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sttoru · 6 months ago

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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’re heavily pregnant with sukuna’s child and so desperately need to have your specific pregnancy cravings: mangoes. when you realise you’re out of them, you turn into an emotional mess.

tags. true form!sukuna x wife!female reader. fluff, sfw. pregnancy. size difference (reader referred to as small). reader gets called ‘woman, brat’ wc: 1.8k

you’re crying in your chambers, the volume of your cries overshadowing sukuna’s arrival at the estate. you hiccup and sniffle as you sit in the corner of the master bedroom. there really doesn’t seem to be an end to your mental breakdown.

you’re prone to mood changes because of your pregnancy, already being seven months along. your belly is as round as a globe as it sticks out from under your kimono.

you hold onto your lower abdomen while mumbling to yourself. “not fair,” you rub your blurry eyes with your free hand.

the bedroom doors suddenly swing open. you lift your head from your knees and make eye contact with your husband who looks rather . . . upset. more upset than you are at the moment, that’s for sure.

you whimper as his big and intimidating stature dwarfs over yours while you’re stuck in the corner. when you look up at him, you cry even louder. seeing that familiar face after two whole days of suffering in this place alone gets you even more emotional.

after sukuna entered the room, his gaze had immediately fell upon your quivering figure. he raises an eyebrow as you cry louder once you spot him, the sound breaking his ear drums. he lets out a sharp exhale, a hint of annoyance seeping into his tone.

“enough with the tears,” sukuna grumbles as he crosses the room in a few long strides. his presence is both imposing and protective as he looms over your small figure.

his eyes flicker over your body—taking in the sight of your round belly. he can’t deny that the view makes his shoulders relax, relieved to see his wife do well after two days without seeing you.

sukuna kneels down before you, his eyes narrowing as he notices the tears running down your cheeks. who knows how long you’ve been sobbing? the realisation that no one has checked on you while you’ve been crying like this irks him.

the king of curses will make sure that every single servant - and especially the ones assigned to you - pay for not noticing your sour mood sooner.

“damn it, woman,” sukuna curses under his breath, his words laden with both irritation and a sense of concern, “what’s gotten into you now, hmm? why the blubbering mess?"

you hiccup, gasping for air as sukuna kneels down to your level, something he rarely does. one of his hands reach out to wipe a tear from your cheek, his expression stoic and unreadable while he does so.

“welcome home,” you utter, remembering to greet him properly. you wipe your own tears away and try to explain the situation without it sounding absurd. “i—i went down to the kitchen to get som-something,” you stammer, trying to spit it out before sukuna’s irritation spikes.

“but they didn’t have the food i craved—they’re out of mangoes,” your wailing starts again just at the thought of your non existent fruit. it felt like the most devastating moment in your life when the maids told you that they were out of mangoes.

sukuna’s annoyance quickly dissolves upon hearing your explanation. the revelation that you’re crying over mangoes seems so unbelievable, so absurd, that he couldn't help but let out a dry huff of laughter. an amused smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.

the pink haired man brushes the remnants of the tears away from your face. his rough fingers pause at your chin, giving it a light tap. “mangoes, huh? y’re out here bawling y’r fucking eyes out like a baby for some damn mangoes?”

despite his tough exterior, sukuna knows that pregnancy hormones often amplified emotions, making even the smallest things a cause for crying. and right now, you’re stressing and sputtering over some mangoes.

“mangoes,” you nod and cry softly, watching as sukuna rubs your cheeks with his manly fingers, enjoying his rough touch. you easily guess by just the increased toughness of his calluses that your husband has worked hard while he was gone.

though, mangoes are your current pregnancy craving and not having them meant war to you. it’s all you can focus on—even if your beloved sukuna is right in front of you.

“i need them,” you whine and pout. your hormones made it difficult for you to calm down.

you do, however, try your best to stop crying. you clean your face with the sleeve of your kimono and bite on your bottom lip to refrain from bawling your eyes out for the nth time. “i want my mangoes,” your voice is hoarse as you glance up at sukuna, “please?”

sukuna hates to admit it, but his expression softens upon hearing the hoarse tone of your pleading voice. the view of your tear-streaked face and the knowledge that you’re experiencing pregnancy cravings makes it difficult for him to maintain his usual firm demeanor.

the king of curses sighs, his annoyance replaced by a reluctant acceptance of your plight. “tsk, damn it,” he mutters, lazily resting his head against the palm of one of his hands, “y’re really gonna make me fetch you some mangoes?”

here you are, a grown woman crying and begging like a kid for a sweet, juicy mango. he’s seen you in many states - happy, sad, tired, excited - but never quite as emotionally overwhelmed just for a piece of fruit. sukuna’s large hand reaches out to pat your head in a surprisingly gentle manner, a rare display of his softer side.

you pout at sukuna and lean into his touch as he pats your head. you come up with something witty to say, as you always do. “well, you’re the one who got me pregnant,” you comment in a teasing way, sticking your tongue out at your husband.

no matter what sour mood you’re in, you can still be sassy. though it doesn’t last long before your bottom lip trembles again. “i can’t do anything about it. the baby craves mangos,” you whine as you rub your baby bump to emphasise your words.

you are eating for two people after all—for you and the baby.

sukuna’s smirk widened at your retort and the playful gesture. even in your distraught state, you had the audacity to sass him. damn cheeky little woman.

the pink-haired man chuckled darkly, his hand clumsily ruffling your hair again before pulling away. “‘n i don’t regret a thing. even if i gotta put up with y’r cranky ass.”

you roll your eyes at sukuna’s reply. you know you’re an emotional mess, but you couldn’t care less. anything for your mangoes—those juicy ones that you could eat a dozen of in one sitting.

“the maids said that the mangoes were out of stock in the towns ‘nd villages nearby,” you continue while you carefully stand up from the corner. you’re trying your best to stay rational. you’re extremely hungry and haven’t eaten ever since breakfast. that’s how stubborn you are being.

“but i’m hungryyyyy. want my mangoes,” you sigh and nearly stomp your feet out of frustration.

“yeah, yeah—fuckin’ hell,” sukuna groans, watching you slowly stand up, your pregnant belly protruding like a perfect sphere. it’s a constant reminder of the effect he has on you, and somehow, it makes him proud.

he helps you stand up by holding onto your arm, sharp eyes focused on your body to make sure you don’t strain a single muscle.

after you manage to stand up straight, you walk with sukuna to the kitchen to find something to eat—perhaps some other fruit will satisfy your cravings for now.

sukuna follows behind you, his steps long and leisurely while your shorter strides keep the pace with him. as the two of you walked towards the kitchen, he continues to listen to your repeated mantra. it’s driving him insane.

“mangoes, mangoes, mangoes. i get it, brat,” the king of curses swears he can feel the vein in his forehead throb. you’re lucky that he . . . tolerates you as his wife.

it’s something more than just ‘tolerating’ you, of course. but openly admitting to loving you, even in the slightest, is something sukuna would never do.

if someone would ask him why he goes the extra mile for you, his answer would be that it’s simply because you’re carrying his heir. however only sukuna knows the full truth, the sappy secret he’ll forever keep to himself.

before you arrive at the kitchen, you bump into uraume. they glance from sukuna to you and bow. “good day,” they greet you with as much respect as they do to sukuna. they’ve been doing so ever since you gained your title as his wife.

the king of curses folds all four of his arms over his chest. his lower pair of eyes are still focused on your impatient self, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. he just knows you’re holding yourself back from asking for your active pregnancy craving again.

sukuna clicks his tongue and nods his head at you while he speaks to uraume. “keep an eye on her while ‘m gone. feed her what she wants,” he says in his deep voice, his tone commanding and firm.

uraume remains quiet for a second. sukuna had recently came back from a mission and is once again heading out for some ambiguous reason, but they know better than to question their master.

“where are you going, hubby?”

you of course, get a free pass. you don’t hesitate at all before questioning your husband. sukuna scoffs when he hears your voice ask him that in such an oblivious manner. you should’ve known where he was departing to.

“where’d you think, smartass?” he pinches your nose, causing you to swat his fingers away out of instinct. he gives up on your nose and moves to squeeze your cheeks together in a gentle yet firm manner.

you huff at his antics. sukuna grins at your frown and pout before releasing your jawline with a faint push.

“you better hold on ‘til i come back with y’r stupid mangoes,” he scoffs while turning around to walk to the entrance, “and when i do, i don’t wanna hear ‘nother squeak, understood?”

sukuna seems to have made another mission for himself; find his heavily pregnant wife mangoes before she goes absolutely insane.

your face lights up and you nod repeatedly. your heart melts when you realise that sukuna is actually putting effort to satisfy your needs. he may be harsh and stern at times, but his actions speak louder than his words.

“okay! love you, ‘kuna!” you call out to your lover while he disappears behind the gates. as expected, your words are met by silence.

that’s fine with you. not hearing an ‘i love you’ back doesn’t hurt you as much as it did at the start of your relationship.

you know sukuna cherishes you in his own special way. if he didn’t, you’d be dead long time ago. on top of that, he would not go out on a hunt for mangoes right after coming back home if he didn’t like you.

you know sukuna would let the world burn for you.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #[STTORU’S QUEUE]

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thebarneschronicles · 1 month ago

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Closer to Home

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Synopsis: As you settle into your new role as the team’s “girl in the chair,” helping Sam and Bucky with their missions, you find yourself increasingly drawn to Bucky's intense presence. His brooding silence is matched only by his watchful eyes, and despite his gruff exterior, your kindness begins to chip away at his walls. When Bucky insists on walking you home one night, clyou chalk it up to his old-fashioned sense of duty and think nothing of it. But as the night unfolds, you realize there’s far more behind his actions than just good manners, and your growing feelings for him may not be as hidden as you think.

A/N: This was supposed to be something else ENTIRELY. But it just unravelled and here we are! Please, feel free to let me know your thoughts about it! B xx

Click here for part II | Click here for part III

Your relationship with Bucky hadn’t started with fireworks or dramatic confessions—it began like any other normal relationship: after drinks and a movie.

It was a quiet evening, the kind that felt heavier after long hours at your desk. You were finally wrapping up for the night, shrugging on your coat and slinging your purse over a shoulder. The clock had just ticked past 10 p.m., though it hardly felt late to you. Still, your shoulders sagged under the tension of the day—hours spent poring over intel, trying to uncover scraps of information that might help Sam and Bucky on their next mission.

“You shouldn’t be walking home alone.”

You looked up to find Bucky leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed. His voice was gruff but not unkind, his blue eyes shadowed but steady.

“It’s just a few blocks,” you replied, already bracing for the argument.

His jaw tightened—a subtle shift, but one you’d come to recognize as the start of his infamous stubborn streak. “Doesn’t matter. My ma would haunt me if I let you.”

That earned him a laugh. “Your 'ma' sounds like quite the character.”

“She was,” he said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It disappeared as quickly as it came. “C’mon, grab your stuff. I’ll walk you.”

You didn’t argue further, mostly because you were too tired to win, and partly because there was something oddly comforting about his protectiveness, even if it came wrapped in brooding silences and sharp glances.

Being around Bucky had taken some getting used to. You knew about him, of course—who didn’t? But nothing had prepared you for the sheer intensity of James Buchanan Barnes up close. His unrelenting stares, his quiet presence that somehow filled a room, and the way he seemed to carry the weight of entire worlds on his shoulders.

When you’d first joined their team as the “girl in the chair” (a term Sam insisted on despite your repeated protests that you were, in fact, a woman), you hadn’t known what to expect. Your days as a research journalist had been left behind in favor of a role that felt more like a sidekick to two superheroes. Never the hero, always the support.

“It’s not nothing, though,” Sam had told you once, catching you mid-eye-roll during a particularly grueling debrief. “You’re saving lives too, y’know. Every name, every address you dig up? That’s someone else’s tomorrow you’re protecting.”

Still, the job came with its own toll: exhaustion, migraines, and a constant ache in your wrists from hours of typing. But it also came with a quiet sense of purpose—and Bucky’s occasional company.

At first, his silences had been intimidating, his brooding presence almost oppressive. But you met him with unwavering kindness—bringing him coffee when he looked like he needed it, or letting him retreat into your office to escape Sam’s chatter. Slowly, the silences grew shorter, and the stares softened into something more watchful.

Now, walking beside him under the soft glow of streetlights, the quiet felt less like distance and more like understanding.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, “is this a one-time chivalry thing, or do I get an official escort service from now on?”

Bucky snorted. “You’re assuming I’m doing this for you.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, grinning. “Who else is benefitting from my safe arrival home?”

He glanced at you, a spark of humor flickering in his eyes. “Sam’ll never let me hear the end of it if something happens to you. Man loves his lectures.”

“Ah,” you said, mock-serious. “So I’m saving you from Sam’s wrath. Got it.”

He didn’t answer right away, but his pace slowed slightly, his hand brushing the base of your spine as you turned a corner, like he was directing towards home. “Maybe I just like making sure you’re okay,” he muttered.

Your heart stuttered at his words, a quiet ache blooming in your chest, but you didn’t dare press him further. Hope was a dangerous thing, a fragile spark that had burned you one too many times before. It was safer to tuck it away, to pretend his words meant nothing more than what he’d said—a simple gesture of kindness, nothing deeper.

You were friends, after all... right? Or at least, friendly. He was kind to you, yes, but Bucky Barnes was kind in a way that felt carefully measured, like a soldier fulfilling his duty. He was a gentleman through and through, the kind who’d been raised to believe it was his responsibility to make sure no lady faced the dangers of the night alone.

“His mah would’ve expected nothing less,” you thought wryly, your lips tugging into a faint smile.

He was a man out of time, after all. Decades removed from the era he was born into, yet somehow still anchored there, even now. You wouldn’t have been surprised if the rules he followed were the same ones ingrained into him all those years ago. And maybe, just maybe, it was easier to believe that than to let yourself hope he cared for any reason beyond habit or honor.

“Almost there,” he said, his voice breaking through your thoughts. His hand hovered near your elbow, steady and sure, as if ready to catch you should you stumble.

The steps to your door loomed far too quickly for your aching heart, bringing an abrupt end to your time with the brooding soldier. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if your body was reluctant to leave his quiet, steady presence.

You paused on the final step, its height almost eliminating the difference between you and Bucky. It gave you just enough courage to look up at him, your fingers nervously twisting around the strap of your purse.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He dipped his head in a single nod, his icy blue eyes flickering down to meet yours. His expression, as always, was unreadable, cast in shadows under the dim streetlamp. “Anytime.”

The simplicity of his reply made your chest tighten. You nodded in return, swallowing hard as your heart hammered in your throat. Turning away from him, you fixed your gaze on your front door, willing yourself to move forward, to end the moment before it unraveled you completely.

Friends. That’s all this was. It had to be.

So why did it feel so wrong to turn your back on him? Why did it feel like you were forcing yourself to betray something deeper, something unspoken, simply by walking away?

Your hand was on the doorknob before you realized you’d stopped moving, the quiet war between your heart and your mind reaching a fever pitch. You squeezed your eyes shut, battling the urge that rose in you like a wave.

Don’t do it. Just go inside. Let him leave.

But the battle was already lost. Before you could stop yourself—before logic could wrestle control away from the reckless beating of your heart—you turned. Your feet moved without permission, carrying you back down the steps toward him.

It wasn’t a decision so much as a pull, steady and undeniable, the words slipping from your lips as if carried on a tide of longing you couldn’t resist.

“Would you like to come up for a drink?”

The words tumbled out unbidden, your voice trembling just enough to betray how desperately you wanted him to say yes.

His reaction couldn’t have been more Bucky if he tried. His eyes shifted, and you swore you could see every emotion flash through them—surprise, hesitation, something a lot like longing—before they settled back into the stoic mask he always wore. Quiet. Unimpressed. Broody. And yet…

“I wouldn’t mind a beer.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest, shaky with relief, and you motioned toward your door. “Well, come on then. I’ve got a six-pack that’s been waiting for some company.”

