But why?” Is what they said when they perfectly understand the problem. Do they feel bad? No. In fact people like Leona and Azul can go through days without you because they’re always busy with something rather than terrorizing you. BUT you have to understand that as much as they pretend to not care they aren’t willing to clean up the mess after your pity party.

Jamil and Sebek are only mad about you disappearing is because of Malleus and Kalim’s whining. Please save them.

Ace and Epel are the ones who are mega mad as in a corny way. “How dare my punching bag run away from me and disappear for days!!” Typa stuff. Unbeknownst to them they double the insults and it makes you even more depressed lmaoo.

Ehhh Jamil may actually panic as well, because when Kalim isn’t happy no one is. And he does misses you personally, worries when he finds you (which is really scary to [Name’s] pov bc why is he so caring??) he’s all over you to make sure you aren’t injured or anything. Still pissed so he might slap the back of your head a couple of times and lecture you + same thing goes when Sebek finds you except he doesn’t comfort you.

Thinks it’s amusing:

Rook, Jade, Floyd, Trey, Cater, Lilia,

“Ohoho did I go overboard?” Yea you did. Anyways little shits don’t feel bad in fact they think it’s funny and cute that you disappeared because you couldn’t handle the insults and took it for granted. Lilia and Jade giving you false comfort just to do it all over again when you make a mistake. They probably already know your hiding spots and camp there to experiment how long it’ll take for you to come crawling back.

Maybe, just a little bit that Trey feels bad. He coddles you for a while then goes right back to gaslighting because he’s always right and when he says these things to you it’s because you’re wrong!! The type to restrict his affections if you decide to go into another episode of running away and crying. Cater knows where ya at bc you have location on.

At first Floyd was pissed because his resting place is missing, like bae where you go? But eventually he understands where you went because for some reason he’s bullying everyone around him and stalking your location to see where ya at. Mocks you once he finds you, really mean but it wasn’t “entirely” intentional. Like he knows he’s at fault and is trying to cheer you up by mocking your “problems”. Ok but don’t do that again or he’s going on the genuinely tweakin box.

We all saw Rook being in this section no surprise. Knows every little place you could be right now, has his eyes on you 24/7. “My love I didn’t mean to say your lips are chapped and you can use some Vaseline but the whole thing would be gone isa joke :(“ it’s not. Purposely picks out your insecurities so you can do another runaway.

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bookworm551 · 6 months

Text

Take the Edge Off | Part 8 | Pillow Talk

You finally get a quiet moment of quality time with Miguel.

A/N: wooooooow It’s been a hot minute. I feel like I’m coming back to my neopets after abandoning them for years. Tbh I just needed to take a break, I’ve been working and going to school, so it’s been a lot. Anyways, I’ve come back to feed you before disappearing again for an unknown amount of time. Also, this is pretty self indulgent ngl, so this is for the praise kink girlies. Enjoy <3

Warnings: smut, overstimulation, the usual

Word count: 6.8k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 9 Part 10

You woke up slowly the next morning. The soft light that flooded into the room caused you to stir lazily from your dreamless sleep. You stretched with a deep yawn, feeling a dull a soreness in your arms and shoulders that reminded you of all the things you had done with Miguel the night before.

You shifted under the covers and blinked your bleary eyes open. As your vision adjusted, you registered the figure of Miguel asleep next to you. He was positioned on his stomach with his face half-way buried in his pillow, and his back moved up and down slowly with his deep, even breaths. He had his arms tucked under his pillow, and there were some loose strands of hair that had fallen over his face. It took every ounce of your strength to not brush it aside for fear that you would wake him and break this quiet moment together.

You watched him for a second with a soft smile. Laying on your side, you admired his resting face. This was the first time you had ever woken up with him still there next to you. Every other time he had either left immediately or after you had fallen asleep. It was a nice change, and as you lay there quietly, you couldn't help but wish you woke up like this every day.

"I can feel you staring," Miguel grumbled quietly, startling you out of your reverie. You smiled sheepishly as he blinked his eyes open to look at you. They were still bleary with sleepiness, and his soft gaze warmed your chest.

"I didn't realize you were up," you stated, your own voice hoarse from sleep. He let out a little huff before closing his eyes again, not saying anything in return. "How long have you been awake?" You asked quietly. He sighed, not opening his eyes. "I woke up with your tossing and turning about 20 minutes ago," he replied finally.

