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bruisedboys · 1 year

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dead wrong — steve harrington x reader

summary: steve harrington is down horrendous for you, his best friend. his love is not as unrequited as he thinks.

contains: best friends to lovers, mutual pining (but mostly steve pining), steve’s pov, fluff galore, idiots in love, reader is good with the kids, reader is a skater like max, reader hurts her wrist and steve is a worried lovesick idiot. cw! descriptions of wounds/blood, mentions of hospital, reader wears steve’s clothes. she/her pronouns used.

a/n: first long fic yay!! I am extremely proud of this so pls love it 🤍

fem!reader 5.3k words

gif by @barneswayne

Steve Harrington is totally, most definitely, not in love with you. Just friends, he thinks, best friends. Best friends who hold hands and sit far too close together.

Speaking of, you push further into Steve’s side, your scent washing over him. Your hand squeezes Steve’s, and he thinks, never mind. Maybe he is in love with you. So in love with you it fucking hurts.

A chorus of shouts erupts around him. You and Steve are watching Eddie, Robin and the kids play beer bong, only without the beer. It’s soda. Dustin starts doing a stupid victory dance while half of his peers laugh and the others cringe. Steve cringes. You laugh. All high and lilting and adorable. Steve has to remind himself to breathe.

He brings your joint hands to rest on his knee. Your rings push into his skin, almost like harsh reminders that he can’t hold you like he wants to. He frowns.

“Steve?” Your voice brings Steve out of his thoughts like it always does. You give his hand a shake. “You okay?”

Steve looks up and prays you can’t see the hopeless devotion in his eyes. You’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, with your messy hair and your eyes lined with glitter. Rosy cheeks, glossy pink lips that he stares a beat too long at. He’s known you for years, and yet he’s never gonna get used to how gorgeous you are. He swallows, forces his eyes up to yours.

“I’m okay,” he says, though he’s really not. He never is, because you never won’t look like that. “Are you?”

There’s another explosion of noise from the soda-pong players, but you don’t seem to notice. You frown like you don’t believe him. He’s being too obvious, he knows.

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you sure, Steve?” You stretch your free hand across your torso to touch his face. Steve heats like an oven under your hand as you press your palm to his forehead. “You’re not feeling sick, are you? You feel sort of hot.”

Steve grabs your wrist, harder than he means to. He loosens his grip guiltily when you give him an alarmed look.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, lowering your hand gently. He can feel your pulse, only just, underneath his fingers. It’s damn sure slower than his. “I— uh, no. I’m not feeling unwell. It is pretty hot in here though.”

A total lie. The only reason he’s burning up is you.

Your frown deepens, a push of your bottom lip that makes Steve want to kiss you. It’s such an overwhelming feeling that he has to blink multiple times to make it go away.

“Oh,” you say. You look around the room and then back at Steve. “Do you want to go outside?”

Steve has a bit of a dilemma. If he says yes, he’ll be alone with you. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. If he says no, he’ll have to stay in this stuffy room with yelling teenagers and ping pong balls flying at him every five seconds. He decides on the first option.

“Sure,” he says as nonchalantly as he can. Then, to make you laugh, “Smells like boy in here anyway.”

You giggle. Steve feels like copying Dustin’s lame victory dance.

“You’re a boy, Stevie,” you say teasingly.

He wrinkles his nose at you. “No, I know, but it’s like … adolescent boy.”

You laugh loud, your mouth pulled up in a staggering smile. “Oh, okay,” you say, as if anything he just said made any sense.

Steve is starstruck for a second before you’re pulling him up from his seat, your hand in his a familiar, heart-aching weight.

Steve finds himself sitting side by side with you on the hood of his car. He can’t exactly remember how he got here — on the way, all he could think about was your hand in his and the fact that your thumb kept brushing over his knuckles in very distinct lines. Whether you’d meant to or not, he doesn’t know. He hopes you did.

“Any better?” You ask quietly, stretching your pinky across the small gap between your hands to tap his.

Steve feels something like an electric shock where your skin touches his. It baffles him, how such a tiny touch can cause such a big reaction throughout his body. He stares at your hand when he answers.

“Much,” he says honestly. He looks up at you. “You didn’t have to come with me, you know. You can go back in if you want.”

Secretly he hopes you’ll stay here with him forever. But that would be selfish, and if Steve is anything when he’s with you, it’s not selfish.

“Eurgh, no.” You pull a disgusted sort of face that makes Steve grin. “I could barely stand it when you were there. Without you, I think I’d die from the smell alone.”

Steve laughs. Really laughs. The words without you, I think I’d die, float around his brain like fish in a fish tank. When he’s done laughing he catches your smile, all pretty and wide, and his heart does one of those funny backflips that he’s never gonna get used to.

Steve watches as you brace your hands on the edge of the car and push yourself up the hood, pulling your shoes up to rest on the metal. Your skirt is short enough that Steve can see half of your thighs, more when you shift yourself like that. He stares for two seconds too long and then feels so guilty he almost apologises.

Instead, he says, “Aren’t you cold?” He points at your skirt but doesn’t look.

You shrug. “No, not really.”

With a sigh you let yourself fall back against the hood of the car. Your skirt rises even more and a half inch more of your skin is exposed — Steve feels like the universe is out to get him. His only escape is to fall back next to you, his right shoulder brushing your left one. You smile when he does, head rolling to the side to look at him. Face to face now, Steve can feel every small breath coming from your parted lips.

“See any stars?” He blurts, because your face is much too close and he’s scared if you look at him like that any longer, he’ll kiss you stupid.

You look up at the dark, empty sky and wrinkle your nose. “No.”

“Wait, look, there’s one.” Steve lifts his arm to point at what he thinks is a star.

You squint in its direction. “That’s a plane.”

“What? No it’s— oh.” He trails off when he realises the ‘star’ is moving. It disappears behind a cloud a second later.

You laugh, breathless and pretty, and drop your head onto Steve’s shoulder. Your perfume fills the air around Steve and he has to stop himself from leaning closer. You bring a hand up to fiddle with your necklace, a cheap, plastic ‘S’ charm that sits directly on your sternum. The fake diamonds are falling off, half of them gone already, but you’ve refused to take it off after all these years. Steve has one of your initial, too. You got them from a dollar store when you were twelve and pinky promised to be best friends forever.

You slip your necklace safely beneath your top and then stifle a yawn behind your hand.

Steve gives your elbow a nudge. “Tired?”

You shrug one shoulder and then droop further into Steve’s side. Every point of contact between you burns.

“You’re tired,” Steve says matter-of-factly.

You make a noise that’s probably meant to be a sound of protest but comes out more like a tired moan. Steve chuckles lightly, reaches over and rubs your arm.

“Alright, sweet girl. Let’s go home.”

‘Home’ really means Steve’s house, because you’ve left your car there and because you’re over so much it’s become your second home. By the time Steve is pulling up the driveway, you’re so dead beat he doesn’t even consider letting you drive yourself home. You practically hang off his waist as he walks you both inside.

“M’tired,” you mumble as you pass the living room.

Steve has to bite back a laugh. “Uh-huh, I can tell.”

You look up at him and squint like you know he’s laughing at you. Then you say, “Can I sleep in your bed?”

Steve’s heart skips. Sure, you’ve slept in his bed before, but every time you have Steve lay awake for at least half the night. He’s not above admitting that he’s watched you sleep more than once. He’s seconds away from telling you to take the guest bedroom when you pout dramatically.

“Please? You’re so warm.” You push into his side, your arm tightening around his waist like you don’t ever want to let go.

Steve hates himself for nodding, but he can’t help it. “Yeah, okay.”

He drags you up the stairs and into his room. Your makeup and stray jewellery is strewn across his dresser — you’d gotten ready at Steve’s before the party. If you could even call it that, Steve thinks. He plants you on his bed and you fall back immediately, eyes shut tight as your hair splays across the sheets.

“You’re like a zombie,” Steve says amusedly, his gaze all fond and mushy as he looks down at you. “From like, Day of the Dead or something.”

You pull a face, faux offended but your big grin gives you away. “Ew. I’m not that ugly, am I?”

Steve hums long and high like he’s thinking about it. This makes you gasp and throw a hand to your chest like he’s wounded you. Before Steve can get half a laugh out a pillow is hitting him straight across the face.

“Hey!” He exclaims, glaring at you. You’re still lying down, eyes screwed tight like you’re pretending you didn’t just brutally attack Steve. He laughs because you’re fucking adorable. “Zombies don’t throw pillows, Y/N.”

Your words are plagued by a yawn as you say, “This one does.”

Steve sighs at your antics, picks up your murder weapon (his pillow) and replaces it on the bed.

“Oh no,” you groan suddenly, like you’ve remembered something awful, hands flying to your face in despair. “My makeup, Stevie. M’too tired to take it off.”

Your words stick to each other like taffy in your tired state. Steve remembers the last time he let you sleep in your makeup. He didn’t hear the end of it for days. He’d rather avoid your wrath this time round.

Steve sighs, knowing full well he’s about to put his foot in it. “Well, will you let me do it?”

You open one eye blearily and look at him. “Would you?”

Steve shrugs, though the thought of being that close to you makes him feel nauseous. Luckily, you’ve closed both eyes again so he can blush all he wants. Plus, he’d do anything for you. Even endure the overwhelming urge to kiss you breathless.

“Sure thing, babe. I’ll get the stuff.”

Steve ends up sitting on his bed with you across from him, crossed legs pressing up against his. You’re sitting so close you’re almost in his lap. He ignores this for the sake of his dignity.

You’ve got your eyes shut and your hair up in a clip. A lock of hair has tumbled out of its knot and Steve pushes it away from your face, fingers hooking behind your ear and lingering. He keeps his hand on your jaw as he raises his other hand, a wet cloth ready to clean your sparkly makeup off.

“You sure about this?” He asks hesitantly. He’s dead terrified he’ll do something wrong, like get glitter in your eye.

You smile softly, your eyes staying firmly shut. “Yes, Steve, it’s fine.” Your tone is half reassuring and half exasperated.

Steve bites the bullet and goes right in, pressing the wet cloth to your cheekbones first. You’ve got blush and glitter there, sprinkled on your cheeks like fairy dust. He smooths the cloth along your skin and it comes away sparkly and pink.

“Okay?” He asks, pausing worriedly.

You nod slowly, your head starting to droop in his hand. “Yeah, Steve.”

Steve grins fondly at your face, screwed up in exhaustion. He tightens his grip on your jaw to keep your head steady, thumb hooked under your chin. Carefully, he begins to dab at your eyelids, also painted with silvery glittery eyeshadow.

Your face dewy and makeup-free, Steve thinks you’ve never looked prettier. So pretty it drives him mad. He stares, really stares, for far too long but he’s worried if he opens his mouth, breaks the silence, he’ll never get to see you like this again. Your hair all messy pretty, your eyes shut and eyelashes kissing, your pink lips turned in a half smile.

He’s not surprised when your soft voice drifts into his thoughts.

“You done?” You open your eyes, eyelids heavy and head heavier.

Steve snaps out of it. He lets go of your face quickly, slides off the bed even quicker.

“All done,” he says, almost tripping over his own feet.

You smile, seemingly oblivious to his clumsiness. Or maybe, it’s just happened so often that you’re not surprised. Either way, your smile is sickeningly sweet. Steve is torn between the desire to kiss you or run as far away as possible from you.

Your voice matches your honey-smile when you say, “Thank you, Stevie.”

You reach out to touch his forearm, your hand a heavy weight on his skin as you wrap your fingers around his arm and squeeze.

He grins lopsidedly, and he’s sure he looks like a lovesick idiot but he can’t find it in himself to care. “You’re welcome.”

You drop your hand and Steve’s arm suddenly feels cold as ice. He wants to touch you again but knows he shouldn’t. He strides to his bedroom door and pauses to turn and look at you.

“I’m gonna get you a glass of water,” he says. Your eyelids are drooping again. He laughs fondly. “Get in bed while I’m gone, zombie-girl.”

Your giggle follows him all the way to the kitchen.

When Steve gets back, a glass of water in each hand, you’re still as a statue on your self-appointed side of the bed. You’ve swapped your outfit for a grey t-shirt that you totally stole from him but deny every time he asks about it, and the shortest shorts known to mankind.

He switches off the light and shuts the door with his heel. Pointedly avoiding looking at your bare legs, he rounds the bed and sets the water down, then bends over you.

“Y/N?” He whispers.

You hum softly, though Steve can’t tell if it’s a hum of acknowledgement or just a sound you’ve made in your sleep. He leans closer, listening to your breathing. You’re awake, only just.

He brushes his hand over your upper arm, touch as light as a feather. He thinks he feels goosebumps on your skin but doesn’t have time to wonder why. You’re lifting your chin slightly, lips parted.

“Goodnight, Stevie,” you whisper, so quiet he barely hears you. Steve’s heart swells. “Thanks for … everything.”

A few moments later you fall silent and your breathing grows steady, and Steve wonders how the hell you always fall asleep so fast.

He rubs your arm, kisses your forehead because he knows you won’t remember this part. His lips buzz as he pulls away. “Goodnight, sweet thing.”

You’re outside Family Video. Steve emerges from the back room and spots you so fast it’s like he’s got a third eye. He’s both shocked and pleased — he hadn’t expected to see you until after his shift.

You’ve got the kids with you. You and Max are zooming around the carpark on your skateboards while Dustin and Lucas are poised on the hood of your car, poring over comics.

He watches you skate with Max. Like some lame rom-com cliche, your hair is blowing in the wind and Steve swears you’ve moving in slow motion. You’re laughing and joking with Max and Steve stares and stares. Stares until Robin sidles up next to him.

