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girlkisser13 · 4 months ago

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being married to ryomen sukuna would include

• your wedding was far from traditional. it was more like a ritual, a claiming, an unbreakable vow that binds you to him forever.

• your wedding rings are ancient, inscribed with curses that tie your souls together. no magic, no force in the universe, can ever sever the bond.

• he is possessive of the title. he loves calling you "my wife" or "my husband"— always with that cocky smirk, like he owns you.

• sukuna is a king, and your home reflects that. luxury, power, and absolute security— all tailored to your comfort, whether he admits it or not.

• your home is massive, grand, and completely impenetrable. he ensures no one can step foot near it unless he allows them to.

• he spoils you WITHOUT hesitation. whatever you want, it’s yours—but don’t expect to ask. he already knows and will have it waiting for you before you can even think about it.

• everything in your home is built for your pleasure. soft cushions, rich silks, the most exquisite food and drink— he makes sure you live like royalty.

• he demands your presence near him at all times. if you’re in another room for too long, he’ll simply come find you and drag you back. "where do you think you’re going, love?"

• he watches you constantly. not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he enjoys seeing you move through his space— your space.

• he rarely lets you do anything mundane. if you even attempt to do household chores, he will look at you like you’re insane. "why are you wasting your time with that? if you want something done, tell me."

• despite his arrogance, he listens to you. if you tell him you like something a certain way, it stays that way, no questions asked.

• sukuna does not show love softly. every touch, every look, every moment of affection is a declaration of ownership, a reminder that you are his.

• his touch is always firm, always possessive. he does not simply hold your hand— he grips it, intertwines your fingers with his, staking his claim on you.

• kisses with him are slow, deep, and consuming. he doesn’t kiss you just to kiss— he does it to make sure you never forget who you belong to.

• he LOVES to leave marks. bite marks, love marks, scratches— he enjoys seeing proof of himself on your skin.

• you are never out of his reach. even when sitting across a room, he will extend an arm, grab your wrist, pull you close until you’re right where he wants you.

• he plays with your hair absentmindedly. when he’s deep in thought, his fingers will find their way to your scalp, brushing through your hair as if grounding himself in your presence.

• if you ever pull away, he does not allow it. he will simply grab you and pull you back, smirking. "trying to escape, darling? how adorable."

• sukuna is beyond protective. he does not tolerate threats, disrespect, or even the mere idea of you being in danger.

• if anyone so much as breathes wrong in your direction, they are dead before they realize their mistake.

• he does not allow you to fight your own battles. not because he thinks you are weak, but because no one is worthy enough to challenge what is his.

• he is always aware of where you are. no matter the distance, he will always know if you are safe or in danger.

• if you ever get hurt, even slightly, he is furious. his rage isn’t loud— it’s quiet, cold, a slow-burning fire that destroys everything in its path.

• he doesn’t just protect you from physical threats— he protects your honor, your name, your status. anyone who dares speak ill of you will regret it.

• if you cry, he becomes still. he doesn’t know how to handle it at first, but then he pulls you against his chest, stroking your back, murmuring in a voice only you get to hear.

• arguing with sukuna is like going to war. he does not back down. ever.

• if you ignore him, he does not let it slide. he will grab your chin, tilt your head up, and demand you look at him. "you don’t get to shut me out."

• his temper is unpredictable. some days, he will laugh at your defiance. other days, he will have you pinned against a wall, reminding you exactly who is in charge.

• he doesn’t say "sorry"— but he makes up for it. he’ll pull you into his arms, press a kiss to your forehead, and mutter, "don’t be stupid. i’m not going anywhere."

• if you cry in an argument, his entire demeanor shifts. he will wrap you in his embrace, stroking your hair, muttering threats against whatever upset you.

• he doesn’t need to say "i love you"— he proves it. every act of protection, every glance, every possessive touch is a declaration of utter devotion.

• he thinks about eternity with you. not just years, but lifetimes.

• he does not believe in "till death do us part." if you die, he will bring you back. he will tear through existence itself to have you by his side again.

• even after centuries, he still treats you like the most important thing in existence. his love never fades— if anything, it only grows stronger. <33

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hyuny-bunny · 1 year ago

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skz + s/o with long nails

can't sleep and i need to get this thought out before it makes my head explode

MDNI (18+) suggestive ideas, mutual masterbation, oral, nail markings

skz x gn!reader

chan: at first he's indifferent. it makes no difference to him, you might've kept short or no nails to start with while dating him. it isn't till you try out a new spot that leaves you with the best set you've ever had, that he starts to take more notice. especially when his back scratches take a whole new level. he's twitching his leg like a dog when you go too light on him finding it ticklish, he's begging you to scratch him harder. his mind starts to run wild at the thought how it would feel to have your nails clawing at his back during sex as he pounds into you.

minho: he loves your nails. he finds them so cute on you, especially when their pointed like a cat claw. he's not one to comment his thoughts on what you should do but he loves the way your hands look with baby pinks or milk white shades. his cats seem to enjoy them as much as you do when they surround you begging to be scratched next. he really finds out how much he loves them when you're going down on him as his thank you for paying for the new set, when you're clawing down on his thighs. he can't help admire how pretty they look while you sit perched between his thighs as stroke him into your mouth.

changbin: he loves everything about you but the nails he just doesn't quite get. how are you supposed to lift weights when you can't even close your hand into a fist :( ? nevertheless he pampers his partner!! so of course he's putting his card down for you to pay for your new set or sending you the money to pay for them (then some more incase it's a long session and you need to grab food). he's a changed man when he sees the new set. your nail tech found a cute way to put his intials on the ring fingers of your nails. he's posting and sending everyone a photo of your nail set with your hands wrapped around his bicep. he knows that all you need is a ring to complete it.

hyunjin: love love love LOVES your nails. everytime there's an appointment coming up soon, he's already asking what you're getting. he'll send you some ideas, a lot of it might be douyin style but he loves anything you decide on. aside from loving the way they look, he also loves the way they feel. his insta photos might be filled with your hands in shot with coffee or selfies he's taken while's you held his face or gave his cheeks a squish. either way he knows that you know when he plops down into your lap or chest, he's demanding head and back scratches. he's purring like a cat in your lap with every movement but will immediately whine if you stop too soon.

jisung: don't care as long you're dedicating an hour or two to play with his hair after a fresh set. colors make no difference to him but he gets weak in the knees when you come home with red nails. his mind taking him to filth places of having your hand stroking him, how pretty your hands look in with his cum painting your nails. he's always offering to pay for your nails, on the condition that you always do red which you're typically happy to oblige anyways.

felix: there has to be something based in fact for me to confidently say he also more than happy to have you scratch his head, back, anywhere that you possibly feel he might enjoy because he is actually a cat. a very cuddly one that's purring with every scratch across his skin. he loves the set ideas you come up with but especially loves when you incorporate hints of blue in your nails because you know it's his signature color. makes him feel like it's proof that you belong to him in a way that only he needs to know. his only thing to pick at is you can't be as handsy with baking with him when you have longer nails :/ buts that's okay when you make it up by playing with his hair, putting it in pretty braids and giving him neck & chin scratches.

seungmin: also someone who seems in different. he might get annoyed every time you accidentally poke him too hard from a new set. he'd tease you for the way your nails sound while you type but it's all in good fun. another one who's twitching his leg like a puppy every time you scratch his back or head. oh how he could lay like that forever. another one to soft launch you on his insta with shot of your hand on his knee at a baseball game or intertwined while having a romantic dinner. he once again doesn't mind and even learns to appreciate the way your nails rake through his hair. how they feel when your trying pry him out from between your thighs tugging on his hair for dear life.

jeongin: he loves your long nails, he loves it even more when you take him with you to get your nails done together. he's not passing on opportunity to get matching manicures. he loves to see you venture off with colors. when you opt to get a forrest green french tip set, he's right there asking for his pinky nails to be painted in the same green polish. he's posting a picture of your intertwined hands with your matching polish. he's down bad for you and everyone knows it. you can't blame him when you're the same for him. it's all he thinks about when you're both laid next to each other in bed with his hand in your underwear and your hand wrapped around him stroking him so prettily, toying with one another and matching polish adorning your hands.

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queenendless · 6 months ago

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🍑 Juicy 🍑

A/n: Reapplying to college got me anxious. Commissions have hit a dead end. Family drama is stressful.

And seeing fanart of so much Gojussy, all of it combined, really pushed me to write of it at least once. Many writing firsts for me on this so please go easy on me. Forgive me for my smut writing, it ain't no masterpiece.

Pairing: Top!Dom!Adult!Male!Reader x Bottom!Sub!Adult!AFAB!Gojo.

CW: 21+ MATURE CONTENT.

🔞 EXPLICIT SMUT! SO MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT! DO NOT REPOST, STEAL, COPY, EDIT, TRANSLATE.

Reblog, like, share, follow. Hope you enjoy.

Seeing that plump ass jutting out of a hole in the wall was what greeted you. Hearing his bubbly cheery voice become "Yap yap yap" in your ears as you lustfully eyed his wiggling cheeks. The dripping juices already trailing down that pussy along the rest of those barren legs made your libido stand.

Gojo's words get strangles in his throat as they turn to raunchy groans for your drooling mouth immediately covered his quivering cum lips. Your fingers parted the folds as your tongue dug deeply into his warm moist caverns. Rutting his hips backwards quite desperately made your ego spike, rewarded with your fingers now roughly rubbing his clit. "Mh~! Mmgh~! Ngh~!"

"The strongest sorcerer, reduced to the neediest slut." Your scorned remark reverberating against his cunt had him gushing hard down your throat and along your chin. "Bastard — AAH~!" Satoru's retort melted into carnal moans, those peaches squishing your face in with your nose deep in his albino pubes as you made out starvingly with his pussy.

"Nnh~ Y/n~! No wait – !" The fact that your skillful tongue hit that bundle of nerves was further proof of how beastly your lust is. No amount of cum devoured would be enough to satiate you. You were always parched for his milk. "I – I'm coming –!" He always came the moment he uttered those words.

Creamy thickness painted your face, stained the front of your clothes, splotched his quivering thighs and supple calves and toe-curling feet, forming puddles along the floor. You kissed those gooey flaps before diving right back on in.

His hands slamming and clawing the wall from the other side grew muddled in your ears as you became lost in his addicting sea of semen. He came at least a dozen times before your mouth popped off his, his ass and legs sagging in relief as his fatigued pants were heard from the other side.

"My beautifully depraved whore!" Feverish spanks to those jiggly phat cheeks came next. His erotic cries paired with his legs kicking in response, having you roughly grab him by his ankles, bending his legs, with your grip biting into his skin to remind him whose in charge. "My sweet Toru~"

Your sharp canines pricked his savory flesh. The red handprints and bloody marks on that once perfectly creamy skin always looked perfect, your inner wish being that you wished they would stay, as further physical proof that his ass is yours and only yours. "Take me already~" The eagerness could be detected in his breathy tone, his ass wiggling being the cherry on the top, got you pulling your dick out of its restrictions.