You hummed and offered softly, "Sorry." You had gained a reputation in your life as a restless sleeper, and apparently, it didn’t matter how much he had worn you out the night before. "It's fine," Miguel grunted as he shifted and rolled onto his back. "I should've been up earlier than that."

You smiled. You were glad he had chosen to stay here, to let you see him like this. Knowing he was a busy man, it meant a lot to you. "Full schedule today?" you asked.

Miguel sighed, running a hand down his face. "The briefing for our mission is at noon," he said. "After that, I've got a stack of reports I need to review." That sounded boring to you, but you couldn't help but grin at his words: our mission. You had almost forgotten that he added you to the team, and the notion of working with Miguel again excited you.

"Who else is on the team?" You asked casually, fighting a lazy yawn as you stretched out next to him.

"I don't think you know all of them," he stated. You hummed and replied, "Well, who would I know?" He paused a second to consider. "Me, a handful of Peters," he began. "Malala, Jess, and she's been asking to bring Gwen, too."

You rolled over onto your side, resting your head on your hand with a smirk. "Me," you added smugly. Miguel rolled his eyes. "You," he conceded. "And I think that's it."

You gave a short, thoughtful hum. There was one name you noticed was missing from the list, someone you thought deserved to be on the team as well. You knew trying to change the roster would upset Miguel, but you couldn't ignore the gut feeling you had telling you that there was one more person who should be added to the mission.

Miguel seemed to notice that you were thinking about something. "What?" He questioned, an eyebrow raised suspiciously. You looked up at him and smiled reluctantly. "You're not gonna like it," you told him. His dark eyes narrowed. "What?" He repeated, sounding even more suspicious than before.

"Promise you won't be mad?" You asked. "No," he responded evenly. "You probably piss me off more than anyone here."

You chuckled at that. "That's probably true," you admitted, moving closer to him as you did. He had a few faint scars that were littered across his shoulders and chest, and you began absently tracing your fingers over them.

After a quiet second, he prompted gently, "What is it?"

You didn't reply for a moment as your fingers danced over the faint lines on his skin. Finally, you looked back up at his face and found he was gazing down at you expectantly. With a sigh, you finally said, "You need to add Ben to the team."

Miguel's face hardened immediately. "No," he replied sharply. You sighed again. "I already know what you're gonna say," you stated. Miguel huffed an irritated breath. "He's the reason we're in this mess. He's the reason this anomaly has been able to cause all that damage."

"That wasn't his fault," you defended gently. "It could have happened to anyone, and I know how badly he wants to make it right." Miguel scoffed, and he sat up from the bed. "Nothing he can do will bring back Earth-2319," he stated sharply. "All those lives are gone forever."

He turned his body to step out of bed, and you sat up with him, allowing the covers to slip off your bare torso. You had known he would to be upset by your suggestion, but you didn't want this to turn into an argument.

Reaching a hand out, you gently grabbed his shoulder to keep him from leaving. "And don't you think he knows that?" You pointed out softly. "Can't you imagine how terrible he feels?"

Miguel felt tense under your palm, and he didn't reply. You were afraid that he was going to shrug you off, and you wouldn't have blamed him. You could still remember his haunted gaze when he came to you after the loss of Earth-2319. This mission was personal for him, and you knew Miguel wasn't going to do anything he thought would jeopardize it.

After a silent second, he sighed heavily, and his stiff shoulders sagged under your hand. "I don't have to imagine," he muttered quietly.

A taut silence followed his words. The air around you suddenly felt fragile, and you were afraid of breathing for fear of breaking it. You didn't know what he was referring to, and you wanted desperately to ask, but it seemed almost disrespectful to do so. So instead, you waited.

Miguel seemed to sense your curiosity and breathed out another sigh. "When I first traveled across the multiverse," he began slowly, "I found something I wanted—badly. I thought it was harmless, so...I decided to take it for myself."

You closed your eyes regretfully, understanding that what he was implying broke the canon of that universe. You shifted your body closer to the edge of the bed so you could see his face. His eyes were downcast with the memory replaying in his head, a faraway look on his face.

"I didn't know what would happen until it was too late," he finished softly.