“What’re you— oh.” Steve can hear the smirk in her voice even though he refuses to look at her. “What’re they doing here?”

Steve shrugs and makes an ‘I don’t know’ sound, moving to the counter to put down the box of videos he’s carrying. Robin follows.

“You’re not gonna go say hi to Y/N?” Robin asks slyly. Steve can hear in her voice what’s coming. “You’ve been staring long enough.”

Steve blushes furiously despite himself. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Oh, sure.” Robin hoists herself onto the counter, peers into the box of videos and picks one out at random. “Just like you weren’t holding her hand on Tuesday night?”

Steve can’t exactly get himself out of that one. He snatches the video from Robin with an annoyed tsk, slotting it back into the box. Her laugh is devilish.

“You are hopeless, Steven,” she says, whacking Steve over the head as she hops off the counter.

Steve rubs his head and glares at Robin. If looks could kill she’d be dead meat. “That’s not my name.”

Robin gets this look on her face that Steve knows all too well. He wants to pummel her before she’s even said anything.

“Oh, sorry,” she says, all sarcasm. “What is it, then? Stevie?”

Steve’s blood boils. Only you’re allowed to call him that.

“Y’know what, Robin?” He says loudly. He turns on his coworker, seething. She’s totally nonchalant, a stupid smirk on her lips. “Why don’t you just leave me—?”

“Steve!”

A shout of his name from the door. He turns and finds Lucas standing there, looking panicked.

Steve’s brow furrows. Then he notices you and Max are no longer whizzing around the carpark. “What—“

“Y/N fell,” Lucas says, out of breath. “We think she hurt her wrist.”

Steve’s heart drops. “Shit.”

He goes flying out the door and into the parking lot. You’re sitting on the concrete, one knee pulled up to your chest, your skateboard dormant next to you. Max is kneeling over you, and Dustin has graciously abandoned his comics for your sake.

“Y/N!” He damn near shouts. He runs over to you and Max and gets on his knees. He’s probably just ruined his jeans on the concrete — he doesn’t give a single fuck.

“Y/N,” he says frantically, a tentative hand landing on your shoulder. Both your knees are scraped something awful and a nasty gash blooms on the outside of your wrist. Steve’s worry is loud and his heartbeat twice as much. “Y/N, are you okay? What happened? What’s—“

You look up. Your eyes are shining but you’ve got a dopey smile on your lips.

“Steve,” you say breathlessly. You blink and a tear falls from your eye and over the bump of your cheek. “Hi. Good to see you.”

Steve stares at you in horror. How can you be making jokes at a time like this? You laugh wetly and Steve looks at Max, totally alarmed.

“What happened?” He demands.

Max is much calmer than he is. “She went over a bump or something,” she says. She’s rubbing your back and Steve feels a rush of gratitude for the younger girl. “Fell on her left arm. Her wrist might be sprained or broken, but—“

“Broken?” Steve repeats. He’s pretty sure his soul just left his body.

“I said might,” Max says through her teeth.

“Y/N?” Steve slides his arm around your shoulder, carefully avoiding your left wrist, which you're cradling in your uninjured hand. “Y/N, baby, can you get up?”

You make a noise like a scoff but it’s muffled by your sniffly nose. “‘Course I can.”

Steve helps you anyway, Max on your other side keeping a firm hold on your jacket. You hiss as you straighten your legs, knee-wounds sprouting fresh blood. Steve bites down on his lip so hard he almost bleeds himself.

“Are you gonna take her to the hospital?” Max asks. There’s genuine worry in her eyes that Steve barely sees. Dustin, Lucas and Robin appear, looking equally worried.

Steve puts on a brave face. “Think so. What do you think?” He asks Max. “You’re the skateboard expert.”

She grins so quick Steve almost misses it. It disappears when she looks at you in your bloody and bruised state. “Yeah. Just in case.”

Steve walks you over to your car, half dragging you. Not that you need him to, he just can’t bear for you to hurt any more than you already are. He deposits you in the passenger seat, ducks his head in to pull your seatbelt across your torso. He’s seconds from ducking back out when you stop him, your uninjured hand on his chest, right over his racing heart.

“It hurts,” you say, quiet enough that only Steve can hear. Your eyes are welling up again. Steve feels like crying himself.

“I know,” he says, nodding vigorously like it will make a difference. “I know, sweet girl. It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be okay.”

At this point he’s talking to himself as well as you. You nod in an exhausted sort of way and Steve presses a kiss to your cheek. Slow and soft and as close to your lips as he’s ever kissed. He has to take a few seconds to compose himself before straightening up and turning to the others.

“I gotta take her,” he says, sending an apologetic grimace in Robin’s direction.

Robin nods once and surprisingly, doesn’t say a word. She looks about as sympathetic as Steve has ever seen her. He turns to the kids.

“Help Robin,” he says. He’s trying desperately to make his voice sound normal but falling short of the mark. Everyone notices but nobody comments. “Don’t mess up the store.”

He gives a grateful smile to Max and then rounds the car, hopping in and starting the engine.

You’re half asleep on Steve’s couch, your head in his lap. You’re wearing his yellow sweater — the one he bought only because you’d said he’d look good in yellow. You’ve just woken up from a post-hospital nap and Steve’s hand is in your hair, brushing slow strokes over the side of your head.

He’s feeling a lot of things. Relieved, for starters. The doctor had said it was only a sprain, they’d bandaged up your wrist and you’d left the hospital in far better conditions. Steve was in far better conditions, too.

Steve looks down at you, at your bandaged wrist and the huge bandaids on your knees and thinks, fuck. He thinks his heart is about to claw its way out of his chest. He doesn’t think he can take this love thing any longer.

You stir and take a long breath, turning your head in Steve’s lap to look up at him. Your eyes are tired but you’re smiling.

“You okay?” Steve asks softly. He doesn’t want to break the silence. It feels good, to sit in silence and comfort with you. He runs his fingers through your hair again.

You nod. “Mhm. I’m good.”

“Hurting?”

You shift in his lap. “No, not right now.”

You fall silent and Steve doesn’t know what to say. He wants to tell you how worried he was about you, but you could probably tell. Anyone with a pair of eyes could tell he was nauseous-level worried. Then he thinks about telling you he loves you. It’s a stupid reason, really, but it was all because a nurse had asked if he was your boyfriend. He’d wished he could say yes.

“Steve?”

Steve hums and meets your eyes. You move to sit up and Steve helps you, knowing you won’t let him stop you. A firm hand between your shoulder blades, his palm sliding down your back as you straighten yourself. You shift so you’re facing him, your legs crossed beneath you and your injured wrist resting in your lap. Steve is careful to avoid your wounded knees.

“What is it, babe?” Steve asks quietly. He brings his hand up to caress your cheek, dragging his thumb over a spot where your tears had smudged your mascara earlier.

You melt into his hand, eyes falling shut as a long, deep sigh falls from your lips. You raise your good hand to cover his, holding it to your face. Your hand burns stars onto the back of his.

“Is it your wrist?” Steve asks. You’re acting strange. He puts it down to your injured state. “Your knees? Do you want more ice? New band-aids?”

He’s being a total worrywart, he knows, but who can blame him?

You shake your head, eyes open but cast down. “No.”

“Just feeling bad?” He asks through a frown. In a strange parallel to a couple of days ago, he lifts his free hand to press his palm to your forehead. You feel warm but not hot.

“It’s …” you start, then trail off. Both yours and Steve’s hands fall to your lap.

Steve’s concern spikes. You’ve never been one to hide anything from him. “Yeah?”

“Um, it’s … it’s silly but—“ You take a deep breath and let your eyes raise to Steve’s. You get a look on your face Steve doesn’t quite understand, but it makes his heart leap to his throat anyway. “You know today, when that nurse asked us if you were my boyfriend?”

Steve laughs embarrassedly, too loud and too sudden. So you’d been thinking about that, too. He pulls his hand away from your lap and rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, that was kinda weird, wasn’t it?” He says, though it wasn’t really. Almost every new person he meets thinks you’re dating him. “I was—”

“I wanted to say yes, Stevie.”

Steve stops talking abruptly, his mouth slamming shut. He hadn’t really known what he was about to say, anyway. He searches for words but all he comes up with is a garbled, “What?”

You laugh, all soft and slow and distorted by fatigue. You raise your hand to rub your neck, a mirror of Steve only a moment ago.

“I wanted to say yes,” you repeat, like it’s obvious. Even the second time, Steve doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. His chest feels like it’s on fire, worse when you say, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

For once in his life, Steve has nothing to say. He gazes at you like you’re some sort of angel on earth. Maybe he’s dreaming. Maybe he’s in some cruel dream and he’s about to wake up with his chest aching.

“I …” Steve‘s voice catches on the words. His throat burns so he mustn’t be dreaming. He tries again. “Y-You … you do?”

He’s not even embarrassed by the stuttering. Just when he didn’t think he could be any more in love with you, you giggle. He was dead wrong. His heart grows about three sizes too big for his chest.

“Yeah, Steve,” you say, fondness smothering your fake exasperation. “Do you … do you want me to be your girlfriend?”

What Steve wants is to kiss you. He wants to kiss you til you can’t breathe and then some more after that. Silently, he takes your injured wrist in his hand and gently shifts it so it’s out of the way, resting on the couch cushions. Then he grabs your face, fingers splayed over your jaw and neck. He can feel your pulse. It’s almost as quick as his. He leans so close he can hear every breath you’re taking.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. “That okay?”

You laugh a giddy, breathless laugh, surprised at his suddenness. “Please do.”

He slams his eyes shut, darts forward to kiss you and fucking misses. Your noses bump. A surprised giggle bubbles from you and Steve goes red.

“Wait, I’m sorry—“ He tries again, tilting your head to one side and angling his head to the other. This time it works perfectly, and your giggling is swallowed up by Steve’s mouth, lips fitting together like they were made for each other.

You sigh and go all melty and Steve’s heart skyrockets. It feels like everything in the world is falling into place. It’s years of longing, eternities of lingering touches and offhand compliments and longing glances all rolled into one life changing kiss. Your good hand has jumped to Steve’s chest, first bunched in the material of his t-shirt and then spreading over it, palm atop his wild heart. He thinks he might die on the spot. Or like, catch on fire or something.

Steve is losing breath but he won’t stop just yet. He drops his hands to your shoulders and pulls away a hair’s breadth. Then he dives back in for one, two, three kisses that you respond to with all the eagerness in the world. Your kisses are so lovely they make him light-headed.

When Steve pulls away (for oxygen, nothing less) you chase his lips with yours. He laughs, all fondness. He’s dizzy with love.

“Woah, hold your horses, cowboy,” he says through a woozy laugh. He’s finding it hard to speak. He barely hears himself. For all he knows, he’s talking in an alien language.

“Sorry,” you whisper, not sounding very sorry at all. “So … was that a yes?”

Steve has to laugh. He can’t help it. “Are you kidding? Yes, Y/N. That was a yes. I—“

He’s rudely interrupted by someone banging on the door. He thinks he knows who it is. Only one person he knows knocks that hard.

He sighs morosely but he can’t keep the grin off his face for very long. “I’ll get it.”

He heaves himself off the couch and makes for the front door. You stop him before he gets very far, a hand in his bicep.

“Wait, Steve.”

Steve turns, puzzled. “Yeah?”

You’re lifting your chin up, lips parted. Steve knows exactly what you want.

His grin grows impossibly wider as he bends at the waist to kiss you once, chaste and slow and just as perfect as the kisses shared moments ago. When he pulls away you’re smiling so big he’s worried you’ll get stuck like that forever. He wouldn’t mind.

Another round of banging from the door. Steve sighs, squeezes your good shoulder once and then marches to the front door, just about ready to kick the intruder off his front porch. He opens the door and finds his suspicions were correct. It’s Dustin.

He’s holding a handful of flowers that look suspiciously similar to the ones that grow in Steve’s mom’s garden.

“Those for me?” Steve asks. He shoots his arm out to stop Dustin from barging in, hand gripping the door frame.

Dustin pulls a face. “Ew. No, they’re for Y/N.” He steps aside and more kids appear, plus Robin and Eddie. Eddie’s van has been parked haphazardly in Steve’s driveway. “Can we come in or are you gonna stand there and guard the door like that all night?”

“She’s tired.”

“But we bought chocolates.”

“Well—“

“Dustin?” You call from the living room. Oh, great. Now Steve’s gonna have to let them in. “S’that you?”

Dustin beams and gives Steve an expectant look. Steve drops his arm with a defeated sigh and Dustin goes marching in like he owns the place. Max, Lucas and even Mike follow. Mike, who never shows up to anything. Though Steve shouldn’t be surprised. You’re Mike’s favourite, out of the older ones.

Eddie comes next, then Robin, who stops to give Steve a grimace.

“Sorry,” she says wryly. “They really wanted to see her.”

Steve shrugs good-naturedly. He’s on cloud nine and much too happy to care all that much. He follows Robin into the living room and finds everyone crowded around you, Max on your side and Dustin getting down on one knee to present you the probably-stolen flowers like you’re the Queen of England. You look the same as Steve feels — kiss bitten and with your head in another world. But you’re pleased by the company, he can tell.

Dustin moves to give you one of his bone-crushing hugs and Steve goes all panic mode.

“Please be careful with her!” He says urgently, his panic obvious under the usual demanding tone he takes with the kids.

But you’re laughing under Dustin’s hug, and Steve can’t stay mad when you look like that. You meet his eyes over a mop of curly hair and your gaze goes all mushy and sweet. Steve’s legs feel like jelly. If he keeled over dead right now, he wouldn’t be surprised.

He’s sure someone will see but he doesn’t really care. Grinning from ear to ear, he mouths, “Love you.”