His presence filled the small apartment in a way that made your breath catch, the air somehow heavier, more electric. How many times had your silly, stubborn heart conjured up this exact scenario? Late at night, Bucky standing just inside your door, peeling off his worn leather jacket and tugging off the gloves that shielded both metal and flesh. Then, as if he’d done it a thousand times, he’d settle into a corner of your couch, legs spread, shoulders sinking back into the soft fabric like he belonged there.

“There's Heineken, Bud, and Corona,” you said, your voice only slightly betraying your nerves as you toed off your shoes and dropped your keys and purse by the door. “I think I might even have some whiskey stashed away somewhere. What’s your poison?”

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze trailing lazily around the room before settling back on you. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

Your stomach flipped, and you nodded, biting back the grin threatening to stretch across your face. “Sure thing,” you said casually, though you were certain the flush creeping up your neck gave you away.

You turned toward the kitchen, your heart doing an embarrassing little leap as you busied yourself rummaging through the fridge and cabinets. The clink of bottles felt absurdly loud in the quiet apartment, every moment stretching with the weight of his presence just beyond your line of sight.

“Nice place,” he called from the living room, his tone casual but laced with something warmer.

“Thanks,” you replied, grabbing two beers and popping the caps off with practiced ease. “I’d say make yourself at home, but it looks like you’ve already got that covered.”

When you re-entered the room, there he was—exactly as you’d imagined so many times before. His jacket was draped over the back of the couch, his gloves neatly set beside it, and Bucky himself sprawled out comfortably. His metal hand rested casually on his knee, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips as his eyes met yours.

“Here you go, Mr. Barnes,” you said, forcing a steady smile as you handed him the green bottle.

“To your first visit,” you began, raising your own bottle in a toast. You couldn’t help the way your gaze lingered, taking in the sight of his broad frame on your couch, the casual way he sat, the sheer presence of him filling the space. Warmth pooled low in your belly, and before you could stop yourself, you added, “May it be the first of many.”

His smirk deepened at that, a flicker of amusement flashing across his features. He raised his bottle silently, going for a sip—but you stopped him, your hand darting out to rest on his.

“Wait!” you blurted, your palm lightly pressing against his larger one.

His frown was slight, his gaze shifting between your hands before settling on your face. “Why?”

“You have to look at me when we cheers,” you explained, your voice a little breathless, a little unsure of what you were doing but too far in to back out now.

His brow arched. “And why’s that?”

“Bad luck if you don’t. Years of it.” You shrugged, suddenly feeling the ridiculousness of your own words but refusing to back down. “I mean, I can’t even count how many years... Probably best not to risk it.”

For a second, you thought he might argue. But then he chuckled, a soft sound that sent a flutter straight to your chest. “God knows I’ve had enough of that already, haven’t I?”

You giggled, your laughter bubbling out, light and carefree. The fact that he played along felt like a victory, a small but monumental crack in his stoic armor.

With a glint of something softer in his eyes, he tilted his head toward you, his gaze locking with yours. “Alright, doll,” he said, his voice quieter now, warmer. “Let’s do it properly.”

Eyes steady on yours, he clinked his bottle against yours, the sound sharp and satisfying in the quiet room. And then, he didn’t look away—not for a second—as he took a slow sip.

You followed suit, the contact between your eyes and his making your heart race so fast you thought it might burst. The heat in his gaze was steady, grounding, and yet it sent a thrilling, electric charge through you that made your knees nearly buckle.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low, the faintest curve to his lips as he lowered his bottle.

“Much,” you replied, somehow managing to keep your voice steady, even as your pulse thundered in your ears.

The air between you seemed to shift then, heavier but no less comforting—a new tension that simmered beneath the surface. If Bucky noticed the way your gaze lingered on him, the way your breath hitched every time his hand grazed your knee as he reached for another beer, he never said a thing.

He was the perfect gentleman, as always. Even when you slid closer on the couch, settling beside him on the plush cushions - even though there were a whole three other seats available to you. Even when you turned toward him, resting your head on your palm, your eyes tracing the strong lines of his face while you rambled about the mission reports piling up on your desk. He didn’t even glance at your neckline when you leaned over him to grab the remote, though you couldn’t help but steal a quiet inhale of his scent—clean, warm, unmistakably him.

“Alright,” you said, breaking the quiet. “I feel like I’m torturing you by making you listen to all this. Do you feel like watching something?” Your tone was cheery, light, but your heart raced at the thought of sharing something as simple and intimate as watching a film together.

With your eyes fixed on the TV, you missed the brief hesitation in his expression—the flicker of doubt that crossed his face and quickly vanished. Yet, neither the guilt, the fear, nor the pain that lingered in his soul seemed strong enough to stop him from embracing what you offered so openly: a chance to simply be. For the first time in what felt like forever, Bucky seemed just a little less burdened by the shadows of his past, a ghost of his old self and a lot of his new one urging him to give in.

“What’s on Netflix?” he asked, his voice low and casual.

Your head whipped around so quickly you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “How do you know what Netflix is?”

His lips quirked into a rare, genuinely amused smile, the kind that made your stomach flip. “I’m old, but I’m not that old, doll.”

“You’re 106,” you shot back, arching a brow.

“And yet, I still know what streaming is,” he countered, the smile growing. “I’m not living under a rock.”

“Well, I am impressed, Mr. Barnes,” you teased, settling back into the cushions. “What else do you know about modern technology? Please tell me you’ve at least heard of TikTok.”

His expression shifted into something closer to a scowl, but the playful glint in his eye betrayed him. “I know about TikTok,” he said, sounding almost offended. “And dating apps. God, the horrors,” he added, shaking his head dramatically as he glanced at his phone like it was some sort of ancient relic.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound warm and genuine, filling the cozy space between you. But beneath the humor, your stomach twisted with an unexpected knot. Dating apps?

“What about dating apps?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but the curiosity in your voice was hard to hide.

Bucky groaned, slouching deeper into the couch as though the thought of them physically pained him. “I don’t know, doll. They just seem... unnatural. All these profiles and swiping left or right, like you’re picking a product instead of a person. Not my thing.” His voice held a certain distaste, and the casual way he said it made you wonder if he was speaking from experience—or just his own strong sense of principle.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the questions bubbling up inside you. Had he ever used them? Was he speaking from personal experience, or just from watching the chaos unfold around him? Your thoughts shifted uncomfortably, and you tried to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

“I get it,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s... kind of weird, honestly. It’s like shopping for a date, but with less... quality control.” You shot him a teasing grin, but the tightness in your chest was hard to ignore.

Bucky chuckled, the sound a low rumble that was soothing, even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Exactly. I mean, if I’m gonna meet someone, I’d rather it be... I don’t know, real? Not behind a screen.”

For some reason, his comment made your heart stumble, a traitorous beat skipping out of rhythm. You quickly dropped your gaze to your beer, hoping the reaction wasn’t written all over your face. Was he hinting that he preferred real, in-person connections? That he’d rather... meet someone like that?

You cleared your throat, feigning casual interest to mask the swarm of uncertainty rising inside. “So, how would you go about it? Finding a date, I mean. Is Sam your wingman?”

Bucky nearly choked on his beer, shaking his head vehemently. “God, no! Can you imagine? He’s too busy being Captain America to care about my love life... except when he’s accusing me of flirting with his sister.”

The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk, and your chest tightened with something sharp and unwelcome. Jealousy. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to chase it away. “I didn’t know you liked Sarah,” you said, and to your horror, the disappointment in your voice was impossible to hide.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the shift in your tone. “She’s great,” he said with a thoughtful nod. Then his lips curved knowingly. “But not like that.”

The heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks was impossible to ignore, and Bucky’s sly grin told you he’d noticed. Your relief collided with your curiosity, the two tangling into a dangerous need to know more. “Oh,” you started hesitantly. “So... if not her, then who?”

He took another sip of his beer, the pause deliberate. “Had one date with the waitress from that Asian place we always order from. It… didn’t go well.”

Your brows furrowed. “And you haven’t tried again since then?”

“Not really.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, the movement deceptively casual. “You know how it is these days—apps, algorithms, everyone judging you by a couple of photos and a bio. And who’s lining up to date a former assassin, huh? People know too much, too soon. Real connections don’t happen that way.”

The self-deprecating edge in his voice made your heart ache. You tilted your head, studying the way his vibranium fingers tapped lightly against the beer bottle. “Maybe,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the nervous thrum beneath your skin, “you’re looking in the wrong places.”

His gaze snapped to yours, sharp and searching. “Oh yeah?” he asked, voice low, almost daring. “And where do you think I should look?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his question, his attention. “Maybe a little closer to home,” you murmured, eyes resolutely fixed on the beer bottle in your own hands.

The silence that followed was electric, charged with unspoken possibilities that hung in the air like static. His gaze lingered on you, steady and intense, and you could feel it even without looking up. It made your pulse race in a way you didn’t dare acknowledge.

The truth was, you weren’t sure if you were just caught up in the moment—or if there was something more lingering in his words, in the way he was looking at you now.

You wanted to ask. The question burned on the tip of your tongue, begging to be spoken. But a part of you hesitated, afraid of the answer. What if this was nothing more than friendly banter? What if pushing further shattered the comfortable connection you’d built?

“Closer to home, huh?” Bucky’s voice was a low rumble, breaking the silence but not the tension. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, and for a moment, it felt like he was closing the space between you. “And what does that mean, exactly? You got someone in mind for me, doll?”

There it was—that nickname. The one you pretended to hate but secretly adored. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel the corner of your mouth twitch, betraying the smile you tried to suppress. His voice was so close it warmed you from head to toe. “I’m just saying,” you replied, forcing your tone to stay neutral, “maybe you’re overthinking it. Sometimes the best things are right in front of you.”

His lips quirked, his expression softening as if he’d caught onto something unsaid. “You think so?” Bucky asked, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

You dared to turn your head and glance at him, and the way his blue eyes locked onto yours stole whatever breath you had left. “Yeah,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I know so.”

The moment stretched between you, fragile and heavy with unspoken words. You swore he was leaning closer, his gaze flickering briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. And suddenly, the question burning in your chest felt inevitable.

“Bucky…” you began, voice trembling slightly, unsure of what you were about to say—or what he might say back.

“Yeah, doll?” Bucky’s voice was gentle, a thread of warmth in the charged air between you.

You hesitated, but the weight of your emotions was too much to carry any longer. “Is this a date?” you finally blurted, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself.

For a moment, his expression didn’t change, and then he shook his head slowly. “It’s not,” he said, his voice steady but quiet.

Your chest tightened, and the disappointment hit hard, like a blow you hadn’t braced for. You tried to mask it, but your face betrayed you, your shoulders sagging under the weight of the rejection. The ache in your heart grew with every second of silence that followed, the room feeling colder with each passing beat.

What you missed was the storm raging behind his steel-blue eyes—the internal battle he fought against his demons, the ones that screamed he wasn’t good enough for you. Wasn’t good enough for anyone. He’d carried those ghosts for too long to ignore them now. But he wasn’t blind.

He’d noticed the way your smile softened when it was meant for him, brighter and warmer than it ever was for anyone else. He’d seen how you fretted over him after missions, your hands fluttering with concern even at the smallest scratch on his skin. And he’d felt the hope radiating from you tonight when you’d invited him over, your words laced with a vulnerability you rarely showed.

Bucky knew. He’d known for a while. And that knowledge both terrified and thrilled him. Love, in any form, was fragile—he’d learned that the hard way. But tonight, sitting here with you, he realized he couldn’t keep running from the possibility of it.

He wanted you. Your laughter, your kindness, your stubbornness, your touch. He craved all of it. And maybe he didn’t deserve it, but for once in his long life, he wanted to try.

Bucky set his beer down, his movements deliberate, and leaned closer. His flesh hand brushed against the back of your arm and the touch sent a shiver up your arm.

“It’s not a date,” he repeated, voice low but filled with a quiet resolve that made your breath catch, hurt twisting at your heart.

Your brow furrowed, the downturn of your lips impossible to hide. “Heard you the first time…”

“This isn’t a date,” he pressed on. Then, with a small, almost shy smile, he added, “But it could be.”

Your heart skipped, his words hanging in the air like a lifeline. “Bucky…”

Cutting through your hesitation, his gaze locked onto yours, unflinching, steady. “If you want this… if you want me, I’m yours. I want to try.”

The vulnerability in his voice left you breathless, stealing any coherent thought you might have had. For the first time in what felt like forever, hope blossomed in your chest, warm and radiant. You didn’t hesitate this time, your lips curving into a soft, trembling smile.

“Is this because you’re afraid of the apps?” you teased, the quip breaking the intensity just enough for you to breathe. But your voice wavered slightly, and your eyes glistened with the tears threatening to spill. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll steal your virtue?”

Bucky chuckled, low and genuine, the sound sending warmth curling in your chest. “I’m not a damsel in distress, doll,” he said, his tone playful as his fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your face. The simple touch sent shivers down your spine, and you leaned into it instinctively.

“And you’re also not the big bad wolf you think you are,” you countered softly, your voice tinged with both affection and defiance.

“Well, technically…” His lips quirked into a lopsided grin. “I am the White Wolf.”

You rolled your eyes, the tension breaking into something lighter, something safe. “He jokes,” you said, shaking your head. “He could be kissing instead…”

His grin softened, and for a beat, he just looked at you, his hand still lingering near your face. Then, as if your words had given him permission, he leaned in, closing the space between you in a way that felt both inevitable and extraordinary.

“Guess I’ll take your advice for once, doll,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your lips.

The moment his lips touched yours, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you. His kiss was gentle at first, a question rather than an assumption, as though he wanted to be sure this was what you truly wanted. His warm hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your cheekbone, while his vibranium hand rested lightly on your knee, grounding him in the moment.

You sighed into the kiss, your hand instinctively reaching up to thread through the short hair at the nape of his neck. The movement drew him closer, and he obliged, deepening the kiss with a soft groan that sent a shiver down your spine. His lips were soft yet firm, moving against yours in a way that spoke of patience and restrained hunger, like he was savoring every second of this moment.

His vibranium hand finally moved, finding your waist with surprising tenderness. The cool metal was a stark contrast to the heat of his other hand through the fabric of your shirt, but it pulled you to the reality of him—both the man he was and the one he’d fought so hard to become.

When you parted briefly for air, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths mingling with yours in the small space between you. His eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded and brimming with emotions he didn’t have to say out loud.

“Doll…” he whispered, his voice rough and full of awe, like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

But you weren’t done. You weren’t ready to let the moment slip away. Sliding your hand from his neck to his jaw, you tilted his face back toward yours, brushing your lips against his again, slower this time, savoring the taste of him. He responded immediately, his grip on your waist tightening as his mouth moved against yours with more certainty, more passion.

The kiss deepened, growing warmer, more insistent. Your bodies angled closer together, his presence consuming your senses. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, steady and strong, and the faint rasp of his stubble as it brushed against your skin only made the experience more intoxicating.

You weren’t sure how it happened—one moment you were pressed against the back of your couch, his hands and lips demanding your full attention, and the next, you were straddling his thighs. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as your harsh breaths mingled, the taste of his tongue intoxicating and impossible to resist.

For all his claims of being a man out of his time, Bucky Barnes knew exactly how to touch a woman. His hands were a perfect dichotomy: one warm and strong, the other cool and unyielding, but both equally firm and commanding. His touch left no room for doubt or hesitation, responding to every unspoken plea you hadn’t yet found the words for.

And his kiss? God, his kiss. You could write sonnets about the way his lips moved against yours, the way his tongue teased and claimed you, coaxing a need from you that you hadn’t known you were capable of. None of your wildest fantasies could compare to the reality of him, his body pressed against yours, solid and capable. The things it could do—what it was doing, what it promised to do—set your whole body alight with yearning.

You kissed him harder, deeper, needier, your hips moving instinctively against his. His groan rumbled low in his chest, a sound that only made you crave him more. But just as your movements grew more desperate, his vibranium hand clamped firmly on your hips, halting your rhythm. His flesh hand cupped your jaw, gentle but insistent, forcing you to break the kiss.