You let his words hang in the air for a moment before taking the hand that was still resting on his shoulder, raising it up to cup his cheek, and turning his face toward yours. His eyes were still fixed downward, but he allowed himself to be guided by your hand.

"You didn't know any better," you said finally. "You can't blame yourself for what you didn't know." He let out a small huff and turned his face away from you again, pulling away from your hand. "It was reckless and stupid," he muttered. "I was stupid."

"You weren't stu—"

"I destroyed a universe," he snapped, his eyes finally flashing up to your face. Grief and anger were etched in his face, and in his eyes, you saw the same pain the night after Earth-2319 was lost. You realized now how much worse it must have been for him that day, and your chest ached for him.

"I understand," you whispered softly. "And I’m sorry, I didn't know." He scoffed. "It's not exactly something I brag about," he stated darkly. "And it's not something I ever plan on repeating. I can't afford to be wrong. Being wrong costs lives."

You didn't say anything for a moment, and Miguel’s shoulders slumped in defeat. There was that quiet openness again, the subtle vulnerability that seemed to be showing more and more. He obviously meant what he said, and you understood that his words came from painful experience.

Your hand raised up to rest on his bare chest, and your thumb brushed his skin gently. "You can't put it all on yourself," you whispered to him. "Nobody is that strong." Miguel didn't reply for a second before whispering back, "I have to be."

You sighed quietly and shook your head. "No, you don't," you insisted. "That's why you have all of us. Jess, Peter, me, everyone—we're all here for you."

Miguel had been staring at the ground as you spoke, but his eyes moved up to meet yours at your last sentence. His gaze was piercing, almost overwhelming. It made you almost nervous to say what you were going to say, but you held his stare as you emphasized your next words: "I'm here for you."

Your statement hovered in the air, leaving the silence that followed to rest heavy around you. Your chest tightened anxiously as Miguel stared at you wordlessly. His eyes were impossible to read. Had you gone too far? You knew he didn't want a relationship. Were your words too close to a confession?

Finally, your worries were allayed when Miguel leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a tender kiss. It was different than the passionate way he usually made out with you when you were fucking. This was slow, like he was taking his time just to appreciate how your lips felt against his. It almost felt like a token of gratitude.

"You make it easier," he whispered when he finally broke away from your mouth. Your chest swelled as you smiled softly at him. “Good,” you replied quietly. “That’s what I’m here for.” A small smile cracked the grave expression he wore, and you kissed him again.

When you pulled back again, he studied your face for a second. “You still want me to add Ben, don’t you?” He guessed.

You sighed softly and nodded. “Wouldn't you do anything to make it right?” You asked him quietly. His eyes were still fixed on your lips, but you could tell he was thinking about your words. Without replying, he simply nodded his head.

“So would Ben,” you continued. “Please let him come.”

He still didn’t say anything for a moment. He sat quietly for a few heartbeats before letting out a deep sigh. “I'll think about it,” he said finally. You smiled at him, knowing that even him contemplating your plea was victory enough. “Thank you,” you told him, closing the space between you with a kiss. He hummed against your lip before murmuring, “You know, I thought I said I don't want you to talk about Ben around me.”

You smiled mischievously. “Well, we're breaking my rule about not discussing work in bed,” you pointed out. A faint smirk appeared on his lips. “Well, maybe I don't care about your rules,” he stated with a hint of humor in his voice.

“Then why should I care about yours?” You shot back. Miguel shifted from off the edge of the bed to lean forward over you, forcing you to lay down slowly under him. “Because there are consequences to breaking my rules, remember?” He said in a low voice, his eyes darkening with desire.

Your heart began to race as he trapped your body under his. “No,” you replied coyly, “I think I forgot.” Raising a hand to his head, you pulled his face down just above yours. “You'll have to remind me,” you whispered to him before pulling him down into a hard kiss.

You brought your hand around his head to run your fingers through his hair as he deepened the kiss. After a second, he moved his lips down to your neck while one of his hands traveled up your stomach to palm your breast, earning a quiet moan from you. Even after all the things he had done to you last night, you were ready for more.

You pushed yourself up off the mattress, forcing Miguel to roll back over onto his back as you straddled his waist. The seriousness from his face had disappeared when you settled on top of him. A smug grin pulled at his lips as the covers slipped off of your body, and his eyes drank in the sight of your bare body before him.