He’s said it before, of course he has, you’re his best friend in the whole entire world. This time though, it’s all the more different. It’s better. You flush, oblivious to the noisy chatter around you.

“Love you too,” you mouth back.

Steve can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

thank you for reading! feedback is appreciated!! reblog this and I’ll kiss you on the mouth mwah

#★ mal writes!#(mal pushes herself past her limit)#ღ stevie #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader fluff #stevesmixtape!

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obsessivevoidkitten · 1 year

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Dishonorably Discharged and Detained

Alpha Shark Man x Gender Neutral Omega Reader (CW: Dubcon, a/b/o, omega reader, DILF, size difference, shark man, merman, biting, marking, claiming, heat cycles, breeding, kidnapping, force fed reader, reader is briefly shocked by an electric fence, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 4.7k (18 minutes into March and already a fic is posted! This was written as a birthday gift for a friend, happy birthday, you know who you are, my longest friendship and trusted confidant. I hope you all enjoy this. Also I tagged this as a merman because I think it qualifies, even without a fish tail a person who is part fish counts. I will die on this hill.)

The dreadnought you were on sailed at a fair pace, ever forward, back to your base. It had been deployed to the front but the battle was over before you even had a chance to arrive, enemy presence in the area had been way overestimated and your unit had not been needed. The sea ahead of you lie calm and serene, the sun scintillating off the surface of the water and the salty breeze kissed your skin, feeling pleasant in your stuffy uniform. You were second in command of the ship directly behind Admiral Reeves, you were an omega but with hard work and perseverance you had managed to defy all expectations of what an omega could be, ranking higher than many alphas your age. This caused some issues when you had first achieved your current rank, but over time you had gained the respect and obedience of those under you as well as the respect of your superiors. You had become invaluable to Admiral Reeves both as a hard worker, a motivator of the troops, and even a strategist he could always call upon for a second opinion when planning on how to engage an enemy force or escape a harrowing situation. That wasn’t to say things were completely easy for you, whenever you were docked or dealing with other service members that were not in your unit you always had to stand strong against harassment and catcalls. And being constantly surrounded by so many alphas, and the pheromones that accompanied them, could sometimes make you more than a bit dizzy. Admiral Reeves’ pheromones were among the most potent, he was not a regular human like most of your peers. He was a shark man. A hybrid species that had been genetically engineered decades ago to help humans explore the seas and get an advantage in maritime combat. Reeves’ heritage was obvious. His sharp teeth, the fin on his back, webbed fingers, gills at the base of his neck, and pale blue skin giving him away to any who saw him. He was likely in his early fifties, it was slightly hard to tell though given he wasn’t completely human, but his short hair had an attractive peppering of grey. As mentioned previously his pheromones were much stronger than an average alpha’s. Probably because he was significantly larger than a normal human. It made being an omega near him all the time slightly difficult, but the main difficulty was that sometimes his cool headed handle on his instincts slipped a bit and he could be just a slight bit overprotective of you. He never disrespected you or questioned your ability to carry out your duties though. After enjoying a few minutes of sunlight and salty sea air you began to make your way back below deck to the dorsal side of the bow where the bridge was contained, you had to make contact with the mainland and give them your coordinates and estimated time of arrival. But before you could even leave the deck a sudden explosion sent you flying. You remained conscious just long enough to notice your right arm and leg were bleeding. You tried to get up but within seconds you collapsed. The next few weeks were a blur that you were almost entirely unconscious for, with only brief fragments of confused awareness. You remembered seeing medics above you, you remember a moment of being in the ship’s medical bay as the ship weaponry fired, and you remembered being awake several times briefly in a hospital bed. When you finally, REALLY, woke up you were in significant pain. Your arm and leg that you had seen bleeding were both in a cast with your leg suspended, your vision was a bit blurry, and your head was throbbing. You had great trouble concentrating, it took great effort to collect yourself and assess your situation. You were no longer in the ship’s medical bay and there were no windows in your room, it seemed very minimalist. Probably a military hospital on base. There was nothing really much you could do other than just try to relax and let yourself heal, eventually a nurse walked in and immediately rushed over to you to check your vitals and ask you a few questions to make sure you were fully aware and awake. After doing so she hurriedly rushed out, staff was under strict orders to notify Reeves the second that you were awake. Since the ship you had been stationed on, The Sentinel, was docked for repairs Reeves was currently at the naval base that you were receiving treatment from and it did not take long for him to be notified about your updated condition and come speeding to your side. You could tell immediately by his scent he had not been getting much sleep and he had been more than a bit anxious. Not surprising, probably lost some good soldiers in that battle and then having to wait as the ship was repaired or for him to get a new assignment was probably pretty stressful. You could have never imagined that the reason for his recent distress had actually been your hospitalization. But it had affected him in ways he would not have thought previously possible. He stood beside you with a huge grin on his face. On anyone and to anyone else it may have been frightful, given the sharp nature of his teeth, but you knew it was a good sign. “Nice to see you awake after you’ve been lazing about in bed for a few weeks, haha,” he joked with his typical sense of humor before his face got grim and he took on a more solemn tone, “But... in all seriousness… It’s good to see you’re okay. We lost some good ones in that attack. Sunk the bastards that did it though.” You took a moment of silence before breaking the tension. “Don’t worry, fish breath, after a short recovery I will be their worst nightmare. I will sink their entire navy myself.” Reeves hastily hid a worried expression at the thought of you returning to duty, you didn’t know what the expression was for but it was probably just a bit of stress piercing through that rough exterior of his. “Heh, yeah. I’m sure. The little pipsqueak is gonna have them all on the ropes. They’ll piss themselves,” he chuckled heartily, though it sounded just a wee bit forced. After some small talk and him telling you about the casualties and general condition of everything he reluctantly left, after the nurse shooed him away to let you rest. For the next 5 to 6 weeks it seemed like resting was all you could really do and by the time you were ready to be released and begin physical therapy to get back to tip top shape you were really ready to get out of bed. Over the course of your recovery Reeves continued to visit you, really just about everyday that he could, to see how you were progressing and he seemed to be increasingly anxious about you returning to duty. Now that you were out of bed that anxiety seemed too palpable for you to ignore and finally, after he had given you a nervous look when you mentioned your excitement to be seaworthy right as The Sentinel was nearly ready to depart, you decided to just ask him about it. “It may just be me but… it seems like you don’t really want me back on duty…” “What that’s crazy!” he said in a manner that had you wholly unconvinced. You crossed your arms, tilted your head slightly, and stared at him with an expression that said “really?” He sighed deeply before finally admitting outright what he had been thinking since the moment you had been taken to the ship’s med bay. “Look… I know you are a talented sailor but… are you sure you should keep doing this?” You were stunned, mouth agape in shock, but he took your silence as an opportunity to press forward with his line of logic. “I mean… you have a smaller frame than anyone else. The doctors did not know if you would survive at first and the doctors said that even a beta, let alone an alpha, with a larger body would not have been so damaged by the blast or so endangered by the blood loss,” once he started saying all this the words just seemed to spill out of his mouth, like he had been damming them up and it had finally burst allowing him to unleash a torrent of his thoughts on the matter. There was of course much more to it than that, he was in love with you, but even if he had been honest about not wanting you back in combat he could not be completely honest with you or with himself on why exactly he was so adamant. You were speechless a moment more before becoming absolutely indignant. “SEVERAL people passed away in that battle, and all of them were all alphas, war doesn’t spare anyone!” Normally someone speaking to their direct superior in such a manner would be reprimanded but you were beyond caring at this point. “That may be true, but being smaller and more fragile doesn’t help your chances. And you have always been a bit accident prone…” Not an entirely unwarranted criticism, you did tend to be a bit accident prone, though all of those were minor injuries, nothing serious until now, but having enemy ammunition go off near you was hardly your fault and anyone, regardless of body or constitution, would have been injured by such a situation. Incredulous at his comments you stormed off, he called out behind you but you kept going on. That night you didn’t get much rest and you were irritable the next morning. But that did not compare you to the anger you had when you reported in the next morning and had Reeves tell you that he did not want you working with him anymore, he wanted you off the ship working in a safer non-combat capacity. You just stormed off once again to get reassigned to another combat ship. It didn’t have to be glamorous, it could be a fucking submarine for all you cared. It hurt, and it hurt bad, that you would not be with your former crew, or with the leader you had grown to consider a friend, but in battle was where you were meant to be. You put in for reassignment and vacillated between anger, grief, and feelings of betrayal for the remainder of the day. As at the end of everyday you made your way to the omega barracks. You were the only one using them currently, unlike on the ships there were fresh recruits trained on site so separate sleeping arrangements were made. It was hard but eventually you managed to push your raging emotions aside and go to sleep. Reeves had heard about your reassignment, he figured you might be difficult. Instead of asking for a non-combative position you had of course just let them reassign you to another dreadnought. He couldn’t just tank your career to get you out of the front lines, you had too impeccable of a record for anyone to believe that and too many sailors that would vouch for you, no, he would have to instead use his ties to have you erased completely. The shark was a very high ranking admiral with ties to the intelligence agencies and it was within his power to do such a thing, considering you had no civilian friends or family to poke around, and anyone in the navy who might poke around could easily be brushed off or told that you had passed away in the line of duty. So in the dead of night you were disappeared. Operatives quickly snuck in and made their way to your sleeping form, quickly injecting you with a serum that would keep you completely unconscious for many hours and then shoving you into a black sack. You woke up from probably what could be described as the deepest and most fulfilling sleep you had ever known, and then you looked around and realized that you were most certainly not where you had gone to sleep. Gone were the rows of bunk beds that had filled the small omega barracks room, replaced by a small room without any windows, blank walls, and harsh lights. It all seemed very… antiseptic. Too clean. Too empty. You went to the door, which had a small barred hole window, and tried to open it, but it was completely sealed with no way to open it without the key. But you were stubborn and shouted a few curses while trying to force it open anyway. This proved to be a mistake, as it summoned your captor. Reeves. “Admiral!? What the fuck!?! Where are we? Why am I being detained?” He looked at you and with a regretful sigh said, “You just… wouldn’t listen to reason. And I couldn’t lose you.” “My god… You’re absolutely insane! You can’t just cage me up like I am some sort of animal just because I don’t want to live my life how you want me to!” “I AM NOT INSANE!! You refused to see reason! I love you and couldn’t have you in danger anymore and you just wanted to charge in and get hurt. Your injury was a sign that it needed to stop. YOU NEED TO BE SAFE!” You flinched back, unaccustomed to him being so loud and angry. At seeing you recoil his face softened and his tone became much more quiet. “Look, you’ll get used to it here okay? I know the room is a bit bare but we can put whatever you want in here, okay? The war will be over soon and I will be able to be home and then you can move in with me.” You looked down, angry and depressed and betrayed, unable to meet his gaze. Finally he sighed heavily and mumbled that he would have someone bring you some food but he had to go. That’s largely how life went for you there for roughly a year. Facility staff would take care of your day to day needs and every few months, or sometimes weeks, you would get a visit from Reeves. Each time he would offer you some gift or trinket, repeating his confessions of love and care for you. He gave you sweets, blankets, plushies, flowers, and various other things. The blankets and plushies were scented by him, in typical courting fashion, but no matter what the item was you shoved it in the farthest corner of the room. Except the sweets, they would have expired, so instead you would immediately throw them at him. Reeves was more than distraught, not only were his attempts to advance a relationship with you not succeeding, but the friendship you had before was totally eroded. Till, the most important thing above all else was that you remained safe, and once the war ended, which would be any day now, he would be able to move you to his house and take care of you daily himself. When the war was finally over and the time had come for you to be transported to your new happy home with your captor and the destroyer of your life you fought the personnel that were trying to put you in the transport van that had been loaded with all of your things tooth and claw. Literally. You clawed and bit everyone who got near you, you would rather live in a boring glorified cage for the rest of your life than be in a house with Reeves. Finally they had you held down by multiple men and once again injected with a sedative. And, just like a somewhat uncertain amount of months previously, you woke up in a strange room. This time on a couch though. A blanket had been lovingly put on top of you and a soft pillow placed behind your head. This was obviously Reeves’ house. Unlike last time you had been informed of your destination before being abducted. It appeared you were in a modified basement, you looked around, searching for anything that may be useful as a weapon. Sadly, it seemed the room had been left clear of anything you could use to fight Reeves with. There were tiny windows, but they were not only really high up but also really small. Even if you could somehow manage to eat them you would never manage to squeeze through them. There was really only one course of action left for you. You took the blanket that had been left down here for you and waited at the door for Reeves to come down and check on you. When he finally opened it you hid behind it until he took a few steps down. You then threw the blanket over his head and kicked his legs as hard as you could making him stumble, you took the opening to push him down the steps and flee out of the basement. You came up into a hallway that connected to the living room and rushed out the door. You were more than a bit shaky, you had no shoes, and your body was weak but pushed on by a potent mix of sheer force of will and a strong dose of adrenaline allowed you to propel yourself forward. You ran down the driveway and came to a fence that was entirely locked up. No problem. You could scale this with ease, flee into the woods that seemed to surround this area, and eventually find help on the other side. But the second you touched the fence and electric current ran through your body, causing you to twitch and fall down stunned. It was electrified. Because of course it was. For someone he was worried about dying in battle he sure as shit did not seem to underestimate you when it came to you trying to escape. It didn’t take long for him to come running, you had hoped you may have been lucky enough to at least have broken a leg or ankle as he fell, but it seems he was unperturbed by his recent push. You were too shaky at this point to do anything other than let him pick you up and hold you close. “It’s okay, I know you’re scared, I forgive you for pushing me. And sorry about the fence, can’t take any chances.” He carried you back down to the basement and sat you down gently on the couch, laying the blanket that you had formerly used as a weapon on top of you before kissing your forehead, which made you flinch away in disgust. “Now that we are living together I will be able to give you the non-stop attention you deserve. I am sure you will love it here eventually, okay?” “Not okay you absolute fucking idiot, there is no way in the world I will ever love you or even remotely tolerate your presence! Just let me go! The war is already over anyway.” “There is always another war eventually and I must keep you safe from yourself. I just can't risk losing you, can’t you understand that?” You just scoffed in response and pulled the cover over your face so you didn’t have to look at him. Reeves tried rubbing your arm comfortingly through the blanket, and you could do nothing to stop given how shaken up you still were, but he could smell in your scent that you were growing increasingly angry and even a bit anxious at his touch so he finally retreated upstairs to make you a nice dinner. He remembered from years of service with you that you got pretty cranky when you were hungry. When he came back he brought with him a bowl of delicious smelling crab bisque, something he thought was fairly light and easily digestible, but not too light and still full of nutrients. He sat the bowls down on the coffee table and sat on the opposite side of the couch from you. “Sorry about the furniture accommodations. I will move a table and bed down here for you eventually. At some point you will share my bed but I felt like an adjustment period might be good for you first.” “Yeah, so I don’t murder you in your sleep,” you said dryly and without any hint of it being a joke. “Y-you don’t mean that, you’re just a bit cranky because you need some foo-” **CRASH** He was interrupted by you using your hand to smack the bowl of bisque right the fuck off the table and into the hard concrete wall, not unlike a cat that had taken offense to a cup on a table. “It’s… okay… I made more than enough. I know this has been hard on you.” All you did was blankly stare at him as he went and procured another bowl. It smelled great and you were well and truly hungry, but you refused to give in. If you made sure not to eat too much your body would not trigger a heat because it would take too much energy. You also just wanted to piss him off, maybe get him so pissed off that he either lets you go or at least makes some mistakes that you can exploit. When he handed you the second bowl he had gotten for you it immediately met the same fate as its predecessor. He stared at you for a long moment that seemed to span an eternity before he angrily grabbed his bowl of food and pulled you close to him by his arm. He pinched your nose closed so you had to open your mouth and then he shoved a spoonful of food into your mouth, then he held his hand over your mouth so you had to swallow. Reeves continued this a couple times until you got the memo and ate the rest of the bowl willingly. Well… you had wanted him to be pissed. Over the course of weeks you had to accept that you just had to eat what you were given, but by no means did you just give up on making life inconvenient for him. Every gift tossed, any furniture he brought down here destroyed, blankets shredded, anytime he scented something it would be immediately quarantined to the closet after its destruction. The only thing you kept was clothing you deemed acceptable and without his smell on it, you needed clothes but would not accept any with his pheromones. That could be misconstrued as you accepting courtship. You were perfectly content with denying him any ounce of love, affection, or friendship and you were right in the middle of giving a nice silent treatment when finally the proper nutrition and your omega nature convened to ruin everything. You were in heat. Heats were very strong on a normal day, but this was not a normal heat, this was the first heat in a very long time. You had prevented them for a long time in the black site and when you were in the navy of course you took prescribed suppressants. You hadn’t had one in years. Tremors shook your body, you couldn’t stand and your body temperature was heightened. They didn’t call it a heat for nothing. Your brain was addled, you were dizzy and almost delirious, you could barely remember why you were here. You tossed off the covers and stripped down to your slick soaked underwear. Reeves was awoken by an amazing scent and knew immediately what it was, your pheromones beckoning him even from his bedroom, his darling needed him desperately. The smell demanded he come immediately to you and comfort you and take care of you in every way imaginable. Reeves saw you there before him, writhing in carnal need and so small and helpless in front of him. The couch wouldn’t do, he needed a bigger and more familiar space, he took you up to his room where he had actually made and maintained a nest made of things that smelled of the both of you. Despite a vague notion in the back of your mind telling you to avoid him, scratch him, and leave this situation, your instincts and the powerful consequences of having denied yourself your natural cycle DEMANDED that you bury your nose into the scent gland of his neck. So strong, such a strong mate. Reeves was elated, his brain was very much fogged too with lust and instinct but he didn’t have it as badly as you did. He was very much aware that his darling mate was finally accepting and even actively seeking out comfort from him. The shark man peeled off your slick saturated underwear, sniffing at your hole, breathing in the heavenly aroma you made, before your cries of desperation and something inside of him told him to slide his tongue right inside. Finally you began to feel the smallest amount of relief. It wasn’t enough, you needed a knot. A nice big knot from a nice big alpha, and this one smelled strong. You grinded yourself into his probing tongue, whimpering for much more. After several minutes of this he decided that was enough of getting your flavor and he was now ready to properly breed and mark his sweet little brat. He took off his clothes, revealing his large well muscled pecs, lightly scarred from years of combat, and his large cock. The musk coming from it made you drool. He wasted no time ramming into you, as caught up in the moment as he was he had little concern for going slow or for any possible discomfort. Fortunately there was none, you were perfectly primed for his large prick. It slid in you perfectly hitting all the right spots inside of you, causing you to squeal with delight when he bottomed out, deep within you. He moaned himself when he felt your heat and how every movement you made, every shudder, squirm, and all that writhing, he could feel on his cock. He started slow at first, but that was not what either of you wanted and soon it turned into a messy slamming of you, making hot wet sounds as he battered your innards with his cock pistoning in and out. It did not take long at all for his knot to start to swell within you and then reach its full size, sealing the two of you together whether or not you would want it when post heat clarity hit you. You clung to him tightly as he bred you, nails clawing at the skin of his back, as if trying to pull him deeper inside you. He nuzzled into your neck, his nose swimming in your scent as he breathed it in, this is what he had wanted for so long and now he knew he would never regret his actions, everything had been worth it. Reeves licked your neck and bit down on your scent gland, sharp teeth buried into your neck, you whimpered at the sensation and he licked your neck comfortingly, holding you close as you both shared a powerful orgasm. You both panted from the intensity, the heat that was burning up your will power and clarity fading a bit, but not enough to be yourself again. Reeves knew on some level that when things went back to normal you would still resist him, and your convictions would not be so altered in subsequent heats now that you had one after so long, but this was a good start to everything finally falling into place. Your heat would last days and there would be a lot of breeding and a lot of bonding. His instinct to protect you would only get stronger and you would be a bit more susceptible to his pheromones and would naturally seek him out for comfort when in distress. He may have been part fish, but it was you who were caught in his net.