“Doll…” His voice was rough, laced with a warning that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

You blinked at him, still dazed, heat crawling under your skin as you realized what you’d done. “Yes, I’m sorry, I know—I’m sorry,” you stammered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

His breaths came heavy, his chest rising and falling against yours as his steel-blue eyes bore into yours. The hunger there mirrored your own, and the restraint in his grip only made you want him more.

Your lips quirked into a small, teasing smile, your own need warring with the desire to break the tension. “Seems like I really am trying to steal your virtue, huh?” you joked, your voice light but shaky as you turned your head to press a soft kiss to his palm.

His lips twitched, the faintest hint of amusement breaking through the hunger. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, his hand slipping from your jaw to trail gently along your cheek, his thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips.

Your free hand wrapped around his vibranium one, your thumb tracing the grooves of the metal. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” you murmured, your voice soft but laced with promise as you leaned in, resting your forehead against his.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the charged silence stretching as his hands anchored you, holding you steady but never pushing. His restraint was palpable, and you knew without a doubt—if you wanted more, he would give it to you willingly. But only if you asked.

You wouldn’t, though. Not tonight.

Instead, you leaned in, brushing soft, sweet kisses against his lips, your movements unhurried and tender. Each kiss felt like a promise, an unspoken assurance that there was no rush, no need for anything more than this moment. It took superhuman strength—the kind he had—not to let it escalate.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your lips tingling and your cheeks warm. His eyes searched yours, and the way he looked at you—like you were the most precious thing in the world—made your heart swell. His thumb grazed your cheek, his smile soft and genuine.

“How about that movie?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, though his eyes betrayed a depth of emotion that made your breath catch.

You laughed, the sound breaking the last remnants of tension and filling the cozy space around you. “Alright, fine. Let’s find something to watch, then. Any preferences?”

“Anything but those baking shows Sam keeps trying to get me into,” he muttered, his lips quirking in faint exasperation.

A giggle bubbled out of you at the mental image of Sam dragging Bucky into a world of frosting, sprinkles, and delicate pastries. The idea was so absurd yet so perfectly Sam that you couldn’t help yourself. Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, your lips lingering just long enough to feel the faint rasp of stubble. “Deal. No baking shows.”

As the two of you settled back onto the couch, scrolling through movie options, the tension between you shifted again—this time, it was softer, lighter, wrapped in a warmth that felt safe and steady.

Bucky stretched his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers absently brushing against your shoulder as you leaned into him, your body naturally seeking his. And for the first time in a long time, you noticed something different about him. The shadows that usually haunted his expression seemed to have lifted, replaced by something quieter, something calmer.

Here, with you, Bucky wasn’t the broken soldier or the ex-assassin haunted by his past. He was just… himself. And in that moment, you realized that’s all you’d ever wanted him to be.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff

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kateschi · 11 days ago

Text

two heroes, one marriage

synopsis: having stolen the hearts of fans with your teamwork and marraige, you and katsuki are called in for a joint interview.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

the magazine spread featuring you and katsuki as top pro heroes has the fanbase buzzing for weeks.

power couples aren’t uncommon, but the combination of your joint success and explosive chemistry—both literally and figuratively—makes you stand out.

when you both get asked to sit down for a joint interview, it’s hard to say no, especially when the public can’t seem to get enough of the dynamic between you and your husband.

sitting side by side on a plush sofa in the brightly lit studio, katsuki bristles with impatience, his jaw clenched as the interviewer introduces the segment.

it’s a familiar scene—his fiery personality on display for everyone to see—but you can feel the underlying tension, the way his body leans subtly closer to yours for grounding.

“so, the two of you are recognized as two of the top heroes of the year, and fans are really curious to know how you manage your lives as heroes and as a married couple,” the interviewer begins with a polite smile, clearly trying to ease into the conversation.

before you can respond, katsuki’s sharp voice cuts through the air.

“what the hell kinda question is that?” he snaps, eyes narrowing as he crosses his arms. “we do our damn jobs, and we go home. simple as that.”

you stifle a laugh, used to his bluntness by now. gently placing a hand on his arm, you intervene.

“what he means,” you say, casting a glance at katsuki that makes him grumble, “is that it’s about finding a rhythm. we both understand each other’s work, so we don’t get in each other’s way.”

katsuki grunts, his fiery gaze fixed on the interviewer. “she knows how to handle herself; doesn’t need me micromanaging her every move.”

despite his words, his hand finds its way to your lower back, fingers pressing into the fabric of your suit.

his touch is subtle, a quiet reassurance in the midst of his usual tough demeanor, but you know it means he’s keeping you close, watching out for you in his own way.

the interviewer picks up on the moment, nodding enthusiastically.

“it sounds like you both have a lot of trust in each other. how do you support one another with the high demands of your careers?”

katsuki clicks his tongue, clearly irritated. “support? we’re pros. we know what we’re doin’ out there.”

but just as you’re about to add something, he turns his head slightly to you, his voice dropping just enough for you to hear the change in tone.

“that doesn’t mean I won’t blow the ass off anyone who even thinks about messin’ with her,” he mutters.

you chuckle softly, nudging him with your elbow. “and here I thought I didn’t need you hovering around.”

“shut up,” he grumbles, but there’s no real bite in his tone.

his hand stays on your back, thumb brushing up and down in a way only you notice. “just ‘cause you’re strong doesn’t mean I’m not gonna make sure you’re alright.”

the interviewer, sensing an opportunity, leans in. “mister dynamight, you seem pretty protective of your wife. would you say that’s how you balance work and home life?”

katsuki’s eyes flash, his scowl deepening. “of course, I’m protective. you think I’d let her get caught up in any shit without me there to take care of it?”

his voice is sharp, but the way his arm shifts slightly to pull you closer is anything but harsh. “we don’t even need to talk about this crap.”

you smile to yourself, knowing this is as close to an open display of affection as katsuki will get in public.

his explosive personality never wavers, but there are cracks in his tough exterior that only you can see—moments where his concern for you bleeds through.

when the interviewer pushes on, asking about how your relationship works in the field, katsuki scoffs again.

“are you gonna keep asking this?” he snaps, before glancing at you, his hand tightening just slightly at your waist.

he sighs, trying to compose himself. “we work together ‘cause we’re a team, a hella good one at that.”

his little proud smirk makes your heart flutter. you decide to tease him a little. “oh, so you’re saying you can’t live without me on the battlefield, huh?”

his glare is immediate, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “don’t twist my words! I just—”

he cuts himself off, grumbling under his breath.

“you’re the one who keeps me in check, alright? so yeah, maybe i do rely on you. you’re my wife, and I am your husband. that’s natural! don’t make a big deal out of it.”

your husband huffs and looks away, which makes you giggle.

meanwhile, the interviewer chuckles nervously, clearly amused by the exchange. “it seems like you two have a really solid partnership.”

katsuki rolls his eyes. “damn right we do. we’ve got each other’s backs. that’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it’s gonna stay.”

as the interview wraps up, you feel katsuki’s hand slip from your waist, but his presence lingers, as solid and steady as ever.

once you’re off-camera and away from the prying eyes of the public, katsuki turns to you, his expression softening in that rare way that only you ever get to see.

“let’s get outta here,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “this interview crap’s a waste of time.”

you laugh, slipping your hand into his. “let's hope they don't cut you out like they did in highschool.”

“shut the hell up.” but despite his grumbling, he doesn’t let go of your hand, his grip tightening just slightly as you walk together out of the studio.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

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00valentina-writes00 · 16 days ago

Text

I’m putting these two muscle mommies together because yeah-

✞⛧ SEVIKA and AMBESSA with a touched starved girl ✞⛧

✞⛧ Sevika ✞⛧

✞⛧ Despite her gruff nature, Sevika notices how much you lean into even the slightest physical contact, and though she doesn’t outright say it, she adjusts to meet your unspoken needs.

✞⛧ At first, she’s awkward with prolonged affection, but as soon as she realizes how much you crave it, she starts giving in more often. She won’t admit it, but she likes how soft you become in her arms.

✞⛧ Sevika absolutely loves the way you cling to her when she comes home after a long day. You latch onto her like she’s your lifeline, and while she’ll grumble about it, she’ll hold you tighter than anyone else ever has.

✞⛧ She lets you cuddle into her lap while she’s smoking or playing cards, her free hand absentmindedly stroking your back or running through your hair.

✞⛧ Though Sevika isn’t big on PDA, if she notices you’re feeling particularly touch-starved in public, she’ll settle a possessive hand on your waist or shoulder to ground you.

✞⛧ You’re one of the only people she doesn’t mind clinging to her prosthetic arm. She even lets you rest your cheek against the cool metal when you’re curled up beside her.

✞⛧ When you’re especially needy, Sevika will sigh and pull you into her arms, muttering something about you being “too damn clingy,” but she secretly loves how safe you feel with her.

✞⛧ She starts coming home earlier just to spend more time holding you. It’s her way of prioritizing you without having to say it out loud.

✞⛧ She’ll pick you up without warning and throw you over her shoulder or carry you bridal-style, just to see the way your face lights up.

✞⛧ If she sees you shyly reaching for her hand, she’ll grab yours first, threading her calloused fingers through yours and giving a firm squeeze.

✞⛧ When you’re sitting together, she’ll rest her hand on your thigh. It’s possessive, sure, but it’s also her way of giving you constant reassurance.

✞⛧ Sevika teases you for being touch-starved, calling you “needy” with a smirk, but the moment someone else tries to mock you for it, they’ll regret ever opening their mouth.

✞⛧ She notices the way your breathing evens out when she touches you, so whenever you’re stressed, she’ll guide your head to her chest or rub slow circles on your back until you calm down.

✞⛧ Sevika rarely lets anyone touch her scars, but she doesn’t mind when you trace them with your fingers, especially if it helps you feel closer to her.

✞⛧ She’ll sit you on her lap when she’s working on something—polishing her arm, shuffling cards, whatever—and let you cling to her as long as you need.

✞⛧ When you’re lying in bed, Sevika will roll her eyes at how tightly you hold onto her, but she secretly loves being your personal teddy bear.

✞⛧ Her favorite thing is when you press your face into her neck or chest, nuzzling into her as if she’s the only thing that makes you feel safe.

✞⛧ If you’ve had a rough day, Sevika will pull you into her arms and stay silent, letting her presence and the warmth of her embrace do all the talking.

✞⛧ When she sees you looking hesitant or unsure about asking for affection, she’ll sigh and say, “Come here, dumbass,” before dragging you into her arms.

✞⛧ Sevika will play with your hair while you’re lying on her chest, her fingers surprisingly gentle for someone with such a rough exterior.

✞⛧ If you ever flinch or pull away from touch because of past trauma, Sevika becomes fiercely protective, making it her mission to ensure you feel safe and cherished.

✞⛧ She’ll let you hold onto her coat when you’re out together, the fabric wrapping around you like an extension of her.

✞⛧ Whenever you reach out for her, even if it’s subtle, Sevika is quick to respond, brushing her fingers against yours or tugging you closer.

✞⛧ She hates when she has to leave for long stretches of time, but when she comes back, she makes it up to you by holding you close for hours.

✞⛧ Sevika secretly enjoys your clinginess because it reminds her that someone actually needs her for more than just her strength or reputation.

✞⛧ If you’re not feeling well, Sevika will let you rest against her, tucking you under her arm while she grumbles about you “needing to take better care of yourself.”

✞⛧ She’s not much for words, but when you’re snuggled into her, she’ll sometimes murmur, “You’re not so bad, you know that?”

✞⛧ At night, Sevika will spoon you, her strong arms wrapped around you protectively, even if she claims she’s “just keeping you warm.”

✞⛧ You’ve caught her once or twice pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head when she thinks you’re asleep. When you asked her about it, she just muttered, “You’re dreaming,” and refused to make eye contact.

✞⛧ No matter how tough Sevika acts, you’re her soft spot, and she’ll never let you feel neglected or unloved—not in her arms.

✞⛧ Ambessa ✞⛧

✞⛧ Ambessa notices how you linger near her after even the briefest of touches, and though she doesn’t immediately act on it, she stores the observation away for later.

✞⛧ Her approach to your touch-starved tendencies is practical at first—holding your hand or resting a firm hand on your back during public events to keep you grounded.

✞⛧ Behind closed doors, however, Ambessa’s touch becomes more deliberate, brushing her fingers along your jaw or tucking stray hairs behind your ear to watch you melt under her attention.

✞⛧ She takes pleasure in the way you lean into her presence, especially when she places a steadying hand on your waist or pulls you closer during intense conversations.

✞⛧ Ambessa loves how easily you relax when she wraps an arm around you, her broad frame practically enveloping you in a way that makes you feel safe and protected.

✞⛧ While she’s not outwardly affectionate, she makes a point of resting her hand on your knee or shoulder whenever you’re sitting near her, a silent but commanding reassurance.

✞⛧ Ambessa has a knack for teasing you about your need for physical affection, smirking as she says, “Clingy, aren’t we?” But she never actually pushes you away.

✞⛧ On the rare occasions she’s in a playful mood, Ambessa will tug you onto her lap and trap you there with her arms, smirking at your flustered reaction.

✞⛧ Her version of PDA is subtle but powerful—offering her arm for you to hold, pressing her lips briefly to your temple in a crowded room, or letting her hand linger at the small of your back.

✞⛧ She insists on sleeping with you pressed tightly against her at night, one arm draped possessively over your waist, as though she’s guarding you even in her sleep.

✞⛧ Ambessa’s touch is deliberate and calculated, but when she notices how much you crave affection, she becomes softer in private moments, her thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin.

✞⛧ If you’re having a bad day, she’ll guide you into her arms without a word, cradling your head against her chest and letting her steady heartbeat calm you.

✞⛧ She doesn’t say it often, but her actions make it clear that your happiness and comfort are her priority, even if it means indulging your need for constant affection.

✞⛧ Ambessa is fiercely protective of you, her hand tightening on your arm or shoulder whenever someone looks at you the wrong way or makes you uncomfortable.

✞⛧ She takes pride in how easily you cling to her strength, whether it’s during heated arguments or moments of vulnerability.

✞⛧ Ambessa secretly enjoys how much you trust her to be your safe haven, even though she’d never admit it aloud.

✞⛧ Her rough fingers brushing against your cheek are surprisingly tender, and she’ll sometimes let her guard down just to see you smile.

✞⛧ Ambessa is not above using her dominant personality to tease you, pulling you flush against her and murmuring, “Is this what you wanted, little one?”

✞⛧ Though her exterior is cold, she secretly adores the way you light up when she gives you attention, and she’ll find subtle ways to make you feel cherished.

✞⛧ Ambessa often pulls you into her lap while she’s working, letting you curl up against her as she methodically goes over strategies or documents.

✞⛧ She’ll brush her thumb along your knuckles when you hold her hand, a quiet reassurance that she’s paying attention to your every need.

✞⛧ When you fall asleep on her shoulder, Ambessa remains perfectly still, unwilling to disturb you, even if she has pressing matters to attend to.

✞⛧ If you shyly ask for affection, she’ll feign exasperation with a raised brow, but her amused smirk betrays how much she enjoys indulging you.

✞⛧ She has a talent for reading when you’re feeling particularly touch-starved and will pull you aside to privately wrap you in her arms until you feel better.

✞⛧ Ambessa doesn’t tolerate anyone mocking you for being clingy. If someone dares to comment, they’ll be met with her cold, cutting tone and a glare that could freeze fire.

✞⛧ She’s surprisingly indulgent when you cuddle up to her while she’s lounging, letting you rest against her while she strokes your hair absentmindedly.

✞⛧ Ambessa secretly loves the way you seek her out for comfort, even if she grumbles about you being a distraction.

✞⛧ She often murmurs low, reassuring words in your ear when she holds you close, her deep voice calming your worries in an instant.

✞⛧ Though Ambessa may not always express her feelings verbally, the way she shields you from harm and lets you cling to her is proof of how much she cares.

