#i made it through!!! everything!!! i did it!!!

[gurugirl]

Maybe Fate

MAIN MASTERLIST

This was first posted on Patreon one year ago! Figured I’d share it here with y’all on tumblr! 💕

Summary: The first time you meet Harry is under odd circumstances. But the second time you meet him it feels like fate. Well, if you believe in that sort of thing.

A/N: I have a couple of songs linked through to Spotify if you are interested in listening to set the scene - it's not necessary, though!

Word Count: 8,347

Warning: smut, cuteness, loud sex that can be heard by others

..

Your roommate K had some gall. You could hear her and whoever it was she brought home from the bar going at it for what seemed like an exaggerated amount of time. How was it possible that they could last that long? Why were they still having sex?

As annoying as it was to lose sleep (you had a test in the morning so it was a little more than just annoying) you could admit, it did sound like she was getting it good.

The man, who you’d not yet seen and probably would not be seeing, had a deep voice. And not just any deep voice. He sounded—hot. You couldn’t hear everything that that he said but he was vocal and he was definitely talking dirty to her.

Of course, there was also her bed wildly bouncing and frame smacking into the wall which told you he was plowing her in a way that made you a little jealous. You hadn’t been laid in a while. It was your senior year at university and you were busting your ass like the good student you were. You needed a good grade to get the internship you were up for that summer.

So sleep was vital. And here you were listening as K was getting the life fucked out of her. She sounded like she was crying but then you’d hear her long drawn-out moans of pleasure…

You stuffed your pillow over your head and groaned. If you failed your test the following day you’d be having a word with her about proper roommate etiquette. They could keep it down. There was no way they weren’t aware you could hear every little thing happening on her bed. You could even hear their bodies colliding every time he thrust into her.

Jesus. You needed sleep. But you also needed to get laid.

. . .

You didn’t fail your test, but you barely passed. But a passing grade was a passing grade you thought to yourself as you ordered your cappuccino. You were exhausted. Memories of what had kept you up had you rolling your eyes.

K was nice. You didn’t know her well, though. You were renting a small two-bedroom apartment and found it through an ad she’d posted. It would have been nice to have a place of your own but who could afford that? So, being stuck with K was more out of necessity than anything. You didn’t have much choice.

And up until the night before you’d really had no major complaints. She was six years older than you and had a regular job. She brought men home from time to time but nothing like her most recent Casanova that shook the whole apartment. And it was funny to you how she was always out partying and drinking while you stayed in on the weekends and studied til your eyes bulged out of your head. It should have been the opposite with you being the college kid and her the more mature adult.

Your plan had been to go home and crawl back into bed to catch up on the sleep you’d missed out on. But when you walked into your apartment you realized that K was still home. Which was odd since it was midday Thursday. Normally she was working.

You tossed your bag in your room and toed off your tennis shoes before making your way to the shared bathroom in the hallway and pushing open the door.

But instead of finding the bathroom unoccupied, you were met with a naked man who looked just as surprised as you were, “Oh shit!��

You turned quickly and put your hands over your eyes, “Sorry! Oh my god!”

The shock of seeing a man’s naked dick when you were not expecting it had you a bit dazed.

“Sorry, I’m covered now. Sorry,” you heard his voice and realized immediately who the offender was. The rowdy Casanova from the night before.

You kept your fingers over your eyes as you turned and slowly parted your digits to make sure it was safe.

He laughed and you verified he was indeed covered. But you did notice all the tattoos on his chest and arms, and his dark curls and soft green eyes… Yeah K was a lucky girl. Damn.

You didn’t stare long, though. But you could tell his body looked like he had a lot of stamina, and after everything you’d heard the night before you understood it all now.

“I’m Harry,” he held a hand out to you in greeting.

You smiled up at him and slid your palm into his, “Y/n. Uh… I’m guessing you’re K’s friend?”

He laughed again. Even his laugh was attractive with a big grin and nice teeth, “Yeah. I guess you could call me her friend.”

“Got it,” you nodded as you backed up out of the bathroom, “Well, I’ll come back when you’re done in here. Honestly didn’t mean to see…” you waved your hand around, “any of that.”

. . .

You didn’t see Harry again after that. You did hear him again the following night, though. But this time you had a picture in your head of the man who was obliterating K with that big thing between his legs and his nicely built body with broad shoulders and thick, muscled thighs.

It was no wonder she was crying out in ecstasy. You wondered if she’d need to repaint the wall where the frame was knocking into the plaster repeatedly. Wondered if other neighbors could hear (surely they could). Wondered what position he was putting her in and how he might look doing it.

Then you heard a loud pop and K’s choked gasp and then another three or four pops. He was spanking her.

You rolled your eyes so hard you felt the force of your sockets nearly separate from your eyeballs. It wasn’t fair. God, what you wouldn’t give to have a man that looked like that fucking you so hard into your mattress you were a blubbering mess and then to have him spank you with those big hands…

You could almost see the dimpled smirk on his face as he landed his palms over her bum. You could hear his voice but it was difficult to make out the words he was saying over the racket of the squeaky bed and K’s high-pitched moans.

And once again, the amount of stamina he had to last as long as he did was quite amazing to you. Most of the guys you’d slept with couldn’t keep going like that or they’d come too fast.

But of course, the longer they lasted, the less sleep you were awarded.

. . .

Graduating from university felt different than you imagined it would. Nothing much really changed. You envisioned getting that internship and starting a new life and making new friends with people who had the same interests as you.

But instead, you found yourself not getting picked for the internship even though you were more than qualified, and moving back in with your parents once your lease with K was up.

Honestly, it felt a lot like high school again, except this time you needed to get a job. And as it turned out having your engineering degree meant zilch when you had no experience to speak of. So you were forced to find something that had nothing to do with the framed certificate hung on the wall in your childhood bedroom.

So that’s why you needed a night out or something. Something to break up the monotony of what this very disappointing after-graduation life looked like so far.

“I know it might sound really lame, but I am going bowling with some friends. On Fridays, they have $10 pitchers of beer and pizza. Cheap fun.” Your cousin, Lee, told you over the phone when you called to find out what her plans were.

But even if you were terrible at bowling, beer and pizza with adults your age sounded really fun. You needed to get out of your parent's house and do anything else. Bowling sounded more appealing than listening to your dad talk about his coworkers and what time he was gonna light up the grill and make hamburgers (then hear him complain about how you don’t eat meat).

Rocket Soul Bowl was one of those dirty, old bowling alleys. The parking lot was filled with potholes and had weeds growing up through the cracks and the inside smelled of stale cigarette smoke, had dim lighting, with old school rock and R&B playing. It was perfect.