"Not too tired after last night?" He asked in an amused tone. You leaned forward and planted your hands on either side of his head as you brought your face close to his. "Baby, I could go all day," you purred before pressing your lips to his and slipping your tongue between them.

Miguel's hands gripped at your thighs, and his breathing deepened as he shifted under you. You brought one hand up to run your fingers through his hair, and when you broke away from his mouth, you moved your lips down to kiss under his jaw. He tilted his head back with a soft sigh to allow you better access to the soft skin of his neck.

Before you could go any further, Miguel's watch began beeping, disturbing the growing anticipation you both felt. You groaned, and he sighed regretfully as he raised his arm up to read the message he had received. You lifted your head up slightly to look at his face. He was clearly irritated by the interruption, and his eyes flicked back and forth as he quickly read the message.

"It's Jess," he explained. "She's asking about the meeting later." You rolled your eyes. There was always somebody or something that demanded his attention, and you were sick of it. You didn't want to let him go this time.

"You know," you began slowly, "there's this cool feature on these gizmos." You grabbed his arm and raised it up so you could see the screen. Miguel watched in amusement as you pressed the screen until you found what you were looking for.

"There," you said proudly, pressing the 'silent' button in his watch's configuration. "Much better." His eyes moved from your face to the watch and then back to your face with a raised eyebrow. "Is that why you never respond to my messages?" He asked suspiciously. You gave him a sly smile. "I just like it better when you tell me in person," you defended innocently.

"Mhmm," he hummed in response, a subtle smirk pulling on his lips as you kissed them again. You were eager to pick up the momentum you had lost to Jess's message, and you quickly returned your mouth to his neck again.

"We can't," he murmured, the bass of his voice vibrating against your lips. "I need to get up."

You hummed softly before whispering against his skin, "No."

You heard him breathe out a chuckle, and his hands came up to pull your arms gently off his body. "I know," he replied, sitting up as he did. "But people are going to notice I'm missing."

A spike of determination shot up in you, the frustration at his constant leaving finally showing. With both hands, you shoved him back down against the mattress by his chest, using most of your weight to keep him down. "Let them notice," you told him. "You're not going anywhere."

Under your hands, Miguel's breathing deepened, and his eyes flashed with lust at your assertion. His desire for you was clearly painted on his face, but with a clenched jaw, he sighed regretfully. "I can't stay," he insisted. "There's too much to do."

Despite his words, his fingers were gripping at your thighs, and he shifted under you restlessly. His resolve was hanging by a thread, and you knew exactly how to snap it.

Your mouth curled in a wicked grin as you lowered your face to hover over his own. "You're gonna stay right here with me until I'm through with you," you whispered to him. "You know why?"

Miguel was obviously fighting to keep his breathing steady, and his eyes were fixed on your lips when he managed to ask, "Why?" You lowered your face just above his, your eyes locking and noses brushing against each other. Then, softly, smugly, you said, "Because this pussy is yours, and I know how much you love it."

Miguel's jaw clenched at your words, and when you pressed your lips to his again, he was no longer holding back. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth aggressively as his fingers dug into your hips. From beneath you, his body shifted as he propped himself more upright and pushed your hips down to where his hardened cock was waiting.

You smiled deviously as he kissed you. The feeling of power rushed to your head at being able to distract him from his work with only a few words. Your heart was pounding in anticipation, and with the soft breathy moans you were both making, the ache between your legs was growing almost painful.

You allowed yourself to be guided back by his hard, gripping hands. A thrill ran up through your body when you felt his cock brush against your hot entrance. You could see the unfocused look in Miguel's eyes, like the only thing he could think about was being inside you.

To be mischievous, you teased your pussy around his length. Miguel groaned ever so softly, and his eyes burned with lust. "I don't have time for your fucking teasing," he growled. You smirked, always enjoying getting him riled up. He was even better when he was frustrated.

"You're so impatient," you observed with an amused voice. "I'm gonna have to teach you how to wait nicely one day." Miguel wasn't so amused. "I don't have time for this," he replied, shifting under you to try and align himself to you. You laughed. "That's the point," you said. "You need to learn how to—"

You cut yourself off with a sharp gasp. Miguel clearly had enough of your lecture and finally slammed himself into you, causing you to fall forward so that your head rested against his. The sudden feeling of him stretching you out so unexpectedly had made your mind freeze, and for a second, you couldn't speak.