#yandere merman #yandere terato #yandere teratophilia #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #male yandere x gn reader #merman boyfriend #yandere husband #yandere a/b/o #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #omega reader #My OCs #My OC Reeves

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gfguren · 5 months

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pro hero!bakugou x sidekick!reader | fluff, mutual pining, blatant flirting, bakugou calls reader darlin', bakugou is soft(ish) | cw: injury, mentions of alcohol, name calling (idiot), kisses kisses kisses

-bakugou tends to your injury, pining for you nearly as much as you do for him-

Your arm burns in waves, like kindling fire, the plain between your elbow and wrist a bramble of red and purple. It stings like a million tiny thorns pricking your skin.

"Why'd ya get in the way, idiot!" Bakugou's words are fierce and his brow is drawn, but you see the way his cheeks flush. He's embarrassed, guilt-ridden though it's not his fault. Not really.

You were both too overzealous for your own goods, determined to land the final blow on the villains. But his quirk was bigger, more explosive, harder to stop when your hands inevitably collided. You're just lucky your arm took the brunt of it.

Still, you smile despite the pain and his frown deepens, "What? Ya hit yer head too?"

You take a step forward, then two, crossing the threshold of your front door, reveling in the way his blush travels to his ears. "Did you come all the way here just to nag me?" There's a lilt of amusement in your voice, and he huffs, exasperation on his breath. "Or are you finally gonna give me that?"

You point to the bag dangling from his fingertips, pharmacy label half hidden by his baggy combat trousers. He's still in costume, mask pushed up over his wild, blonde hair, light sheen of sweat dotting his forehead and shoulders.

He's a proper distraction from the pain at least.

His gaze falls to his own hand, as if he'd entirely forgotten. There's a palpable moment of hesitation, and then he grunts, knuckles clenching; he thrusts it against your chest.

"Did'ya sterilize it, at least?"

You're half listening, shuffling through the contents of the bag. "Mhm, rinsed it with water when I got home."

"Yer hopeless, darlin'."

You shrug, "If a little burn could take me out, I wouldn't be much of a hero, now would I?"

He snorts, "If ya were such a good hero, you'd have dodged in the first place."

"You think?" You humor his attitude, heart swelling in your chest when you spot your favorite candy hidden beneath the ointments and bandages. You have half a mind to tease him about it. "Are you gonna help me put this on?"

His arms fold across his chest, half a scowl twisting his face. He leans back, tapping a heavy boot against the floorboards. "And why would I do that?"

He must think he's subtle but you read him like a book, finger the pages, read between the lines. There's worry in his brow, guilt, turmoil, anger directed at his own self.

You figured it would help alleviate his conscience, at least.

"That's fine. I'll get around to it eventually." You turn on your heel, adding a cheeky "probably" to accentuate the wave of your hand, nudge him into action. It works.

Warm fingers encircle your wrist and you bite your tongue, suppress the laugh inching it's way up your throat. Predictable, cute. It takes everything in you not to grin.

Two big hands push you down by the shoulders, cushions folding beneath your thighs. Bakugou holds a palm out expectantly and you place your own atop his, reveling in the way his nose scrunches in frustration.

You don't miss the way he lets it linger - just for a moment - before finally swatting it away with a half-hearted flick of the wrist. "The ointment, idiot."

You relent, handing him the thin white tube. He spreads a stripe down his fingertips, seat dipping beside you; he extends his opposite hand. "Now your hand."

You grin, fingers gently curling around his own. It's not meant to be romantic, the way he draws you forward, presses your knuckles to his chest. He's just trying to get a better look at the wound, head tilting this way and that. But his hand is so warm, and he's so pretty from this angle, and when his eyes rise to meet yours his breath hitches in his throat; and so does yours.

It's intimate, familiar.

It makes you want to break whatever this unspoken 'something' is that the two of you have fostered - this growing affection you're both too proud to admit that wears on you, leaves you yearning to lean just a little closer and finally concede.

Just like all those nights ago, when he got a little too drunk at the hero convention, quickly annoyed by the crowds and reporters, the loud, boasting heroes. His champagne glass was quickly emptied once more, grunting when he pushed back in his chair. You remember leaning closer, close enough to discretely ask if he was alright. His red hot stare followed, burned through your chest and down to your core, left you shifting restlessly in your seat.

The air was thick when he finally careened upward, swaying perilously as he took you by the wrist, led you up and out of the dining hall until it was just the two of you, alone in an empty corridor. You could still hear the echo of stranger's voices, but it didn't bother him, not when he crowded you against the wall, not when his big hand fell to the space beside your head, or when his face dipped to linger just close enough to have your heart beating wildly in your chest.

"What about the party?"

"'as boring." He'd replied, fingers 'round your wrist, lingering on your pulse; he feels it stutter beneath his touch. "Ya scared?"

You would be, should be, if it was anyone else. Big, leering, all rippling muscle and explosive temper - but it was Bakugou, your mentor, your best friend, heart of a hero and handsome as hell. You've loved him as long as you've known him.

"No."

He'd grinned, leaned forward til' his lips found yours, deeper, sweeter than you'd ever imagined, and gods you had, too many times.

"Good."

You're so lost in thought that you miss the way skin meets skin, thin buffer of ointment between you, and it burns - his fingers against your aching forearm. Your cheeky smile twists into a grimace and you can almost taste his guilt.

"Quit bein' a baby." Bakugou's bark holds no bite, touch softening until his rough fingers border featherlight. "Yer a hero, r'member."

You watch as he carefully applies the medicine, touch gentling each time you flinch until he's barely touching you at all.

"You've said that a lot today. 'Hero'." You muse. "It's usually sidekick this, sidekick that."

He shoots you a look before wiping the ointment from his fingers. "Yer my sidekick."

"Yeah?" You tilt your head, leaning forward to rest your chin on your unattended hand. "And what's the difference?"

He could answer you honestly, if he wanted. You're capable, brave, strong in your own right - beautiful to boot. You're the best of the best; Bakugou would never settle for less after all. Not that he was going to admit that.

Instead his lips twist in amusement, curling, lopsided, askew; you realize you won't be getting a straight answer.

"Ya should know by now when t' stay out of my way, is the difference." He pulls a bandage as big as his fist from the bag, pressing one corner to the flat of your palm, working it up and around until it reaches your wrist, and further still. "Was perfectly capable of handlin' it on my own."

"Seemed like you had your hands full with the big guy," you quip back, rubbing your thumb absently over the scratchy bandage. "Was I supposed to watch while the other one pummeled you from behind?"

He quirks a brow, you're not sure if he's annoyed or amused. "Woulda been fine. How d'ya think I made it to the top twenty, 've practically got eyes on the back of my head."

"You sure? Think I recall a time or two you've been whacked upside the head."

His eyes stray for only a moment, simmering up at you beneath dark lashes. "Think we might need t' get yer eyes checked, darlin', seems yer seein' things."

"Guess I need a hearing test too, since I remember you being a total crybaby about it."

He centers the tips of his thumb and pointer just above your brow, fingertips bouncing off your forehead, a tepid flick! and he's resuming his handiwork.

"Hey!" you pout, rubbing the offended area with your unfettered hand. "I'm a patient, you're supposed to be nice to me!"

"And who's fault is that." He grins, light and easy and gone in an instant, with a flash of realization, guilt that reaches his eyes and worries his brow. It's his, still.