Well. Better than watching your parents eat hamburgers while you stuck with chips and potato salad.

You found Lee with one of her friends after you got your used (and hopefully sanitized) bowling shoes and she already had a pitcher of beer on the table with plastic cups.

“Y/n!” She jumped up and hugged you, “This is Chris,” she gestured toward the guy who stood up to reach his hand out for you to shake. “We’re waiting on Harry. And then we’ll start bowling and order pizza.”

You smiled at Lee and Chris and then poured beer into your cup as you sat down on the hard, smooth plastic bench at the table. It wasn’t often you heard the name Harry. Immediately your mind went to the tall curly-headed man with tattoos. Part of you thought how funny it would be if that was the Harry who was meeting up with your cousin at the bowling alley. In all the world, to have it be the same Harry seemed impossible.

But when a Bill Withers song began playing over the speakers and Chris stood up to greet someone who approached you from behind, “Hey man! Good to see you!” It was like something inside of you just knew. Before you even heard his voice or looked at his green eyes.

Placing your plastic cup down you stood up and turned to see him. Harry hugged Lee but the moment they parted from the hug he saw you and the smile on his face changed to a flirty grin. “Y/n, what a surprise. Are you the cousin?” You noted he had a black helmet tucked under his arm.

You nodded and looked at Lee and back at Harry, “Yeah. I’m Lee’s cousin. You guys know each other?”

Lee laughed, “For years. Wait? You know Harry?”

Before you could speak Harry grabbed your hand and pulled you into his side, draping his arm over your shoulder, “We do,” he looked down at you, “Intimately.”

Chris laughed and you shook your head, pushing yourself out from under his arm, “We know each other, but not really. Definitely not intimately. He’s joking,” you laughed.

Harry’s demeanor did not falter, “But we do, Y/n. You’ve seen my cock and balls and bush. I’d say that’s intimate.”

You looked at Lee, still shaking your head, “No, that was an accident–“

“She’s playing shy. Knows very well some other very intimate details about me as well,” he kept his eyes on you, the edge of his mouth playing upward in a smirk, “Isn’t that right?”

You rolled your eyes and laughed as you squinted at him, “You’re crazy.”

Harry pulled you back into his side and put his arm over your shoulder, “I am a little.”

When Lee put everyone’s name in the computer and the match started it was your turn first. You picked a bowling ball you liked the color of and stood along the lines on the slick floors and attempted to launch the ball down the center of the lane but once it got toward the end the ball suddenly veered to the left and only knocked down two pins.

You repeated your move, trying to make the ball stay toward the center but it rolled in nearly the same path as before, veering to the left at the end, this time hitting nothing before it rolled into the gutter and then it was Harry’s turn.

“Better luck next time, Cherry,” he eyed your shirt as he spoke and picked up his ball.

You were wearing a black t-shirt with cherries on the front with the words Have a cherry good time! You rolled your eyes as you sat down and sipped your beer. But inside you were feeling something other than annoyed. In fact, you could say you were quite pleased that Harry was there.

It turned out, as was no surprise, that you were a terrible bowler. So was Lee. Chris was good enough to hold his own, but what was surprising was how good Harry was. He claimed he rarely bowled, that it was just luck. But you weren’t sure about all that.

The four of you sat on the plastic chairs after your first set and ate pizza (you opted for cheese) with a fresh pitcher of beer, “I’m just good at most things I do. I have no idea why,” Harry laughed before taking a huge bite of his slice of pizza.

“It’s true. This guy just learns how to do something and immediately he’s good at it. In our sophomore year at university, I was on the track team and one day I was at practice and Harry just pops in because he wants to chat about something so I tell him I’ve got to run laps so he just goes with me. The whole team was out there practicing in our athletic gear, like just dragging and sweating and Harry’s in jeans and a t-shirt and he’s running next to me not even breaking a sweat. He held a whole conversation while we were full-on running without skipping a beat.”

Chris took a drink from his cup, “Oh, and then there was the time that girl was showing us how to play chess and Harry sits and watches and listens to her explain the game so he plays a round with her and he fucking beats her. Like?”

The four of you laugh but the truth is you’re a bit impressed. You also happen to know another thing he’s really good at, but you stop yourself from allowing that thought to develop further.

The next game you play, you also suck. You barely hit any pins but you were having such a good time you could have cared less. Of course, Harry was just strike after strike. One time he went up with his plastic cup, launched his ball with one hand while he took a sip of beer and hit all but two pins. On his next try, he threw the ball, knocking down the two remaining. But that was him showing off. His cocky grin aimed at you as he sat down.

But the best part was that he sat next to you every time he went back to the seats when his turn was over. He kept his arm over your shoulder with his thigh flush against yours.

It made you hot having him so close. Every time you looked down at his thighs you were reminded of that day you saw him. You knew what he looked like with no jeans covering his bottom half. And you knew those muscles were definitely good for something.

It was hard not to think about Harry that way. He was hot and he was flirty.

And when your mind was wandering into the figurative gutters (unlike the literal ones your bowling ball kept wandering into) about what he’d be like with you in bed you didn’t realize it was your turn as you listened to his husky voice with his arm over your shoulder and his fingers brushing the skin just under your t-shirt sleeve.

“Cherry girl, your turn,” he spoke into your ear, breaking you from your reverie.

Another bad round. You were terrible. You laughed as you turned back to see Harry right behind you waiting his turn, “Come here,” he pulled at your hand, “Let’s do this together. Your form is all wrong.”

“But if I bowl on your turn I’m gonna fuck up your score.”

Harry’s dimples poked into his cheeks as he smiled, “Why would I care about my score? I’m not making money on this or anything. Even if we hit no pins I’m still gonna win anyway. Now get your cute ass over here so we can figure out what’s going on.”

You coughed a laugh and looked back at Lee who was watching the exchange with her brows raised. Yeah, she’d been giving you looks the entire time. You were sure she thought you and Harry had something going on. You could only hope.

Harry moved you up to the line as he stood behind you with his hands on your shoulders and then he pushed his chest to your back, helping you hold the ball correctly, positioning your hands with his, “Hold it like this, yeah?” His voice vibrated off the shell of your ear and down the back of your neck.

“There, good girl, Cherry. Just like that.” He let go of your hands and then you felt his grip on the back of your hips, “We’re gonna take one step forward, and then as you bring your other leg up you’ll swing this back for momentum before pushing it out and letting it roll toward the pins. Follow my lead.”

He nudged you forward before putting one hand on your right arm, “Now bring it back,” he let you swing the ball back before you felt him push the ball in your hands, giving you a bit more oomph in your swing. “And release. Like that…” he stayed against your back as you both watched the ball roll down the lane and rather than either going directly into the gutter or only hitting the last two pins on the left it was almost center and hit half the pins.