Clawing your nails into those dips he had for hips left scratch marks along with the bruises as you were sucked greedily in. Slamming relentlessly into his tight familiar jussy with gusto followed. "Too good~! So FUCKIN good~!" Your salacious groans made Gojo squirt harder, a ring of cum forming where you two intersect, and his legs hugged around your waist in his trapped angle.

The ardor in your thrusts was felt as the wall slams bounced around, the cacophony of your lewd shouts fused with his. Feeling you filling his abdomen to the brim was sheer perfection. You were reaching the edge. "Come to me, Toru~! COME~!"

Satoru came undone once again. Waves of fuzzy euphoria sparked through his very being as he came on high. The sight of your conjoined essence coming out between his marked rippling cheeks had you smashing your hips in pursuit of that ever-fleeting rush.

His lips fluttering around your staff, squeezing you for all your seed, pounding into him like the sex doll that he is to you, obsessively fondling and pulling apart his asscheeks in restlessness, Gojo's breathless wanton chants of your name, it all became a typhoon of desire that drowned out all sense of reason.

When it finally came time to come down from your highs, your shaft temporarily deflated, staying within him, slacking against the wall for support, picturing Gojo's messy hair sticking to his flushed dazed heaving face, wanting to see that face in person. "Y/n." His whispered plea just about did you in.

Demolishing the wall was all too easy. Getting your giant lover on his back, mating press him, your cock striking a new nerve bunde had him spurting along your V line as well as his stuffed oven, jostling your penis to life.

"Come for me again, Toru~ A dozen more~"

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allfearstofallto · 1 year ago

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How They Mark You as Theirs

Yandere x Fem! Reader

A/N: because I genuinely can't stop thinking about Scaramouche putting his makeup on you! It's been keeping me up at night.

Diluc: With jewelry

You sparkle when you walk into a room. Not just your glowing eyes or large, puffy dresses, but also what adornes your body. A pendant around your neck, large gem rings on your fingers, and earrings, more expensive than most could afford. People wondered if maybe all of your gems and stones were too heavy, maybe that's why despite the fact that you looked so lavish, you never smiled.

Diluc would be at your side, slipping another ring onto your finger. The other ladies would fawn at the sight, silently wishing for a man who wanted to adorn them with silver and gold, but to you, every ring, every stone, every bracelet, and every gem was another lock on the chain harboring you to him, claiming you as his.

Childe: With Bruises

Your neck is littered with love bites, your thighs covered in scratches from where his nails would dig into them, your wrist would have markings around them, from where he would hold you down, pressing passionate kisses and maybe more if he desired.

Even though you were embarrassed by the blatant proof of what he'd done to you all over your body, he still made sure you wore rather revealing clothing. You'd flush with embarrassed, knowing eyes looking all over you, but Childe would smile happily. A hand around your waist would caress you, making it known that he wished to claim you more.

Scaramouche: With make-up

How did everyone know that you were married to number six of the Fatui harbingers? Well, they had to look no further than your eyes, framed in that familiar red shade. The first time he makes you wear it, it's because you watched as he did his own. His nimble fingers held the brush like it was second nature, creating the lines against his eye with ease.

“Come here,” he'll order while still standing in front of the mirror. Before you can ask what he needs from you, he's already squeezing your cheeks between those same fingers, holding your face in place.

The brush tickles as it slides across your eyelids, making you shake a bit in his grasp as you hold back laughter. The smile on your face making his demeanor melt for just a moment, he softens and stops his work, just staring at your features, “I know how it feels. Stop moving,” he'll order. And you do your best to obey.

The sight of your smile is more than enough to make this a habit, instead of a one off thing. Everyday after your kimono dressing, he calls you to him, holding the brush stained with that familiar red makeup.

#genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x you #yandere diluc #yandere diluc x reader #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere scaramouche x reader

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wonderjanga · 6 months ago

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regarding the post where every lantern corps wants billy as a member. What if billy vibes with dexstarr and the JL is super nervous hes gonna take a red lantern ring but hes just petting a kitty

Billy was going about his business as usual. As of now, he was bored, and he was sitting on the curb in front of his apartment complex watching two crackheads duke it out on the other side of the street. Miss Bambi was next to him smoking a cigarette and also watching. Suddenly, a strangely blue cat came out of nowhere.

Billy and Ms. Bambi: *watch the cat trot over*

Dexstarr: *meows and a red ring floats over to Billy*

Billy: “Oh, thank you, kitty!” *just shoves it in his pocket and just picks up Dexstarr and starts petting him*

Ms. Bambi: “Careful, bud. Try not to get scratched or bitten. Who knows what it could have.” *thinks this is just adorable*

Dexstarr: *stiff in Billy’s hold and letting himself be pet, honestly expecting the boy to have at least a little anger or sadness or at least something*

Billy: “I’ll go see the nice doctor guy and see if we can see why you’re blue, kitty. Then, I’ll get some money so we can get you some food!”

Dexstarr: *confused by the very sudden adoption*

Billy learned that Dexstarr was a pretty angry kitty. It scratches Billy sometimes and scratches other people a lot of times. Billy takes pride in the fact he gets scratched slightly less than other people. As for the ring the kitty gave him? He still hasn’t worn it yet. He’d moved it into his pocket dimension after it fell out of his pocket and he nearly left it in a gas station. It was probably safer there. Anyways, he’d honestly forgotten about it until one day he and Dexstarr were lounging on a roof in Fawcett. Billy then felt a small buzz from his pocket dimension, signally he got a notification from his comm. So he transformed, rightfully spooking the kitty.

Marvel: “Dex?” *trying to sound placating*

Dexstarr: *pulls out a bunch of energy constructs so he can attack Marvel*

Marvel: *dodging any attacks* “Dex! It’s me! Billy!”

The cat obviously didn’t listen seeing as that was a grown man, not the ten year old boy it’d been hanging out with for the past couple weeks.

Marvel: “Kitty, I have proof! Look!” *pulls out the ring from his pocket dimension* “Remember how you gave this to me?”

It took some more convincing despite the fact he had the ring. Thankfully, Dexstarr calmed down enough for it to allow Marvel to scratch under its chin just the way Billy knew it liked. Marvel put the ring back into the pocket dimension and sat down so he could keep scratching under its chin. He was finally able to look at the comm. Something about a meeting. Billy didn’t really want to leave Dexstarr alone, not to mention he wanted to familiarize the kitty with his Marvel form. So, he took it to the Watchtower.

He saw Hal when going to the meeting room.

Marvel: “Hey, Hal! Meet my cat, Dex!” *holds Dex up for Hal to see*

GL: *stares for a solid minute* “Is that Dexstarr?”

Marvel: “No, his name is Dexter.”

GL: “Uhm…” *looks over Dexstarr* “Nah… I’m pretty sure that’s Dexstarr.”

Marvel: “Nuh uh.”

GL: “Uh yuh huh. That’s a Red Lantern.”

Marvel: “Nah, he just looks like that.”

GL: “I- wha-” *takes a deep breath* “Cap, give me the cat.”

Marvel: “What? No, he’s my cat!” *holds Dexstarr up because he’s way taller than Hal*

GL: “Dude, no he isn’t!” *tries to reach before just flying to try and grab him*

They spent a solid five minutes of Marvel moving Dexstarr away from Hal while the Green Lantern tried to get the cat. Eventually, they got into what was basically a tug of war with the cat.

Marvel: “Defend yourself Dexstarr!”

Dexstarr: *vomits blood-plasma-acid on the floor*

Marvel: “Yeah!”

Dexstarr: *makes some super dangerous constructs with his ring to kill Hal*

Marvel: “NO!”

It took a lot to convince Dexstarr to not attack. Soon after that realization, they both also realized they were extremely late to the meeting. They both went in and sat down. The entire meeting consisted of Hal side eying him from where he sat next to Billy. He even did the ‘I got my eye on you’ sign. Billy didn’t even bother to be subtle with the way he stared back. His head was directly looking towards him as he rubbed under Dexstarr’s chin. Meanwhile, Flash, who sits on the other side of Marvel, is looking at the blue cat in Marvel’s lap in confusion. And Supes can smell a cat somewhere and he’s also confused.

Later after this, Hal gathered the other Green Lanterns and went to go confront him.

Marvel: *turns around in his chair, petting Dexter like the Godfather* “What can I help you gentlemen with.” *has the Red Lantern ring Dexstarr gave him on the hand petting the cat*

Billy doesn’t know why he was being so dramatic right now, but what he does know is that this ring doesn’t really do anything. Sure, he feels a little bit more irritable, but oh well. To be honest, he just feels like Billy. As for the blood thing and replacing of the heart, Billy is pretty sure Marvel doesn’t have either of those things. He’s just magic.

All three GL’s: *dramatic gasps when they see the ring*

Guy Gardner: “Hand over the cat, Cheese. He’s super dangerous.”

Marvel: *shrugs* “It was probably self defense.”

John Stewart: “That might be true, but that doesn’t change the fact.”

Marvel: “So? You think I’ll just hand over my son like that?”

Guy: “Your son?”

Marvel: “He’s practically my son.”

Hal: *shares a look with Guy and John* “…Right. Listen. Captain, if you don’t hand him over, we’ll have to take him by force.”

Marvel: *sounds distinctly colder than any of them had ever heard* “Do you really think you three could beat me?”

That’s how Marvel ended up getting 21 v 1’d and somehow ended up winning. As for where the other 19 people came from. They called in reinforcements from nearby sectors. Thats how badly they were getting beaten.

Moral of the story, bro really likes his cat-son. Ha. Catson. Billy Batson and Dexstarr Catson.

Marvel also holds Dex just like this because I say so.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics #Dex-Starr #dex starr

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minniesfiles · 2 months ago

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BLOOM WITH YOU | month 2

❧ PAIRING; wonwoo x reader

❧ GENRE; angst, fluff, light smut

❧ WARNINGS; none

❧ WORDCOUNT; 1k

▁▁▁▁▁▁

series masterlist

𐚁₊⊹

▍16 FEBRUARY 2026

“Stop! That tickles!” you giggled. You squirmed slightly as you stood in the soft morning light with your shirt bunched up beneath your chest and belly exposed to the cool air.

Wonwoo was kneeling in front of you with a pink sharpie in his hand. He looked determined, but also mildly frustrated, as he stared at his latest attempt at drawing a heart shape around your navel. Your belly was still small but no longer entirely flat,

“Babe,” he groaned. He sat back on his heels with the sharpie still uncapped in one hand while the other rubbed at his temple. “Just stay still for one second. I need this heart to be perfect or it won’t look good in the pictures.”

You rolled your eyes and playfully crossed your arms over your chest. “You’ve already drawn four crooked ones. I think the baby will forgive you if it’s not Instagram-worthy.”