You sigh, "Look at me." And he does, begrudgingly as it may be. "It's not your fault. I should have trusted you more. And you should have trusted me. We're both idiots so quit blaming yourself." You lightly flick his forehead in return; he doesn't flinch, eyes never leaving your own. "Finish the wrapping and we'll call it even, yeah?"

He grumbles something lost on you, stretching the last bit of fabric beneath your elbow and tucking it into itself. He turns your arm over in his palm, lightly, carefully inspecting it before leaning back against the cushions. You can feel his guilt dissipate, the stress in his shoulders slowly deflating.

"Ya hurt anywhere else?" His voice is low, quiet. He desperately hopes not.

You think for a moment, read his face, his body language, and then you're rubbing the space above your brow, faking a pout if only to lighten the mood. "Yeah, some brute bruised my forehead earlier, think it needs medical attention."

He crosses his arms, muscles flexing, brow tightening in discontent. "I'm being serious."

You struggle to suppress the laugh bubbling up in your chest. "So am I. What a devastating injury, I fear I won't live long." You dramatically throw yourself over his lap, knuckles laid flat over your brow. There's a conflicting look in his eye; you struggle to read it. "If only a big, handsome hero woul-"

You nearly miss the annoyed huff, the subtle roll of his eyes, too enamored in the way he encircles your wrist with one big hand, guides it to rest against his chest before leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead.

You're sure there's hearts in your eyes when he straightens his shoulders, hand still idle against his heartbeat; his thumb absently strokes the soft underside of your wrist but his gaze doesn't linger. A hint of a blush creeps up his neck, eyes fixated on the opposite corner of the room. "Done bein' a crybaby?"

You try and fail, miserably so, to hide the delight dancing in your chest and curling your toes. There's a grin splitting your cheeks when you sit up, face an inch from his own. "Mhm."

You can feel his breath, his hesitation, the slippery, fluttering feelings he's struggling to catch, and name, and put into words. He decides it's easier to turn his back to them, to you - again.

It's always the same song and dance, one step forward, two steps back.

He's up in a moment, fidgeting with his tank, his gloves, his mask, anything he can get his hands on. You sigh, pushing off the couch, taking one step, two, arms wrapping snug around his middle. "What're ya doin'?"

"Checking something."

"And what's that?"

"Whether or not you have eyes on the back of your head." He ignores your teasing, so you press a little further, tease a little more. "Either you don't," you squeeze him tighter, closer, smush your cheek against his back. "Or you totally just let me hug you."

He croons his head to stare you down, if looks could kill, you'd be very very toasty right about now. Still you laugh, hide your smile in the shadow of his broad shoulders, tip toe around him when twists around to face you.

Finally he catches you, two big hands clamped down on either shoulder. You wait for him to scold you, tongue between your teeth, bated breath in your lungs. But he only grunts, fingers curling around the base of your neck until he can slant his lips over your own.

You sigh, it's the second time Katsuki Bakugou's lips have been on yours. But they no longer taste of saltines, white wine, impulse or hesitation; it's not some drunken mistake or whimsy he'll pretend to have forgotten by morning. This time he's kissing you because he wants to. Because the feelings he harbors are just the same as yours.

And when he pulls away his red eyes have mellowed, a dull amber, an expectant cinnabar. There's a palpable silence, one beat, two, three - possibly. His impatience gets the better of him. "Well?"

You stifle a laugh, keen up at him, hands absently against his chest. "Well what?"

"What d'ya mean 'well what'?!"

What ever self control you had wavers, the incredulous look in his eyes sending you over the edge until your devolving into a fit of laughter.

"What's so funny, huh?"

"'m sorry." The laughter rattles you, chest like a suitcase too small to pack away the joy that fills you, spills over the brim in fits of laughter. It's infectious; Bakugou grins.

Your hands cup his cheeks. "You're too cute not to tease."

He sucks on his teeth. "Cute huh?" His hand cups your wrist, thumbs the bandage, careful, cute. "I nearly cooked ya and 'm 'cute?'"

You lean forward, bump your nose against his. "Mhm."

"There's somethin' wrong with you."

"Yeah, it's called the guy I like is completely oblivious and won't tell me he likes me."

"I kissed you, twice. If ya didn't take the hint, that's on you."

You're smiling when you press your lips to his - quick, tepid, chaste, and over and over and over again.

He breaks away, eyes full of suspicion. "What was that for?"

"What? Didn't you take the hint?" You slant your mouth over his, linger a little longer this time. "I like you." You kiss him again, again, again.

He snorts, palm falling to the small of your back, big hand heavy on your skin. "Point taken."

He dips his head low, kisses you, soft and slow, fingers flexing against your shirt, dragging you closer when you move to pull back. "I like ya." His breath is hot against your mouth. "Always have."

#bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #mha x you #finally finished the anime #now this blonde menace lives in my head rent free 😩#if anyone was wondering why i disappeared for 3 months its the 6+ bakugou wips in my phone ☠️

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batterygarden · 13 days

Text

trapped in a bomb shelter with your big bro naoya

cw: big bro! naoya x fem & afab! reader, dead dove do not eat, misogyny! (and it's my kink so it's not like.. refuted), mild degradation (naoya calls u dumb), but naoya's sweet too, depression and nihilism, masturbation (both of u), sorta dubcon (tagged), fingering, and light mentions of: p in v, somno, cunnilingus, bondage, cowgirl, humiliation kink (on you), naoya being possessive, 1.7 k words

18+, minors don't interact

It’s surprising when the attack is announced how quickly Naoya moves to grab you. The gears in your mind haven’t even processed the news—that doomsday is upon you—by the time your brother has you snatched up in his arms and he’s running.

Most of the clan’s away at a local festival—a whole kilometer’s walk from the great zenin estate and the bomb shelter your esteemed (and wealthy) clan head installed. You and Naoya are the only ones to make it in time.

Naoya has never been the warmest big brother. In fact, there have been plenty of times where you thought you hated him. But at the end of the day you know he cares for you—even if it’s in his twisted, roundabout way. Still, enough that you were his first and only priority to shove into the little bunker beneath your estate surprised you a bit.

You aren’t sure Naoya thought his decision out—you know he didn’t have time to properly. The way he rushed to your room and scooped you in his arms, no pit stops before locking the thick bunker door closed behind him—before anyone else had the chance to join. It ended up being for the best, explosions outside were heard only too shortly after—still, you hope he doesn’t regret it.

You’re nearing day 10 inside your small shelter, and if the shaking ground and dire radio warnings Naoya managed to pick up are any indicator—the world outside isn’t going to be inhabitable again for a while.

Naoya is handling things better than expected. He’s thrown himself to small tasks—keeping the mind sharp he calls it. He’s less grumpy than he could be—resilient. Honestly the one lacking in mental fortitude is you.

“You can’t just sit there watching me do push ups. You need to move around too, dummy.”

“Nii-san im starting to lose the point.”

“The point?”

“I don’t understand why anything matters anymore if we’re all that’s left.”

He wipes sweat from his brow, glaring at you while he drinks some water.

“You just said it. Things still matter because we are still here. Eventually outside will be safe again and we’ll get out and start over. Don’t get all stupid and weepy in the meantime.”

You try to stay occupied, you try to do as Naoya says, but still, you struggle. Spending day after monotonous day trapped in here, you can’t help but start to get depressed.

Then one day Naoya says he needs to touch himself.

And there’s no room for you to avoid him while he does. You’re uncomfortable—-giving him a look that conveys it. But he insists he has to.

“I’m a man. Don’t be dense.”

Before you know it his cock is out and he’s fisting it at a leisurely pace, leaning back on the bed with his other hand. You face away from him, trying and failing to focus on rereading your book. But then he says your name, and when you look he’s still exposed and hard, but he beckons for you to come closer. He isn’t satisfied with your closeness till you’re sitting beside him on the bed.

He’s still stroking himself slowly when he says: “You need this, too. Touch yourself.”

You freeze for a minute then shake your head. Is this some kind of test? It’s shameful…

“Saving yourself for marriage doesn’t matter anymore if we’re all that’s left. You’re practically mine now anyways, since our entire clan is obliterated. It’s just me ‘n you.”

...You need to collect your thoughts. In the first place… you’re unsure how far you could get away with disobeying your big brother. He’s been somewhat softer in the shelter, better behaved than he was outside, at least. But you haven’t forgotten the way he used to act when he didn’t get his way… conniving and nasty—you’ve witnessed his wrath more times than you can count. Notably, though, It wasn’t ever pointed at you—his attitude towards his little sister has only ever been mischievous at worst. He’d simply mock and pick apart, invade your personal space and mess up your hair—though you’re sure he’d have been much worse if you didn’t go out of your way to be inoffensive. All in all, a hard no from you now would be a first inside the shelter.

Then there’s the honest truth of the matter: he’s right. Naoya may as well be the last person on earth for all you know, and you have been going crazy with hormones and neediness—but too afraid to touch yourself with no alone time. It’s a week after your period so you’re pretty sure you’re ovulating, and Naoya’s been walking around shirtless, acting just as touchy as always, but kinder than usual—and it’s not like he’s unattractive.

It’s sick that you’re even considering it. Touching yourself at your brother’s command—you’re a daughter of a distinguished clan! Maybe this little bunker truly is making you crazy…

In the end, the same idea that’s been infecting your mind constantly post doomsday wins out: nothing matters anymore anyways.

That thought is how you justify laying back on the bed beside your brother, stripped of your robes and spread-legged, two fingers pumping in and out of your pussy while you buck against your palm.

Naoya’s sharp eyes watch from beside you, never missing a thing while he continues stroking his cock. You’re so relieved to be giving your pussy attention after so long, you don’t even dwell on how messed up it all is.

After a while of trying to cum but barely reaching that special spot inside you to do so, Naoya can’t take watching anymore.

“My sweet sister, how old are you, again? You can’t even make yourself cum?” Naoya tucks his hard-on in the waistband of his pants, focusing entirely on you.

The mattress squeaks as he scoots closer, large hand around your ankle to spread you wider for his gaze.

You stop pumping your fingers, giving him a slow stare. He frowns. “No, no, keep trying. Let me see what’s the matter.”

So you do, working yourself up while you and Naoya watch each other, humping your palm when you get close again. You whine, biting your lip while you brush against the part inside you that feels best. Still, it’s not enough. You’re on the edge of tears searching for that release when—

“Okay, stop, sweet thing. You clearly need a man to do this.”

You pant while you look up at him, remembering what exactly is going on here when you pull your messy fingers away. It only makes you wetter when you think of the nastiness of it all.

“Nii-san?”

It shouldn’t surprise you when his fingers replace yours, but it does, Naoya’s warm touch with no warning earning a little jump.

He doesn’t comment, only sets to work with his middle and ring finger sinking deep into your hole, curling right where you need them but couldn’t reach yourself, pressing his thumb to your clit at the same time.

It feels heavenly. So good you almost close your eyes, but you can’t somehow. You wouldn’t want to lose a glimpse of Naoya—his eyes are transfixing.

And, like always, Naoya watches you back.

His expression while he does is patient and relaxed in a way that reminds you of when he helped you with homework or something as a kid. Patient and bored if you ever struggled or needed help—like he always had low expectations for you. You suppose that’s why he had so much more patience for you than he did for other family members—your shortcomings were at times endearing while those he thought were supposed to be strong had stricter standards.

Ultimately, an inability to make yourself cum seems like something Naoya expected of you.

And he wasn’t lying about his ability to help—his bigger fingers fit inside you just where you need them, and it takes your brother only minutes to earn your release, clamping down on him while you make a mess on the bed, crying out and arching—after edging for so long the orgasm lasts what feels like forever.

Noaya fucks you after that. He may as well, he tells you—he still needs to get off and it’ll feel good for you this way too. And he’s right, he may as well. It’s the end of the world and your brother may as well fuck you. And of course his cock feels amazing—it manages to feel like a solace in this bunker where nothing matters.

After that day, miraculously, you start to perk up. Naoya figured out the key to your depression, the key to keeping you occupied—it’s sex. Everyday your big brother fucks you and every day you get better.

Things stay interesting because when you’re fucking every day—you experiment. Or at least, Naoya does—he’s the creative one between the two of you, you’re just along for the ride.

You wake up in knots of rope one morning with Naoya’s tongue between your legs—you’re in the middle of an orgasm. He splits you open on his cock afterwards for good measure. He lets you ride him another day, something you’re fairly sure he’s never let a woman do. You cockwarm him while the two of you read a book at the same time—it’s silly. He’s kept you tied up almost an entire day before, doing whatever he wanted, exposed and embarrassed. You’re his little cock sleeve of a sister, he says.

“You know I’m actually glad that at least this way, stuck in here, no other clan can have you. They wouldn’t deserve you as a wife, not one of them. It’s a silver lining—this way, you’re all mine.”