✞⛧ In her most unguarded moments, Ambessa will cradle your face in her hands and press a kiss to your forehead, silently conveying everything she can’t put into words.

#arcane #arcane sevika #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika headcanon #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #sevika x you #sevika story #ambessa league of legends #lol ambessa #ambessa headcanons #ambessa x you #ambessa x reader #arcane ambessa #ambessa arcane #ambessa medarda #ambessa medarda x reader

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misayani · 1 month ago

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MINISKIRT — SQUID GAME WOMEN + THANOS AND YOU WEARING A MINISKIRT HCS

◜ featuring ... kang mi-na (player 196), no eul (guard 011), se-mi (player 380), jun-hee (player 222), hyun-ju (player 120), young-mi (player 195), kang sae-byeok (s1 player 067), + thanos (player 230)

𔗨 author's note — hope u guys missed me cs i havent posted any works for the past 24 hours [lowercase intended]

warnings: nsfw on some parts

mi na —

- FEMXFEM.

- the two of you going on a cute date while wearing miniskirts because hello???

- u shop together for clothes and everytime you guys do she gets you a miniskirt

- you now have like 30 of them in ur closet

- compliments you non stop because ??? her gf's so pretty it makes her wanna cry

- will tease you all day if you decide to wear that out

- lingering touches on your thighs here and there

- has a smug smirk on her face while doing it

- she rides it up more, claiming "it looks better like that"

- has a pepper spray in her bag in case the both of you stays out until night

- will STARE and GLARE at anybody who's looking at your legs

- like how dare they that's only for hers to look at ??

- the both of you are so feminine, guys mistake the both of you as just friends

- she'll simply roll her eyes and give them a disgusted look

- "what? haven't seen a pretty girl date another pretty girl? idiots."

- planning outfits with her !!!! ><

- the both of you laying down on your stomach, legs tangled with each other behind, and scrolling on your laptop to buy more clothes (and miniskirts)

- overall a power couple, we love feminine pussy eater girls <3

"cmon, lift it a little more up. what's the point of a miniskirt if you're gonna pull it down?" your butt cheeks are literally already hanging out.

no eul —

- oh boy

- she's so protective

- if you're out together, she'll subtly walk closer to you to shield you from unwanted attention

- wears a jacket for you whenever you decide to wear a miniskirt

- HEKSKSKSK YOU LOVE TEASING HER SM

- guiding her hand to your thighs

- she'll stiffen and yank her hand away and you pout :(

- she shoots you a glare, her eyes giving you a warning

- "wait until we get home."

- you sigh and decide to tease her more by riding your skirt up until your safety shorts r literally visible

- SHE'LL CLENCH HER JAW AT YOUR STUBBORNNESS AND IT'S LITERALLY SO FUCKING HOT????

- you'll just act innocent and bat your eyelashes at her

- "what? i didn't do anything wrong:("

- whenever you get the chance, you'll grind your ass against her

- she will.audibly.hiss.ohmyfuckinggosh

- you're so dead when the two of you finally get home !!!

- she's USUALLY a soft dom but don't expect her to go easy on you after you literally just teased her the whole day

- the miniskirt stays on while she fucks your brains out

- ends up with you drooling and moaning nothing but her name the whole night

- well... that's what you get when you don't listen!

- you obviously liked it though, so ever since that you started to wear miniskirts more often;)

"stop crying. you asked for this, didn't you?"

se mi —

- SHE INSISTS YOU WEAR THEM.

- will walk around the mall with her arm wrapped around your waist FOR EVERYONE TO SEE YOU'RE HERS

- shamelessly stares at your thighs and smirks if she sees you blushing

- "come here closer, baby"

- unlike with no-eul's, se-mi will be the one grinding on your ass

- literally fantasizes about bending you over and lifting your skirt up

- OHMYGO

- if you're acting bratty, she'll bend you over her lap and spank you until your ass is red

- sometimes she makes you go commando

- se-mi loves being risky

- she will sneakily brush her hand up your thighs

- but if you're not in the mood for anything and just really want to wear a cute miniskirt, she'll respect that

- because no is no <3

- although, if you like it like that

- she'll definitely have some fun with you

- secretly gets turned on whenever you wear miniskirts but doesn't admit it because she has to keep that 'cool' exterior of hers /eyeroll

- overall just loves your thighs so much. to the moon and back.

"can we go home now? i wanna rip that skirt off you"

jun hee —

- out of all four ABOVE (^), she's the most respectful

- "you look so pretty wearing that"

- if the miniskirt is too mini though, she'll get flustered

- she's the one who's gonna pull it down for you

- "baby, it's short like that on purpose!" "i don't care, it's too short!"

- acts like a mother to you

- she may complain sometimes but when you ask her to pick out your clothes

- she'll definitely go for the miniskirt with no hesitation

- she secretly likes it. she just isn't fond of the idea of other people seeing your legs

- her eyes will involuntarily flicker to your legs often as much as she hates to admit it

- "are you staring?"

- "what? no! i mean, maybe a little but—!"

- you just laugh at her while she rolls her eyes playfully at you

- but with that aside, she does really think you're breathtaking whenever you wear miniskirts. i mean she thinks you're breathtaking in general but something about you wearing miniskirts just gets her on

"you're starting to convince me to let you wear that more often." "glad to know."

hyun ju —

before her surgery:

- you tried to tell her once that it's more than fine for her to wear a miniskirt

- she politely declines, telling you that she doesn't really feel confident yet

- you respect her decision, "okay, i'll be right here whenever you're ready!"

- instead, she admires you. her stares linger a little longer than usual

- though a little part of her wishes she could be as confident as you

- not in an envy way though!!! NEVER.

- you inspire hyun-ju so much, and she's glad to have you. someone that helps her and understands her

- anyways, she's calm most of the time, you'll hear some compliments here and there

- "you look amazing."

- this literally makes your heart melt so much, the way she's staring at you out of love :((( <3

- her protective side though ?????

- "did that person tell you anything??" "no, they just said i look pretty!:)"

- her jaw clenches, but she does nothing about it.

- after all, what they said was right. it was undeniable, you really do look pretty

- you give her a little twirl sometimes, showing off your pretty outfit

- "you're showing off, aren't you?"

- your lips curve into a smile, "mhm! and you will too, one day."

- she smiles at the thought but doesn't say anything further

after her surgery:

- YAAAAAY !!!!!!!!

- 10000 MORE TIMES CONFIDENT

- hesitates at first though, but that's totally fine!!!

- "are you sure i can pull this off..?" "BABY YOU WOULD LOOK THE HOTTEST."

- you decided to get her comfortable with skirts first

- "hmm... what do you say to wearing a skirt but just inside the house?"

- "...okay."

- you help her relax and get comfy with it. you're literally her safe space:(

- and then you hype her up so much to the point she gets convinced

- are you ready....

- TA-DA!! she finally wears a skirt outside the house !!

- not as short as yours though, she isn't ready for that yet. BUT !!! baby steps <33

- "we can just go for a quick walk, if you're fine with that."

- if anybody stares, you glare at them and turn to hyun-ju with a warm smile

- "don't mind them, they don't matter. you're doing so well"

- after a while, she grows more and more comfortable wearing a skirt

- then the both of you finally go on dates while wearing matching skirts !! yay

"i realized people care way less than we think they do."

young mi —

- ADORES YOU SO SO MUCH

- she gets flustered easily, and you take advantage of that

- "sweetheart, do you think this length is good? or should i go for a shorter one?"

- will stutter and nervously fiddle with her fingers

- "i think— i think it's already too short.."

- "too short? come closer so you can see it better."

- you're an absolute tease

- KEEPS HER HANDS TO HERSELF WHEN THE BOTH OF YOU ARE SITTING TOGETHER

- literally just stares forward, trying her hardest to not look at your bare legs

- you sulk though when you wear a miniskirt specifically for her but she won't even bat an eye on you:(

- "do you not like it? i can change.."

- she snaps her head towards you, "no no no! i just cant handle all that.." LMFAO

- "well you better learn how to, i'm not gonna give up until you look at me."

- spoiler alert!!!! you make her ride your thigh ♡

"unnie.."

sae byeok —

- 'wear that idgaf i can fight' TYPE

- she literally has her pocket knife with her no matter where she goes

- she doesn't need it ngl, it's mostly for you

- I MEAN NOT TO USE ON YOU (unless you want her to;)

- you draw her attention on purpose: lifting your skirt up, brushing your thigh against her leg, bending down to pick something up

- you whine if you see her not reacting even once:(

- "if you want me to do something, then you'll have to be riskier."

- you'd literally do anything, even if that made you look so desperate

- you'd rub your thighs together and softly moan directly into sae-byeok's ear

- ... still gets you nowhere

- HAND PLACEMENTTT

- makes your cunt throb sb when you feel her hot palm against your inner thigh

- her fingers might brush over your core if you're lucky

- but that's all she does, the rest happens at home

- aside from all that horny shit though, she really likes it when you wear miniskirts

- she can't quite place her finger on it as to why— miniskirts are just so you

- most of the time she doesn't even know what to say, mostly cause she can't think of a word to compliment you. simply saying that you're beautiful sounds such an understatement for her.

"sae, stop glaring at the man." "i'm gonna fucking gut him up if he doesn't rip his eyes away from you." shit left you speechless.

thanos —

- EASY ACCESS !!!!!!!!

- "holy shit baby, you look good. easier for me to—" "thanos!"

- he's SURPRISINGLY good at giving you outfit tips like ??? okay diva??

- "wear my leather jacket over that, it matches with the skirt."

- he wants to accompany you whenever you go shopping

- he's not one of those bitchy guys who complain about you taking so long at the store, he actually enjoys spending time with you shopping for your girly stuff

- just like se-mi, this man stares at your thighs shamelessly

- he's so sassy

- "my legs look better." "baby, i love you, but shut the fuck up."

- curses in english whenever you come out of your room and he sees you wearing a miniskirt

- if he sees another man staring at HIS girlfriend, he'll call him out

- "isn't my girlfriend so stunning? you're lucky cause she's the last pretty thing you get to see before i fucking gouge your eyes out"

- he sulks when you scold him

- "might ban you from wearing a skirt outside from now on, just too many eyes."

- though he's jealous, deep down he's proud to call you as his

- like??? nobody else can't handle your fine ass but him

- he doesn't even need his drugs anymore; you're his drug

- he just can't have enough of you

"you're killing me with that outfit, you know that?"

@misayani

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game season 2 #kang mi-na x reader #no-eul x reader #se-mi x reader #junhee x reader #cho hyun-ju x reader #young-mi x reader #sae-byeok x reader #thanos x reader #choi su-bong x reader #୭ ୨♡୧ ৎ misa writes ...

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wxwrites · 3 months ago

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arcane milf sfw/nsfw headcanons! (f!reader)

ft: ambessa, sevika, cassandra, grayson.

SEVIKA | SFW

sevika, who definitely has a hard time learning how to be vulnerable with you. once you eventually peel away the thick layers of her gruff and cold exterior, you'll find a woman who only wants what's best for her girl.

who comes home bruised, battered, and on her last thread as she confides in the comforting and soft skin of the lovely lady waiting for her at home. she'll sigh deeply into the crook of your neck and wrap her flesh arm around you as you help pry off the now broken robotic arm.

who keeps you sat prettily on her lap as she plays against the crass and nasty men of the undercity. she'll keep her flesh hand on your waist as she claws at the cards with the other. the men watch warily as you pull the cigarillo from her lips and pull your own drag off of it, giving them a mocking smirk after.

she would move heaven and hell for you. who would do everything in her power to provide you with the life that you deserve. while she may be cold and hard on the outside, her devotion and loyalty to you and everything you are is unwavering.

NSFW

she can be nasty when she wants to be, she'll lick and suck at all of the sensitive and weak points on your neck. she'll pin your wrists above your head with her mechanical arm as she trails her cold fingers down your chest, leaving faint red marks in their wake.

much more of a giver than a taker. she likes to watch you writhe, squirm, and plead as she stares down at you. she loves the ego boost she gets as you grovel at her, begging for her to touch you.

but other times, if she notices that you're a little more down and out of it– she'll go slower. she'll undress you gently and press chaste kisses into your skin, gently running her hands up and down your back and waist. she'll lay you out on the bed and devour you until you forget the prior worries.

catch an attitude with her? she'll make sure you remember her handprints on your ass for days to come. she'll press your chest into the bed as she pounds into you, wrapping her fist into your hair as she cranes your head back.

she's not crazy on sappy aftercare, but she'll hold you to her chest as she lights another cigarette, scratching at your scalp softly with her metal claws. if you really need it, she'll murmur additional praises and a few "i love you's" until you feel better.

GRAYSON | SFW

(i miss my girl)

grayson, who is often absorbed and swallowed in her work– still manages to make as much time as she can for her sweet girl. whether it's stopping by your apartment on her lunch break, or letting you curl up on the couch in her office, she'll take care of you.

she'll take you on romantic dates on her time off. she'll buy you a new dress for nearly each one and help you dress, pressing kisses to your skin as she slides the straps onto your shoulders. wherever you wanna go, she'll take you.

once she comes home from a too stressful day at work, she'll lay her head in your lap as water boils in a tea kettle. she dozes off as you stroke your hands through her hair, keeping your focus on the book in front of you.

she'll keep a nice fire going on the colder nights, holding you against her as you ramble about your job or studies, both of you sipping on a hot mug of tea.

she's protective and stern when she needs to be, but she also trusts you to be your own person. she doesn't let you go too far without her and prefers when you keep your arms linked, or your hand on her bicep.

NSFW

she's definitely on the softer side of being dominant. she loves watching you writhe in the same way that sevika does, but she'll be much more gentle about it. rather than pinning you to the bed, she'll wrap a strong arm around you as she holds your back against her chest, teasing her hands up and down your thighs.

she'll coo sweet praises into your ear, telling you how pretty and sweet you are.

however, don't take her kindness for granted in any way– she'll pry your legs open and hold them with her own. once she's finished with forcing you over the edge again, and again, she'll wipe the tears off your face and pout at you.

she prefers giving as well, she likes making you feel good, seeing you moan and gasp because of what she's doing sets something off inside of her.

as soft as she may be, she will fuck you within an inch of your life when presented the chance. she had a rough day at work? you better prepare yourself for what's to come.

she takes aftercare very seriously, as well. she'll wipe you down with a warm, wet towel and kiss all of the marks and bruises she left. there is no exception to this treatment, either. she'll lower you into a warm bath and wash you thoroughly.

CASSANDRA | SFW

cassandra, who struggles with balancing her job as a councilwoman and it often sends her home frustrated. but, she does her absolute best to never let you see that side of her. she's doting and attentive, making sure all of your needs are met.

she's stricter than the others, understanding that her position also puts you at more risk. she rarely let's you go out on your own, ensuring you always have a guard of some kind with you.

she loves when you write her letters or notes, whether you send them to work with her, or simply hand them to her.

she's sweet and caring, but she's the last person you would want to cross, especially when it comes to you. we saw how she pulled that gun on cait and vi, and she wouldn't hesitate to do it again.

on the rare occasion her frustration is projected onto you, she takes the space to collect her emotions before returning. she'll pull you into her lap and stroke your hair as your cheek rests on her shoulder. she'll apologize sincerely, correcting herself and immediately addressing her behavior.

she'll often send a maid to your quarters after she had already gotten up for the day, making sure you receive a nice breakfast in bed, filled with all of your favorite foods.

NSFW

some would say she's the strictest out of all of them. she doesn't tolerate brattiness or disobedience in any capacity. she expects proper behavior and obedience from you.

on the rare occasion you do choose to disobey her, it's normally due to lack of attention. she'll strap a vibrator against you and turn her attention to the work on her desk. listening to your whimpers and cries is a melody to her, satisfied as she finally breaks your bratty attitude.

she'll eventually untie you and ask if you're going to choose to behave. once you agree, she'll return to her usual self, dropping the once cruel façade.

similar to grayson, she'll wipe the tears from your face and press a gentle kiss to your head. she'll slowly work through your orgasm, singing gentle praises as she holds your trembling form.

she lovesss sticking her fingers into your mouth, watching you grovel at her feet as you sit on your knees and stare up at her.

she's also really great with aftercare. she's naturally nurturing, she'll coax you out of the submissive headspace slowly and help you sit up. once you have food and water in your system, she'll take you to the shower and clean you off.