Your husband looked up at you with that soft grin that always managed to melt your irritation. “This is for our baby’s album, not social media. I want them to see everything and how much we loved them before they even arrived.”

Something about that simple statement made your breath catch. Even after all the years together, all the heartbreak and the six losses you never fully healed from, Wonwoo still had the ability to see hope. And to believe in it.

He reached forward and pressed a kiss to your belly, right over the half-formed heart, and whispered something you couldn’t quite hear. You felt the warmth of his breath and the soft scratch of his stubble. But most of all, you felt the gravity of his love.

You were ten weeks along. The bump wasn’t obvious yet. If anything, you just looked like you had a heavy meal. But Wonwoo noticed everything. The slight curve of your abdomen. The way your hand would sometimes drift to rest there without thinking. The tiredness in your eyes in the evenings, and the small shifts in your appetite. To him, those little changes were signs of life. It was proof that the tiny bean growing inside you was still holding on.

And so, every week since the hospital talk, he had been documenting everything. He turned your hallway into a makeshift studio, with white backdrop, fairy lights, even a ring light he ordered online “just to get the right glow.”

His camera, which he would often use for moody cityscapes and random low-light portraits, now clicked infinite pictures of you. Either laughing, crying, or eating pickles and peanut butter at midnight. But his favourite was when you’d nap with your head on his shoulder while he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

It had started as a simple idea: a photo every week, just to track the journey. But it quickly turned into a full-on project. Wonwoo was capturing memories. Moments. Little evidence of the love you already carried for someone you hadn’t even met yet.

“Turn a little this way,” he instructed, clicking his tongue as he looked through the viewfinder. “Okay, now place your hands under the bump — yes, like that. Perfect.”

You posed. But at the same time you tried not to laugh at how serious he looked, crouched like a professional photographer with a camera strap dangling from his neck. Like the professional he was, he moved with quiet precision as he snapped photo after photo, then stepping forward to adjust your hair or reposition the lighting with gentle hands.

The room was filled with nothing but shutter clicks and your soft laughter.

╴╴╴╴╴

Later when the mini photo-shoot was over, Wonwoo sat with you on the sofa. Your legs were stretched out over his lap while he edited all the photos he shot. The photos were beautiful. Natural and radiant. You simply looked so happy. Soft and full of a glow you didn’t realised you were carrying.

“See? This is what I want our baby to see.” Wonwoo showed you one photo in particular. It was a candid moment where you were looking down at your belly as you faintly smiled with a hand resting protectively over it.

“I want them to know how deeply they were wanted.”

You pressed your face into his shoulder to hide the sudden wave of emotion. “I’m scared to want this too much,” you admitted. Wonwoo didn’t respond immediately. He just kept stroking your arm gently, his fingers finding their familiar rhythm against your skin.

“We can be scared. That’s okay. But let’s still hope anyway” he finally said.

It was easier said than done.

Every time you dared to hope, every time you picked out names, imagined nursery colours, imagined what your baby would look like with your nose or his eyes — it always ended up with you lying within the four hospital walls.

But this time was different — or so Dr. Jung insisted.

The frequent checkups helped. Every week, she ran another ultrasound, checked your hormone levels, and adjusted medications. There were more tubes and blood draws than you wanted to count, and more nights lying awake wondering if every cramp or twinge was a sign of another loss.

But each visit so far had ended with the same sound: a stable, tiny heartbeat. The baby was holding on.

Dr. Jung was cautiously optimistic. With the added progesterone and hormone therapy, your body was supporting the embryo better than ever before. And with constant surveillance, she said she could catch the earliest signs of complication.

You remembered her words clearly: “We’re not waiting for something to go wrong. We’re staying ahead of it this time.”

It helped having her in your corner. She said the embryo had implanted in a healthy area. Your uterus was responding well to the hormones. Your blood flow was better than expected. The baby had a good chance — better than any of your previous pregnancies.

Still, the fear lingered. It always did.

You remember one night, when Wonwoo was already asleep, where you sat up in bed, hand resting lightly on your stomach. The room was dark, save for the glow of the moon through the window. “Please stay. Just this once…stay” you’d whisper softly.

The next morning, you found a small sticky note taped to the bathroom mirror in Wonwoo’s familiar handwriting.

��We already love you more than life. Stay with us, little one.”

He never asked if you read it. He didn’t have to.

a/n; short but sweet :)

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wherescody · 2 months ago

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back marks

Cody Rhodes stood in front of the mirror in his locker room, rolling his shoulders and wincing slightly. His back was a patchwork of faint red marks, standing out against the usual bruises from training and matches. He smirked to himself. If only the WWE Universe knew the real reason behind them.

"Yo, Cody, you ready?" a voice called from the hallway.

"Yeah, be right there!" he replied, shaking his head as he grabbed his ring jacket.

Just then, YN peeked into the room, her eyes immediately locking onto his back. Her face turned pink. "Oh my gosh… Cody."

He turned with an amused expression. "What?"

She rushed in, grabbing his arm and turning him toward her. "What? Look at you! Your back looks like you wrestled a wild animal!"

Cody chuckled. "Technically, I did—and I lost." He winked, making her groan and bury her face in her hands.

"This is so embarrassing," she muttered.

Cody gently pulled her hands away, grinning. "Hey, don’t be shy now. You weren’t exactly holding back last night."

YN swatted at his chest. "Stop!"

He laughed, leaning in. "I kinda like it, you know."

She blinked. "The marks?"

Cody nodded. "Yeah. They’re proof that you’re my toughest opponent." His voice was teasing but warm.

YN groaned, hiding her face again. "You’re gonna be the end of me."

Cody pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head. "Nah. But you are gonna be the reason I wrestle tonight with some extra battle scars."

Before she could protest, the PA system blared: "Cody Rhodes, to gorilla position. You're up next!"

Cody slung his weight belt over his shoulder, starting toward the door but pausing to glance back at her. She was still standing there, chewing her lip, looking equal parts flustered and guilty.

He smirked. "Don’t worry, babe. I’ll handle my opponent… and later, you can help me recover."

And with that, he walked out, leaving YN standing there, heart racing and face burning.

Yeah… she was definitely in trouble.

YN paced Cody's locker room, nervously biting her nail as the Monday Night Raw main event played on the monitor. Every slap, every suplex, every brutal landing made her wince.

Especially when Seth Rollins, ever the opportunist, noticed Cody’s back.

"Ohhh, what happened there?" Corey Graves' voice rang out on commentary. "Looks like Cody went through a war before he even stepped in the ring!"

YN nearly died on the spot.

"Oh my gosh," she whispered.

As if things couldn’t get worse, Seth pointed at Cody’s back mid-match and smirked. Then, in classic Rollins fashion, he dramatically ran his fingers across the scratches.

Cody let out a grunt of pain but powered through, eventually hitting Cross Rhodes for the win. The second the bell rang, YN rushed toward the curtain, ready to check on him.

When he finally stepped through, sweaty and exhausted, she was already fussing. "Are you okay?! Did that hurt?!"

Cody blinked at her, then laughed. "That? Babe, I get hit with steel steps for a living. A few love taps aren’t gonna break me."

She groaned. "Cody, they talked about your back on commentary."

He smirked. "Oh, I heard."

YN’s face burned. "I hate you."

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist. "No, you don’t. But I do need a shower. Care to keep me company?"

She gasped, shoving him playfully. "You just wrestled a whole match. I’m not coming near you until you wash off all that sweat."

He smirked, leaning in. "That’s fine… but just so you know, once I do get cleaned up, I might just have to return the favor."

YN’s heart nearly stopped.

Cody winked, grabbed his towel, and headed toward the showers, leaving her standing there, flustered beyond belief.

She was so in trouble.

YN sat on the hotel bed, hugging a pillow to her chest as she replayed the events of the night over and over.

Cody’s scratched-up back on full display. Seth Rollins mocking him in the ring. The commentary team making it worse for millions to hear.

She groaned, burying her face in the pillow. "So embarrassing…"

Just then, the bathroom door swung open, and there stood Cody Rhodes—fresh out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips, steam rolling behind him. His damp blond hair curled slightly, and a knowing smirk played at his lips as he rubbed his neck.

"So, wanna tell me why you’re pouting?"

YN peeked at him, still mortified. "Because I basically exposed you to the entire WWE Universe!"

Cody chuckled, crossing his arms. "Babe, it’s not that deep." He took a step closer, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "If anything, I think it’s kinda funny."

YN groaned. "Cody, Seth Rollins saw them. Corey Graves saw them! The entire world saw them!"

Cody sat down beside her, leaning in. "And? Now everyone knows I have the toughest manager around."

YN’s breath caught in her throat.

Before she could respond, Cody gently took the pillow from her hands and tossed it aside. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he tilted her chin up.

"Though," he murmured, lips just inches from hers, "I think it’s only fair I win this round."

Her stomach flipped. "Cody…"

"What’s wrong, sweetheart?" he teased, brushing his nose against hers. "Shy now?"

Her heart pounded as he lightly tapped her nose with his finger, smirking.

"You left scratches," he whispered. "So maybe I should leave a little reminder, too."

YN let out a shaky breath, knowing full well she was so in for it.

And by the time the sun rose, she had a feeling Cody Rhodes would get his revenge.

#cody rhodes #cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes x you #wwe #wwe imagine #world wrestling entertainment #codyrhodes #wwesmackdown #wwe x reader #wwe x y/n #wwe fic #wwe one shot #cody rhodes imagine

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rasberrybabez · 10 days ago

Text

🖤Killed In Action

-Simon “Ghost” Riley who isn’t as dead as you think

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆-NSFW-MDNI-⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Simon is supposed to be dead.

Scratch that, he is dead. Your boyfriend of nine months is as dead as they get, and the dog tags hanging around your neck are proof of it. The call three weeks ago from his captain is proof, and the recurring nightmares of his dead body are hard cold evidence.

The nightmares never stop.

The image of his body in front of yours. Every night he dies in a different way, bloodier than the last. He dies protecting you, always. But that makes it worse.

You don’t want to think about his death, but you catch yourself doing it more often than not. When you’re petting his-now your- dog Riley, who is in a constant panic about when his owner is going to come back. The German Shepard stays up later than you, whining throughout the night.

You don’t blame him.

You haven’t been to work in weeks. Three weeks, since the day you got the call. And yet somehow money keeps appearing, and your rent has been paid in full. Like magic.

You just lay in bed, wake up. Sit on the couch, order pizza. Watch whatever channel is on. Walk Riley.

And then you cycle back through.

So today, getting Pizza for breakfast is something not too out of the ordinary. The doorbell rings, and you pull out your wallet. A twenty dollar bill? You didn’t order that much… you can’t really temper what you order anymore.

But when you open the door, it’s not the pizza boy you see. Not at first.

You huff, stepping out a bit in a pair of Simon’s boxers and one of his shirts, RILEY in bold on the back. You fist the twenty dollar bills, reaching for a pizza before you freeze.