You jumped up and spun around, “Oh my god! It worked!” He laughed as you hugged him and you felt his arms squeeze around your middle before letting you go.

“Now try it again. See if you can do the same thing I just showed you.”

You took your bowling ball and lined up, holding the ball upward as Harry showed you, and then moved to swing and release. The ball didn’t have as much power as when he had helped you but it still hit three more pins.

You jumped up and down and turned back, high-fiving Harry as you both took your seats next to one another. It felt good to hit more pins. Something about it was exhilarating and maybe it was the way Harry looked proud that had you feeling that excitement even more so. It didn’t matter, though. You were having so much fun.

But all good things must come to an end. When the last round was nearly over and you were still losing while Harry was blowing everyone out of the water, you were feeling a bit of anxiety at that being it. Maybe you’d never see him again. He hadn’t asked for your number and even though he was obviously flirting with you there was no guarantee it actually meant much of anything.

When Lee took her turn and a Bruce Springsteen song came on you felt Harry’s fingers move to the back of your neck, “What are you doing after this?”

You smiled as you looked at him, his face was incredibly close to yours, “No plans. You?”

“What a coincidence that two young and attractive people have no plans on a Friday night after bowling. Wouldn’t you say?”

You laughed as his fingers trailed over the skin on your neck, “Yeah. Wild coincidence.”

“Actually it is. Maybe fate even,” he grinned teasingly, “I’m pretty sure this means we’re meant to hang out after this. Me and you, Cherry. You can’t say no to fate.”

The smile on your face couldn’t be removed if anyone tried. Because maybe Harry was right. Maybe it was fate. Maybe the coincidences in life that we think of as just coincidences are more than just random occurrences.

“That’s true. Who can say no to fate.”

You watched him lick his lips before Lee sat at the computer and tallied up the score. Obviously, Harry had won, to no one’s surprise.

Everyone stood up to say their goodbyes. Lee hugged you as she pulled you toward the exit with Harry and Chris following behind after you’d dropped off your rented shoes, “So, you and Harry?”

You laughed and shook your head, “I don’t know. He invited me to hang out after this. Maybe just a little fun,” you raised your brows and Lee laughed.

Harry had a black motorcycle, which explained the helmet he had with him, that had coincidentally (once again) been parked right next to your little shitter car.

“Where are you parked?” He said as he looked at you. Lee and Chris were already headed away toward their cars.

You pointed to the car right next to Harry’s motorcycle, “That’s me.”

Harry’s eyes took in your old beater and he leaned against the door, “Wanna take a ride with me? I can bring you back to your car later.”

You nodded, “Should I have a helmet?”

Harry raised up the black one that he had, “You’ll wear this. Okay?”

“But what about you?”

Harry inched in closer to you as he unhooked the buckle on the helmet, “I’ll be fine. My place is pretty close if you want to go there,” he raised his brows at you in question.

“Oh. Sure. Okay.” His place.

“Yeah? Did you want to go somewhere else instead?” He pulled the helmet over your head and adjusted the straps as you looked at his face.

“Your place is fine, Harry. I’d like that.”

When he’d fixed the helmet tight to your head he looked at you and lowered his gaze over your frame with a sexy grin, “Cute.”

You’d never ridden on a motorcycle before. Harry got on first and held your hand to help you on behind him, “Put your arms around me and hold on.” Turned out you really enjoyed the ride. The cool night air whipped around your body while the world around you flew by in a fuzzy blur as Harry safely took you to your destination.

You liked sitting behind him and holding onto his waist. The smell of his cologne or soap was fresh and his body was warm. You felt like a different person on the back of that bike with Harry. You didn’t know what to expect exactly but that was part of the thrill.

Harry turned into an apartment complex and parked at the front before helping you off the bike, “This is my place,” he gestured toward the second floor of the building and then helped you take the helmet off. Which you didn’t need him to do but found you loved his attention on you.

Following behind Harry you walked up the steps to the second level and he got to his door and stuck his key in. Before he opened his door he turned to look at you, “Kind of messy inside. Didn’t expect to have company.”

When you stepped in and he turned on the lights you looked around. It was about as messy as seemed appropriate. Nothing crazy. An empty glass of water next to a bowl of what looked like dry cereal on the coffee table, a blanket bunched up on the couch, trainers by the door with socks tucked inside, and some books on the floor next to a chair by the couch.

“Would you like anything to drink? Water? Beer? Uh… that’s really all I’ve got.”

“Nah. I’m good. Thank you, Harry.”

He sat the helmet down on the coffee table and plopped onto the couch, patting the space next to him, “Come here, Cherry.”

You laughed and sat next to him. Harry pushed his arm over your shoulders, his body angled toward you, “You know that day you walked in on me in the bathroom?”

You raised a brow at him, looking up to his face, “Yeah?”

“I kind of wanted to get your number. Is that bad of me since I was there with K?”

You breathed a laugh through your nose, “A little bad. But why? Sounded like you really liked K.”

Harry cackled loudly and his body shook the couch as he gripped your shoulder, “I liked her. But she was just using me for my body,” he teased, “But seriously. You were so cute and then I never saw you again. Thought about you a few times after.”

You grinned as you squinted at him, “You did not think about me after. Seemed you forgot anyone else existed while you were in her bed that night.”

He watched your lips as you spoke and he nodded, “I tend to just give it my all when I’m with someone, casual or not. If other people happen to hear then that’s fine. I’ve got no shame.”

“Clearly,” you grinned.

Harry scrunched his brows and looked over your face, “What do you like, Y/n? Does it bother you when other people can hear you having sex?”

You dropped your mouth open and blinked at him in surprise, “I… Well, first of all, I don’t think anyone has ever overheard me having sex. It tends to be relatively quiet I guess?”

“Really? I don’t think I’ve ever had sex that was quiet. Unless I’m wanking myself off but that doesn’t count. So you like quiet sex, then?” He smirked at you and tucked his lips into his mouth.

You shook your head, “I just mean I haven’t had loud sex is all,” you smiled, “I think it could be fun. Sounded like it was fun…”

“It was. But I like to have fun. Bet you’d like it too.”

You were caught in the moment with Harry like there was a force that made looking away from him impossible. You smiled shyly and pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

“How are you this cute?” He lifted his hand up to your cheek and you watched his pupils wind over your features. “Cherry girl with cherry lips,” he settled his gaze on your irises, “Pretty eyes.”

He lowered his hand to brush his knuckles down your neck softly and you closed your eyes at the light touch as you released your bottom lip from your teeth.