#naoya x reader #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #naoya zenin x reader #naoya fic #naoya smut #jjk fic #naoya zenin fic #tw.incest #tw.dubcon #tw.misogyny #tw.degradation #tw.somnophilia #🐞 writes

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harunovella · 10 months

Text

feel my unconditional love ; t.u.

synopsis: being the fourth wife of tengen uzui must have been the world punishing you for being unmarried at the ripe age of 18; the last in your family to move on... or so you thought.

cw: alternate universe, fourth wife!reader, self isolation, arranged marriage, mentions of violence, near death experience, tengen is just such a good man and husband, reader just needs a big hug, angst, running away, slight slow burn, training, loss of virginity, oral, first time, love confessions, plot twist, happy ending, ambiguous ending, not beta read

wc: 9.4k+

an: my first ever tengen fic! I love this man so very much and it's a shame he's hardly written... a lil side note, the reader goes through mild depression but it isn't stated as such, she just isn't happy with the predicament she's in and is sort of on a self destructive path (self isolation/not eating out of sadness) but I promise there's a happy ending! if it's not your sort of thing, you are more than welcome to ignore the story...

p.s. this is only reader x tengen, the wives are only mentioned throughout the story and have minor interactions with the reader (sorry, not sorry, I want tengen all to myself)

The sound of rain pouring down from the evening showers and colliding with the veranda echoed in your head. You sat with your knees pulled in, gazing out into the dark of the night as the thunderstorm roared. Lightening flashed momentarily before the explosive rumble followed. It wasn't wise to be sitting so close to the rain as the gusts of wind caused the droplets to lightly sprinkle at you and the interior of your room... however, you didn't seem to care. The state of mind you were in wasn't a lovely one.

It had been less than 24 hours since you became the fourth wife to the retired Hashira, Uzui Tengen. The sound of Mrs. Uzui from outside your room was unsettling and foreign to you whenever someone wanted to speak to you—whether to give you food or check up on you. After all, the second you became a wife, you practically locked yourself away from the rest of the world after, digging yourself deeper into the sorrow you felt.

You were the youngest and last daughter in your clan who needed to be wedded off. In a family of five sisters, it was expected for you all to be raised into proper housewives. A life you despised. You never wanted this, any of this. You had avoided it for so long. All your sisters married fairly young, between the ages of 15 and 16... you, however, were 18 and managed to add some time. Solely because you were the youngest and everyone was so busy they had nearly forgotten about you... but that didn't last long.

The moment your clan came to the realization that you were now 18, still unwed and doing nothing, they were quick on their feet. You weren't present for most of the decision making, only aware that a certain clan owed yours and this was the perfect way to clear up the debt. The details were never given to you, why it was that something was owed, but you were told the man you'd marry not only was practically one of the last of his clan, but also already wedded to three other wives.

That left a bad taste in your mouth.

How could your family allow this? Tossing you two a man with that many wives? Surely they must've cared some for you.. right?

Apparently, they did not.

You were unhappy as it was, but to be a fourth wife to someone? You've heard plenty horror stories of women in marriages such as those. Being used as nothing more than a tool to expand clans, long forgotten once they no longer could produce. Others dying and being disposed of during child labor (or while carrying a child). It terrified you, to say the least. Was that what you were going to end up as? Such a young woman with a who life to live... only for it to be taken from you just because you were seen as a breeding machine?

You cried for days before the wedding. You cried the day of. And you cried right after when you locked yourself up.

Now? You were exhausted. Your eyes heavy, your body aching to rest, but you just couldn't... no matter what. Even though the ceremony was less than a day ago, you couldn't quite remember the last time you properly slept. You got no more than three to four hours of sleep. You barely ate, too. How were you still functioning?

Days would come and go, and you'd be the same. Hidden from the others, not showing yourself during meals or, really, anything. The maids would come knocking but you'd never answer. Food was always left outside your door and it was almost always halfway full. You tried to eat, but everything was tasteless to you. The spiral you had found yourself falling into was deadly... even the other wives would try to speak to you, mentioning how worried they were.

You didn't even know their names.

Or did you? Maybe it was mentioned at one point. Who knows, you've been on autopilot for a while now. Information goes into one ear and out the other. What have you become?

"I'm worried for her..." Hinatsuru sighed as she sat besides Suma and Makio. "She hasn't come out of there and it's been two weeks..."

"She's hardly touched her meals, I can see the portions get smaller but the plates are never empty," Makio added.

"Yeah, and ever time I ask her if she'd like to join me whenever I go to the hot springs, she never answers!" Suma frowned as Makio shot her a glare.

"Why the hell would she want to do that if she's been avoiding all of us?!" The black and yellow haired woman growled as Suma's frown deepened.

"I don't blame her," Tengen sighed as he was sat before them in their garden. "She was forced into something she didn't want. She's the youngest of her clan, people's mindsets change. Generations move away from the old ways. And I'm sure the idea of me having three wives already left a bad taste in her mouth. She wasn't raised in an environment like ours."

Eyeing the white haired man, Hinatsuru settled her hands on her knees, "maybe you should try and talk to her... I feel bad for the poor girl. She hardly knows anything about us and who knows what her clan has fed her. She's scared and I don't think she'd be willing to ever come out if we don't try... Especially you, Lord Tengen."

You were trying your best to eat a little more than you had the day before, no matter how much your body was refusing, even if it screamed for it just as badly. The sound a knock made you flinch slightly before you settled the warm bowl down beside you, muttering a small who is it? as you sat on the tatami matting.

"It's me," though you didn't hear much of him, you knew who it was. There wasn't much male voices around anyway. "May I come in?"

Considering it, seeing as you haven't really seen or spoken to someone in quite some time—losing track—you gulped. "Okay..." you mumbled, fiddling with the sleeves of your kimono.

Sliding the door open, unsure what to expect, Tengen peeked in and spotted your small frame in the corner of the room, tray of picked at food beside you as your gaze went out beyond the veranda. You were alive, obviously so, and you weren't... destructive. The room looked as if it was hardly even lived in, but by the looks of it, you managed to at least keep up with yourself. At least, for your hygiene. As much as you avoided everyone, he was told that you would leave the room rather late at night to bathe and clean up before going back to locking yourself in. However... you weren't eating much and it was a major concern. You did eat some, you managed to get food in your belly, but you never properly finished your meals.

Feeling his lingering presence, you turned your head to face the towering man who was still at the threshold. There was clear concern on his face, the way he had eyed his surroundings with a faint furrow of his eyebrows... Then, he looked at you, and you were sure he noticed the dark circles and the subtle redness in your eyes from your lack of sleep and tears. You had gotten a little better within the time that has progressed, seeing as you were at least never truly bothered or forced to do anything... but you still struggled and you were still scared.

"You know, you are more than welcome to treat this home as your own. It is, after all, yours as much as it is mine," Tengen spoke up, eyeing you, but you stayed silent and looked away. He watched as you pulled your knees in and gazed out at the stars. It was a clear night this time around. Looking down at your tray, seeing you ate a bit more than usual, Tengen took in a quiet, deep breath. "We are all here for you if you need anything..." At that, he left. Not a word uttered from you nor a look back.

This was going to be much more difficult than he had thought.

You were going to run away. That's what you decided when you nearly struck a month of being a married woman living in her own isolation. You were tired of being locked away out of fear and all that you filled your head with. You wanted to live your dream of traveling the world and being a free woman, no longer shackled to her family and the old ways of life.

You were eating more, slept a bit more, maybe it was because you had been scheming to sneak away and disappear for good. Maybe you were excited. Maybe you've completely lost your mind. Whatever it was, it gave you enough courage to do what you were doing now. Since no one really forced their way into your space, leaving you be, no one was aware of what you had in mind. You also weren't aware either, as the world was so vast and you knew so little. But you wanted to do it. You wanted to run, to run so far, to see it all. To see what other lands were like. To feel the wind, to watch the ocean roll onto the shore. Everything and more. A life for yourself that you deserved.

After all, what more could a young woman want? It wasn't like you thought of the consequences of such actions. You were begging to live in a vivid dream, away from the nightmare your parents brought you into.

It wasn't hard to leave the premises of the Uzui estate. You managed to slip out late at night, later than when you'd bathe. You wore something more suitable than what you normally wore, clothing to allow for more movement. A small bag was slung over your shoulder and onto your back as you made your way out and nearly sprinted on ahead. You were foolish, that was given, but you wouldn't admit that. It would bite you on the ass for being so brainless... but that wasn't of your concern.

At least, not yet.

All you thought about was the cold, night air patting your exposed skin. How strands of your hair that flew from its braid tickled at your cheeks. The way you felt the grass crunch beneath your feet as the moonlight guided your path. You held a compass in one hand, deciding to go North West, in hopes to run into something along the way.

As your feet pulled you along, you kept your guard up. Sure, traveling alone at night never was wise, but you weren't about to walk out of the residence in broad daylight for everyone to see. This was a huge risk you were willing to take, and, again... you were foolish. You were well aware of demons, aware that your husband was once a destroyer of their kind, so of course you believed yourself to be fine. Wasn't like you'd get caught up in a mess, right? What were the odds, anyway?

The trio decided to leave you your dinner again, all three wives deciding to make the effort into visiting your room more often than not to at least know you were alright and alive in there. None of them blamed you for how you felt... even if a month had passed. Hinatsuru was always the one to knock first and announce the delivery of your food, while Makio listed what was available on the tray, followed by Suma offering (once again) to go to the springs together. It almost became a daily routine for them, seeing as you were now one of them, they wanted nothing more but to help you feel at home. Or, at least, try to. If you'd let them...

On the night of your "escape" from the estate, Tengen felt the odd desire to check on you. It was something he did often, once a day at least—and, if not—every other day. He stood from his seat amongst his wives suddenly, excusing himself without an explanation as he aimed for your room within the Uzui grounds. There was a sense of urgency, and his gut instincts never failed him.

Tapping his knuckles on your shoji, Tengen called your name. As the seconds pass, and he'd call your name repetitively, his tone became one of urgency. Slight panic began to build within his chest, his eyebrows furrowed as you didn't answer. No matter what, you always responded to his knocks.

Sliding the partition open, Tengen searched the area before stepping in. Nothing was out of place, everything was as they were each and every time he'd visit. Taking a few steps towards the veranda and peeking out, there was no sight of you.

Sucking in a sharp breath as he felt his heart race, Tengen searched every inch of his home, places you'd usually be at this hour of night. Yet, you were nowhere to be found.

Taking in sharp breaths as he clenched and unclenched his fist, he eagerly returned to his wives, words slipping off his tongue faster than he could process them, "she's run away."

"What?!" The three grasped in unison.

"Where could she be?!" Suma shrieked.

"It's not safe out there, especially at this hour!" Makio added.

Frowning in worry, Hinatsuru placed a hand on the man's arm, giving it a small squeeze of urgency, "you must find her... she could be in danger right now for all we know."

You weren't bright. That was a given. You were still a teenager, though considered an adult, you just barely lived two decades of your life. Of course things would go bad for you, of course the universe wasn't kind to those who failed to use logic and took advantage. Now in a state of fear, you felt guilty. You should've stayed, right? It wasn't like you were being forced to do anything, all of those horror stories weren't true. At least, not for you. Tengen never forced you to procreate with him, his wives were constantly reaching out to you, everyone was so kind... yet here you are, running for your life because you chose to run away. A foolish child you were. If you died right now, it would be your fault. No one else to blame.

Tears slid down your cheeks as you tried everything in your power to escape, to survive. What made you think this was a wise idea to run away, especially so late at night? You had no set of skills to protect yourself. You were raised to be a housewife, not wield a sword! You had no survival skills, only basic instincts. Of course you knew you had to do something to get away, yet all you could think about was to run and to hide.

And running and hiding could only get you so far.

You found yourself in the grip of a grotesque demon, ready to sink its sharp teeth into your flesh and rip you into pieces. To make you it's dinner. You were going to become another victim, another soul lost to the damned. You sobbed and begged for help as the multi-armed being gripped and felt nearly every inch of you, it's nasty slobbering echoing in your ears as it barred it's fangs. You shoved and kicked, thrashed and begged for a way out. Using your own teeth to bite down, it granted you a few moments of escape, reaching out for a sharp piece of metal scrap on the ground, stabbing it into the creatures eye.

The shriek it released made you cover your ears and hiss in pain. Loud ringing bounced within your head as you tried to get back up on your feet to escape, but it was too quick. It latched onto your ankle and tugged you back as you kicked and shoved at it. It pressed its weight against you, nearly suffocating you as it trapped you beneath it, sinking its razor sharp teeth into your neck as a gruesome scream left your mouth.

Kicking and slapping, trying to shove the demon off of you as your blood began to gush down your neck and pool beneath you, your vision began to blur. Your screams grew faint as your body fell weak. The moon was bright above you, no cloud to block it from your sight. It almost felt as if it were mocking you, reminding you of what you left behind; a home, a husband who wasn't trying to take advantage of you, and people who tried to reach out.

Why were you so inconsiderate? Why must you be so selfish? Look where you ended up! Bleeding to death by the teeth of a demon, ready to devour you and no one would know. No one would figure out what had happened and the demon would live to see another night. Another victim. Another soul taken.

You closed your eyes for a moment, begging, pleading to the universe, for one last chance. For freedom, freedom away from the hands of death.

You apologized for everything, for your selfishness, for being ungrateful. You quietly begged and begged and begged for a second chance. For a way out of this, even if it was just to apologize to Tengen and his wives, to thank them for their hospitality even if you kept yourself rudely locked away for so long.

Just one more chance. Just one more time to do things right. To live my life.

Opening your watery eyes once more, the sound of chains and the sight of the demons head being sliced right off of its neck came into view. Your heavy eyes blinked a few times, wondering if you imagined it. Before you could process it, you were lifted off the ground, away from the demon that turned into nothing but dust. The distant sound of your name being called had you weakly searching for its source as you slipped in and out of consciousness. The sight of Tengen's face, mouth uttering words, was all you saw before your world turned black.

The sound of nature was all you could process. Birds chirping as the wind rustled through tree leaves, hummed in the distance. Your body felt heavy, your eyes barely able to flutter open. This must be the afterlife. You must've died. As far as you could remember, you were bleeding to death at the hands of a demon.

Forcing your eyes open as you took in deep breaths, you felt blinded by the brightness, lifting a weak arm to cover the glare. Your eyes began to adjust as you blinked a few times before lowering you arm. Everything slowly came into view. A familiar ceiling sat above you before three recognizable faces peeked at you.