There is no pizza, only a hard, muscular chest that your hand collides with. Your gaze snaps up, and the money slips from your hands.

“Trying to pay me to go away, luv? Ain’t that rude…”

You let out a startled cry of surprise, eyes wide as you stumble back against the door. It pushes open, your foot landing inside the foyer to stable yourself. Because that certainly isn’t a pizza delivery guy.

That is the man you love.

Tall, no mask. Bloodied face, fried and caked onto scarred skin like sticky, gruesome mud. A cocky grin but eyes that speak every other emotion he can’t say, filled with longing, pain and relief.

He takes a step forwards. You take one back. Watch him flinch.

“…jus’ me luv. Nothin’ else…”

He says as softly as he can, holding out his hands for you to inspect. They’re cut badly, burns trailing up his arms, dipping between tendons and muscles, disappearing under his sleeve. Tattoos duller. Bloodier.

“Y-You’re dead, Simon… you’re-this isn’t real, this isn’t real-” you say, panicked breathing rising. Hyperventilating.

His eyes go wide as he shakes his head, reaching out. He looks cautious, but reaches anyway. Wraps his hands around your wrist and tugs you to his chest.

“Sh-sh-shh… hush, baby… I know, I know… I can explain it all, I’ll tell you it all…”

The tears in his eyes catch you off guard. Is much so, that you’re crying too. Fisting his shirt and burying your face into his chest. Clinging to him as he grunts in pain but pulls you impossibly tighter, closer. Pushes into your apartment and holds you against the door, kisses you like he might never again.

Because you never thought he would again.

You’re a sobbing, whimpering and sniffling mess as Simon hikes your legs up around your hips. Riley is static, bouncing around and barking as he follows the two of you into the bedroom, whining and crying. Simon laughs, a teary laugh, patting Riley’s fluffy head.

“Ya’ did good, boy… took good care of our girl…”

You sniffle into Simon’s shirt as he rubs your back, pressing kisses to your face and neck. He’s exhausted, bloody and hurt but home. Home, with you and Riley.

He takes in a raspy, shaky breath that’s more labored than it should be. Presses a kiss to your temple, murmuring against your skin.

“They couldn’t find my body… saw enough blood and flesh to count me dead… found my mask… I was alone in the fucking wild for weeks, baby… and all I could think of was getting back to ya.”

You pull back a little, still hiccuping over tears as you cup his face in your hands. He looks like hell, bloody and torn. Shredded.

You take in a ragged breath, because God it hurts to look at him like that. “D-Does your team know?”

Ge nods stiffly.

“…you need a bath, baby…”

Simon snorts, a grin splitting over his weary face. He rubs your back, pulling you closer with how you straddle his lap. Riley is just happy to be here, wagging his tail as it thumps steadily on the bed.

“Yeah… I do…” he sighs softly, but his smile starts to fade. He meets your eyes, swallowing hard. “…look, baby… this is a lot to take in. I don’t want to overwhelm you, I want you to trust me but-”

You cut him off with a quick kiss to the lips, whimpering softly. Your hand slides down his jaw, thumb tracing over his jumping pulse point as you shake your head.

“I trust you, Si… trusted you the minute I say your eyes… know those eyes anywhere.”

He sighs against your lips and nods, standing and hiking you higher up him, legs tight around his waist. He pats Riley once, moving to the bathroom with you in his grip. Riley whines, and he chuckles softly.

“Sorry pup… adult time.”

You whimper softly, sniffling as he moves you both into the master bathroom, shutting the door so that no pesky dogs can get in. He sets you on the counter, pressing a kiss to your forehead before moving to the bathtub and turning on the faucet.

You watch him do it, watch Simon as he strips off his shirt and throws it to the side. You grimace as you see He scars that mar his chest, but he just smiles in your direction.

“Every one to come back to you, Luv…”

You nod, letting him pull off your shirt, another on of his really. Then he peels off the hovers you’re wearing, groaning softly. You whimper.

“I need you, Si…”

He nods, carrying you both over the bath. He tears off his cargo pants and throws them to the side, peeling of his boxers and leaving them to pool on the floor. He groans as the two of you sink into the warm, bubbly water, rubbing your back.

“I know… gonna fuck this pretty cunt right… been too long without me.”

You go to protest that he shouldn’t be fucking you, especially not when injured, but he ignores you. Grabs soap to start scrubbing your body, lathering some on the dried blood along his skin too.

And then he’s lifting you up as you squeak, dusting his cock with one hand and lining it up to your soft pussy with the other. You gasp and grip his shoulders, sinking down onto him with a low moan and a soft cry. You’ve never felt fuller than when you’re with Simon, and it feels different when you thought you lost him.

You cry out as he groans, pulsing inside of you. You’re sticky, gummy walls are too tight, and fuck he thinks he could come right here, right now. But with a shaky pant, he meets your eyes, kissing along your chest and fondling your tits.

“Gotta get clean love… gotta get clean…”

You whimper a soft yes, nodding and reaching for the soaps. Simon grips your hips, thrusting up as you do and sloshing water out of the tub. You cry out in pleasure, slipping a little.

“Simon!”

“Can’t help it luvie… missed ya too much…”

You huff and pin him with a teasing glare, squirting shampoo into your hands. You reach out, running them through Simon’s hair and trying to late her up the bloodied short blond strands as best as you can. It’s difficult when Simon’s cock won’t stop fucking up into you.

You whimper, soapy hands falling to grip his shoulders again as he grunts. His thrusts get more erratic, more intense. He shifts a bit, gripping your thighs and helping you ride him. Water slow shed out of the tub, soaking the floor around you both.

You cry out as the tip of his cock nudges against your cervix, testing the limits of your spongy walls. You whimper, panting softly.

“‘s too much Si…”

Simon grunts and shakes his head.

“Nah… you can take it luv…”

He continues at his harsh pace, panting as your hips move up and down through the water. He’s addicted to the feeling of your thighs smacking against his, the wet noises and the water soaking every surface it can. Soon enough your cunt is clenching around him, and you’re crying out in pleasure.

“Simon-”

“That’s it… come for me…”

Simon grunts, coming as you do, his cock forcing into your pussy as it spasms around him. You’ve never felt cry out and pant, sweaty forehead falling to his, the water now tainted with your cum.

You whimper softly as Simon sighs, strong arms wrapping around your body, pulling you closer. He presses a kiss into your hair, murmuring softly.

“never gonna die while you’re alive, luvie… not on ma’ watch…”

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skywalkoverme · 14 days ago

Text

𝐀 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐦 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝

a/n: CONSENTING ADULTS in every part of this fic.

𐙚 Hayden Christensen x Fem! Reader 𐙚 18+ MDNI

Summary: You attend an after party with your boss.

Warnings/contains: weird hollywood-eque party, some f/f, humiliation kink, praise kink, choking, collared partner, cnc drinking, alcohol consumption, forced submission, sub training, nipple teasing, sexual teasing, proof read-- english is not my first language!

W/c: 1.4k // More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

On Set: Revenge of the Sith

“Water?” He stared at the stainless-steel bottle that you held; his last name engraved near the lip. The man shook his head, “No, thank you.” You nodded, he had asked for it many minutes ago when you were caught up--- “Tell Carrie: this thing keeps poking me.” He directs your attention to his hip where a loose buckle on his costume pressed into his side.

“Yes, Mr. Christensen!” You urgently took a photo with your camera and ran across the set to the changing rooms. Holding a beaded dress, a woman in all black twirled a pen, “Turn for me.” She directed a young woman who held her arms out. “Ok, put this one on and we’ll see how it flatters you.” She offered her the beaded dress and turned around. “Y/n! Quiet as a mouse, as always.”

You raised a small smile, “It’s Mister Christensen.”

“Hm, cat and mouse.” She'd only hear him call you 'mouse', thinking it was a cute name in regard to your quiet nature. You showed the photo of his wardrobe malfunction, “That won’t do.”

Before you both could head his way, your phone began to ring. “Yes, sir!”

He sipped from his water bottle, “Y/n, where are you?” He asked rather curiously, looking around with the phone to his ear.

“With Miss Carrie!”

“Come here.” He said as if reminding you where you were. “We start in fifteen.”

Carrie rolled her eyes playfully and began to walk towards the main set. “Cat and mouse…”

You followed her, still holding a bag of any immediate necessities that Hayden might need as well as your planner with his complete schedule and routines. “There you are.” He sighed and showed Carrie the malfunction. She took a needle and sealed off the side before adjusting the metal prong.

Hayden stared at you, a small squint. You looked around and then back at him, “Me? Do you want to see your planner?”

“Hm. No. Just read it off to me.” He sighed as the woman checked him for any other malfunctions.

“For today?” You flipped through your neat notes, “I’ll get your lunch and then we leave here at two.” You followed him to a hand washing station, “Matt will drive you to the house and you’ll have an interviewer come at four.” His expression faltered into something tense, “It’s written.”

“How much do these people need to know?” He laughed and took a towel from your hand. The man dried his palms and gave it back to you.

“I think they’re happy to see you back as Anakin.” You followed him with a smile.

He said nothing at first as he took his place on set. “Them or you, Mouse?” You scratched the back of your hand and turned away from him; your cheeks flushed at the name. It sounded different coming from his mouth, especially when he wore that smirk.

A few nights ago

Hayden chuckled as you kneeled at the table, your knees pressed in the rug as you dirtied the gown that hugged your body. You threw back a shot and stared at the young woman across the table from you; light caught on your collar and shone in her eye. Hayden pats your cheek and tightens the loose collar. “Look’a’that. It matches your dress this time.”

“Give me your hands.” He wrapped his belt around your wrists and secured them together.

This had to be some form of a humiliation ritual: this game you ended up playing once every few months. You pressed your lips on the other side of the glass, your noses crossed as you lapped up alcohol. Her tongue slid across yours each time, your lips mingling as the bitter alcohol burned your throat. This game is a team effort and you both are on the same team, so it was only right that your entire focus was on her (and pleasing your boss, Hayden).

Hayden held your hair back as your lips brushed against hers. “C’mon, Y/n!” He’d bet money on you. Not a lot but well over his means for the night. You still had another drink to finish and the team of girls beside you weren’t willing to spare you both.

His legs were on either side of your body as he leaned over you, holding your head down into the glass. You finished it quickly and he guided your head by your hair to the next drink: two separate bowls of vodka + soda. Your teammate took a moment to catch her breath and drank from a bottle of water.

Hayden watched you take small laps of the drink, “Don’t be modest, mouse.” A drunken edge to his tone as he pulled at your collar and pushed your head lower. If you were wearing panties, they’d be soaked by now. The “referee” watched as you slurped from the top greedily; your false eyelashes faltered from their correct position and your bound wrists rest behind your back.

You continued to drink and before you knew it, Hayden pulled your head up to face him. “Good girl!” His lips embraced yours messily as the group around you cheered. “Bashful little thing.” He took another sip of his drink while you squinted in the limelight. He pulled the glass from his lips, “Mouse.”