“Likes her neck touched,” his voice lowered as he spoke, moving in closer to you, “Probably likes it kissed too. Yeah?”

You opened your eyes to look at him and nodded. You did like your neck kissed, that was true.

His thumb pressed the side of your neck as he looked at the skin under his fingers, “Is it okay if I do? Right here?”

“Yeah,” you spoke in a breath before you felt his warm pink lips on your skin and the whole world melted away the moment you felt his tongue lave up to your jaw.

He pressed gentle kisses down your neck and then up to the lobe of your ear, “Tastes like cherries,” his breath warming your skin and making you breakout in goosebumps as he continued using his mouth and tongue all around your skin, his damp lips leaving traces of his saliva in each spot he kissed.

Your breath deepened as you moved your hand to the top of his thigh, “Oh my god,” you whispered, not even realizing you’d spoken.

Harry smiled as he lowered his lips to the collar of your shirt, dotting the skin just above the fabric with pecks, and then you felt his hand grip the back of your head before his mouth was pressed against yours and now you were in space kissing the man that coincidence (or fate) had brought back into your life.

You moaned into his mouth as you placed your hands on his broad back and he leaned over you, moving your back into the couch and licking the seam of your lips before you pressed your tongue against his.

Soft and smooth kisses slowly became eager and wanton. Harry’s mouth and his hands directed the whole thing. He pushed your legs apart and settled himself down between them, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck.

When he lowered his mouth to your neck again you let out a helpless gasp and he puffed a laugh against your skin but he didn’t stop. You felt his mouth at the curve of where your neck and shoulder met as his free hand grasped your side, his hips pinning you down. It made you dizzy.

You pulled at his shirt, the material bunching in your hands so you could feel his skin under your palm. He was warm and even his back was strong. You could feel him flexing under your hand as he sat up and slid his shirt off over his head.

You followed suit, pushing yourself to sit up and remove your cherry t-shirt. Harry’s eyes honed in on your bra-covered breasts and he dipped down, cupping both sides with his hands and licking over the thin fabric to wet the spot right over your nipple. You were pushed back down into the couch as Harry’s lips worked over your bra and his hands squeezed.

He moaned as he used his thumb to pull the fabric down slowly and then pressed his lips to the plump skin on your tits where the fabric was pulled down.

“Take it off,” you moaned as Harry’s green eyes settled on yours and he pushed his hands behind your back to unhook your bra. He dropped his mouth to your clavicle as he worked to get your bra undone and when he’d finally had success you felt the material being pulled out from under your back as he dragged the bra from you and draped it over the back of the couch.

He dove in right away. Lips parted, tongue out as he wetted your skin and kissed your nipples one by one.

You put your hands into his hair, thick brown curls between your fingers as he began to lower his lips down to your belly button.

You quickly released his hair and unbuttoned your pants, giving him permission to take them off if he chose.

And he definitely did. With his lips parted and shiny he looked at you as he tugged your jeans down your legs before squeezing at your soft thighs running his palms up to your hips over your panties, “Fucking beautiful.”

He kneaded your tits in his hands again and then softly coaxed his hands down your sides to the tops of your thighs, pressing his fingers into the meat as he took you in.

You saw a grin pull up on his face as he dragged his thumb to the edge of the fabric of your panties, “You like me don’t you?”

You laughed, “Well I think that should be obvious, I’m sitting here in my panties in your apartment.”

Harry looked back down to your panties and smiled, “That you are. I can see just how much you like me too,” he looked up at you as he ran his knuckle down the crotch of your panties and that’s when you realized what he meant. You were wet through your panties.

Out of instinct, you began to close your legs when Harry held your thighs apart and tutted at you, “But guess what? I like you too. Want to get to know you real good, cherry. Wanna know just what you like and how you like it.”

You wiggled your toes as your heart pounded with your legs spread out for Harry to inspect as he pleased.

Harry looked up at you, letting go of your thighs, and began to unzip his jeans, “Wanna see how much I like you?”

You nodded and laughed nervously as you watched him peel his jeans off and you could see the clear erection under his briefs. It was curved to the left a bit, tucked under the band of his underwear until he reached his hand in and positioned his cock upward.

You swallowed. You weren’t sure where to look. His strong thighs, his soft abs, his muscled pecs, or the glorious thick erection bulging at this underwear.

Tonight was your lucky night you decided.

“See? Pretty good match yeah?” He grinned as he smoothed his hands over your thighs again and up to your panties, “What do you want, Y/n? Should we take this further?”

You nodded, “Yes.”

He licked his lips again as he looked at your pretty face, “Okay. How far do you want to go with me?”

You inhaled and blinked your eyes. You wanted it all. Wanted whatever he wanted. Hoped he wanted to fuck you with that big thing but you weren’t sure that’s what he meant. Maybe he didn’t–“

Harry leaned over you and cupped your jaw gently, “Seems you’re overthinking a little so I’ll make this easy for you. I’ll tell you what I want and you just tell me if you like that or not. Okay?”

You nodded.

“First I want to touch you, under your panties. Get my fingers nice and wet, finger you a little. Then I want to taste it. Lick you up and down, make you feel good. Then I want to take you to my bed and have loud sex with you so everyone can hear how good I’m making you feel, how good you’re making me feel. Sound good?”

A cracked moan fell from your lips as you nodded, “Yeah. I like that.”

Harry’s grin widened as he let go of your face and brought both hands down to your panties, “Good. Then let’s get rid of these.”

You felt the wetness on the fabric as they were moved down your legs and then Harry’s fingers were running through your labia up and down. His eyes focused on your bare pussy.

When he pressed over your clit he watched your face and hissed when he saw your brows scrunch up and your lips part, “Right there, yeah? You like that?”

You nodded with your bottom lip bit into your mouth, looking from his face to where his thumb was pressed.

He used his free hand to push at your thigh as he continued stroking his fingers up and down, glazing his digits in your arousal before you felt him press at your entrance slowly.

“Open up for me, cherry… there we go, sweet girl. Fuck me…” he watched as he pressed two fingers inside slowly, your pussy wet and puffy. “So pretty. Look at tha’” he watched his fingers slide in and out and back in to his knuckles with the gushy sound of your pussy being fucked by his fingers.

“Oh god…” you breathed out your words when he put his thumb back over your clit and began to press and circle as he continued pressing his fingers through your walls.

And the way he fingered you was only making you more wet, making you feel desperate. You moaned and ran your hands up your tummy to your tits, as you watched Harry’s arms flex as he fucked his fingers into you and stroked your front wall.

“Fuck that smells so good, cherry,” he kept his eyes on your cunt as he lowered himself down, “Gotta have some of this.”