"You were saying?" Miguel muttered smugly when you opened your eyes again. You couldn't even remember what you were saying. The only thing on your mind now was how badly you needed to fuck him.

With Miguel's hands still on your hips, you began moving eagerly along the length of his cock. You rocked your hips against his, grinding your pussy hard against him. Quiet whines began to rise up from your throat as you raised yourself up and down, slowly at first, but you soon increased your pace as he began grunting from the feeling of you riding him.

Miguel was gripping your waist tightly and gasping quietly as he helped you move up and down his length. You fell forward, planting your hands on his chest as you moved your hips against his. His eyes met yours with an electrifying gaze that only encouraged your movements.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his eyes fixed on your face with a lustful sort of reverence as his hands slowly slid up the sides of your torso. "You're so fucking pretty."

Damn him and his words that sent your heart fluttering. Even there, in the midst of riding him, you felt your face grow warm from his praise. Of course, you had heard him say things like that before, but for some reason, it hit you in a different way that turned you into a blushing mess on top of him.

Miguel apparently noticed the effect his praise had over you because his lips twisted in a half-smirk, and he sat up off the bed to bring his face up to yours. "My pretty girl," he murmured, his voice deep as he spoke the words against your lips.

You seemed to forget how to breathe. Your heart was pounding furiously in your chest as you locked eyes with him. His dark, piercing gaze that once seemed like an impenetrable wall was now soft and warm. The way he was staring at you made you feel like he could see into your soul, like he knew what you felt for him, what you wanted from him. And in his eyes, you could almost swear that you could see it, too.

His strong arms wrapped themselves slowly around your torso to hold you against him, and his lips pressed against yours gently. You didn't even realize that he was rolling you over until you were on your back beneath him, and he began driving his hips into yours.

You let out a soft moan and broke away from his lips. Miguel's head fell to your shoulder as he moved steadily inside you, his cock pumping in and out of your soaking cunt. His hot breath fanned against your collarbones, and you could hear how he grunted softly with each thrust.

"God, I can't get enough of you," he panted, his voice hoarse and quiet. "Fucking you is—it's like Rapture."

You nearly came apart right there. His words and his cock had you completely at his mercy. One of your hands gripped at his muscular back while the other slid up the back of his neck to run through his dark hair. It took most of your effort to even form a coherent thought, and speaking felt next to impossible.

"Only you—," you started, cutting yourself off with a moan. "Only you can m-make me feel like this. You fuck me so good."

Miguel groaned quietly at your words. Lifting his face up from your shoulder, he rested his forehead against yours. "You know why?" He asked quietly. You opened your eyes to meet his, not even bothering to respond. "Because you're my pretty girl," he asserted. "And this pussy is mine." As he spoke, Miguel's hand slipped down between your bodies until he found your clit with his thumb.

You cried out in ecstasy as he circled his thumb around while still driving his cock deep inside you. Your hand moved from his back to grip the headboard above you as he fucked you relentlessly. The sounds of his hips slapping against yours were in-time with each whining moan you made. You barely had time to register that you were cumming until it took over your whole body.

You were practically screaming his name as your body shook uncontrollably. You pulled him close to you while his hips continued thrusting into you ceaselessly. Bliss completely overtook your every faculty, and the only thing your mind could process was Miguel.

His eyes never left your face as he watched you completely unravel under him. He gave a long, deep moan at the feeling of you clenching around him. His lips brushed against yours as he slowed down his pace for you, aware of how your body was beginning to grow overstimulated, and he murmured your name under his breath softly.

As you finished riding out your high, your body was still alight with pleasure, and your heart was still beating wildly in your chest, but you finally managed to breathe properly again. Blinking your eyes open, Miguel's dark gaze was hypnotizing. He was clearly proud of how he had caused you to come so undone, and he whispered, "You're so pretty when you cum."

All you could do to respond was moan softly. He never failed to get you off, and he never failed to praise you when you did.