He chuckled as the wallet from his pocket fell out. “Pick it up.” He’s inescapable. No matter if you were on the clock or off. You found yourself serving him like a pet. At least it was less humiliating in places like this where you’d find many others doing the same things. Your tongue brushed the floor as you took the wallet between your teeth and settled the leather on his thigh.

A sadistic smile crossed his lips as he took his beer bottle from earlier and let it roll between a few people until it was a far enough distance for you to chase. “Go fetch.” Mindlessly, you found yourself crawling to the bottle as it rolled further. A few guests stopped their touching and tasting of each other to observe your obedience. You took the neck of the bottle into your mouth; loose dirt dirtied the side as you held it tightly in your warm mouth. The rim pressed deep in your mouth as it tried its best to leave your mouth.

Hayden waved two fingers down and you sat beneath him on your feet, your hands still behind your back as he raised a single finger up. You raised your chin higher and straightened your posture. “You’re sucha’ good listener. I’m so proud of you.” He directed your head down and you placed the bottle on the floor at his feet. “It must feel so nice to be a good girl.” You couldn’t control yourself as you rocked from side to side. Not unlike a dog. The attention slowly was drawn off your excited body as time passed. Your breathing sped up as he brushed a hand over your hand nipples in a ghostly manner. “You did something new, didn’t you?” His softened blue eyes stared into yours, “You shared.” Enthusiastically, you nodded and took his thumb into your mouth.

He used his thumb to pull your jaw down; the pad of the digit pressed on your piercing. “I think it’s time to get you back to our room.”

a/n: this has been in my drafts since I started my account (a month)

Direct Taglist from this post: @endairachristensen26 @anonyg @vvsdiamond28 @dream-this-nightmare-over @daddysbitchybaby @venomdollz @mushimian @suniika

Interact with my Master list to be tagged: (it’s on a rotation if you weren't tagged this time)

@duck6789@mcxdiaz@maneater97@swiftiesimonriley@yeonjinnie@laddle@daughterofstairs@edenizzyx@eymie@xxhvzelxx@bored-as fuck @viviennebloom@jujustarwars1@kaaaatta-blog@javierpenaspentis @thesmolandangryfriend@wildefire@bxbyysstuff@vvsdiamond28@81736472981636826463 @livelifegenuinely24@tuftedtyddy@bitter-semi-sweet@0806sthings@autdot09@strange-and-unsual4 @septemberdaydreamer @ravenqueen018@em1655431@th1sismetryinggg@doepbambi@emzssss@0–bunny0 @aweasleyobrien @frankiesweird @wuxianwrld @reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

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weeb-simp-11 · 2 months ago

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🃟☏➢NEED THAT SHAPEABLE VEINY DIH!!

NOTE: You should also give some love for my guy Shapesmith/Rus Livingston, I wanna eat this stretchy man. Also might not be accurate, semi-proof read.

Pairing: Shapesmith!Rus Livingston x Fiancée!Reader — Female Anatomy and She/They + You Pronound, Engaged and to be Married

Sypnosis: Calling your ‘husband’ after his flight to Mars and you notice he seems to be acting strangely sooo it ends up with fucking because you miss him, teehee.

Warning: Eventual Smut

RING RING!! RING RING!!

“Rus? Baby?”

He almost dropped the unknown electronic device as it rang, accidentally accepting the call, fumbling with the screen as he heard a woman speak.

“Russell?”

“H-hello?”

“Oh god Rus, I thought you weren’t gonna answer my calls.. I’ve missed you so much.. Christ.” You softly spoke through the phone, holding it near your ear as you smiled gently to yourself.

“Yes— yes hello fellow human. Uhh..” Shapesmith trailed off, looking at the caller’s ID. “Honey..”

As far as Shapesmith is aware, Rex taught him various lessons about relationships during their time with the Guardians of the Globe. He instructed the struggling Martian not just about mating, but about sex and how to make women feel appreciated every day, whether through intimacy or other means. He also helped him improve his grammar.

“I’m at your apartment, I just finished cleaning here. Will you be coming home?” Her small chuckle masked the longing she’d felt for her fiancé, all those days without him.

“Uh, Y-yes Ok I will end this cellular device. Goodbye. Uh— baby.” Shapesmith replied, feeling a bit sheepish as he ended the call, making his way out of the Moon Base

“Welcome home Rus, you were right. I really did miss you a lot.” You spoke, his name dripping off her tongue like honey. She hovered in front of him, holding him close, their first hug after what? Two weeks? Months? Man Shapesmith didn't even know that the guy’s identity he’d stolen from had a wife, he wondered, a bit unsure of things.

“Sweetheart..” Rus would call her, trying to figure out things, especially with him engaging with a human in physical contact as what she’d doing right now — hugging the Martian.

“Yes?” You’d look up in anticipation. You did notice his weird differences from before, he was a bit timid and shy right now. Not that she didn't mind. It was just unusual for her fiancé.

“You’re acting weird, as if you aren't my boyfriend.” Shapesmith’s eyes slightly widened. Did she find out he was a Martian? Will you stab his three-chambered hearts? Skin his skin off? Grind his body?!

“Hey no— I’m just tired, y’know. Mars and going to space.. And other human stuff..” Shapesmith replied, gently scratching his cheek, swallowing his saliva. Her arms that held him trailed up to the back of his neck; nape.

“Don’t you miss me too?” She mumbled, staring deeply into her lover’s pupils. Eyes trailing down from his irises to his lips, and back. “Aren’t you gonna kiss me?” You frown, puckering your lips up for him as you sigh.

“Oh- uh yes- sorry.” Shapesmith apologizes, immediately pressing his lips against hers. The kiss was reasonably messy and unnaturally sloppy. Rus knew how to kiss, he kisses as if she was his last meal, he kisses as if he's eating her face out. But right now, it felt too different, was this really her Rus? She was a bit skeptical. Shapesmith tried to pull out from their kiss as you lead him on instead, your tongue darting between his lips, trying to slip between them.

You pulled him close. Clutching him using the collars of his uniform, leading him further into the house as they reached the kitchen. You sat on the edge of the counter, with him against you of course. His Martian senses heightened at the feeling of her warmth that emanated from her body. He rutted against her thigh, you halted his desperate movements, helping him out of his uniform, discarding it somewhere in the living space. She was too much into the sensations that she did not bother to notice whatever he hid beneath his pants, it was similar to a dick, although not technically one? God who knows?

You shimmied off your clothing, throwing it somewhere in the room, you’ll have to worry much more about different things tomorrow, for now. They should focus on each other. Both of you were bare naked under the dimly lit kitchen, soft breathing could be heard and gentle thrusting can be seen happening between the two.

Rus’ hips stuttered against yours, his dick slipping in and out into her warm hole. He gripped your calves, rutting against your leaking pussy that ached for your Fiancé.

“Ugh.. You feel so different. Does space do this?” You moaned and whimpered, clutching onto his body, feeling air gets sucked out of your own lungs whenever you’d help him thrust.

He is learning gradually. He is trying to understand how the human he is fucking also felt good.

Female Human’s pussies felt too good. It was making him light headed already he his pounded his cock into her velvety warmth. He could almost—

“Oh— chums—!” He spilled his Martian seed inside her, his body shuddering along with hers as they both climaxed. You swore when you shut your eyes, you were having sex with a green alien Martian, maybe that was just your eyes playing tricks at you. He slowly pulled his member out of your gaping hole, watching as his essence mixed with hers and dribbled onto the countertop. You clenched onto nothing, softly whining as cool air hit your body. You fell into his arms, both of you now resting and relishing each other’s embrace after being separated.

Maybe stealing Rus Livingston’s body wasn't bad after all. (Stealing is bad kids)

NOTE: Probably making a sequel where you found out it wasn't the real Rus Livingston and admitting it to him hat you thought it was him that you fucked but it was actually a Martian and it ends with also them fucking. I don't know.

#smut #shapesmith #invincible smut #invincible #invincible x you #invincible variants #invincible show #invincible masterlist #invincible x y/n #invincible season three #invincible x reader #invincible variants x reader

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xelasrecords · 21 days ago

Text

So, This Is a Mess

Caleb x Reader

You’re in a friends-with-benefits relationship with someone and Caleb knows. You know he knows, but that doesn’t make things easier.

Words: 4.5k

Masterlist | Read on AO3

The light is on when you drag your feet into your apartment. You try to be quiet, but Caleb appears from your room and catches your phantom. He rubs your shoulders, a soothing motion, a gentle reminder that he’s here. He sports an inscrutable expression on his face. This is how you cradle nothing in your palms. He doesn’t have to try hard; you float to him weightlessly and occupy the space around him until he leaves.

His skin sticks. It’s a balmy night. Wash away all remnants of dirt before you get to hold him back. Yes.

You step back. “I’m dirty. I’ll join you in bed after I clean up.”

Caleb lets his hands fall away. “Where have you been? I got my weekend off. I wanted to bring you to the new bakery down the street. Their apple pies smell heavenly.”

Guilt twinges in your stomach. You never have enough time with Caleb, yet you have wasted half a day for someone who doesn’t matter, his name just a string of numbers in your phone.

“Tomorrow?” you offer. “Wait for me. I’ll be right back.”

You spin on your heel. There’s nothing you would like to do more than rest with Caleb, but the persistent throbbing between your legs is distracting you. Too dry, the condom scratches, no lubricant, but do it anyway, we’re already here. It doesn’t happen often, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

If you suggest it first, you can save yourself from wondering whether he would continue despite your protests. You don’t have to discover how cruel men can be in times of need. His flesh needs yours. So what? You don’t always have to be in the mood to fuck. Simply insert his cock and off with the pounding.

Caleb must have known. Not everything, but enough. The bathroom mirror doesn’t lie. Lipstick that smudges your chin, hair that holds the proof of being wrapped around a rough hand, bruises smattering your breasts. Caustic marks from teeth and nails. His grip was strong, his sharp bites even more.

It’s good to forget. When Caleb has to return to Skyhaven, it’s good to be preoccupied with pain that isn’t inflicted by him. Caleb means well, but Caleb also hurts you. You collect pain like amulets, switching one out with the other so you’re not consumed by one constant all the time. It’s a cowardly move, sorry Caleb.

You pin your hair up and quickly rinse yourself under the shower head. A gentle, brittle-voiced reminder from another time rings in your ear: My precious granddaughter, you’ll fall sick if you shower with cold water at night. But Grandma is dead and you have grown to embrace the aches in your body. One more won’t hurt.

You have half a mind to insert a few fingers into you, bringing yourself to the climax that you were robbed of, but it’s too sore. He had told you to do it yourself after he was done, but you didn’t feel like putting on a show for him. He would have put down his phone and watch, sure, but spreading your legs for another man’s entertainment feels too performative and less focused on your bliss.