It couldn’t have gotten any better than it was. Harry’s fingers already felt better than they should’ve but it did, in fact, get better. Because his big mouth and wide tongue on your clit had you unable to think straight as you let out a whine.

He kept his long fingers inside of you as he focused his lips and tongue on your clit. He could have taught a masterclass on cunnilingus. Even your toy didn’t feel like this. And it was a really good toy.

“Oh fuck!” You cried when he sucked your clit gently, using his tongue to press as he did so. The sound was lewd with his mouth on your pussy and his fingers tucked deep inside of you.

You’d need to bring him with you everywhere if this was how he did it. That toy was not going to cut it now that you’d felt how good it could really be.

When you’d finally lifted your head to look down at him you saw his eyes already opened, looking up at you as he swiped his tongue over your button, pink lips winding over your pussylips and up to your clit.

He let go of your thigh as he reached up for one of your hands and pushed his fingers between yours. You clung to his hand tight and gasped.

The gesture was so intimate, so sexy. It felt like everything he was doing was truly to make you feel good. He wasn’t rushing to get you off. The care and attention he gave you made you feel hot and shaky.

You couldn’t take your eyes off his as he worked your pussy and you began to shake.

You were putty in his hands. Totally unable to stop the unwinding of the tight coil in your tummy as you squeezed his hand and he moaned into your cunt.

And it happened so fast. The snap of your orgasm seemed to even shock Harry as his eyes widened when you began to come in his mouth.

He kept his mouth on you and his fingers inside of you as you cried out and threw your head back. He didn’t let go of your hand, keeping you grounded as every other part of you liquified and then evaporated into the atmosphere. The only parts of your body that remained intact, throbbing, and aching were your pussy and your hand. Only the parts he touched were whole. Everything else was hot liquid soaked into the couch.

Your chest heaved and your brain was fuzzy as he finally pulled his fingers from your hole and looked down at you, “Did you come?” The grin on his face told you he was being playful.

You laughed as you watched him wipe the edge of his mouth with his thumb and lick the mess up, his eyes on you.

And just like he said he wanted to do, he took you to his bed. He helped you up onto your wobbly legs and then kissed your lips, smearing your arousal all over your mouth. The kiss did nothing to make your legs feel solid but rather made you feel even weaker. So his assistance was very much needed to put you into his bed.

His room was lit with a lamp and his sheets felt clean as he pulled the blankets back for you and tucked a pillow under your head.

You watched him take his underwear off and then pull a condom from his drawer before he climbed onto the bed next to you, “Still want more?” He raised his brows at you in question.

You nodded and smiled, “Yeah. I do.” You couldn’t take your eyes off his cock, though. You absolutely wanted more. You wanted the whole shebang and if there was anything you knew about Harry it was that he could provide exactly that.

He grinned at you as he tore the wrapper and gripped himself at the tip, stroking down to coat himself in the bit of precome that had leaked from his slit before putting the condom over his impossibly hard cock. His entire cock was thick. From tip to base. It looked… heavy. It looked like it was going to tear you in half.

Harry watched as you ogled him. He didn’t mind. He was pretty proud of it himself. As he pushed himself up to his knees he pulled your legs apart and settled between your thighs.

He pushed his hips in close to yours and let his cock fall over your pelvis and up to your low tummy, measuring his size in comparison to you. You looked down from where his daunting cock lay heavy over you up to his face.

“I want it…” you breathed your words and Harry’s dimples smiled as he smirked at you.

“Oh, yeah? Want my cock inside your pussy, Cherry? Wanna feel it all the way up here?” He pressed over your low tummy and you moaned loudly.

Harry moved his hips back and then gripped his base as he dragged his cock through your drenched pussy, “Want me to fuck this soft pussy, slip in and out until you can’t handle it anymore?”

You nodded, “Please…”

“Please? How sweet. You are a sweet girl, aren’t you? I like sweet girls, Cherry, and you might be the sweetest one yet.”

Harry teased your pussy some more, his cockhead smoothing up and down, pushing your arousal up to your clit until you began to squirm under him and let out a small whimper.

He laughed as he finally stopped torturing you and pressed his thick crown to your entrance, pressing his bulbous crown to your entrance before he began to push through your tight, wet ring.

You gasped when you felt him entering you, slowly pushing your insides apart until he was tucked deep inside of you. He let out a deep breath when he finally had the luxury of feeling your hot pussy wrapped around him.

He thrust in again, bottoming out until his balls pressed against your ass. And again. And again.

He worked you open until he was satisfied that you were ready for more and then he leaned over you, his hands down next to your shoulders with his eyes on you, and began sinking into you so deep you thought you saw stars limning your vision.

“Your pussy feels just as good as it tastes, Cherry,” he moaned before he began to rock into you with more force, and you could hear the sound of his body smacking into yours each time he plunged in.

“Umph…” you grunted when he dipped in sharp.

“Yeah? Deep isn’t it? Pussy needed stuffed properly. Hm?”

Your body was being pounded into and there were no words that could form on your lips as your tits jolted up and down.

“Let me hear you, Cherry. Let me hear how good it feels. I can tell your pussy loves this, so wet and puffy for me…” his voice was shaky as he railed into you, “Am I treating you right, baby?”

You coughed out a moan and nodded your head as you held on to his forearms, “God! Fuck yes, Harry! Oh fuck!”

Harry’s own moan was loud as he watched your face twist up and listened to the way your pussy took his big cock.

“Yeah? Fuck that feels good, doesn’t it? Pretty thing was made to be fucked. Pussy so sweet needs to have her insides split open every day. Hm?” Harry was breathing hard between words.

“Oh my god… yes. Yes!”

Harry sat back onto his haunches and pulled you up so you were sitting on his lap as he spread his thighs for leverage to continue fucking into you. You yelped at the change of position and how deep he felt inside.

The new angle had his tip slamming into your guts and you grabbed onto his strong shoulders while his hands held your ass, guiding you over him.

Your body flopped up and down on his cock and against his pelvis as he sunk into you over and over again, his hips hammering up into yours.

You began to roll your hips down, smushing your button against him for friction as he continued thrusting upward.

When you finally let out a choked moan Harry gasped and pulled you in by the back of your neck to kiss your mouth. Soft licks against your tongue as your pussy was getting fucked into, had you beginning to shake and fall off the edge of the earth again.

Harry parted from the kiss and held you down on his lap, keeping his dick nudged against your cervix, “Already, Cherry?” He gently rolled upward, “Gonna come on my cock so soon? Can you hold off for a bit longer?”

You sucked in a sharp breath, “Yes. Sorry.”

“Shh… shh… Nothing to be sorry about. Means you like it,” he rutted up into you with a grin before laying you down to your back again, pushing your legs apart.