AMBESSA | SFW

ambessa, who is difficult to work with sometimes. her stubbornness and callousness make it hard for her to properly express her love and appreciation for you.

she often does it through sending gifts or bringing back treasures and jewelry during her escapades. don't get me wrong, she adores you. but, growing up in such a rough environment has made it hard for her to understand how to treat you.

on the extremely rare occasion she's vulnerable with you, she shows it by slowly shedding her armor and sitting on your shared bed, head in her hands. she lets you rub your hands over her shoulders as you remain quiet, letting her open up when she's ready.

she loves when you sit on her lap during meetings, keeping her hand tight on your thigh or hips– smirking as the men before you two gawk at your pretty figure.

she likes watching you prance around the gala's she attends, admiring your pretty body through the dress she had chosen for you earlier that evening.

NSFW

you think sevika is rough? you're definitely in for it with her.

she likes it when you choose to be a little bratty and disobedient, she gets off on putting you right back into your place.

she'll grab you by your jaw a little too tightly and stare down at you hungrily, tilting your head back painfully. she likes wrapping her hand around your throat and listening to your whimpers, watching as you take in little gasps.

she's definitely the type to strap you so hard you walk with a limp the next day. she'll watch you smugly and tease you about it, askin' what happened to you in front of your peers.

she's more likely to degrade you than the others, calling you her pretty slut as she chokes you on her fingers.

she would DEFINITELY like watching grind against her thigh or leg, gripping your hips tightly as she controls your pace.

she likes when you're on top, forcing you to work for your orgasm if she's feeling a little extra mean. she knows you can't get off without her help, so she'll laugh as she watches you struggle.

she might not seem like it, but she is very good with aftercare. she makes up for her cruelness with a massage to the bruises on your skin. she'll wipe you off and help you drink your water, guiding your hands gently. she reminds you of how much she loves you, and means nothing of the mean words she says.

#arcane #ambessa medarda #ambessa x reader #sevika #sevika x reader #grayson arcane #grayson x reader #cassandra kiramman #cassandra kiramman x reader #wlw post

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johnb10 · 2 years ago

Text

Preparing your Home for Canadian Winters

Winter is approaching. Have you prepared your home for winter in Canada? If you are planning to go on vacation to escape winter, then as a homeowner, you must not neglect the winterization of your property. It will help you avoid any damages due to snow and extreme weather but also let you cut on energy bills.

Moreover, being away from your home for weeks or months can leave your property susceptible to burglary and damage. So, take all the required precautions by hiring the services of a reputed Canada home protection service firm HomeWatchCanada.Ca.

Wondering how and when to begin the process? The rule is to get started in early fall so that you have sufficient time. The best part is to hire the services of a professional home watch service company in Canada in advance. By doing so, you can prioritize their availability and make your home winter ready.

Tips to winterize your house to enjoy your escape to a sunny gateway--

Clean the gutters—Dirt, leaves, and sticks can accumulate in downspouts during the autumn. So, if the debris gets clogged, it can prevent melting snow or rain from getting drained properly. This can damage your roof. While cleaning your gutters, don’t forget to check the roof for any damaged or missing shingles.

Drain your hoses—Garden hoses need to be cleared of any water. Turn off the water supply to all exterior faucets after removing the garden hoses from the faucets. Otherwise, water may freeze leading to damage to the pipes. It is good to use an anti-freeze non-toxic in toilets and plumbing traps to avoid freezing and cracking.

Insulate pipes and plumbing— Pipes in attics, and basements are more likely to get frozen as they are in unheated places. Use insulating sleeves to wrap pipes and plumbing for preventing them from getting frozen. Also, don’t turn off the furnace during the winters especially if you plan to stay away for a few months. You should set the thermostat at 10°C to avoid the pipes from getting frozen and bursting.

Check the Attic and Roof—Inspect the roof to see if any repairs are needed. It will prevent leakage from any loose shingles during rain and snow. Check the attic and see if it needs to be replaced or have insulation for keeping drafts away.

Service the Heating system—Ask a professional for getting your furnace checked. Remember to get the batteries in your carbon monoxide and smoke detectors replaced if you haven’t changed them recently.

Shut down your sprinkler system—Drain and shut the irrigation or sprinkler system in your yard. Otherwise, hoses and pipes can crack due to any water left undrained in the system.

Weatherproof doors and windows—To prevent any drafts and leakage in your home, remember to seal off the exteriors of windows. You can also use window film for preventing cold air from sweeping inside. Use caulking for sealing gaps around windows and cracks in the doors. This will save your home from extensive damage.

To conclude, you can make your home ready for Canadian winters by having a winter home maintenance checklist ready and executing the tasks well in advance. Of course, you can always hire the services of HomeWatchCanada.Ca , a professional home check service for keeping your vacant home safe and protected.

Home Watch safety is the main aim of any professional and reputed company like Home Watch Canada. Moreover, before you depart to a sunnier destination, remember to book HomeWatchCanada.Ca, a reliable company offering Vancouver home watch services. This is especially needed because your insurance provider might not give any coverage for damages if there is no one to check your home regularly.

#Home watch service #home check service #vacant home #Canada home protection service #Home Watch safety #primary and secondary homes #Vancouver home watch services #Exterior Check Service #Fulfill Home Insurance #Home Watch Canada #Residential Home Protection #Vacation Home protection

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obsessivevoidkitten · 3 months ago

Text

Hated. Fucked. Loved.

Kinktober Day 16: Hate-Fucked

Male Rival Yandere x Male Reader CW: PAINFUL noncon, bloody non-con, oral sex, face-fucking, cum swallowing, kidnapping, non-sexual bondage, piss, reader pissed on in shower, OC hates reader then turns yandere, sadism, sadistic yandere, protective yandere, mind-broken reader, briefly feminized reader, forced crossdressing, brief display of homophobia/f-slur, psychological damage, violence, minor character death, WHUMP, angst but eventual comfort, weapons-grade Stockholm Syndrome, Dead Dove: DO NOT EAT Word Count: 4.1k (Oh lordy, this one is brutal. Hope you enjoy it anyway. Not betaread so please excuse any errors. The longest fic of kinktober and the finale. I wish you all a Scary Hexmas and hope this Hexmas time meal is filling. Don't forget to comment <3)

Will. Fucking. Hated. You.

He had ever since he first met you in grade school. It seemed that no matter what he did, you always had to show him up. The only area he seemed to do better than you was in popularity. But that just didn't fulfill him enough.

Will wanted real acknowledgment that he was better than you could ever be. He wanted it reflected in his grades and in the opinions of the teachers. He wanted absolutely everyone to see he was better than you.

He wanted you to see it, too.

But despite all of his unmitigated vitriol towards you, you always ignored it and treated him with kindness. You figured maybe he had a bad home life or some other difficulty that made him take it out on you. His behavior still made you cry sometimes... but you really wanted to make everyone like you. You were a people pleaser, and you wanted him to be happy.

But it infuriated him, stoked the embers of his hatred for you into a full-on inferno every single time you did it. To him, it was clear evidence that you thought you were better than him. That you were above him. Morally superior.

As if poor trash like you could be better than him.

He knew all your kind behavior was a farce to make him look bad. To taunt him.

One time, when Will had been out of school with a broken leg, you had gotten the entire class to join you in sending him get well cards. You had even made homemade cupcakes. He was sure you were laughing at him!!! Goading him. And convincing everyone you were so great at the same time. Fucking piece of shit.

No matter what you did in life Will couldn't stop following your path until he proved he was the better man. He was obsessed.

When you went to a small cheap college, he dutifully followed you to it. His family was immensely wealthy. He could have gone to a much more prestigious university, he could have just gotten a job in his father's company, but he didn't want to use his money or connections to prove he was better than lowly scum like you. He wanted you to see he was better in every metric.

And he had to be there to see your face when you were finally defeated.

He even went into your field so he could do the same courses. So he could prove that you were a piece of shit to be discarded in comparison to him.

Since you were going to school to be a nurse for the elderly, you saw Will's obsessive competition not as a crazy need to prove you to be inferior to him but instead as absolute proof that he was secretly a wonderful person. For how could someone so devoted to the care of the old possibly be bad? Especially when nurses were paid relatively little and he had come from such a wealthy background! It wasn’t exactly a glamorous job.

So you still treated him with kindness. It was okay that he didn't like you. Now that you knew he was actually sweet below that prickly exterior, you could laugh off all his cruel behavior towards you much more easily.

This was unacceptable to him.

When you both graduated, he even went to work at the same nursing home as you. This gave you the impression that maybe he was a bit crazy over you. But not in the way that he actually was. You thought he had a crush on you. You thought all his meanness towards you was probably internalized homophobia with his following you through life proof of him really liking you.

You made the conscious effort to make Will happier and be even nicer to him now that you were sure you knew the truth.

That isn’t how he saw you doubling down on kindness.

Taunting him. Taunting him. Taunting him. That's all you ever did. Flaunting it for years. Pretending to be unaffected by him. As if he was an insignificant speck of dust that did nothing to you. That's how he interpreted your behavior. He hated you so much.

The final straw was when you threw Will a small surprise birthday party in the break room at work. Of course, he had to pretend to love it. Eat your overly sweet homemade cake.

To him, it was the ultimate humiliation. He had to pretend to like it. To thank you for the cake and the gift you gave him. A gift card to his favorite store.

You were just so smug. Thought you had pulled a great victory over him, he was sure. It wasn't like he could say anything. If he did, he would sound crazy. No one would believe him if he told them that you threw him the party just to anger and embarrass him.

Will snapped. He didn't show it, though. He acted calm for days as he slowly readied his revenge. He readied his basement and got all the required supplies for his self-appointed task. His reason for being. To break you and get revenge for the countless times you had made a fool of him.

For days after the party, Will had acted a lot calmer and less aggressive towards you. No more mean or sarcastic comments at your expense. You thought that maybe he was finally getting to a point where he was accepting his feelings.

But you couldn't have been more wrong. Will didn’t have to retaliate to perceived slights. You were beneath him, and he was finally going to prove it to you in every sense of the word.

You had stayed late at the hospital. Will waited for you to leave and followed you out into the parking lot. You had walked to work since the weather had been so pleasant, and since it was such a short distance from your house, you had to pass through the nearly vacant parking lot to go home.

As you passed his car, Will reached out from the shadows and grabbed you. Before you could scream, he held a cloth over your mouth with a strong hand. You struggled profusely until the chloroform overwhelmed you, and your body went completely limp. Will briefly noted that you looked kind of peaceful and cute before stuffing such gross thoughts aside. He quickly tied you up and hogtied you before stuffing you into his trunk and driving off. The journal you kept in your pocket fell out in the trunk.

His house was several miles outside of town. It was a long drive, long enough for you to regain consciousness, but that’s what your binds were for.

You were understandably terrified and disoriented. You had not even seen who had grabbed you, and they hadn’t spoken either, so you had no idea who had nabbed you or what they wanted.

When the car finally stopped, you heard your attacker snicker after opening the trunk. You redoubled your efforts to break free of your binds. But the rope that held you was too sturdy for that. Your abductor picked you up with some effort and quickly carried you into a building. You could only tell because the air changed and the sound of the door closing behind you.

You began screaming and shrieking into your gag, but succeeded only in hurting your own throat. Even if the screams had not been muffled by the cloth gagging your mouth, there were no other houses within earshot of you. And this wasn’t an area with any traffic either. Will had thought this all out.

You heard the rattling of chains and felt the cold touch of a metal collar around your neck. He rummaged through your pockets to take your phone, then your clothing was peeled away, and the binds around your arms replaced with handcuffs restraining your arms painfully behind you. The gag muffling your screams was removed, and you began sobbing pleas for your freedom.

The last thing taken from you was the blindfold. You stared up in confusion, not believing for a moment who you saw. Will, looking down at you with insane erratic green eyes and a smile that left a chill on your very soul. His medium length brown hair was unkempt, adding to the terrifying visage before you.

“Wha..? Will… Plea-!!”

You were interrupted by a sharp slap to the face that made your eyes water.

“Shut the fuck up! I am the one talking here. You don’t get to manipulate me with your smug words… I have been waiting so long to put you in your place. I think we should commemorate the moment!”

The unhinged man rummaged in a drawer until he pulled out a camera and took a few pictures of your sorry state. He put the camera away and produced a sharp knife from his pocket which he then held up to your oh so delicate throat. You sobbed more fervently.

“Aw, you’re crying already? We haven’t even gotten to the fun yet! We need to pace ourselves.”

His breathing was heavy. Like he was infusing his sadistic desires into the air with each breath he pulled into his lungs.

“Let’s make one thing clear from the start, if you try to escape or fight back, I will slit your throat. Do you understand?”

You nodded shakily. You knew you wouldn’t stand a chance against him in a fight. Even if he didn’t have the knife, he was still a very fit man.

“I am just SO excited… What should we do first… What will show I am better than you?”

As he sat down on the edge of a large bed a few feet from you and mumbled to himself you finally had a chance to catch your breath and try to calm the slightest bit down while you took in your foreign surroundings. You were in a neat, sparsely furnished room that appeared to be a basement. You were chained by the neck to a pole that was behind you. Only a scratchy blanket separated your bare skin from the cold concrete below. The bed he was on looked out of place, as if it had recently been moved down here, but it was clearly not for you.

“I know!”

Will walked up to you and pulled out his erect cock, evidently excited by having you under his control. He pressed the head of the thick appendage against your lips while smiling maniacally down at you in the same way that he had before, his meaning clear.

“Well hurry and get started then. And if you bite I think you know what will happen.”

Your jaw ached as you sucked him clumsily. It was rather large and you were rather inexperienced. It didn’t help that your hands were unavailable to help you grip the shaft to speed up the process. As he got closer and closer to orgasm he became more forceful. First humping into your mouth steadily and eventually gripping each side of your head hard and violently fucking your face until you thought you were going to pass out.

“You better not spill any!”

Finally he slammed down your throat, pressing your nose into his curly pubes, and came hard. You gagged but managed to swallow it all as he pulled out.

“Fuck. Maybe you were made to suck my cock. That was the best nut I think I have ever had. Don’t forget to clean it.”

After gasping for a moment you licked his cock clean of cum and saliva and he put it back in his pants. You had fantasized about doing things with him, but never like this.

You sobbed and asked why he was doing this, and he immediately put a stop to it by punching you in the gut, leaving you reeling.

“I still don’t want to hear your bitching.”

“You should know why. This is what you get for always looking down on me and having everyone convinced that you’re so great!”

He got in bed before continuing.

“You always thought you could compete with me, make people think you were better, outdoing me. But now you know you’re beneath me. I don’t know about you but I am tired from all the excitement, I need rest.”

Sleep did not come easily for you as painfully restrained as you still were, but eventually, you silently sobbed yourself into a state of unconsciousness. It was a fitful rest, one plagued by nightmares.

You awoke to the sight of Will leering down at you.

"Hey, sleeping beauty! I’m off this weekend, so we will have the next couple of days all to ourselves. I wanted more time, but I couldn’t take vacation right as you went missing. So we'll just have to make the best of it.”

Your lip quivered in fear of the horrors Will had in store for you. It was a warranted response. He started the day by having you gag on his morning wood and licking his nuts and dick clean of the cum that dribbled down them when he came.

You got smacked for spilling a drop, but it wasn’t as brutal as your treatment the night before.

Then he decided that you needed a shower so he hosed you down with cold water in the basement’s bathroom, the chilling concrete room had a drain in the floor making it a very convenient location for Will to torment you in as he did not need to worry about flooding. The concrete exasperated the chill. While the water was still running he took a moment to further degrade you by whipping out his half-hard cock and taking his morning piss all over you.