It’s not like you haven’t tried it. Even when the body you’re pleasuring is yours, the attention is still on him. Men get to have a lot of things without asking while you have to fight hard to keep them for yourself. What’s yours isn’t always yours. Anyway you don’t want to feel the shame washing over you after you tip over and listen to him cooing over how sexy you are when what you feel is akin to a commodity. At least sex workers get paid. You get to be sent home without being walked out. Taxi fare on you. Head clouded over the unfairness of this situation.

But you wanted it. It was a fair trade. You should stop pitying yourself.

You’ve kept Caleb waiting for too long. You sigh and spray dry shampoo on your hair before clothing yourself. Your satisfaction can come later.

Caleb is slouching against the bed headboard when you open the door. For a moment, you lean against the frame, watching him. This is the person you have hurt too. He’s never approved of you sleeping around, not on the basis that women who do are whores, but on the principle that you should be saved for the best. Caleb hasn’t yet found the best suited for you. You don’t care much about it. If this is your lot in life, you’ll accept it and march ahead.

Without a word, Caleb levitates you into the space between his legs and summons a hairbrush, parting your mussed hair with patience. Some habits don’t die, and despite the very adult things you just did, you wish to crawl back into Caleb’s embrace like a little child. He provides safety like no other when he consoles you. You can do no wrong in his eyes. He’ll always forgive you because you’re more important than your mistakes. He’s repeated this so often that it’s become a mantra of your own.

“Were you with the guy I caught here last month?” Caleb’s voice is deceptively light.

You nod. “I don’t juggle multiple guys at once. It’s too much work.”

“So you count him and me as one?”

“You’re different.”

“You’re right.” He chuckles louder than the conversation warrants it. “I’m clearly better than them.”

You smiled up at him. “Yeah, and I’m not fucking you. That’s how I can tell. I’ve never felt you inside me.”

Caleb pauses his movement but quickly gathers the locks of your hair and lays them over your shoulders. “Is just sex enough for you?”

You lean back until your body is resting on top of his, the hard planes of his chest against your head as he wraps his large arms around your chest. “I don’t know. I don’t let myself think too much about it. I’d get depressed if I did. Then I wouldn’t know what to do next,” you say. “Do you hate me for this?”

“I can never hate you for anything.”

You frown. “That’s worse. I wish you could resent me a little. Infinite forgiveness is too heavy to carry.”

“Then stop doing things that make you feel guilty.” Caleb pokes your cheek. “You also have the option to be happy, choose it.”

What would that happiness look like? Being with him? Does Caleb truly believe choosing him would make you happy? You’re sure it won’t work for the other way around even if it does. His joy around you glitches like a damaged mask. He forces himself to be happy for your sake and thinks you don’t notice. He can’t choose himself either.

Then there’s your dissatisfaction with him because Caleb can’t give you enough. He always offers you just enough truth, just enough sugar to keep you satiated for some time. You’re tired of chasing shadows whenever you’re with him. He never lets you exist beside him.

The men in your lives tend to give what they think is suitable for you without considering your needs. You can’t blame them for it. Not when you’re the common denominator here.

“I am happy.” You grab Caleb’s forefinger and point it to the middle of your chest. “With you like this, I am.”

“You haven’t laughed in a long time and I’m scared I’m the cause of it.” You can feel his ragged exhale against your ear. “You have been out of reach ever since you discovered that I’m alive.”

“I’m not out of reach. I’m literally surrounded by you right now.” You squeeze his bare legs as confirmation.

Caleb wraps them tighter around you. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

You do know. “I’m sorry.”

No matter how much you want him, you can’t have him. Caleb will always leave. He can claim he’ll give you everything and whisk you away to a faraway island where nobody knows about your existence, but those are whimsical dreams. He is tied to his fleet and you can’t let him in to see him walk away. There are things he needs to deal with before he’s free to be with you. You don’t want to tie him down. Better to be alone than to amplify each other’s suffering.

Caleb turns your body to face him and you jolt, the scars scrape against your clothes. Now that the pleasure is gone, all left on you is the marks of plunder. No, that isn’t the right word. You weren’t forced to do anything you didn’t want to. But you may have given more than you could take tonight. It’s often like this. You don’t know how far you’ve pushed until you take in the aftermath. The clean-up is more exhausting than the journey. What have you got out of this arrangement? You’re not even sated, not even happy.

Horror slashes across Caleb’s face. “You’re hurt. Where are you hurt?”

You shake your head and bury your face into his chest, inhaling the scent of aftershave that clung to his t-shirt. “Just generally,” you mumble.

But Caleb isn’t having it. He pulls you up again so he can scan your body, but there’s nothing he can detect unless he strips you. Your sex partner is careful that way. Can’t attract unwanted attention. It’d be an extra workload that he has to put in. Not that you want it either. Keep things as easy as possible.

Caleb won’t take off your clothes. You used to imagine he would, but now you can’t breach the topic without shattering your fragile connection. One wrong move and he’ll retreat into space. One wrong move and he’ll deprive you of the outside world and lock you down. To be near or far from him strangles you in equal amounts.

“Caleb, I’m fine. These things happen.”

A concerned divot forms between his brows. “Tell me the truth. Do you like mixing violence with sex?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you say. “I just want the sex.”

“No, pip-squeak.” You cringe at the nickname. It’s as if Caleb used it to remind you of your age, that you’re younger and more naïve and therefore should listen to him. It paints a jarring contrast from the topic you’re discussing. He runs his hand through his dark hair and takes a deep breath. “Have you talked about your preferences with him?”

You shrug. “I was on board the first time he did it to me. I wanted to try it too.” You want to be pushed. Tested. Feel everything instead of nothing. Sex can be a punitive relief if one is desperate enough.

“But did he ask whether you liked it?” Caleb pressed. “Does he care if you don’t?”

You wave it away with a gesture. “My body gives away enough reaction.”

It doesn’t need to be said that when your body isn’t reacting enough, he’ll toss you aside. But that’s fine because he apologises and comes around eventually. He greets you with a relieved smile and pays for the lingerie he wants you to wear. It gives you as much relief in return that you’re still desired. You never kid yourself into believing there’s something more, so you shouldn’t expect an above-and-beyond treatment from a casual lay.

You must have learned this infinite capacity of forgiveness from Caleb.

Caleb cups your jaw and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “He doesn’t sound like a nice person.”

“Occasionally he’s nice.” The defence slips out of your mouth before you can mull it over.

“How much more occasionally bad should you take?” asks Caleb softly.

He’s starting to infuriate you. No matter how bad this guy is, he is your choice. You decide who to sleep with. You decide how far you want to get hurt and which pain you want to go through. There’s less risk in toying with a near stranger than Caleb. They’re disposable, he’s not.

“Right now, there’s only him,” you say, your tone clipped. “Drop this subject. I’m tired.”

“You deserve to be with someone who cares about your interests,” Caleb insists. “Someone who sees you more than just a body to be used. A casual arrangement doesn’t mean he can treat you like an object. Love yourself more. You deserve better.”

You let out a humourless laugh. “Who will treat me that way? Introduce me to that person then. I’ll fuck him for you.”

Caleb grinds his jaw and pinches your chin to meet his gaze. “No.”

You climb on top of his thighs. “Why not? Scared that I’ll have a better sex life and leave you behind? Maybe you like me in this situation. You get to be my saviour after a boring fuck. Console me until I feel fine again.”

Caleb glares at you in disbelief. “Trust me, I get no enjoyment from seeing you sleeping with other guys.”

“So what gets you off if cuckolding isn’t your thing?” If he won’t back down, you won’t either.

“You’re committed to being a menace tonight.” Caleb’s eyes flit across your determined expression and he shakes his head. “But sorry, I’m not in the mood to entertain you.”

This is exactly what you hate about him. Never says the truth. Never brave enough to claim what he wants. Does he think you would stick around forever just because he wills it? You feel like a side-piece in everyone’s lives. You’re wanted but not kept, as if there’s only so much of you they can handle before they run away screaming, regretting ever letting you in.

“I thought you wanted me, but you steer clear from me like you’d contract a deadly disease if you get too close,” you say.

“That’s not what I’m scared of.” At your challenging look, Caleb continues, “You don’t want to know the kind of thoughts I harbour when you’re around.”

You bunch his shirt into a ball in your fist and pull him closer. “Only when I’m around?”

Caleb tries to avert his eyes, but you yank at his shirt harder. He looks down, sounding hoarse. “No, not only then.”

With his lips in such close proximity, it would be so easy to steal a taste. His body is within reach also. Every cell in you calls towards him, and really, you would give yourself to him if things were less complicated. If you weren’t still tangled with another guy. The relationship is not exclusive, but you don’t want to do Caleb the disservice of not bestowing him your full care and attention.

But maybe a kiss is fine. Just one kiss.

“May I...” you trail off, your fingers dancing across his lips.

Caleb kisses your fingers and closes his eyes, his breathing harsh. Time stretches on for eternity before he finally speaks. “I don’t know.”

You bend down to press your lips against his fingers. Your heart breaks for him and yourself, for the circumstances you’ve put yourselves in. “All right, I won’t force you.”

“We can cuddle,” murmurs Caleb into your skin. He doesn’t want to part from you. You don’t have to ask him to know that it’s true. A part of him is still naked for you to read. He hasn’t completely shrouded himself away. You hold on to this truth. “Like the old times.”

You wriggle into his arms and he holds you flush against his body, but it feels nothing like the old times.

Your limbs are too long now and you’re too aware of each other’s presence. Proximity has never quickened your pulse before. It used to be enough just to be embraced and fall asleep together. Now you’re restless, your mind reaching for the mirage that’s always out of reach.

“I can’t hold you too.” You tilt your head at Caleb, watching his Adam’s apple bob when your breath fans across it. If only you could graze it without implying anything romantic or sensual. It’s tough to know where the line is drawn and who is drawing the line. “You distanced yourself from me first.”

Caleb looks pained. “I thought it was for the better.”

“Then why didn’t you disappear again after I left?”

“I thought about it,” he admits. “But acting on my thoughts is harder when I’ve seen the extent of danger you are in.”

“The safest I am is by your side,” you echo his past sentiment. It’s not a statement you entirely believe in. You are the safest with him, but you also feel the smallest.

You try to remind yourself that being small can be a good thing. Being hard to catch is freedom in itself. If nobody notices you, you don’t have to notice them too. Then, the physicality of your existence can be erased temporarily. Contorting yourself to fit the shape of those who want you has always been your strong suit. This isn’t much different.

“Sometimes I wish you could stand behind me,” says Caleb. “Use me as your shield.”

“And let them break you? A broken shield wouldn’t do anyone good. You’d only be buying time before they get to me.”

Caleb catches your wrist, his eyes a fervid fire that’s been more and more familiar to you. “They won’t. I’ll protect you,” he swears. “Let me protect you from this guy too. Do you even know his name?”