He began to push into you, his hips slamming against yours making his bed creak and your pussy clench around him. You didn’t know if you could hang on much longer as your thighs began to quiver. His cock was coaxing another orgasm from your body without you even focusing on it, which you normally had to do when you had sex. It was as if you had no say in whether your body should come or not.

“Shit!” He slowed his motions a little and leaned over you to brush his fingers along your cheekbone, “Are you okay?” He laughed as he asked.

You nodded, “I’m gonna come, Harry. I’m sorry I can’t stop it. If you fuck me like that…” Your rounded eyes and heavy breaths had Harry’s heart feverishly pounding.

“It’s okay. You’re not doing anything wrong, Cherry. You just needed a good fucking didn’t you?”

You nodded and pulled your lips into your mouth.

“Yeah. That’s good, then. We’ll give you a nice good fucking,” he slowly pulled out to his tip and languidly moved himself back in making you moan.

“We can go nice and slow,” he repeated his motions, his thighs flexing as he held himself steady to fuck into you in long strokes, “Getting you all creamy. Hear it, Cherry?”

You did hear it as you nodded with a whine. The wetness coming from your pussy. The way his cock fucked your cream into your cunt. The way it sounded when he buried himself into the hilt and ground his hips against yours.

Harry watched your face scrunch up and your moans grow louder as he pushed his way into your tummy until he knew you couldn’t hold on any longer.

He sat back and fucked into you faster as he pressed his hand over your tummy, putting pressure on the spot where his cock was sliding through your insides and you lost it. You cried out his name and gurgles of nonsense as the frame of the bed began to rock into the wall and Harry coughed out a laugh at the way you began to thrash around on his cock.

He watched as he rutted into you, his cock disappearing into your cunt, your slick arousal all over his base and in his pubic hair.

You clamped down on him with your legs wobbly and he felt your walls contracting, squeezing his cock tight. He snapped his hips forward, pressing through your spasming cunt as his balls slapped into your ass and he moaned with you.

“Fuck! There you go, honey! Coming on my cock, yeah? Oh shit…” he watched your body press up each time he slammed into you, your face in ecstasy, and your wet pussy swallowing him whole as he finally began to come, releasing into his condom with a groan, “Draining my cock, cherry. Ohhh, ffff…”

Harry punched through your slick opening with the thick crown of his cock as he gushed into the rubber surrounding his dick until he stilled his hips and ground into you, swiveling in circles to empty every drop of himself.

You could feel him pumping inside of you, the heavy throbbing in his dick as he unloaded his sperm.

You both gasped when you’d finished and he lowered himself to kiss you hard. His hands cradled your face as his sensitive dick twitched inside of you.

Lifting your knees you wrapped your legs around his low back and he brought you down to your side, leaving you both connected fully, still kissing, his cock still deep inside of you.

The wave of euphoria that covered your entire being had you feeling so relaxed and so at peace you sighed and pushed your fingers into his hair.

You were surprised by your reaction to how he fucked you. And you wished you could have gone longer but he was so good, or… you didn’t know what it was exactly.

Harry parted from the kiss, keeping his face close to yours, “Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable with it.”

You nodded, “Yeah.”

“How long has it been since you’ve had sex? I don’t mean masturbating either. Just curious.”

You squinted and looked toward the corner of the room before putting your eyes back on his, “Like, maybe a year? Something like that.”

Harry’s thumb grazed your cheek, “A year? So that means when you were living with K at that time you hadn’t had sex since before that even.”

You grinned and nodded, “I was in university. It was my senior year and I was super focused. And it just didn’t happen.”

“Poor thing. No wonder you were so sensitive to me. Came so fast, Cherry.”

You laughed, “I know. It’s never been like that before. Surprised me too.”

“I’m glad we met again. Feels like we should honor the universe and stick together for a while. Stay the night with me?”

You puffed out a laugh and rolled your eyes, “Let’s honor the universe. Obviously, she wants us to have sex and hang out.”

Harry watched your eyes crinkle up as you grinned and he chuckled, “She really does. I’m sure of it. So that’s a yes?”

You scratched your nails along the back of Harry’s head and smiled at him, “It’s definitely a yes.”

. .

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[aesthetically-dying101]

how would the reader finds out that they were a bet (jjk men) but not only were they a bet but their entire friend group (the rest of the jjk group) knew about it and kept it from the reader?

I've fallen for a lie.

A/N: (inspired by: No time to die, my friend plays it on repeat) so... don't hate me, but personally, i think angst is HILARIOUS. ALSO, this is pure pain and suffering. fluff if you squint. Also i went overboard, like completely, i wrote way too much, my fav one is sukuna's.

DISCLAMER: i got this request 6 or so days ago, i've been working on this ever since, i did not copy retiredteabag (who did this post), someone just requested it on both our accounts. I wrote way too much just to throw this out so like.. yeah, proof (just in case, i just don't wanna start drama), but thank you to the anon that requested this!!!

Contents: pain. grovelling pathetic men. reader standing on bussiness bc i dislike the weepy y/n. yearning but like heartache. (im sorry for the choso/gojo/geto fans, this sucks for yall) nanami is perfect as always bc he's him. mostly angst.. toxic relationships.

Characters: Nanami, Toji, Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Choso, Shiu, Higuruma. (in that order)

Three years.

Three years of laughter, memories, promises, and whispered secrets. Three years of holding his hand through everything, supporting him when the world felt like it was crumbling, believing that what you two had was real.

And it was all a lie.

Your fingers trembled as you held the phone, the conversation with Haibara still ringing in your ears. Your heart pounded in your chest as each word replayed in your head like an unrelenting drumbeat.

“It was a dare. Nanami was dared to approach you that night at the bar. He didn’t even know who you were at first.”

It was a dare.

Your stomach churned, bile rising in your throat as a cold sweat broke out along your neck. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. You must’ve misunderstood. Haibara had to be joking. That’s the only explanation. But why would he joke about something like that?

The pounding of your heart filled your ears, drowning out the sound of everything else. Nanami. The man you had come to love more than anyone else. The man who had asked you to marry him last month—last month—was a part of some sick bet? A dare?

You grabbed the edge of the table for support, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Three years… Was it all just some game to him? Every soft touch, every shared meal, every late-night conversation? Was it all just some joke? A cruel one at that?

Your hands moved before your mind could catch up, yanking open the closet, throwing your clothes into a suitcase in a frenzy. The pain in your chest was so sharp, so visceral, it felt like a thousand knives stabbing into your soul. This was not happening. Not to you. Not after everything.