With one hand still entangled in his hair, you pulled his face down to yours in a sloppy kiss. As Miguel's tongue danced against yours, he pulled himself out of you. You were still breathing hard when he sat up off your body. Taking advantage of the fact that you were still recovering from your high, he turned you over so that you were on your stomach and lifted your ass up to him.

Even if you had wanted to resist him, your mind was still hazy from all the pleasure buzzing through your body. Following his prompts, you obediently propped yourself up on your knees, your back arched as you held onto the sheets.

"What a good girl you are," he murmured, running his hand down your back. You hummed softly at his touch and turned your head to look at him from the corner of your eye. "Only for you," you whispered. You heard him give a heavy sigh, and you felt the head of his cock teasing the entrance of your soaking cunt.

"That's right," he purred. "You're my good girl."

That was the last thing he said before slamming his cock back into you. You gasped sharply, startled by his sudden movements as he picked up an eager pace. Still sensitive from your orgasm, you whimpered softly against the sheets.

"It's too much," you whined, gripping the comforter to try and pull yourself forward to escape the sensations overpowering you. "You can take it, babygirl," he assured you gently, his cock moving faster and harder inside you. "I know you can."

You couldn't say anything in response. You were high on his words and drunk off his cock. Your eyes were clenched shut as he pounded into you. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass filled the air, and with each thrust into you, he hit against your G-spot over and over again. Your body felt weak, and you were completely at his mercy.

"Miguel," you moaned, unable to say anything else. He cursed softly under his breath, and his hands gripped your hips tightly to keep you steady. "You're doing so good, cariño," he told you, his fingers digging into your skin. "Just a little more."

His gentle tone contrasted sharply against the almost savage way he was fucking you. Your breathing came in shallow gasps, and your legs started to give out from under you. Miguel dropped one of his hands to support himself on the mattress. His large body seemed to envelope yours, and you could feel the heat from his skin warming your back. His panting breath tickled your ear as he continued ramming into you relentlessly.

You turned your face toward his, your noses brushing against each other. His lips were grazing the corner of your mouth in feather-light touches. Your eyes, blurred and unfocused, met his, and in that moment, a three-word phrase entered your mind that you had sworn to yourself you would never say to him.

"Miguel, I-I—"

You couldn't finish your sentence before your body was racked by another orgasm. You hadn't expected it, and it hit you hard and fast. A strangled cry emerged from your throat as your body trembled under his.

Miguel became desperate when he saw you were cumming again. With each thrust, he grunted loudly, overpowering the sound of your quiet gasping. Your whole body was shaking, and just when it was getting to be too much for you to handle, Miguel grew still with a ragged moan as he came inside you.

For a moment, there was just the sounds of your rapid breathing as you were both lost in the intoxicating feeling of finishing together. His head rested against yours, his skin hot to the touch. The sounds of his panting still tickled your ear while his hand slowly roamed from your waist up your back. Finally, with a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he pulled out of you.

Your hands released the vise grip they had on the sheets as you slumped down against the bed. Your mind was still flooded with the pleasure you felt, and you didn't have the capacity to do anything besides lay there and try to recover your breath.

Turning onto your back, you looked up at Miguel. His hair had fallen into his face in a messy way that made him even more handsome. Raising your free hand up to his face, you brushed his hair back so that you could see him clearly. His eyes seemed unfocused as his mind was clouded with pleasure. After a quiet second of staring at each other, he lowered his face to place a lazy kiss on your mouth.

God, how you wanted this to last. You wanted him to fuck you senseless every day. You wanted him to kiss you every hour, to think of you every minute, to be with you every second. Being together like this, open and vulnerable and comfortable with each other, it was the first time you felt a sense of connection with another person since you became Spider-Woman.

When he broke away from your lips, he slumped down beside you with a deep sigh. You glanced over at his face, a faint glimmer of sweat shining on his forehead, and admired for the millionth time just how good he looked.

As your breathing was finally evening out, you closed your eyes and felt like you could fall right back to sleep next to him again.

"Don't even think about it," Miguel mumbled, breaking the silence between you. "Hmm?" You questioned, opening your eyes to look at him.

"You're not falling asleep again," he said with a pointed look.

You groaned, rolling onto your side to face him better. "Why not?" You asked innocently. Miguel stretched his arms before answering, his muscles flexing in a way that made you crave another round with him. "Because I need to go," he sighed. "And that means you do, too."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "You can't just fuck me like that and expect me to be able to get up and leave after," you told him wryly.