“I have a feeling you’d know more about him than me.” You hold your gaze and Caleb glances away. You’re aware of the kind of things he’s up to to keep you safe. There hasn’t been any illusion of him being sweet and trusting since his revival. You still can’t decide whether you’re fine with this new constraint of freedom.

“I hate to see you keep getting hurt,” he says.

“Tell me that again when you’ve stopped hurting me,” you speak flatly. “I knew it’d be like this since I rang him up. This is manageable.”

Caleb winces. “You shouldn’t have to keep managing your pain. Eradicate it if possible.”

You roll your eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

“It’s impossible in my case.”

“Then you have no say in mine.” When Caleb is still adamant about looking everywhere but you, you repeat with more force, “Do not interfere with my relationship. I’ll cut you off if you do.”

His jaw drops. The betrayal in his face isn’t faked. “You’re choosing him over me. I thought I was different.”

You clamp his mouth shut. “I’m choosing my freedom.”

“What about me?” he asks. “Where am I on your list? I remember how you used to follow me around, loudly proclaiming that I was the coolest person you’d ever known. That you were so lucky to have me. You were so little that I could fit you in the palm of my hand.” Caleb’s smile is sad as he drops his head.

“I didn’t know I was a hamster.” You punch his shoulder lightly. “I don’t rank you. You’re just here, in my heart.” You grasp his left hand, the one that can still feel you, and hold it against the left side of your ribs. “You float in my orbit always.”

From the table, your phone chooses the most inopportune moment to buzz and your hand reflex chooses the most inopportune time to pick it up. It’s automatic, groomed by days of waiting by your phone just to get a short reply from him. When attention is dangled in front of you, you can’t help but bite it, convince him that you’re still interested so he won’t go away, never mind how desperate you must look.

Pride only hurts you in the long run and that isn’t the kind of pain you revel in.

“Is it him?” Caleb’s hand curls into a fist. He could punch through your ribcage and you would allow him. Offer him your beating heart to make him happy. As proof of love, as repentance.

You hum in affirmation.

“Do you have a text-based relationship too?” he asks.

“When either of us is bored.”

“Well, you’re not bored now.” Caleb snatches the phone out of your grasp. “He already had you. Is that not enough? Let me see what else he wants to take.”

Your heart pounds. Caleb witnessing your flirting is the last thing you need. You shift your body up the bed so your head is next to Caleb’s, and relax after reading the text. He merely apologised if he was too rough. Maybe should delay the next fuck until you’ve healed. Drop a text when you’re ready. He’ll wait.

Caleb scoffs. “What a polite gentleman.”

“I told you. He can be nice.”

The glare Caleb throws at you is eerily reminiscent of his scolding when you tried to get out of your study sessions. “Nice is offering to bring you to the hospital and fetch your medicine. Nice is not pushing you when you’re not into it.”

“He’ll wait for me to heal,” you point out.

Caleb slow-claps. “Congratulations, you’re dating a dog.”

“Give me my phone. I want to reply to him.” You try to take it back, but Caleb shoves it into his back pocket, fully knowing your hands aren’t grubby enough to venture to his backside. Not anymore. It won’t be an innocent mischief if you do.

“He said he’ll wait. Make him wait. Reserve your speedy response for me.” Caleb pats his pocket in triumph. “How often does he text you anyway? Every day?”

Having Caleb barring you does help. If you leave him on read, you can live in the fantasy that you hold all the power, that this time, he’s the one kept on his toes. The moment you send a message, you’ll have to play the waiting game again, anxiety multiplying as you imagine the things that keep him from sparing a few seconds for you. You should prolong this sweet spot as long as you can.

You’re grateful that Caleb sends you constant updates about his ever-changing schedule. At least with him, you don’t have to guess where his attention lies. Well, not as much. He also has his moments.

You hope he won’t disappear again.

“Not really,” you mutter.

He raises his brows. “Do you want him to?”

A familiar shame burns your face. Desperation turns you into a fool and it always, always shows its face to the person you want to hide it from the most. “It’s not like how I talk to you,” you hurry to explain. “We’re not close. We don’t cuddle like this. He doesn’t know how to comfort me like you do.”

This too, is desperation in its more rudimentary form. You don’t want Caleb to assume things that aren’t true and lose him completely. You don’t want him to be so furious that he cuts off all of your social network. You need to stabilise his emotions before they go haywire. He needs to be calm for you to be calm.

“No one knows you like I do,” Caleb responds in a low voice. There’s a ferocity in it that sends a pleasant shiver down your back. “He may have touched your body, but I’m the one who takes care of you. No one should be this familiar with every tic and quirk of yours. It’s my duty to know you and remember you. No one else’s. Don’t give your everything to him. You won’t have anything left in the end.”

“Do you think it’d be any different if I give myself to you instead?” you whisper.

Caleb nods. “Because I’ll give myself to you too. You won’t be alone anymore.”

You almost sob at his sincerity. It’s a promise he can’t fulfil, surely he knows that. Being with Caleb will still leave you lonely because he never completely lets you in. His idea of giving himself to you doesn’t mirror yours. The way he loves you is exhausting. You don’t want him to wreck himself for you. He never stops to think about the toll it has on the person who has to watch him break over and over.

You’re not that selfish.

“Caleb, I love you, but—”

He presses a finger to your mouth before you finish the sentence. “Don’t say you love me then follow it with a contradiction.” Caleb’s voice cracks and along with that, your resolve to set your foot down. “I’d rather go on with my life without hearing it from you.”

His eyes waver and you know that he’s waiting for you to refute, to tell him that you can say the three words and let them take shape as a lone entity, but—there’s always a but. Love is never easy between the two of you. It’s a fact set in stone from the moment you were set in the same household as him.

An urge to apologise bubbles up your throat. Would he accept an apology, or would you be gifting him an apple laced with poison?

In the end, you just nod. “Okay.”

It is not the answer Caleb is hoping for.

You turn your back against him so you won’t have to see what kind of poison he has bit into. You’re a bad apple. It must be tiring to deal with you. Only a matter of time before he weeds you out. There’s an expiration date to everything. People die and affection can be lost. You’re not the exception to the rule.

With caution, Caleb gathers his arm around your waist and kisses the back of your head. This kiss is allowed. It’s too solemn to escalate to anything more. You don’t look up, don’t make eye contact. Keep tears from spilling.

“For what it’s worth,” Caleb murmurs into your hair, “I love you too.”

You bite the inside of your cheek until blood explodes into your mouth.

You wish to forget it. The first time Caleb confesses without the protective film of platonic love shouldn’t be like this. You pat his hand with a steady rhythm. “There are better people to love out there.”

“My best is you. You’re my reason to live.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not.” Caleb drags you into the concave space between you until every inch of your body is touching. Your stomach flutters from the firm press of his arm despite it all. “Go to sleep. I’ll patch you up if your body is still sore tomorrow.”

You want to talk more, but what else is there to say? You possess the power to hurt him, you have used it to your advantage, and Caleb just lets you. This proves that the closeness he yearns for will only ruin him.

Remorse twists in your gut without the ability to free itself and make things right. Caleb is better than you. He always makes you feel better. You suspect there’s nothing much you do that doesn’t make things worse.

You chant a litany of apologies into the night. Nobody can absolve you from this sin. It’s a burden you have to bear on your own.

Footnotes:

I wanted to write about the grey area in sex where it’s consensual but you can’t shake off the feeling of being used after, and how Caleb would realistically react to it based on the limited information he’s gleaned.

I like exploring how Caleb and MC’s codependency shows up in different scenarios. It holds so much power to either make or break them. Combine this with a reader who never puts themselves first, trapping themselves in the FWB relationship and adding to the distance from Caleb... It was fun to dig into how insecurity can derail the relationship you care about the most.

There are a few mentions of Grandma and death to show that the reader is still affected by her death. I think grief is sneaky this way, making itself known even when you don’t realise it’s influencing your thoughts and decisions.

At this point, it’s a rite of passage to put all my blorbos through a complicated relationship at least once. I wrote the first draft in one day because I’m obsessed with making Caleb suffer. Sorry. He’s just so angst-shaped to me. I can’t imagine him in a simple happy setting. Maybe one day. Canon source doesn’t even allow him to.

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#xela writes #caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb #love and deepspace #lads caleb #lads #lnds #caleb angst #caleb comfort #caleb fic #xia yizhou #love and deepspace fanfic

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appocalipse · 1 year ago

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MAKE IT EASY (part 2) : ̗̀➛ STEVE HARRINGTON

・❥・part 1・part 2・❥・3k words

Summary: steve asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family dinner. the problem is: after all is said and done, he gives you the cold shoulder. have you done something wrong?

Steve has a problem.

No, scratch that. He created a problem for himself, actually, about a week ago. A big, confusing problem that he now has no idea how to solve, so naturally what he's doing is plan B, which is the next best thing: avoiding the problem until it somehow resolves itself.

You are Steve Harrington's problem.

You, with your disarming smile, your gratuitous kindness and your impossible-to-forget laugh. You had made his parents like you, for God's sake. If that's not proof enough that you have some kind of magic working behind your smile, Steve doesn't know what is.

Oh! And of course, there is that damn dress.

Steve lowers his head until his forehead rests on the counter and sighs. Ah, that dress. Steve probably shouldn't think about it, let alone what was beneath it, the warm skin he touched for just a few seconds…no. He shouldn't think about it if he wanted to keep his sanity intact. But apparently, he likes to torture himself.

Steve stays in this awkward position for all of five dramatic seconds until his spine hurts. He straightens up again, with another sigh.

"You should talk to her."

It's Robin (of course) giving her opinion (that no one asked, Steve thinks bitterly) as she walks past him with a stack of tapes in her hands.

"I should never talk to her again. In fact," he argues, speaking a little louder so Robin can hear him from the back of the store, "if you're really my friend, you should make sure that I don't talk to her for the rest of my life."

"Coward."

"Maybe I am."

Even from this distance, Steve is under the impression that he hears Robin sighing.

She walks so fast that he doesn't even register the sound of her footsteps until Robin is in front of him, on the other side of Family Video's front counter, looking at him the way a mother would look at a child throwing a tantrum.

"You are going to talk to her," says Robin, with the certainty of someone who says the sky is blue.

"No."

She smiles. Steve is certain he recognizes that smile. It's the one that scares him, the same that precedes the moment when Dustin or one of the other kids says something like "just trust me, I have an idea", and the idea usually involves a robbery, a murder or interdimensional travel. Sometimes, all three of them.

"Robin-"

She has her backpack on her back.

"End of my shift," Robin hums, suspiciously happy. She takes a step back which, Steve thinks, is quite prudent considering what she says next, "…which means, my dear Steve, that you are obligated to serve our customers. Any customer. Even if you don't want to speak to this specific customer, you'll have to-"

Steve leans over the counter — to do what exactly, he's not sure; strangle her, perhaps — but Robin, as always, is faster. She laughs, and before he can do anything other than practically beg her to stay, Robin is out the front door yelling I'm sorry! over her shoulder, even though Steve knows she's not sorry at all.