After that he noticed you sobbing silently again, your naked form shivering with anxiety, fear, and of course the bitter cold.

“Awe, are you crying like a little girly? Maybe you should be dressed like one then…”

A light bulb seemed to go off in your abuser’s mind.

“Hey, give me a minute!”

He tied you back up painfully before leaving abruptly. He came back with a maid outfit from a costume store down the street, it was October so it was open for Halloween.

"You look like such a slut in that, like the filthy whore you are."

You continued looking away in shame and humiliation.

"I bet you have a cunt like a girl's too. Bet you want to get railed by a real man."

"Stop it Will! A-anything but that! Please... I'm sorry!!"

That only pissed him off.

"You're not making the demands here slut!" He smacked you hard across the face, causing you to yelp.

"And you're not sorry yet... but you will be..."

He dragged you over and tossed you on the bed. You were shaking, crying into the pillowless mattress. You wanted to run but were terrified of what he would do. He was much stronger than you.

You heard the sound of him undoing his belt and pulling down his pants.

He spit on his cock and rubbed it to full length. Just enough lube so he could enter you. Not enough to do anything to bring you comfort.

The mattress sank with his additional weight as he got on. He positioned you with your ass up and moved the skirt of the maid outfit to show off your ass. You sobbed more. What had you done to deserve this? Had you hurt him somehow? Had he mistaken something someone else did for your own actions?

Will gripped your hips, nails biting into your flesh. He pulled you back hard and thrust forward at the same time. It felt like fire. His cock split your ass brutally and you screamed as loudly as you could. Will smirked. Music to his ears.

"Don't pretend that you don't want it. This is what fags like you are made for!"

A smack echoed as he slapped your ass but you didn't even register it beneath the all consuming pain of him violating you in such a brutal manner.

Will kept slamming into you over and over. Pulling out almost fully each time before thrusting back in as hard as he could. When he saw blood on his cock it only encouraged him. It wasn't like Will was into blood or anything. He wasn't really a sadist at all under normal circumstances, but he certainly was when it came to you. He was finally putting the trash that mocked and looked down on him in his place. The blood, tears, and choked sobs of pain were just evidence of that.

It felt like the violation was going on for an eternity. The burning pain was unrelenting as he mocked and teased you the whole time. You didn't even know he was talking anymore, and due to straining your voice, you could no longer scream. Will finally drove into you deeply and came hard. He stayed in a moment and let his cock twitch and pulse cum into you. He had totally owned you.

But when his anger ebbed away and he pulled out he saw the blood stained cum flow out of your abused hole. He saw your shaking crying form gripping the sheets tightly. He heard your ragged, uneasy breaths. He knew you were having a panic attack.

What was wrong? This was what he had wanted, wasn't it? To break you. But now that he had, he could only stare in horror at what he had done to you. Even if you had snubbed your nose at him and thought yourself superior, this wasn't a proportional response. Nothing could justify... this...

Will cleaned himself off haphazardly and pulled his pants back up. Then he removed the clothing from your body and picked you up.

He had to make things better.

You weren't aware of your surroundings. You had mostly withdrawn into your own mind. You kept mumbling that you were sorry over and over into his chest.

"No, no, no. Shhh. Don't be. I'm sorry. I'm the bad one... Shit, I'm so sorry..."

His words went past your ears, and you continued your chant-like apology over and over and over. Your brain just couldn't accept that someone could hate you so much without you having done something to deserve it.

Tears threatened to roll down his face, but he wouldn't let them. It was his fault. He wasn't the victim here.

Why had he done this? Because of some childish rivalry that may have only been in his head? No, he couldn't accept that it was in his head. Not yet. He couldn't just let go of the years of animosity towards you he had been harboring. But... still... he obviously took things way too far...

Will drew a bath and placed you in it gently. A stark contrast to how he had treated you up until this point. He washed you carefully, meticulously cleaning the wounds he had inflicted to prevent infection.

You slumped against the tub, eyes staring at nothing, as he washed you of all the filth and blood he had marred you with.

The rest of the weekend passed, and you had scarcely improved. You still muttered apologies and could manage to use the restroom on your own, but he had to feed you himself.

He didn't know what he was going to do. He hadn't actually planned on what to do when he was done brutalizing you. He couldn't just let you leave. There was no way he was going to prison. If he did, you'd be dumped in some psych ward and forgotten about.

He no longer needed the pictures he had taken to blackmail you as you were practically catatonic anyway. You couldn't care for yourself in this state at all.

Your abductor refused to leave you there while he returned to work, and without you 6 had no reason to go back anyway. He had been worried that it would be suspicious if the two of you disappeared on the same day, but he had your phone and just had to make up a scenario that would keep people away. Neither of you were particularly close to anyone, so it wouldn't be difficult.

The excuse he gave was that the two of you were going to move back to your hometown and get high paying jobs working for your father. He figured he could take care of you himself for a week or two while he got things worked out with his dad. Then he could take you with him to a new house there and hire a discrete caretaker to watch you while he was at work.

During the time before the move Will would sometimes get fed up with you and have to catch himself before he screamed or accused you of faking to guilt trip him.

As the week went on, he even caught himself thinking it was a bit cute when you were sleeping while he held you. He had to remind himself constantly that even though he went way too far, you were still in the wrong somewhat for how you had acted.

And then, while he was cleaning his trunk to pack your belongings he had retrieved from your place, he found your journal in his trunk and its contents finally got through to him. It detailed your crush on him and how you thought he must have one on you because of how he behaved towards you. It went on about your thoughts and feelings about your coworkers and all your interactions with them, including all the kind things you went out of your way to do to make them all happy.

It was obvious to him now that you were a real-life cinnamon roll. Part of the reason people liked you was because they could exploit your kindness, and they clearly had. And he had done far worse than that.

There was only one thing he could possibly do to even begin to make things right. He wasn't into men like you were, but he would be your boyfriend and eventual husband.

He would also make you his assistant at his new job so he could watch over you personally. It wasn't like he had to devote much time to work. He had an upper management position and could delegate most tasks. You had begun to do more basic things for yourself when directed so you could eat and sit and look busy so no one would suspect anything.

Eventually, after months of delicate, tender care, you were able to speak more and think properly again. Though you were still a nervous mess occasionally plagued by vivid nightmares that replayed what you had experienced. You never dared trying to escape. The lessons of obedience you had learned your first days with Will had been ingrained deeply within your psyche. And with your newfound anxiety, you couldn't really take care of yourself completely alone. You were dependent on him for employment.

Well, at least your boyfriend treated you kindly by that point. As if you were a porcelain doll that would crumble to dust under the slightest mean gaze.

In fact, rude employees had been fired for even shooting you a glare. And when there was a jealous bitch that had mean words to say about his darling assistant and lover? Some hired goons provided her with a broken nose one dark night.

When Will announced his engagement to you, his father objected because of your lower status and humble origins. He screamed at you directly accusing you of being a gold digging whore unworthy of his son. You curled up in the corner of the room, crying and trembling. Soon after that his father came down with a terrible case of sudden onset poisoned to fucking death with an untraceable toxin that gave him a stroke, a common enough cause of death for a man of his age.

Will wouldn't let anything threaten or hurt you. And if that meant his dad had to die, then so be it. You were his responsibility. But beyond that, what had started with him taking accountability for his actions towards you had slowly evolved into genuine love and care for you.

It took a long time, but eventually, your feelings towards him evolved into love, too. You would always be a little broken, a little fearful of him, but he was the only person you really had, he had isolated you thoroughly and was constantly in your presence, so it was inevitable that you'd start to see him in a better light.

#yandere x reader #yandere boyfriend #male yandere #male reader #male yandere x male reader #My OCs #My OC Will #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #yandere kinktober #yandere husband #hexmas #Merry Hexmas #Hexmas 2024 #Scary Hexmas

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sanguineterrain · 1 year ago

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Jason is definitely the type to go feral over his best friend he hasn't seen in years. Hear me out: he's alive again, and not only that, but he's huge. Strong. People are afraid of him. So the reader is in town, walking the streets, and they meet again, maybe when he protects them as Hood. And reader is ecstatic to see Jason again of course and he's the same but also, all he can think is minemineminemine and I WANT YOU. mans is down horrendous for his sweet best friend that he missed and he's been in love with them for so long and now that he has them, he's not giving them up

idk if this was a prompt but i got inspired <3 thanks for stopping by anon

jason todd x gn!reader. feral jason i guess, but really soft jason. jason who yearns to be yours. jason who'd do anything for it, even if it meant one sided devotion... and also, jason who is loved by you. 1.2k words

****

"I don't understand why you can't come to my apartment."

"I told you why." Jason's posture is rigid but his tone is gentle. Because he has told you why he won't enter your home. Multiple times. Doesn't mean you don't challenge it every time you meet him on a random rooftop.

"It would be fine, Jay," you say. "I trust you."

"I know. But I don't trust everybody else," he says, words crackling through his modulator. That had frightened you at first; in fact, everything about a newly-resurrected Jason Todd had frightened you. From his height to the guns, you'd been sure that night in Gotham would be your last.

But then it had become clear that cheated death aside, nothing could kill his heart.

"You haven't visited in a while," you say.

You don't mean for it to sound accusatory.

"I know," Jason says. "Been busy. The Bats..."

And you knew. You knew the second you found out that Jason was alive that it would be like this, that he wouldn't be completely yours. He wasn't yours when he was Robin either, perhaps even less so.

And what's wrong with that? You have no right to ask him to be yours. To give you more.

But the recent distance has frightened you. Maybe it's for safety's sake, but your selfish heart wishes that he'd drop that for once.

Then again, there's always that dread in your stomach that perhaps Jason Todd doesn't love you the way you love him. And perhaps he never will.

"Well, I wish you'd call," you say.

This is wrong. You shouldn't be picking fights. Jason doesn't go dark out of cruelty, only necessity.

Jason sighs. "I can't. 'M sorry."

You cross your arms. It's chilly tonight.

"Do you even want to see me?"

He tilts his head. Dangerous.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to intrude," you say. "You're busy and all the stuff with B, I don't—I mean, I wouldn't hold it against you if you—"

Jason takes two long strides and closes the distance. You swallow the rest of your sentence as he backs you up against the brick exterior of an abandoned apartment. Your heart picks up. You're not afraid; the fear went long ago. You're just... something. You're something about Jason.

The last time you two hugged was after Willis' death. You'd wanted to wrap him in his cape, thought maybe that would make everything feel as small as he'd been.

Now, a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, Jason clearly does not need a cape. Right?

He takes off his helmet, lets it hang on his hand. His other hand is by your head. You lean back, let your neck go on display. Jason doesn't miss the movement.

"What're you doing, Jay?" you ask levelly.

Maybe he thinks you don't notice this distance but you do. You don't want to push him to talk about it, because as upsetting as it is, you're still strangers to each other.

You are and you're not. He died and he didn't. You grieved and you didn't. You burn and... you burn.

But you're tired of being and not being. You won't let him keep you in emotional purgatory. If he's done with you, he should just say so.

"If you don't want to meet anymore," you start, and let the words hang in the air.

"I—" he starts, then swallows. He tosses his helmet to the side. He doesn't touch you, just hovers inches away. Jason smells like lilac and gun smoke.

"I don't think you understand... my devotion," he says, voice low. "How much power you have over me."

Your eyes widen. "Wh—"

His green eyes reflect the streetlight like a cat's. The sight stops you short. Jason Todd is hot metal on a knife's edge, and it would do you well to remember that.

His hands curl into fists. He shakes his head.

"Sorry," he whispers like a prayer. "Not tryna scare you." His chest rises and falls rapidly. "'M I scarin' ya, sweetheart? Tell me and I'll go home, shake it off. Wait forever. I can be good. Won't want what I don't deserve."

"I'm not scared," you say, and it's the most sure you've ever been. "Not scared of you, Jay."

He breathes a laugh, like he can't quite believe you. His breath is warm on your neck.

"You'd be the first," he says. "The only one."

This, you believe. This, you have wondered some nights, knowing that even Batman isn't sure what to do with a son who lives with death on his shoulder.

"You don't have to devote yourself to me," you say, because that makes you pause. Who are you to be his god?

Jason laughs again, strong and sure. He sinks to his knees in front of you. His white streak glows in the light.

"You think it's a vice?" he asks. He rests a hand on your left thigh, testing. You lay your hand over his, so he holds your other thigh too.

He hums. "You do. You think you're holdin' me hostage."

Jason takes a shuddering breath and flattens his palms over your legs. Then he leans in and rests his cheek on your leg, nose near the apex of your thighs. Your belly flips.

"Let's make one thing clear. My devotion is my only redemption. 'S the only thing that makes me believe I'm not all rotted inside. Makes me behave. In this world and the next, I'm yours."

"I... Jason, you belong to yourself, not me. I don't—"

"You don't have to do anything. If it's too much, then I'll disappear. You can carry on."

You stroke the exposed side of his face. He looks up at you.

He is still. You have made him still.

"I'm yours too," you say.

He shakes his head. "You don't hafta—"

"Do you think being yours is a curse?" you ask, gaze sharp.

"Don't promise something for balance's sake," he rasps. "I'll be yours without you being mine."

Your heart is still. He has made it still.

"I'll keep coming back," Jason whispers, eyes wide. "If you're mine, I can't leave. Y'don't know what you're doing. Don't give yourself to me."

"I do. I'm yours."

His grip tightens around your legs. Jason shakes his head.

"Don't do it," he says into your thigh. "I shouldn't have anyone. I'm-I'm only meant to be yours. Nobody's mine."

But you know. You can slide your finger along his teeth and he'll wait with his mouth open. You can touch his edges and he'll turn his cheek so you won't nick your finger. He would sooner chew his own tongue.

"It's alright," you say, and kneel. You dirty your knees right alongside him. "It's okay, Jason. I know what I'm doing."

His breath hitches. Jason presses you into the brick, tucks his face into your neck. His arms wrap tightly around your waist.

"Sorry," he whispers frantically. "'M sorry. You can push me away. Sorry."

"I won't do that." You hold him and let him take you. "I know you're good. I thought—I thought you were pulling away, and I..."

"I was," he admits, muffled in your skin. "'M sorry. Was the only way I could think of to let you go. You deserve better. Couldn't think 'round you, honeylove. Knew it was a death sentence when I found out that you still lived in Gotham."

"It wasn't," you say. "Best thing that's ever happened to me."

Jason huffs. "You say that now, but..."

"No. I say it now and I'll say it again. Keep me, Jason. I'll keep you too."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd imagine #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood fanfiction #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #jason todd x yn #jason todd x gender neutral reader #inbox #blurb

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mac-exteriors · 7 days ago

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How to Choose the Right Siding for Your House and Avoid Common Mistakes

Choosing the right siding for house is crucial for protecting your home, enhancing curb appeal, and improving energy efficiency. However, many homeowners struggle with selecting the right material, finding skilled installers, and maintaining their siding. Poor choices can lead to water damage, fading, cracking, and costly repairs.

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Different climates require different siding materials. Using the wrong type can lead to:

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nerolac1 · 2 years ago

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#uv protection paints in nepal #best paints in nepal #home paints in nepal #nerolac paints nepal #anti bacterial paint in nepal #voc free paints in nepal #wall paint in nepal #knp paints nepal #best exterior paints in nepal #best interior paints in nepal #best exterior house paints in nepal

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connorsui · 5 months ago

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In your tender gaze

Genre/warning: domestic fluff, Slice of Life, nanami looking at u like u are the only woman in his life, warnings? ..nah ..we don't divorce around here

Synopsis: Amidst the tranquility of their home, Nanami Kento cherishes the quiet moments with his wife, finding solace and profound love in their simple, tender interactions that offer a reprieve from the demands of his chaotic life.

Note: The great Gatsby love quotes got me writing nanami

w.c: 1,400

Nanami Kento had always carried a weight behind his calm exterior. He wasn’t a man of grand gestures or loud proclamations, and yet, his love for you settled into the quiet spaces where words failed and touch spoke volumes.