Miguel huffed out a laugh, a cocky smile on his face. "I'm serious," you insisted, unable to suppress your own grin. The rare sight of Miguel's smile paired with the high you were still feeling made you giddy. "I'm sure you are," he replied, "but I'm also serious about needing to go."

You rolled your eyes. "Then go," you told him theatrically. "I won't beg for your company." Despite your words, you did indeed want to beg for his company. Every time he left, it was harder and harder for you to let him go.

He huffed again. "I'm not going to leave you alone in my room," he replied dryly.

You smirked at him. "Afraid I'm gonna steal your stuff?" You joked. Miguel's eyes turned to you with an amused gleam. "It's a possibility," he said evenly. "You still haven't given me my shirt back." You closed your eyes for a moment with a sigh. "Oh, yeah," you mumbled as you stretched out like a cat. "I definitely meant to do that."

Miguel hummed his disbelief, but there was humor in his subtle smile. "If I didn't know any better," he began slowly, reaching over to wrap his arm around you and pull you closer to him, "I would say you're lying."

Your own smile widened as you looked up at him mischievously, and you rolled over so that you rested on his chest. "Oh, you think you know better?" You asked in a sly tone, hovering your face over his.

His mouth was pulled in a crooked grin as his fingers brushed lazily across your bare back. "I know I do," he replied with a deep voice, his eyes fixed on your lips.

You hummed thoughtfully. "Well, maybe you're wrong," you asserted.

"I'm never wrong."

"I don't believe that."

"Name one time."

You paused, trying to think of a time when he did or said something incorrect, but unfortunately, nothing came to mind. You rolled your eyes. "I don't know," you admitted finally, earning a smug look from Miguel. "But one day, you'll have to admit you were wrong about something," you insisted, "and I'll make sure I'm there to see when you do."

"You may be waiting for a while," he remarked. You hummed thoughtfully, tracing a finger over the outlines of his face. "I’m a patient person," you stated simply. "And you never know. That day could come sooner than you think."

He stared up at you in amusement. "If you say so," he replied. "Though, I wouldn't use 'patient' as a word to describe you." You raised an eyebrow in interest. "Oh? And what would you use?" You asked smoothly.

Miguel pretended to think as he slowly stroked his fingers up and down your back. "There are a lot of words I could use," he began. "Stubborn is probably at the top of the list." You rolled your eyes, trying and failing to suppress a smile. "And?" You prompted, feeling genuine interest in how he perceived you.

"And..." he thought for a second, "passionate."

You smirked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?" You said smugly. Miguel's lips also turned upwards in a subtle smile. "Not just sex," he clarified. "You're passionate about being Spider-Woman, and you care about the people around you. You're...kind."

Your stomach fluttered a little bit. You could tell he wasn't just saying that. The sincerity in his voice as he spoke was perfectly clear.

You smiled softly at him. "Keep going," you urged, though you were still trying to seem aloof at his words. He hummed thoughtfully. "You're strong," he listed. "You're fast. You're smart."

"Don't forget funny," you added.

Miguel gave you a skeptical look. "I didn't," he said. "It's just not on the list."

You couldn't stop yourself from laughing at that. "Shut up," you chastised, lightly smacking his chest as you recovered from his joke. His eyes gleamed as he stared up at your laughing face. There was a brief moment of silence as he looked up at you with half a smile on his lips before he murmured, "You're beautiful."

Two words and your heart was beating furiously in your chest. You were struck dumb, unable to think of what you could say to appropriately respond to him. He had called you pretty a dozen times, and you logically knew that he found you attractive based on your many encounters, but it wasn't just the words he spoke, it was how he said it—softly, earnestly, like it was something too precious to be said aloud.

And there was that three-word phrase again whispering in your mind. You could never say it, you knew that. It would be awkward, uncomfortable, and even potentially ruin your standing in the Society, but none of those reasons could stop you from thinking it when he was gazing up at you with his soft, brown eyes with a subtle smile on his full lips.

Miguel must've realized you were having trouble coming up with a response. Breaking the half-awkward silence around you, he said, "But you know what word I would use to describe you right now?"