I'm alive?

A collective sigh was heard, relief washing over the faces of the women studying you before two of them stood up and rushed away. One stayed behind. Your vision was blurry, but you could make out who it was.

"Oh, we were so worried..." Hinatsuru said in a breathy tone as she placed a hand on her chest. "Especially Lord Tengen..."

Before you could even try to respond, the sound of the shoji sliding open and rapid footsteps caused you to turn your head. A large figure knelt beside you, uttering for the women around you to give him a moment alone with you. Your vision was still quite off, but the more you blinked, the more clear it became for you.

It was Tengen, the women that were once around you were clearly his other wives... and you were back in his home. Your home. Alive and bandaged up. How did you survive? You were sure you were going to die from blood loss if the demon didn't get to you. Slowly sitting up with a wince as Tengen carefully watched you, scooting closer as he kept an eye on your figure, you held your kimono closed as you gently touched your once wounded neck.

"Why did you run?" Was the first question he asked, even if he knew the answer.

"I didn't want to be a wife," you spoke, voice hoarse. "Never wanted to be another number... I wanted freedom for so long... I just wanted to feel alive..." You confessed as tears pricked your eyes, trickling down your cheeks slowly as you kept your gaze low.

Gently, Tengen's hand cupped your cheek as his thumb wiped away your tears. A gesture so innocent, making your heart flutter within your chest. Something you probably would've flinched away from, if it wasn't for this man seemed to have genuinely cared for you. "I'm sorry for what you've been put through."

Shaking your head, you muttered, "it's not your fault. It never was. You've been so kind to me... and so have your wives... I was selfish to run away and not appreciate what I had. Though it was a life I didn't want... it was better than being held in a marriage with someone who could care less if I died the next day..." Sighing, you turned your head to look at him. "I didn't want to just be a wife... I've never wanted that life."

A small smile grew on Tengen's lips, the sweetest you had ever seen on any man. His hand reached up to caress your hair, gently stroking your loose locks before falling back and settling on your cheek. "I will come up with a plan."

"What?" You gasped, caught off guard as you stared at him and his maroon eyes.

"I would never force you into something you don't want... but you are still my wife," he said as you blinked. "As my wife, I want you to be happy. Even if that means being away from me—"

"Lord—"

"Allow me to get to know you better and help you find your peace."

Gazing at him, you gave him a small nod. Little did you know the man you'd marry, would be one of the very few people you'd trust with your life.

You started a new routine with Tengen as the weeks passed since your encounter with that demon. Your husband would visit you daily, joining you on the veranda as you shared small talk, truly getting to know one another. It was nice, to say the least, and the man you married was very intriguing. He practically gave you his life story, you learned so much about him; his clan, and his time as a Hashira. He was impressive. Skilled, intelligent, and beyond kind. You couldn't help but admire him for the achievements he's made in his life—for a man only in his 20s.

On the other hand, you were still quite reserved. You broke out of your shell, little by little. As the two of you went on walks together around the estate, relaxing in the garden, you found yourself slowly opening up to him. With his wives, you were still quite timid, but you tried your best to be kind and acknowledge their sweet hello's and respectful bows—something they very much appreciated.

On one of your shared moments with Tengen, an evening after dinner you had with him, alone on your veranda, you told him how you'd love to travel the world. Tengen had never seen you look so hopeful, a dreamy expression written across your face. He couldn't deny you of your dream, instead, telling you he'd help you figure things out. No matter what it took.

A little over a month had passed and you were a different person. You smiled more and showed your face more often than not. Although still a bit antisocial and enjoying your alone time, you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy Tengen's company. Actually, you very much appreciated it. You liked having him around, so close to you. Someone you considered a dear friend, even if he was your husband. He was starting to take place in your heart, and the idea of you eventually making your way out in the world was a tad bit dreadful. Even if you knew he'd always welcome you home with open arms.

You were growing attached.

One day as you were sitting in the garden, piecing together a flower crown of sorts, Tengen offered you his golden plan: join you on your journey of freedom until you were ready to set off on your own. Whether it was a week or a month, he'd partake and make sure you could handle it. At first you were hesitant, not wanting to take him away from his other wives, but he insisted he'd do so (especially since he, too, was growing attached). He didn't want you discovering the world without any sort of self defense, either. Especially with demons lurking in the shadows.

After much thought, you agreed with subtle excitement. The two of you planned out your upcoming travels and how he'd train you. Even with a missing hand, Tengen was still a flawless fighter. He truly was impressive—you would soon learn as your self defense training was going to be a big part of your days to come.

"I will return in a few weeks," Tengen announced to his wives as he said his goodbyes. Hinatsuru always was the calmest, but Suma always took it the hardest—which lead Makio to scold her. It was nothing new to Tengen, but for you, it was quite the eye opener.

Before you were ready to begin your journey ahead, the three women handed you little parting gifts. They gave you tight, warm hugs, and words of encouragement. They begged for you to visit often and to not stay too far for long. You thanked them for their warm hearts and hospitality, forever grateful for their kindness.

Though this new chapter of your life may be terrifying, you were looking forward to starting it with Tengen by your side.

You were skilled. Beyond skilled. Tengen didn't expect you to be so... easy to train. It was as if it were in your bloodline to be so graceful. The moment he allowed you to practice with weapons, seeing how you were a natural, Tengen made a mental note—one he'd eventually use to recall information that your clan was in fact once fighters. One of the reasons why you were married off to the Uzui.

On one of your nights out before a fire, Tengen had informed you of what he knew about your clan's past. It caught you off guard, amazed it was in your bloodline even if it was practically a dead practice for your own family.... It was starting to make sense. When Tengen started explaining breathing techniques, and the many that existed—including his own that he had been teaching you—he wondered what your clan's once was.

Nights continued to pass, you stayed in various inns in separate rooms, and sometimes you stayed outside. When it came to outside, you usually rested against a tree as Tengen kept watch, but as time passed, you grew more comfortable with leaning against him—same went for the inns. You slept on separate futons, but within the same room. Tengen easily caught on to how you grew more confident in your relationship with him; standing and walking closer to him, becoming affectionate with simple touches and grazes of your hand. It made him happy—happier.

Especially when he started to realize how much he had been falling for you... Which made him wonder, were you starting to feel the same?

He tested the waters one day on your shared journey, surprising you with a small gift. You weren't sure how or when he had done it, but when he handed you a small box with a necklace in it, you were in awe... but what had you blushing was the fact that the jewel at the center was one of his very own that he once had attached to his headband during his Hashira days.

You denied it at first, saying he couldn't give it to you, but Tengen insisted he wanted you to carry a piece of him with you. He so kindly placed the necklace on you, his fingertips grazing your skin as you shivered, body growing hot. A subtle silence grew between the two of you when you turned around to show him it, and the look on his face made you flustered. Sure, Tengen was an attractive man, but after all this time of getting so close to him and becoming so attached... it was hard not to feel a change in the air that you two shared.

Ever since then, things haven't been the same. Not for the worst, but... it wasn't something you were accustomed to. You weren't used to this sort of attention nor the desire sitting within the pit of your stomach and the depths of your heart. It was an odd sensation, a feeling like no other. The way your heart raced when he looked at you, how your skin tingled whenever he touched you... the way your body reacted whenever he was closer than he should be. Sure, you were one of his wives and a lack of boundaries was expected, but it still had your whole being trembling.

If you knew any better, you would realize that you had fallen in love. Not with his looks (though he was a looker) but with him. His personality, his way of being, his (not so) simple existence in the universe. Every little thing he did, whether it was for you or for others. How he handled you when it came to little things like taking shelter from thunder storms or making sure you were comfortable when you had to rest. You were one of his wives, it was expected, but there was something there between you two that you were sure was unique to only you two. And Tengen felt it, too.

Probably why your final night was so painful, to the point you both drowned yourself in (what felt like) endless sake and the warmth of the hot springs. Neither of you wanted to think about your last moments together until... whenever you made a return. If you decided to at all. This was what you wanted, to see the world, to be free... but after growing so attached, so accustomed to Tengen's existence by your side, you knew it was going to feel off. As if you were imbalanced.

You were too deep in thought to even realize how close Tengen got as you sat in the soothing pool of steaming water. "I haven't had a night like this in forever..." he sighed, looking up at the stars.

Turning your flustered face in his direction, taking a moment to eye the stars above, your focus settled on him once again. Your eyes trailed his stunning features—gazing at his loose strands of ivory locks, those fucsia eyes... his sharp nose, the golden hoops on his earlobes... and those lips of his that settled in its usual grin. He was so handsome, it pained you to look at him. It didn't help that you two were sharing a bath and all you had separating you both was the water and the towels around your body.

Tengen's chest was on full display, something you had seen a number of times as he was very proud of his physique; he always found a way to show off his muscles—not like you had a reason to complain, anyway. He sat there, in all his glory, arms spread out beside him as he leaned his back against the pool's wall.

"It's lovely..." You spoke up, swallowing the small lump in your throat. You tried to look away, not wanting to stare for too long, but it was hard to... Tengen was just so handsome.

Lowering his focus from the dark sky that glittered with stars, towards you, Tengen watched as those innocent eyes of yours fluttered from his chest, to his eyes, down to his lips, then switched between the two. He couldn't help but grin. If you weren't making it so painfully obvious, he wouldn't have been there with you in that moment, sitting so close that he could almost feel your body heat instead of the warm water. "It is, but not as lovely as the view I have."

Flickering your eyes back up to meet his own, your heart skipped a beat as he so casually leaned in towards you and brought his hand up to caress your cheek. A subtle gasp left you before you looked away, flustered and trembling at his words, only for Tengen to gently keep your head in place.

"Rather cheesy, wasn't that?" He winked as your heart dropped down to your feet.

"Just— Just a tad bit..." you stuttered, eyes dancing between his own as he did the same to you. "But... But I like it..."

Smiling, Tengen leaned in a bit more, his nose just barely grazing your own as his voice came out smooth, almost a whisper. "Then, may I kiss you?"

Almost, as if without hesitation, you nodded. A breathy answer leaving you as you, yourself, grew closer to him, closing the gap between the two of you as his lips softly met your own.

It started off so gentle, the sweet taste of his lips against yours. A small press before you parted, taking in a small breath before Tengen's hand held the back of your neck, fingertips entangling themselves with the loose strands that escaped from your updo. With a small tug, your lips met his once again, except with a different desire. His tongue grazed your bottom lip, pushing past and pressing against your teeth. Your own parted, allowing him entrance to slip through. Gliding his tongue over yours ever so expertly, involuntary moans left you as you felt the muscle press and slither against your own.

Bringing you closer as his hand slid down to your lower back, you found yourself holding your towel closed while your other hand moved into his hair. Pressing against the back of his head and tugging gently, the two of you breathed each other in, panting and huffing in between kisses. You weren't sure what it was, maybe it was the sake... or maybe you just wanted this along. The gravitational pull you felt towards Tengen was something you never felt before, a tug unlike any other. It made your insides twist, your heart race, and a sudden warmth fill you.

Shifting his kisses away from your lips as you tried chasing after them, he left small pecks against the corner of your mouth. Your cheek and along your jaw, down your neck until he found that sweet spot that made you tremble. He nipped and sucked at your smooth skin, leaving marks in his wake as he left a trail of hickeys along your shoulder and chest.

Tengen moved dangerously low, open mouthed kisses against the swell of your breasts, up until the edge of your towel. Your grip tightened against the material as your other tugged at his locks, as if trying to pull him away, only for your back to curve towards him. You knew you should stop, even if the pool was private for the two of you, you had never done anything like this before. You were excited and nervous all the same, body so desperately desiring him after all those shared nights.

Lifting his head and looking up at you with hooded eyes as your blooded rushed in your body, Tengen kissed your cheek before guiding you out of the water and back to your shared room. He kept his arm wrapped around you as he had you pressed against his side, kissing your cheek and along your neck. Tengen didn't bother to close the shoji behind him, his body already finding yours as the two of you lied against the tatami mat. He hovered over you, his large frame enveloping your own as he sweetly smiled down at you, "beautiful..."

Blushing, you took in a sharp breath before he placed a gentle kiss against your lips. "You're so handsome..." You shyly mumbled as Tengen let out a small chuckle.

Lowering his head to nuzzle your neck, he pressed small kisses before lifting his head once again, "do you want to continue this?"

Taking in a deep breath, you nodded before cupping his cheeks, "yes... I trust you. You— You are my husband after all."

Eyeing you, seeing the sureness in your eyes even if you were trembling, Tengen kissed you once more before he sat up. With you settled between his knees as he leaned onto his heels, he reached for your towel. Eyeing you as you nodded he slid back before pulling open your towel, revealing your bare body. Naturally, you went to cover yourself, but Tengen caught one of your hands. "It's alright," he softly spoke, kissing your knuckles one at a time. "My beautiful wife..."

Lowering your hand, Tengen leaned down towards you, kissing down your neck ever so slowly. Then he kissed from one shoulder to the other, against either of your breasts, the valley between them, and along your stomach. He kissed your hip bones before licking a stripe up the side of your body, stopping at your right breast. Lifting his eyes to meet your own as you shivered, Tengen twirled his tongue around your nipple before bringing it into his mouth. A squeak left your parted lips as your chest quickly rose and fell. With every suck and nip, Tengen gave both of your breasts equal attention, leaving a trail of his saliva behind, a string connecting your left nipple to his lips as he lifted his head.

The smile he wore made your heart race faster, a look of ecstasy written across his face... you could only imagine what his expression would be once he—

A yelp left you as his mouth was against your bare pussy, too lost in your hazed mind to even notice when he had moved down. Tengen pressed a kiss against your lower lips before his tongue parted your folds, a shiver running down your spine as it met your clit. "What I'd give to have both hands now."