He stood in the doorway, watching as you moved about the kitchen. The soft clinking of dishes filled the room, and the sun filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over your form. His hazel eyes softened as they traced your figure—every motion, every breath you took was deliberate, as if you were made for this moment, for this quiet togetherness that he cherished more than anything.

"He looked at her the way all women want to be looked at by a man.”

Kento’s gaze held a tenderness that was almost imperceptible to the outside world. His colleagues saw him as stoic, a man who kept his emotions locked beneath a calm surface. But here, in the stillness of your shared home, there was no need for pretense. His eyes spoke of devotion, of a quiet longing to hold onto this peace, this fragile life you had built together.

It wasn’t just admiration that stirred in his chest—it was gratitude, a deep-rooted sense that he had found something too precious, too rare for someone like him. There was comfort in your presence, like the first sip of warm tea after a long, grueling day. You were his solace in a world that demanded too much, pulling him into chaos far too often.

And yet, there was something more in the way he watched you. A need, buried beneath layers of composure. It flickered in the depths of his eyes, an unspoken desire for more time—more days like this where the world could stay far away, where he could watch you move through your life, through his life, as though you had always belonged there.

You looked up, meeting his gaze, and the smallest of smiles tugged at your lips. His heart clenched, tightening under the weight of all the things he couldn’t say. There were no grand speeches, no declarations of love spilling from his lips. Instead, he walked toward you, his footsteps measured and calm. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against yours as you handed him a plate.

He didn’t need to say it. You could feel it in the way his touch lingered, in the way he stood just a fraction too close, needing the reassurance of your warmth to ground him.

You smiled at him, that soft, knowing smile, and his chest ached in a way that was both painful and sweet. You had always understood him in a way no one else could, reading the emotions that never reached the surface.

“Kento,” you murmured, your voice gentle, teasing.

“You’re staring.”

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile gracing his otherwise stoic face. “Am I?”

“Yes,”you replied, leaning into him, your shoulder brushing his. “But I don’t mind.”

He let out a low hum, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer. In moments like this, the world felt small, manageable. There were no cursed spirits, no dangers lurking just beyond the horizon—only you and the life you had built together.

He pressed his lips to the top of your head, inhaling the faint scent of your shampoo. It grounded him, anchored him in the here and now. You leaned into him, and for a moment, he let himself believe that this could last forever. That he could protect this, protect you.

“I don’t deserve this,” he murmured against your hair, his voice carrying a rare vulnerability.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. Your hand reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin in a soothing gesture. “You deserve this, Kento. You deserve every bit of happiness.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, he let himself believe you. In your eyes, he wasn’t the man who walked through life weighed down by responsibility and duty. He was just Kento—your Kento. The man who loved you with a quiet, steady devotion that went beyond words.

He looked at you again, the way all women want to be looked at by a man—with awe, with reverence, with a kind of love that felt too big for the small moments yet fit perfectly in the spaces between.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you found yourselves settling into the living room. The evening was still, the kind of calm that was rare and precious in the midst of his often chaotic days.

Kento had taken up his favorite armchair, a book resting in his lap. But tonight, he seemed more inclined to simply watch you, his gaze following every movement with a gentle, unspoken appreciation. You were curled up on the sofa, a soft blanket draped over your shoulders, lost in the pages of a novel.

The soft rustling of the blanket, the occasional sip of tea from your mug—it all created a soothing rhythm that filled the room with warmth. The light from the lamp beside you cast a soft glow, illuminating your face in a way that made every feature seem even more cherished.

Kento closed his book, his eyes lingering on you with the same depth of feeling he had shown earlier in the kitchen. He set the book aside, a rare moment of relaxation in the midst of his demanding life. Rising from his chair, he moved quietly to your side, kneeling beside you on the floor.

His hand reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. You looked up, meeting his gaze, and he saw the love reflected back at him in your eyes. There was no need for words, no need for elaborate gestures. Just the simple act of being close, of sharing this quiet space, was enough.

He settled next to you on the sofa, his arm slipping around your shoulders. The two of you sat together, the silence a comfortable companion. His hand traced gentle patterns on your arm, a silent affirmation of his presence and his affection.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, a reassuring backdrop to your shared tranquility. As you flipped through the pages of your book, Kento took the opportunity to study the peaceful lines of your face, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you read something particularly touching.

“I love this moment,” he murmured softly, almost to himself. “These quiet evenings with you.”

You looked up at him, your eyes warm and understanding. “I love them too. They’re perfect.”

Kento nodded, his gaze dropping to your lips, which curled into a contented smile. He gently cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle arc against your skin. The simple touch was full of unspoken promises of nights spent in each other’s company, finding peace in the little things.

As the stars began to twinkle outside, Kento’s thoughts wandered to the future. He imagined many more evenings like this—quiet, content, and filled with the kind of love that was built on simple moments. The world outside might be tumultuous, but in this small, serene space, he found everything he needed.

You tilted your head against his shoulder, a content sigh escaping your lips. Kento looked down at you, his heart full. The love he felt was not just a fleeting emotion but a deep, abiding certainty that, with you by his side, he could face whatever the world threw at him.

The clock struck softly in the background, signaling the close of another day. The room seemed to hold its breath, the tranquil atmosphere a testament to the comfort and stability of your life together. Kento’s hand rested against your back, his fingers lightly stroking in a steady, soothing rhythm.

In the quiet, under the soft glow of the lamp, with your warmth pressed against him, Kento knew that despite the chaos of life, he had found his peace in the gentle constancy of your love. The world outside might be unpredictable, but here, with you, he felt anchored, complete. Each moment of stillness, each shared glance, and each quiet touch was a promise of a future filled with the kind of enduring love that only deepens with time.

I blame the great Gatsby for these nanami thoughts

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rafecameronssl4t · 5 months ago

Note

Forced marriage au request: I know it was purely a transactional marriage and he finds her annoying, always acting cold but maybe you could write about him going soft, starting to feel something towards her. being a bit confused and feeling protective of her 🥺

Foreign feelings || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: THANK YOU GUYS FOR 2K FOLLOWERS AHHHH LOVE EACH AND EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOUS

Warnings: mention of blood,

Word count: 1,840

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

Rafe’s voice slices through the air like a knife, its sharpness reverberating down the long, empty hallway. You sit in the armchair, your eyes fixed on the TV screen, pretending not to hear him. But his presence is impossible to ignore. The steady rhythm of his footsteps grows louder, the sound bouncing off the cold marble floors, each step punctuating his rising anger.

He finally comes to a stop beside the armchair where you sit, tension radiating off him. “Get up,” he commands, his voice cold and unyielding. The chill in his tone sends a shiver down your spine, but you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge him. Your gaze remains glued to the screen, as if the scene playing out before you could somehow drown out the tension crackling in the air.

“No,” you reply, your voice firm, laced with quiet defiance. You don’t bother to look at him; the anger radiating from him is palpable enough. His scoff is filled with derision, the sound grating against your nerves. “I said get up. I’m not asking, I’m telling you,” he spits, his words sharp as glass.

Reluctantly, you drag your eyes away from the screen and turn to face him. The sight of him only intensifies the knot of irritation in your chest. His jaw is clenched, his eyes flashing with barely restrained fury. Something has clearly set him off, and by the look on his face, it’s bad.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work? What are you doing here?” you snap, suspicion lacing your tone. It’s rare for him to come home in the middle of the day, especially with this kind of energy. Your eyes narrow, trying to gauge the storm brewing beneath his composed exterior.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to be at work,” he snarls, “but instead, I get a call from your mother asking about your whereabouts because you can’t seem to pick up your damn phone.” His voice is rising, the anger simmering just below the surface. You roll your eyes, dismissing the seriousness he’s trying to impress upon you.

“My phone was flat. I was charging it in my room,” you say with a shrug, your tone indifferent, as if that alone should explain everything. To you, it’s a non-issue, not worth the confrontation. “Why couldn’t she just call Anita? Or literally any of the staff?”

Rafe’s eyes narrow, his frustration bubbling over. “Did you forget that today is a public holiday? No one is here,” he snaps, his words dripping with condescension. His hands drop to his hips as he lets out a loud, exasperated sigh, trying to rein in his temper. “She wants to see you at her house, now,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. The demand in his voice is clear—this is not a request.

You open your mouth to argue, to push back against his orders, but the words die in your throat. There’s no point in resisting when he’s like this—volatile and unyielding. “Fine, just let me get my shoes,” you huff, annoyance prickling at you as you stand up. He steps aside, giving you space to pass, but as you brush by him, you hear his muttered curse, low but unmistakable.

“Fucking brat.” The words hit you like a slap, stinging more than you care to admit. You pause for a fraction of a second before continuing your stride, your back stiff with indignation. “I heard that, you prick,” you call out over your shoulder, your voice sharp, the anger simmering beneath the surface finally finding an outlet. You don’t bother to turn around; you’ve already given him enough of your attention.

You let out a sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down on you as you shut the door of Rafe’s car. The air outside is thick with the late afternoon heat, but it does little to warm the chill that runs down your spine as you gaze up at your parents’ house. The grand facade looms before you, imposing and uninviting, its elegant walls holding more secrets than comfort.

You wonder, not for the first time, why your mother has summoned you here so urgently. The unease you feel is only deepened by the knowledge that nothing good ever comes from such unexpected calls. As you begin the walk towards the front door, you glance back over your shoulder at Rafe. He’s leaning casually against the bonnet of his car, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes focused on his watch as if your family drama is just another inconvenience in his day.

His indifference grates on your nerves, and you roll your eyes, turning away from him. He isn’t coming inside, leaving you to face whatever awaits you alone. The door opens before you even reach it, your parents’ butler standing there with a solemn expression. He nods curtly, directing you to the drawing room where your mother waits. His silence feels like a warning, but you push it aside, forcing your feet to move forward.

The house is eerily quiet, the only sound the soft click of your heels against the polished floors. When you reach the drawing room, you pause for a moment, hand resting on the door handle. Steeling yourself, you push the door open and step inside. The room is dimly lit, heavy drapes partially drawn against the late afternoon sun.

Your mother’s back is turned to you, her posture rigid as she stares out the window, her reflection a ghostly figure in the glass. “Did you not think I wouldn't notice?” Her voice cuts through the silence, sharp and cold, freezing you in place. A shiver runs through you as your body tenses instinctively at her tone.

“Notice what?” you ask slowly, the words cautious as you take a few steps into the room. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach as you approach her, the air thick with unspoken accusations. You move towards the armchair, lowering yourself into it with deliberate calm, though your heart pounds in your chest.

Your mother doesn’t turn to face you. Instead, she lifts her teacup with a graceful hand, taking a delicate sip before setting it back on the table beside her. The soft clink of porcelain is the only sound that fills the room, heightening your anxiety.

“Oh, don’t act stupid now, dear,” she says with a chuckle, the sound low and mocking. The corners of her lips curl into a smile, but it’s anything but warm. It’s the kind of smile that sends a chill down your spine, a predator’s grin before the strike. You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry as you struggle to maintain your composure.

The metallic taste of blood filled your mouth as you bit down on your trembling lip, trying to keep yourself from breaking down completely. Your vision blurred, the tears that you had fought so hard to hold back now clouding your sight as you stepped out into the harsh afternoon sun.

Rafe was still where you had left him, leaning lazily against the bonnet of his car, his expression one of bored impatience. He barely glanced up at the sound of your footsteps crunching against the gravel. But as you drew closer, he turned his head, his eyes narrowing as he took in your appearance.

“Finally, haven’t got all fuckin’ day—” Rafe’s words trailed off as his eyes narrowed, his irritation quickly giving way to something else, something unfamiliar. Concern? It felt foreign to him, this sudden urge to care about what was happening to you. His eyes widened slightly when he saw the state you were in—your eyes red and swollen from crying, cheeks streaked with tears, and most telling of all, the angry redness of a handprint still visible on your skin.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice softer now, laced with a concern he wasn’t used to feeling, especially not for you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to answer. But you couldn’t bring yourself to answer. The tries you had tried so hard to keep from falling fell, and the sobs that had been building inside you came rushing out, unstoppable and raw.

Your hands flew to your face as if to hide from him, from the world, from the humiliation and pain that you couldn’t bear to show. Rafe hesitated for a moment, wanting to tell you to pull yourself together. But something in the way you crumpled in front of him, so broken and vulnerable, made him pause.

Without a second thought, he closed the distance between you, his annoyance evaporating as he pulled you into his arms. The gesture surprised him as much as it did you. His hold was firm yet gentle, one hand cradling the back of your head as the other wrapped around your waist, anchoring you to him.

It was as if his body moved on its own, instinctively knowing that this was what you needed, even if he didn’t fully understand why. “It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically soothing, a contrast to the cold, distant tone he usually reserved for you. His fingers tangled in your hair as he tried to calm you, his touch surprisingly tender as he stroked your back, letting you cry against him.

For once, his usual rough edges were softened, and all you could feel was the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his breathing, grounding you in the midst of your anguish. As you clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt, Rafe found himself torn between confusion and something deeper. This wasn’t how he was supposed to feel—this protectiveness, this need to shield you from whatever had hurt you.

You were supposed to be an inconvenience, a pawn in a game neither of you had wanted to play. But now, with you trembling in his arms, he couldn’t ignore the tightness in his chest, the way his heart ached at the sight of your pain. He had always prided himself on keeping his emotions in check, on maintaining that distance between the two of you. But now, as he held you close, something inside him was shifting, softening in a way that scared him.

He didn’t want to care, didn’t want to feel this pull towards you that was growing stronger with every passing second. Yet here he was, unable to pull away, unable to stop himself from wanting to protect you, even if he didn’t fully understand why. Rafe didn’t say anything more, didn’t know what to say as you continued to cry against his chest.

The world around you faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in that moment—one filled with pain, but also with a strange sense of comfort. For the first time, Rafe allowed himself to be vulnerable too, to let down the walls he had so carefully constructed. And as he held you, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was more to this marriage than he had ever let himself believe.

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liliacamethyst · 2 years ago

Text

Web of Secrets - Miguel O'Hara

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 3.7K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

In your universe, you are known as the Sun Spider. It all started on a school field trip to a solar energy research center, where you were accidentally exposed to a spider that had been subjected to intense solar radiation. You woke up with a white-hot surge of power, and your life changed forever. You donned a suit of pure white, taking the name that reflected both your newfound abilities and the brightness you brought into the world: Spider-Sun.

Your ability to harness solar energy and transform it into powerful blasts or create protective shields made you a formidable superhero in your home city, Nea Yorkey. Your ability to bring light to even the darkest corners of your city earned you the love of its citizens.

However, everything changed when you were suddenly pulled into the Spider-Verse.

Upon arriving, you were greeted by the gruff leader of this interdimensional team of Spider-People, Miguel O'Hara. His reputation preceded him - the genius intellect, the imposing figure, the gruff demeanor. Everyone respected him, and some even feared him. You, on the other hand, were drawn to him. There was something about that guarded demeanor that called to your own sunny nature.

You became an integral part of the team, fighting off anomalies and working hard to maintain the balance in the Spider-Verse. And despite Miguel's stern exterior, you felt yourself falling for him.

One mission was particularly rough, and you found yourself alone with Miguel in a safe house, nursing your wounds. His usually stern face softened as he tended to your injuries. The distance that he usually maintained was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank you, Miguel," you whispered.

He looked at you, his usually hard eyes soft. "You fought well, mi sol."

There was a moment of silence, a strange tension hanging in the air. Then, Miguel leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was filled with unexpected passion.

In that moment, you were not the Sun Spider, and he was not the Spider-Man 2099. You were just two people, seeking solace in each other.

Afterwards, as you laid side by side, Miguel turned to you, a serious look on his face. "This...this can't be more than what it is. Just...you know, stress relief," he muttered, his voice just above a whisper.