You were pulled out of your stupor by his question, your face growing warm in embarrassment. "Hmm?" You hummed curiously.

"Treacherous," he replied simply.

Your eyebrows scrunched in surprise. "Treacherous?" You repeated. "How so?"

He lifted his head up just enough so that your lips were barely touching before whispering, "Don't think I don't know what you're doing right now."

You blinked down at him innocently. "What am I doing?" You whispered back, your lips grazing his softly.

He let you place a ghost of a kiss to his lips before finally replying, "Stalling." With that, he began sitting up off the bed, forcing you to roll off his body. "We have to go.”

You draped your arm over your eyes with a groan. He knew you too well. You had hoped he wouldn't notice you trying to drag on the pillow talk to keep him there with you. Now, it seems you’ve run out of time.

Miguel sat up off the bed and stretched. You watched how the muscles in his back flexed tightly before he stood to get dressed. Sighing, you also sat up, grabbing your underwear from off the floor where Miguel had discarded it the previous night before walking to the bathroom.

When you came back out, Miguel was already dressed in his suit, his hair slicked back in his typical fashion. He noticed you emerging from the bathroom and tossed you your web shooters. Catching them, you placed them on your wrists and watched as your suit enveloped your body.

He must’ve seen the wonder on your face because he said, “I told you it’s cooler than nanotech.” You smiled at him. “It is,” you conceded, stepping over toward him. “I don’t think I ever said thank you.”

He smirked down at you, his gaze flickering back and forth between your eyes and your lips. “I don’t recall that you ever did,” he replied. You placed one hand on his chest and let it wander up to his neck. Even on your tiptoes, he was too tall for you to kiss, so he had to follow your prompting hands and lean over to kiss you.

When you broke away from Miguel, you whispered, “Thank you.” He wore a soft smile on his lips as he whispered back, “You’re welcome,” before pressing them back to your mouth. Kissing him was so addicting, and you regretted having to leave once again.

Pulling away from you, Miguel sighed. “Listen,” he started, “finding the anomaly needs to be our first priority now.” You nodded in agreement, but you could sense there was more he was going to say. “That means,” he continued slowly, “no distractions.”

You studied his face for a second before you understood his implication. “You mean this?” You asked, your stomach tightening anxiously as you thought about him cutting you off. “Yes,” he replied before quickly adding, “until the anomaly is caught.”

You frowned. You had no idea how long that could take. The anomaly, ‘Ghost’ as he had been nicknamed, had already been at large far longer than any of you could have guessed, and he could stay in hiding between universes for far longer.

Miguel apparently could tell what you were thinking, and he raised one of his hands up to hold your chin gently. “You are a distraction for me,” he told you. “Now, I put you on the team because you can be useful, but I can’t be here lounging around with you when I need to be preparing for this, understand?”

You sighed in resignation. It made sense. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, it made sense. He was trying to run this whole operation by himself, and even though you wanted him to stay with you, you knew that you were just being selfish.

“Yes,” you replied reluctantly. He nodded, his thumb running back and forth along your chin gently. “Good,” he said. “I’ll see you at the meeting at 12.”

You sighed again. “Alright, I’ll see you there.” You turned to walk toward the door, but when Miguel called out your name, you paused and turned back around. He stepped toward you purposefully, and your heart leapt as you thought he was going to let you stay a while longer.

With his body hovering close to yours, he reached a hand out to grab your arm gently. You let him lift it up, your eyes never leaving his face as you noted how close his lips were to yours, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking down at your gizmo and was tapping away at the screen.

Confused, you looked down to see what he was doing. You watched as he pressed the button marked ‘silent,’ effectively disabling the setting you had it on. “No more of that either,” he told you with pointed look.

You gave a guilty smile. “Fair enough,” you conceded, taking back your arm. “But just so you know, I think this new rule of yours is a good idea, because now I’m going to catch this anomaly so fast, it’ll make your head spin.”

He smiled in amusement at your statement. “If you do,” he said, “I’ll fuck you until you can’t speak.” You raised an eyebrow at him. “You already do that,” you pointed out. He shrugged. “Not anymore,” he countered evenly. You shrugged back at him and replied casually, “But soon enough.”

With that, you turned back to the door with a smirk on your face and the determined notion that you were going to be the one to catch the anomaly.

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