Your thoughts spiraled. No, no, no... How could he do this? How could he stand in front of you, gaze so soft, and tell you he loved you, that he wanted to build a life with you? He’d proposed. He’d promised. And now, it was all just a lie.

A dare.

The door clicked open, and the sound of his voice made your heart freeze in your chest.

“(Y/N)?” Nanami called, his tone light but confused, as if nothing was wrong.

You froze mid-packing, every muscle in your body locking in place. You could feel the heat of tears pooling in your eyes, but you couldn’t let them fall. Not now. Not when your entire life felt like it was collapsing around you.

You didn’t turn to face him. You couldn’t.

“(Y/N)... What’s going on? You’re packing—” His voice trailed off as he stepped closer, the sound of his shoes against the hardwood floor making the room feel smaller, more suffocating.

“Stop. Just stop,” you said, the words barely leaving your throat before they cracked.

You turned to face him, your hands shaking, the sight of him making you feel dizzy with anger and betrayal. His eyes widened at the sight of your suitcase, your movements hurried, frantic.

“(Y/N)... What’s wrong?” His voice was calm, too calm, like he was still in control. The nerve.

“Oh, what’s wrong?” you repeated, your voice rising as the weight of the truth came crashing down on you. “You don’t get to ask that. You don’t get to play the innocent card here. You lied to me, Nanami. For three years, you lied to me. And so did they.”

His expression faltered. It didn’t take much—just a flicker of realization in his eyes, but it was enough- and the worse part? You had called him Nanami. His expression was enough to make your chest tighten painfully.

“Y-You don’t understand…” Nanami started, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Let me explain—”

“Explain?” you interrupted, your voice rising to a dangerous pitch. “You want to explain? There’s nothing to explain, Nanami. You were dared to talk to me. That’s it. That’s where it all started. Everything else, everything, was just... just what? Some twisted joke?” Your fists clenched at your sides, the raw anger and hurt making it hard to breathe.

His face shifted from confusion to guilt, then to desperation.

“I— Yes. It started as a dare, but everything after that was real. I never—”

“You never what?!” You couldn’t control your emotions any longer. “You never thought you’d fall for me? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

The coldness in your voice made his face fall. But he still pushed forward, trying to fix the mess he’d made.

“I swear to you, after that night—after we started talking—I fell for you. I fell hard, and I’ve never once regretted it. I love you. I’ve loved you from the very first time we met, even if it started as a dare, even if it was a stupid game, it was real for me. Everything I’ve said, everything I’ve done for you... It’s been real. I swear on everything, it’s been real.”

“Really?” The bitter laugh that left your lips was sharp, cruel. “You want me to believe that after all of this? After you had the gall to propose to me last month? You think that now is when I should trust you?”

You took a deep breath, each word cutting through the air like a blade. “I’m done. I’m done, Nanami. You don’t get to treat me like I’m a fool. You don’t get to lie to me for three years, and then think you can fix it by saying ‘I love you.’”

You turned away from him, your movements deliberate as you grabbed the engagement ring from your finger. The diamond caught the light, flashing like a cruel reminder of everything that had been taken from you.

You slammed the ring down onto the table, the harsh sound echoing through the apartment. Nanami froze, his eyes wide with shock and pain.

The sight of his face made the sting in your chest even worse.

“I’m not your fucking bet, Nanami. I’m not your fucking game.” Your voice broke, but you forced yourself to keep going. “I don’t need your lies. I don’t need you.”

You could feel his presence behind you, his breath heavy with emotion. “Please, my love, don’t leave like this. We can fix this. I swear to you—”

You turned toward him, your eyes burning with fury and sorrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be the mature one? The one who’s so responsible? The one who’s always so calm and collected?” You stepped toward him, your voice full of venom. “But you’re just a liar.”

You couldn’t stay here. You couldn’t breathe in this suffocating space any longer.

You shoved past him, your heart racing as you grabbed your things and headed toward the door. You slammed it shut behind you with finality, the sound ringing in your ears.

Nanami was left standing there, frozen in the silence of his own regret, the weight of your departure heavy in the air.

And as you walked away, your mind couldn’t shake the image of him, his broken face, his pain.

*-*

Three days. It had only been three days since everything fell apart. Three days since the man you thought you’d spend your life with turned out to be nothing more than a liar—well, not just a liar. A liar who dared to approach you. The realization felt like a poison that had seeped into your bones, one you couldn’t shake. You spent those three days in a fog of confusion, anger, and heartbreak.

You hadn’t gone back to your apartment; hell, you couldn’t. There was nothing left for you there. No trace of the life you thought you were building. So, you did the only thing you could think of: you went to your parents.

They’d been kind, as they always were, but their words didn’t reach you. They didn’t fix the deep, hollow ache in your chest. They didn’t make you forget the way Nanami had lied to you. The way he had made you believe that everything was real… until it wasn’t.

Your mom had tried to rationalize, telling you that maybe Nanami made a mistake, that people do things they regret, that maybe he’d never intended for it to go this far. Your father had simply kept quiet, unsure of what to say, but you could tell by the way he watched you that he was worried.

But none of their words made it past the wall you’d built around yourself. They weren’t wrong. They were just trying to comfort you. But how could you be comforted by someone who had deceived you? You’d given him everything, and now, what did you have left? A broken heart. A destroyed future.

Your mind spiraled as you sat on your bed, staring blankly at the wall. You were so angry, but most of all… you just missed him. You missed his voice, the way his hand felt in yours, the calm that came with being in his presence.

Why did he have to lie? Why did he have to make me believe it was real?

A soft knock on your door startled you. You didn’t move, didn’t respond. The door creaked open anyway, and your mother’s voice gently filled the silence.

“Honey, I know you're angry right now, but maybe it’s time to—”

You didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear anything about Nanami right now, especially not from her.

“Mom,” you said in a soft, tired voice, “please, just… just leave me alone. I don’t want to hear it.”

Your mother hesitated, as though weighing her words, but then she sighed. “I just… I want you to be happy again. I can’t see you like this.”

Before she could leave, she muttered something under her breath. It was so soft, almost like she was speaking to herself. “You were so happy with him, though. I could see it… We all could.”

You didn’t hear the door close.

You felt the sudden tension in the air before you even registered what was happening. Your heart skipped a beat when you heard footsteps coming toward the room. Your head snapped toward the doorway, and there, standing in the frame, was him.

Nanami.

Your breath caught in your throat. What the hell was he doing here?

Your mother gave you one last look, a silent apology in her eyes, before she turned and walked out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind her, and the silence that followed was suffocating. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know if you even wanted to say anything to him. He didn’t deserve your words.