"T—" before you could whine, his tongue swirled around your sensitive bundle of nerves before moving to tease your entrance. Your hands slid into his locks as your legs wrapped over his shoulders. Burying his face deeper against your aching cunt, you felt the way Tengen's open mouth began to devour you, tasting every bit you had to offer. The sweetness of your dripping heat that made him moan with anticipation as his hips bucked.

Feeling his tongue prod your entrance as a whimper left you, Tengen's arms wrapped around your thighs, fingers digging into your skin as he pulled your leg further apart. Lapping up your excitement, teasing your clit, pushing past your entrance and devouring your sinful sounds. Your panting filled the air, your eyes nearly rolled back as your head fell towards the mat beneath you.

He couldn't get enough of you; he couldn't get enough of the sounds you made, how your thighs pressed against his head and your cunt dripped for him. "Have you ever come before?"

Gulping, you shook your head, face burning in embarrassment. "N— No..."

Lifting his head enough, Tengen kissed your inner thigh, "there's nothing to be ashamed of, my sweet wife. It only means I'm lucky enough to be there with you to experience it—to be the reason."

Opening your teary eyes as you looked at him, Tengen gave you a reassuring smile before you felt one of his fingers tease your entrance before slowly filling you. Your heart skipped a beat, breath hitching as he pumped his finger a few times before adding another. His lips latched against your clit as his fingers massaged your inner walls, reaching depths within you that made your body shiver and shake. A feeling filled you, a burning unlike any other as your breathing grew rapid and moans became louder.

A white hot heat filled you, your eyes squeezed shut as your fingers nearly yanked at his hair. You were shaking as you came, Tengen continuing his ministrations before pulling out and lifting his fingers covered in your essence. Sitting up and spreading them to show you the mess you made, Tengen brought his fingers into his mouth, tongue lapping up your release before his lips met yours.

You winced at the foreign taste the moment his tongue made contact with your own, a slow, sultry kiss before he reached to remove his own towel. "You'll be alright," he muttered against your lips as he sat up, bringing your legs over his thighs. His hand caressed your thigh as you were still processing the euphoria you just experienced. "We'll do this slowly, okay?"

Gulping, your hooded eyes fluttered open as they trailed down his chest, towards his toned stomach, past the patch of white hair that lead to his hardened length. Your heart dropped at the sight, a gasp leaving your lips as your eyes widened. "I— I... You— You are so big... I don't know if—"

"It's alright," he reassured, giving your thigh a small squeeze. "You'll be alright, like I said, we'll take things slow."

Nodding as your heart raced, Tengen brought his hand to his cock, giving it a few strokes, coating it with your juices before he aligned it with your opening. He could hear the way your breathing quickened, felt how your thighs pressed against him. He spoke softly, continuously reassuring you as he slowly filled you. With just the tip, your chest heaved and your hands tried clinging onto something, clawing at the mat beneath you.

Pushing in further and further, biting his tongue as his body burned, Tengen took in shallow breaths at your tightness. The way you squeezed him, how your cunt was sucking him in... The sounds of your shared, heavy breathing filled the air, soon followed by heavy moans and skin slapping the moment he thrusted into you. Whimpers and cries of his name left your lips as your hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin before clawing at his back as he hunched over you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him close as he thrusted at a rhythmic pace.

"T— Tengen— Too— Too big!" You whimpered, tears pricking your eyes at the dangerous stretch. The discomfort was overpowered by your pleasure. You weren't sure how much of him filled you, but you were positive he wasn't even all the way in. "Too— Too—"

"It's okay, it's okay, my love... It's okay," he reassured, body breaking out into a sweat as his hips bucked against you, pushing deeper and deeper as you cried out. With each shift of his hips as he pulled out, your pussy sucked him right back in. "It's like we're... meant for... each other," he breathed, a hiss leaving his lips. He wanted to fuck you, fuck you deeply, fuck you until you couldn't walk... but he knew, he knew it was your first time. He knew this was your last moments together before you went your own way, and as much as he wanted to leave you with an everlasting memory of his cock imprinted on your cervix where no other man could possibly reach, Tengen stopped himself. He wanted you to never forget this moment, obviously so, but he also wanted it to be a moment you enjoyed as much as he did—especially for your first time.

Thrusting in and out of you, pushing deeper each time as you squirmed and cried, begging him to move faster—telling him he was too big—your body wrapped around his and kept him sheathed within you. You felt your second orgasm building within you as Tengen's fingers rubbed circles against your clit. Your breathing against his ear was almost enough to make him come then and there as you shook in your release. Your pussy fluttered against him as your body practically went into shock. You felt it from head to toe, your body tensing around him as a cry left your lips, his name coming out as a desperate moan.

Continuously thrusting his hips, ready to pull out, your legs wrapped tighter around him, keeping him deep within you as you milked him for all his worth. He weakly called your name, body shaking above your own as he nearly collapsed against you. "Sh— Shit..." Tengen grunted as he filled you with his seed, coming deep inside as you kept him close.

Your bodies were already drenched as it was, but the sweat practically made you stick to one another as his massive body flopped against your own. You could barely breathe as it was, but with his weight against you, you nearly suffocated... and yet it felt so nice. You didn't want him to leave, you didn't want to leave. You just wanted to stay like that, there with him, in that moment. A moment so intimate, one you didn't want to end; one that you once feared. Now it was something you knew you'd never forget.

Tears brimmed your eyes as your bottom lip trembled. Your hands fell to your face as Tengen lifted his head to eye you. "Hey, did I hurt you? Are you okay?"

"N— No... It's not— It's not you..." you mumbled. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Hey..." he hushed you, kissing your tears away. "It's okay, it's okay... I'm sorry if you regret this—"

"No!" You shook your head. "Never! I— I... It's just, tomorrow we... we go our separate ways and— and I feel as if... I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" He asked, eyeing you with the kindest smile. "You are my wife, are you not?"

Nodding your head with a pout, Tengen nuzzled your neck before leaving a sweet kiss against it. "I am..."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, all that matters to me is that you're happy... and that you enjoyed it..." he said, almost questioning whether or not you did.

"I did," you softly smiled. "I'm happy to have had my first time with you... I've never trusted anyone more..."

Grinning, Tengen shook his head, "I'm sorry for the man who follows after me. Whoever wins your heart will never be like me."

"Tengen..." You whined, only to earn a chuckle from him. "I won't forget any of this, that's for sure."

"I'm glad," he smiled, gazing down at you, "because neither will I..."

Eyeing him as a silence filled the room, you reached up and caressed his forehead, ran your fingers through his hair, and cupped his cheek, "thank you."

Turning to kiss your palm, Tengen mumbled against it, "thank you."

"You'll always have a home with me," Tengen said as he stood in front of you, caressing your cheek as you leaned your head into his palm. "I can't say I won't miss you, because I know I'll be missing you dearly. We've grown so close... but I want nothing but the best for you. I want you to be happy, to find yourself, to live your life... But I hope some day, maybe you'll... come back to me..."

Smiling up at him, you nodded. "You've done so much for me, I don't think I could stay away from you forever. I appreciate you... and you have my endless gratitude."

Eyeing you, he sighed before leaning his forehead against yours, "if you ever have regrets... if you ever want to come back home... don't hesitate to reach out. I'll always welcome you back with open arms."

Sighing as you took a moment to enjoy his close proximity, you gently pushed back and cupped his face. "Thank you."

Eyeing you, Tengen gently kissed you before he stood straight. "I have one more thing to give you..."

Watching him with furrowed brows, he handed you one of his blades; the chain snatched and now dangling from the one he held towards you. "You— You can't."

"Please, have it. It'll only give me piece of mind knowing you have something to protect you... And also a way to never forget me... A way to eventually come back to me..." he said, handing it over. Tengen's swords weren't easy to hold, made for a man his size, but with one less attached... it was a bit easier to manage.

"It's... big..." You said, earning a chuckle from him.

"You can manage with big things," he winked as you blushed. "I have no doubts."

Sighing, you moved to wrap your arms around him, hugging him tight for a moment or two, breathing him in one last time. "Thank you..."

Hugging you back, Tengen kissed the top of your head before you pulled away and turned to part from him. Just before you could get too far, Tengen caught your wrist and tugged you back to him, planting a deep, sentimental kiss against your lips. An ever lasting one filled with sadness. He let go, forcing himself to peel away from you as he slowly let go of your wrist, studying you and every bit of your face once more. "I'll always love you... you'll always be my wife and will always have a place in my heart."

Smiling up at him with tearful eyes, you gulped, "I— I will always love you." Not wanting to stay any longer as you knew you'd break easily if you looked at him for a second more, you turned and began your trek.

Tengen watched with a heavy heart, waving as you turned for a moment to say your final goodbye. There was in ache in his chest, a sadness filling him. You left a mark on him, a big one at that. You would never be forgotten. As much as he loved and adored all of his wives... there was something about you that made his chest feel different. A love unlike any other. Something he feels as if he couldn't have... But he prayed. He prayed that some day... your paths would meet again.

* FIVE YEARS LATER *

"Tenchi!" A voice called out amongst the many. Tengen found himself at a local market during his travels, visiting his beloved disciples, before returning home. "Tenchi!"

"I'm right here, mama!" A gentle, little voice came out as Tengen's focus shifted from the fresh produce before him, over to a small boy. "Look what I found!" Softly smiling at the sight of the youngling—easily 5 years old—hold up something with excitement, Tengen's eyebrows narrowed for a moment.

That's oddly similar... He thought as his attention was settled on the whiteness of the small boy's hair that had a headband wrapped around it. "Okay, but only one, alright? And don't run off like that again, you had me worried..."

"Sorry, mama..."

"It's okay, baby."

Snapping out of his daze, Tengen watched as the little boy hugged the kneeling figure before him. He couldn't quite see who it was from the passing bodies, but as the woman stood up, the retired Hashira's heart skipped a beat. "It's..." his breath hitched as his eyes made contact.

It was you.

Blinking a few times at the sight, you sweetly smiled with a small wave, earning a bright one from him. Tengen didn't hesitate, he made a beeline for you, stopping and towering your figure as happiness filled his veins. "You... It's really you..." he nearly whispered. He hadn't seen you since you parted ways five years prior. It wasn't like you lost contact, you wrote him letters as he did the same to you every now and then. He was aware you were alive and well, as you were of him... but seeing you in the flesh? That was something else all together. Could he kiss you? Could he hug you? It'd been so long, he didn't know what his boundaries were.

Smiling up at him, you felt the small figure tug on you as they hid behind you. Your son shyly peeking out from behind as he eyed the giant man standing before you. "It's me," you nodded, heart fluttering as you took Tengen in. How he hardly changed, still as flashy as ever. His hair had grown more, but it was clearly being maintained with the layers being trimmed. His eyepatch still bedazzled, his nails still painted... You couldn't expect anything less, this was Tengen Uzui after all— the supposed god of festivals. "You haven't changed a bit."

"Gotta live a flashy life, keeps me young," he winked as you chuckled. He reached for your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips as he pressed a kiss. He didn't miss the blush on your cheeks or the way your eyes had slightly widened. There was no doubt in his mind that you were saving face, your reaction seemed composed. "It's really good to see you. How have you been?"

"Yeah... I'm good. We're good," you nodded as you moved slightly to present the little boy that clung to you. Tengen's eyes lowered to the white haired boy, instantly recognizing those eyes... His heart skipped a beat the moment he recognized those features... "This is my son, Tenchi."

"Son?" He nearly choked, catching himself as he kept his own composure. Of course this was your son, he should've put two and two together. But not once have you mentioned it before in your letters... And who else could possibly be the father if—

"Yes," you slightly smiled. "Honey, say hi."

Looking up, Tenchi clung to you as his grip tightened around you. He watched as the large man moved down to kneel. "Hello..."

"Hi, Tenchi," Tengen smiled. "I'm Tengen Uzui. The flashiest man on the entire planet. And a great friend of your mothers," he proudly stated as you blushed. A small gasp left little Tenchi.

"I know your name!" He exclaimed as Tengen lifted his brows before smirking.

"Oh? Is that so?" The man asked.

"You are mama's hero! Her trainer and gave her that big sword!" The little boy gasped. "You are so cool! Mama told me so many stories! I want to be just like you, Mr. Uzui!"

Gulping as the sudden urge to tear up awakened within him, Tengen took in a sharp breath and smiled. It wasn't until then when he had the little boy now standing before him that he studied those eyes. Eyes that reflected his own... The same ivory locks, those bright eyes and that shiny grin. There was no denying it... "That's an honor, Tenchi. And I like your headband," Tengen grinned, lightly poking the little boy's forehead as you watched their interaction with a heavy heart.

"Oh!" Your son blushed. "Just like you! Mama said you wore a headband when you were a— a Hash— Hash..."

"Hashira," Tengen finished with a kind smile as the little boy nodded.

"Yes! I wanna be just like you! Protect my mama from all evil!" He proudly said with his little fists on his hips. Tengen couldn't help but let out a choked laugh, as if the realizations made had his heart aching. This little boy was much too like him. "I look up to you!"

Feeling his heart skip a beat, Tengen looked away for a moment before ruffling Tenchi's hair. "I think you'll be better than I could ever be," he said without an inkling of doubt in his words, then looking at you as you looked at him with woeful eyes. It was clear there was something weighing on you.

Placing a gentle hand on your son's head, caressing his shoulder length locks that were quite similar to Tengen's, you eyed said man with a hopeful smile. "Would you like to come have dinner with us? There's a lot to catch up on."

With a racing heart, Tengen looked at you with a similar expression, optimism filling his chest. "I would love to."

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