His words wounded you. Naturally, they did. He had reduced your relationship to mere stress relief, as if you were some object devoid of feelings. Yet, in spite of it all, you fell for him. Perhaps you were naive, even foolish, but you didn't care. You yearned for him and were ready to accept any fraction of affection he was willing to offer, no matter how small.

During the day, as you fought alongside him against the anomalies threatening the Spider-Verse, his attention toward you was sparse. He mostly shared only necessary information, barely making eye contact. Sometimes he didn't speak at all, and you and the rest of the team would receive mission orders and briefings from Lyla, his AI assistant.

But at night, when the two of you were alone, he became a different person. He'd whisper praises into your ear, telling you how exceptionally you fought, how much he desired you. He showed you his hidden vulnerability under the cover of darkness, the sheets their only witness. He'd gently stroke your hair and peppered your jaw and temple with kisses until you fell asleep, only for you to wake up the next morning to an empty, cold spot where he once lay.

This cycle - his coldness by day, and the fervor by night - repeated itself relentlessly for months.

And so, this is how you find yourself: disoriented, frenzied, and on the verge of tears, seated on the couch of your best friend, Peter B. Parker, in Earth-616. Cradled in your arms is his sweet daughter, Mayday, who, with her innocent touch, tries to console you. Yet her wide eyes dart anxiously to her father, reflecting her own alarm at your distress.

Peter rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe we should wait until MJ gets home?" he suggests, then, with a furrowed brow, he asks, “Have you tried talking to Jess about this?”

You shake your head vigorously. "No, I haven't told anyone. I have no idea what to do," you confess, your voice breaking.

Peter, ever the caring friend, gently takes Mayday from your arms and sets her down. He turns back to face you with a sympathetic gaze. “Do you..eh.. know who the father is?” he inquires softly.

You shake your head again, even though deep down, you know the truth. “The father is out of the picture. He doesn’t know, and he never will because he doesn’t want kids,” you whisper, fighting back tears.

As you and Peter sit down on the couch in his cozy living room, you find a sense of comfort being around him. His experience as both a superhero and a parent seems like it could be a beacon in this storm you're facing. The room is quiet, save for the soft ticking of a clock on the wall.

“You know, Peter,” you begin, your voice almost a whisper. “I’m terrified. What if the baby has powers? How am I going to protect them, especially if...if I can’t stop fighting anomalies?”

Peter looks thoughtful. “That’s a valid concern. First, you should know that you don’t have to do this alone. There’s a whole community of us, and we stick together. If the child does have powers, she or he will be badass like Mayday, right?”

You nod slowly but then anxieties pile on top of each other in your mind. “But... how can I hide this? Nobody and I mean nobody is supposed to know that I’m pregnant. Especially not...” You trail off, not finishing the sentence.

Peter rubs his chin, deep in thought. “We could look into modifying your suit, maybe talk to some tech geniuses in the Spider-Verse about creating something that can shield or conceal the pregnancy.”

You roll your eyes. “That kinda defies the ‘nobody is allowed to know ‘ordeal, Peter. You have to promise me that this stays between us.”

“I promise,” Peter says sincerely.

Silence fills the room again, and then you voice another fear. “Peter, what if...what if I’m not a good mother? What if I mess this up?”

Peter smiles warmly. “You know, I had those same fears when Mayday was born. I think it’s normal for any parent. But, take it from me, the fact that you’re worried about being a good parent means you’re already on the right track. You’ve got a good heart. Trust it.”

You look down at your hands, fingers interlaced. “Thank you, Peter. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” he says with a reassuring smile. “We’re family, in this weird, Spider-Verse kind of way. But maybe… and I am sayig this as a father myself… reconsider telling the father. I can’t imagine any guy wanting to give up this.” He says, pointing to his precious daughter playing with a napkin she found on the floor.

"Maybe you should reconsider telling the father," Peter's words are echoing in your mind like a haunting melody. A part of you yearns for that possibility. Perhaps you're not alone in this. Maybe, just maybe, Miguel wants this as much as you do.With newfound resolve, you set off for the Spider-Verse headquarters, expecting to find Miguel tucked away in his office, immersed in maintaining the spider verse or as he calls it "arachno- something-multiverse-thingy” or something similar to that.

Upon reaching his office door, you pound on it sharply. No response. Frowning, you knock again, a little harder this time. When silence continues to greet you, you slowly turn the doorknob and peek inside. There he is, hunched over his desk, lost in a world of numbers and codes.

"Miguel, I-" you start, but his sharp voice cuts you off.

"No," he interrupts, his tone cold. "Did I say you can come in? Dios mio, why are you always so damn clingy?"

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stare at him, taken aback by his blatant disregard for your feelings. You can feel the beginnings of tears prick at the corner of your eyes, but you will them away.

He doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it like that. This mantra plays over and over in your head, like a broken record. You take a deep breath, forcing down the hurt his words cause.

"Look, Miguel," you begin, struggling to keep your voice steady. "There’s something we need to talk about, and I think it's important for you to listen to me."

“Fucking hell, woman! What exactly don’t you understand. I’m busy. I don’t care about your little problems, right now.” he barks, not even looking up.

“Miguel,” you speak up, forcing the words out through clenched teeth, “ I’ve never asked anything from you. Not once have did I ask you to stay, to feel the same I feel, to fucking talk to me when people are around. Please all I am asking you is to just ... listen to me, fpr once.” Your voice grows stronger as you speak, a determined fire igniting within you.

Miguel finally looks up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he seems taken aback by the resolve he saw there.

He rubs his temples. “Can we do this later?”

“No!” you shout. “It’s always later with you. You’re like...like a ghost. Just a figure in the hallway. I don’t need a figure, I need a person! I need someone who listens when...”

He glares at you, his eyes narrowing. “Okay, okay I will listen just not now. Whatever it is, it can wait.”

“No, it can’t,” you retort, your voice shaking a bit. “Why is it that every time I try to talk to you, you just brush me off? Am I that insignificant to you?”

He stands up abruptly, the chair skidding behind him. “This? This is what you want to talk about?” he says with a tone of annoyance. “Look, I have a million things to deal with and-”

“And what? And I’m not one of them? Just five minutes, Miguel! That’s all I ask!”

The room is tense. Your heart is racing. His eyes are fiery. It's a standoff.

“And what is so important that you have to disrupt everything right now?” he challenges.

Your breath catches in your throat. This is it. You're about to say it.

“I...” you stammer. “I need to tell you that...”

Suddenly, the door to the office swings open and Jess storms in.

“Miguel, we have a major issue in Sector 12! The anomalies...” she starts, then catches sight of your tear-streaked face. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

Miguel seems to shake off the tension and slips back into commander mode. “No nothing important. What’s happening in Sector 12?”

You can't believe it. Just like that, he turns away. It feels like your heart is being squeezed.

Jess starts rattling off data and scenarios. The two of them are talking, but you don’t hear it anymore. All you can think of is how you almost told him. How you just wanted five minutes.

Your hands shake and you quietly step out of the room. The door closes behind you, and it feels like a chapter that you can’t read has been sealed away.

The next day you are on Earth-8311, an anthropomorphic animal-dominated universe. It's the home of Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham, and you can't help but find it amusing.

The mission: to transport an anomaly, which resembles an enormous floating jellyfish, back to its home universe. It's been pure chaos here, and you are determined to set things right.

The team: Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker. You're all in your suits, eyes sharp, and webs at the ready.

"Alright, Spiders. Let's round this jelly up and send it home," Peter B. Parker takes charge, shooting a web towards a nearby building.

You swing alongside him, your thoughts a whirlwind. The world around you blurs - the animal citizens, the bustling cityscape, the strange yet familiar surroundings.

The anomaly appears before you, thrashing and pulsating as it floats through the sky. It releases blasts of energy that ripple through the air.

"Watch out, Sunny!" Gwen calls out as she dodges a blast.

You, however, are a split second too late. Your reflexes are off, your movements sluggish. The blast sends you spiraling towards the ground.

Hobie swings in and catches you mid-air, his guitar strapped on his back. “Get it together, Sun!” he shouts over the noise, his punk-styled hair waving wildly.

You shake off your daze and look up to see Peter B. Parker shooting webs to pull the anomaly back down, while Gwen is deploying a device to open a portal back to its home universe.

Your heart races as you focus on the task at hand. You need to get this right, not just for yourself, but for the life you’re now carrying. Your suit seems to glow even brighter in the chaos.

With a final combined effort, you manage to lasso the anomaly and push it through the portal. The anomaly disappears, and the portal closes behind it.

The team regroups on a rooftop. Gwen is catching her breath, Hobie is tuning his guitar, and Peter B. Parker gives you a concerned look.

“Are you okay?” Gwen asks, her voice laced with worry. “You weren’t yourself up there.”

The weight of the secret you’re carrying feels unbearable. But you're not ready to share it.

“Promise me you won’t tell Miguel about this,” you say, your voice barely audible.

Gwen raises an eyebrow, while Hobie crosses his arms. Peter B. Parker simply nods.

“Nah, Bossman doesn’t need to know about this,” Hobie says, and there’s a firmness in his voice that is strangely comforting.

Back in the HQ, your head spins, and your stomach feels like it's doing somersaults. You mumble a quick excuse about feeling nauseous and practically sprint to the nearest restroom.

Meanwhile, Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker head to the cafeteria to grab something to eat.

As they sit down at a table with their trays, Gwen breaks the silence. “Is it okay if I say that this mission was kind of easy? Like, I’ve seen Sunny take down Doc Ock from Earth-818, and she did that without any problem. So what was that today?” Gwen’s concern is apparent.

Hobie, munching on a sandwich, nods in agreement. "Yeah, it's like her spidey senses were jammed or somethin'. Never seen her like that before."

Peter B. Parker looks thoughtfully at his sandwich, then glances up at Gwen and Hobie. He’s torn, having promised you to keep your secret but also wanting your friends to understand why you were off your game.

"You guys remember when she fought Morlun on Earth-001? She was a totally smashin’ it, and today, she nearly got turned into spider-paste by a floating jellyfish. That ain’t right," Hobie adds.

Gwen’s eyes suddenly widen. "Oh my God! Do you think she’s in trouble? Like, something from her universe? Or maybe she's having an identity crisis! Should we stage an intervention?"

Peter B. Parker clears his throat. “Maybe she’s just having an off day.”

Gwen’s eyes narrow as she scrutinizes Peter. “You know something, don’t you?”

Peter scratches the back of his head, obviously uncomfortable. “Nope, no idea.”

Hobie puts down his sandwich and leans in. "Oi, mate. Spill your guts. There's something dodgy going on. She's always been our burst of sunshine, lifting the mood. But now she's... dimmed. What's going on with our Sunny, Parker?"

Before Peter B. Parker could answer Gwen’s barrage of questions, Jess - Spider-Woman - appears, her belly showing. She takes a seat at the table and, oblivious to the serious conversation that was taking place, asks them about their latest mission.

"So, how did your mission go?" Jessica asks, while munching on her Burger.

"Nothing to report, Jess," Gwen answers, a little too quickly, her face all sunshine and false smiles. Peter simply nod in agreement.

“Yah, all good!” Hobie chimes in, flashing a grin that seems a little too bright.

“How about you? How are you holding up?” Peter asks Jess, trying to steer the conversation away from the mission.

Jessica shrugs, not overly concerned, and bites into her burger. "'M good. You know, I'm so glad I can finally eat a burger again. At the beginning of my pregnancy, practically every food made me nauseous, especially after swinging around on missions.”

Suddenly, there's a moment of collective realization among Gwen, Hobie. It’s as if their spider senses are tingling in unison. They exchange knowing looks, all of them silently putting the pieces together.

Gwen’s eyes are wide, Hobie’s eyebrows are raised, and they both turn to look at Peter, who simply nods.

Jess, noticing the silent exchange, squints at them. “What is up with you guys? You’re acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.”

“Uh, nothin’!” Hobie says, a little too quickly.

“Yeah, just tired from the mission,” Gwen adds, trying to play it cool.

Jess rolls her eyes and stands up. “Alright, weirdos. I’m gonna go find some normal people to talk to,” she says jokingly and walks away.

After she leaves, the trio leans in.

“Sunny’s pregnant, isn’t she?” Gwen whispers.

Hobie's eyes are as wide as saucers. “That would explain everything!”

Peter B. Parker nods. “We need to be there for her, but remember, it’s her news to share when she’s ready.”

They make a pact to support you without pushing you to reveal anything before you're ready.

As you walk back into the cafeteria, you find your friends huddled together. They break apart when they see you and welcome you back with smiles and light conversation, but something in their demeanor is different but you can’t put your finger on it. They are being more attentive, considerate, and frankly, a little too curious about your well-being.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sunny?" Gwen asks for the third time since you sat down. Her concern is genuine, but her intensity is slightly off-putting.

"Yeah, do you need anything?" Hobie offers, his eyes gleaming with unspoken curiosity. "Food, drink, or maybe... pickles?" Pickles? Thats oddly specific.

There's a burst of laughter from Gwen, and even Peter is suppressing a chuckle.

"What's up with the pickles?" You ask, looking at them suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing!" Gwen says, a little too quickly, trying to hold back her laughter.

"Hmm, pickles and ice cream, a weird combo, innit?" Hobie wonders aloud, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Again, there's suppressed laughter, and you look at each of them, a realization slowly dawning on you. You turn to Peter, your gaze steady and serious. "You told them, didn't you?" Peter looks shocked, but quickly composes himself. "I didn't exactly tell them, per se," he confesses, "I might've confirmed their suspicions when they asked, but they figured it out on their own. Spider senses and all that jazz.”

Before you could respond, Gwen and Hobie jump in, both talking over each other in an attempt to apologize.

"We're sorry, Sunny," Gwen says sincerely. "We didn't mean to invade your privacy, it's just that... we're worried about you. Please don’t be mad."

Hobie nods, adding, "And we're right behind ya, whatever comes our way. We've got your back, no doubt about it."

You are happy, while the situation isn't ideal, but at least you're not alone. You have friends who care about you and, despite their unconventional way of showing it, they are there for you. You smile, comforted by their concern, and grateful for their support.

"Yeah," you finally say, "I guess we’re gonna need a lot more pickles and ice cream around here, huh?"

“Sooo...who’s the dad? Is he hot?” Gwen, leaning on the table with her elbows, asks shyly after a while.

You let out a long sigh, “He’s very hot... but also a colossal jerk.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “You took my advice and talked to him then?”

You shake your head, your eyes starting to well up. “No, I tried. But he wouldn’t listen to me. He was busy, and I guess I wasn’t important enough. So, the baby won’t be either,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hobie's eyes narrow, and his face is flushed with anger. "Who's this bloke, eh? I swear on me nan's grave, I'll give him a right proper earful! No one treats our Sunny like a tosser and gets away with it!"

Gwen jumps in, her eyes wide with speculation, “Wait, is he a Spider? Is it Peter? Or the other Peter? Or—”

“Guys, guys!” you cut them off, your voice cracking. “Please, it doesn’t matter. He made it clear where I stand, and it’s not with him.”

There’s a silence that settles over the table as your friends look at each other and then back to you. Their faces are a mix of concern, sadness, and frustration.

Peter B. is the first to break the silence. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You’ve got us. If the dad doesn’t want to step up, then he’s missing out on something amazing.”

Gwen nods, her eyes firm with resolve. “Yeah, we’re family. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Hobie, still fuming, finally calms down enough to say, "All you gotta do is whistle, love, and we'll be there in a blink. Even if it means thumping some manners into this mystery idiot."

You can't help but crack a small smile, despite the tears. You’re overwhelmed by the love and support your friends are giving you.

“Thanks, guys. You don't know how much this means to me.”

They all reach out and there’s a group hug right in the middle of the cafeteria. You didn’t know how much you needed this until it happened.

Part 2 “Webs of Fate”

a/n: Thank you guys for all your love on this fic so far.I really appreciate each like, comment, reblog <3. I still can’t reply to your comments so please if you want to tagged (and are not already) comment on part 2 and I’ll do my best and add you.Also I am open to requests, critic and wishes. Have a wonderful day. xx

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