Less than ten minutes later, the bell above the door rings again, and Steve wouldn't even have to look to know it's you.

You enter the store and your steps are quick, hurried, a clear goal in your mind.

You stop in front of Steve, almost exactly where Robin had stood a few minutes ago, but the look in your eyes is completely different for more reasons than one.

Steve swallows hard. You had been here two other times this week, and both times Steve managed to somehow force Robin to distract you, acting as if he was too busy to see you. You had clearly decided to talk to her behind his back, because all this had definitely been an elaborate plan between the two of you so that Steve couldn't get away.

You get to the point, crossing your arms. "You are avoiding me."

You're not asking; you're telling him. You know. You noticed.

Well, of course you did. You're smart. Smarter than him for sure.

Steve can only hope you haven't found out about the reason why he's avoiding you these past few days. That would be hard to explain.

He clears his throat. It's like he's trying to breathe with a couple of birds inside his ribcage.

"I'm not avoiding you," he says, but he looks away so quickly he doubts you believe him. "I've just got a lot going on lately…" he trails off, racking his brain for an excuse that would make sense without revealing too much.

It isn't fair — you're the last person he wants to hurt, and yet it took some elaborate plan between you and Robin to get him to stand in front of you again.

Pathetic.

You don't seem impressed. In fact, you laugh before he's even finished speaking, but it's not your usual light, happy laugh; It's a low, wry chuckle that makes Steve feel instantly irritated, even though he knows he probably doesn't even have that right after everything.

He knows he hurt you. He knows. He never wanted that. But you…you have no idea how torturous that night, that dinner had been for him. So yes; he does get a little angry.

"You've got nothing new going on lately!" you retort, growing angry yourself. "You just- I don't know. Have I…done something wrong? Did I make your parents mad that night or something? Because all of a sudden-"

"No!" he snaps, the word coming out harsher than he intended, and definitely louder. His cheeks flush with anger, and then embarrassment, and suddenly Steve desperately wants to crawl into a hole somewhere.

He clears his throat.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong," he repeats, softer this time. "It's just…it's complicated."

"It's complicated?" you ask, and now you're all but yelling too. Great. "That's your excuse for flat out ignoring me for the past week?"

"I'm not ignoring you!" he protests, his voice a bit higher than usual.

The truth is: he has been avoiding you. Every time he sees you, he feels this strange pull towards you - a mix of attraction and annoyance that he can't quite figure out. And every time he talks to you, he worries that maybe he'll say too much, or worse yet, say nothing at all and you, with your annoyingly sharp mind, will read him like a book.

As if that wasn't enough, Steve thinks, tormented, you decide to walk around the counter to literally stand in front of him, nothing else between the two of you besides a couple of steps.

This proximity feels like a trap. Steve takes another step back and his hipbone hits the counter. Dear God.

"Yes, you are!" you argue, crossing your arms and taking a step forward almost without realizing it. "You asked me to pretend to be your girlfriend for one night so that your parents would leave you alone, and I did. I thought it was okay. But then you pretty much ran out of my house afterwards and refused all my attempts to talk to you ever since."

You sigh. You lift your chin and look up at him, and, alarmed, Steve notices that your eyes are a little red, as if you're holding yourself back from crying.

He's making you cry?

Shit. The last thing he wants in the world is to make you cry.

"Tell me what I did wrong," you say, and the sudden softness of your voice catches Steve off-guard. "You owe me at least that, don't you? If seeing me is such a problem for you, just..tell me what I did wrong and I'll leave you alone. I'll go…clearly that's what you want."

"No, that's not what I want," he says quickly, stepping closer to you before his mind can catch up on his intentions. "Look, I'm sorry. I just…I don't know how to handle this."

He runs a hand through his tousled hair, and you probably notice the desperation in his tone, because you just stand there, looking at him. Waiting, he realizes. You don't move.

Then you ask, sounding so innocently confused that Steve almost feels like screaming:

"How to handle…what?"

It's not possible, he thinks. There's no way you didn't notice. You would have to be blind, deaf and…well, maybe not even then. Steve had thought things had gotten pretty clear the week before, at your place, when you had asked him to unzip your damn dress and he had gotten so carried away he almost kissed you and…

Well.

"You," he answers immediately, looking you square in the eye with all the genuine honesty he still has the capacity for. "I don't know how to handle the fact that I…" Steve swallows.

"That you..?" you encourage, taking a tentative step closer.

"Do you really want to know?" he asks, not moving an inch.

"Yes."

Steve's heart skips a beat, a beat that could very well be his last. "Look-"

"Tell me."

"I think you already know."

"I don't."

"Oh, come on," Steve says, his voice cracking as he lets out a humourless chuckle. "You can't tell me you didn't notice the way I looked at you last week. I mean, Jesus, I asked you to pretend to be my girlfriend for dinner with my parents, and then I almost…"

He trails off.

And there it is; that funny feeling inside your chest, that warmth you can't even begin to explain.

"You almost what?"

He chuckles again. "Why do you think I left like that?"

"I honestly have no fucking idea, Steve."

"You asked me to unzip your dress."

"And?"

Steve looks at you like you'd just grown an extra limb.

"You can't be serious."

"Okay, fine, I'm sorry I asked you to do that, but I didn't mean to make you, uh…uncomfortable. You could have said no if-"

"That's not it." Steve cuts you off, frustrated because God help him, you don't get it. You still, somehow, don't get it. He doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

So what he does instead is turn around, placing his hands on the counter, his back turned to you so that he can think clearly for a moment without being distracted by the way you're looking at him.

But you…oh, you never let things go, do you?

"What is it then, Steve, huh?" you ask, shortening the distance between the two of you by half. You know the answer, or at least a part of you does. But the other part, the part that's stubborn and insecure and tired…wants to hear him say it. Needs to hear him say it. "What is it? Because it feels like you just want to hurt me. You asked me to pretend to be your girlfriend for one night, but it didn't feel like we were…"

Pretending. Is that what you were going to say?

You stop speaking abruptly, eyes wide as if the words had come out of your mouth on their own. Judging by how angry you sounded, Steve thinks that's exactly what happened.

"Then you just…decided to ignore me."

For one moment, the only thing between you two is the silence.

"I didn't do that to hurt you," his voice is a whisper.

"Then what the fuck were you trying to do, Steve?"

"Get over you!"

"I...what?"

It feels like you're taunting him at this point.

"What, not what you expected?" He says, voice tight as he turns around to face you again, a bitter laugh trapped inside his throat. "C'mon, are you that oblivious?"

He's getting closer to you as he speaks now, voice growing more intense, more desperate; but you don't back away, he notices. You don't move, don't push him away. All you do is look up at him with those pretty eyes of yours, waiting, searching for something in his expression.

"I-I fucked up, okay? I told you it was just play pretend but the truth is…I didn't have to pretend one bit," he confesses, eyes finding yours, and immediately that anger — or whatever it was — dissipates, his tone softening as a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "I should have known that having you for one night, even if it was just pretend, would just make it that much worse. That's why I tried to avoid you. To get over you…and clearly that didn't work."

There's so much you want to say that you feel like you're choking on your own words. "I don't- you, I mean-"

"No, it's alright, just…" He looks down at the ground, then steps back again with a small, empty chuckle. "Go ahead and reject me. Make it easy for me."

"I-what? Reject you?" If a demogorgon suddenly showed up and swallowed your left leg whole, you're pretty sure you would have been less taken aback.

"I know it's not what you want to hear. It's not how I wanted things to go either. But I'm trying to be honest here," he says, taking another step back, feeling more and more exposed with every stupid word that comes out of his mouth. "I care about you. And I know that if I don't get over this, it's going to ruin everything. So, please, just-"

"Oh my God, you are so stupid!"

Your tone of voice changed completely. Steve lifts his head to look at you, and to his complete and utter confusion, you're laughing.

Laughing.

For a terrible moment, the thought that you're laughing at him crosses his mind, but then…

You hug him. You hug him so tightly, in fact, that Steve is pushed back a step or two, and suddenly he's pressed up against the counter once again.

“You didn’t kiss me,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your cheek pressed against his chest.

He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your hair and feeling the soft cotton of your shirt under his fingers. He can feel the warmth of your body against his. It's almost painful, how good it feels to be this close to you.

He wonders if he heard it wrong.

No — he certainly heard it wrong. He's hallucinating. Must be.

"Wait, I…what?"

You don't move an inch, but Steve feels as you take a deep breath against his shirt. He wishes he could see your face.

"That night," you explain, finally looking up at him. You look more flustered than he's ever seen you. Closing one of your hands into a fist, you hit Steve's chest without any real force. "I thought you were going to kiss me, but then you just ran off without saying anything. How was I supposed to guess that you actually liked me, Steve Harrington?"

He almost chuckles. Steve feels like his heart is in his throat, he can't believe what he's hearing. You like him? You, the girl he's been crushing on for what feels like forever, actually like him?

It's too much to process. He tries to form a response, but all that comes out is a strangled sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

So instead of trying to use any stupid words, he reaches out and cups your face in his hands, feeling the warmth of your skin against his. He leans down slowly, his heart pounding in his chest, and finally, finally, when you don't move away…he brushes his lips against yours.

It's just a soft, tentative touch, but it's enough to make him forget about everything else.

Steve pulls back then, waiting for you to pull away, to tell him no…but you don't. You close your eyes and lean into him, opening your mouth a little more against his, inviting him in. He takes the invitation, pressing his lips against yours again, more firmly this time, feeling your soft, warm tongue slide against his. He presses harder, deepening the kiss, feeling your hands curl into his shirt as he pulls you even closer.

You feel dizzy, light-headed, and utterly, perfectly lost in this moment.

Your hands cling to his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscles there as you, too, attempt to pull him closer, as close as possible…and then, the bell above the front door rings, announcing that someone just entered the store.

Fuck.

Steve groans as you pull back immediately.

It's just a customer, an older man with a newspaper under his arm, looking around curiously. Steve knows it's not his fault, but he doesn't think he's ever hated anyone quite so strongly.

He looks down at you and it's a mistake; you look so beautiful with your cheeks flushed, lips swollen from the kiss, a soft, embarrassed smile on your mouth. Steve doesn't know what to say, he's not even sure he knows how to find his voice right now, so one of his hands finds its way up to cup your cheek again, fingers curling gently while the man walks around the store looking for God knows what.

Steve feels like he's on cloud nine. He wants nothing more than to lose himself in you again, and to hell with Family Video's customers. But you, on the other hand…

You grin. "You should probably-"

"Don't go anywhere," Steve tells you with a grin of his own. "I'll be right back."

Apparently, he wasn't aware that he wouldn't be able to get rid of you if he tried.

tags (i hope i haven't forgotten anyone, sorry!): @siriuslysmoking @sebastiansstanswhore @sorchateas @boomitsallie1 @vivzzi @mel119g @skrzydlak

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