And then, in the stillness, you let out a frustrated screech. The emotion you’d been bottling up for days finally exploded. You stood, shoving the blanket off the bed, pacing the room. How dare he show up here? You were so fucking angry. You didn’t even care that he was standing there, looking like he was about to crumble to pieces himself.

“You don’t get to just show up here!” you snapped, your voice shaking. “You lied to me, Nanami! You fucking lied to me, and now you think you can just walk back in and pretend everything’s fine?”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just stood there, his eyes dark with pain, his fists clenched at his sides. And then, without a word, he walked over to you, and before you could protest, he shoved something into your lap.

You looked down.

A stack of printed screenshots. What the hell was this?

You picked them up hesitantly, your fingers trembling as you stared at the words on the page. You saw his name. Haibara’s. You saw group messages, text conversations, timestamps. You felt a sickening pang in your chest as the realization began to sink in.

These were from the night you first met.

These were from the weeks after that night.

“I… I don’t understand.” You glanced up at him, your voice shaking. “What is this? What the hell is this supposed to prove?”

He swallowed hard, clearly trying to gather his composure. “Look at the messages. Read them.”

You flipped through the pages. The first few were from that night. They were screenshots of Haibara daring him to approach you, followed by Nanami’s messages in the group chat—messages about how nervous he was, how much he wanted to make a good impression, how he thought he might’ve met the love of his life.

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt like you were suffocating. Why didn’t he just tell me this?

His eyes softened, and he took a shaky breath. “I wanted to, but… I didn’t know how to. I didn’t know how to say it without you thinking it was all a lie. I was terrified you’d leave me. But I couldn’t stop falling for you, (Y/N). I swear to you, everything after that night… it was real. I never thought this would happen. I never thought I would fall in love with you, but I did.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stared at the messages in disbelief. They were real. He hadn’t edited them. You looked up at him, the pain in your chest intensifying.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” you asked, voice breaking. “Why didn’t you just say something? I spent three years thinking it was all a lie. You could have told me.”

“I should have,” Nanami whispered. He took a step closer to you, his hands shaking. “I should have told you sooner. I was stupid. I was so scared that if you knew, you’d leave. But I… I love you. And I’ve loved you from the very start.”

You could feel the weight of his words, but your heart was still so raw, so broken. “This doesn’t just go away, Nanami. You can’t just… fix this.”

His face fell. “I know. I know I can’t. But I’m willing to do anything. I’ll go to marriage counseling. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. Please, [Y/N]. Please.”

You shook your head, unable to stop the tears from falling. “I can’t just go back to being with you. It’s not that easy.”

He nodded, stepping closer to you. His voice was raw, almost pleading now. “I know. I’m not asking for that. I just need you to know that I’m sorry. And that I love you. And I’ll keep fighting for you… for us.”

The words you wanted to say caught in your throat. You couldn’t decide if you should scream at him or pull him close. You were so angry, but you were also so fucking heartbroken.

But maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the villain in this story. He was just a man who had made the most terrible mistake of his life. And you had been his greatest love all along.

Could you forgive him?

You didn’t know. But maybe… maybe there was a way.

It started like any other day, or at least it felt that way.

Megumi was at school, leaving you with the quiet hum of your and Toji's house. You cleaned, you cooked, you settled into the role you had grown to love. Step-mom. You could never have imagined you'd be so attached to that boy, but there you were. Caring for him, nurturing him like he was your own flesh and blood, even when it felt impossible.

The bond was real, undeniable.

And then… the phone call came. It was innocent at first—a quick check-in from Shiu. But it wasn’t the usual chat about Megumi’s progress at school or the latest movie you all wanted to see. It was different.

It was calculated.

The words hit you like a slap.

"It was a bet, Y/N. From the start. You were never meant to be anything more than that..."

You blinked. You heard him, but your mind couldn't fully grasp it. Your heart tried to deny it.

"A bet?" you whispered to yourself, voice quivering, feeling the blood drain from your face. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Toji and I, we made a bet. You were never meant to be the one. You were just… entertainment."

His words were sharp, laced with a smugness that made you sick. It felt like your entire world—no, your very identity—was just ripped from you in a moment of cruel reality.

You didn’t even hang up. You didn’t even need to. Your thoughts were spinning, dizzy with disbelief and betrayal. How could they? They—your friends, Toji’s closest allies—all knew. They knew, and not one of them bothered to tell you. Not one of them had the decency to warn you.

You weren’t even a person to them. You were a game, a pawn. A prize that Toji had to win.

Tears welled in your eyes. Your heart cracked open like a fragile shell. The life you thought you had built—Megumi, Toji, this family, this home—crumbled. You were just a tool, an object in their bet.

"No." The word broke through the veil of shock, raw and bitter. "No. I can’t—I can’t stay here. I need to leave."

You jumped up from the couch, grabbing your purse with trembling hands. It was like you were on autopilot, moving solely on the instinct to escape. The door. You just needed to get to the door. Leave. Go anywhere. But as you moved to turn the handle, it wouldn't budge.

You shook the knob harder, panic seizing your chest. It was locked. You turned to the windows, but they were all shut tight, reinforced. The walls felt like they were closing in on you.

"Toji," you whispered his name, the desperation in your voice clear.

The footsteps behind you weren’t subtle. You felt his presence before he spoke.

"Where do you think you’re going?" His voice was low, almost soothing, but you knew better. You knew the danger behind the calmness.

You spun around, anger bubbling up, fighting through the layers of hurt. "You locked the door?"

"Not just the door, sweetheart," he said, his smile sickeningly sweet, like it could erase everything he'd just shattered. "You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here. With me."

The tears you had been holding back finally fell, hot and painful. "You think I’ll just stay after this?"

Toji didn’t flinch. His eyes, dark and intense, never left you as he took a slow step forward.

"You’ve been good to Megumi," he said, his voice soft but laced with something darker. "You’ve been like a real mom to him. And now, you think you’ll just throw that away? Just like that?" He clicked his tongue, a disappointed shake of his head. "You’re too important to him."

The way he said it… It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t even a question. It was a claim. A manipulation.

"What are you talking about?"

"You think Megumi won’t miss you?" Toji’s smile widened, and there was something almost predatory in his eyes. "You think he won’t notice? After everything you’ve done for him, after how you’ve helped him… You’re too good to leave."

His hands reached for you then, slow and deliberate, like he was reaching for something fragile, something precious. You backed away, but he was faster, gripping your arms and pulling you into his chest.

"No. No," you said, your voice shaking with the weight of all the lies. "You’re a fucking monster."

"You don’t mean that," Toji cooed, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his breath hot against your skin. "I know you’re angry. I get it. I really do. But this? This isn’t something we can just walk away from. You’ve got a place here now. A real place, with me and Megumi."

You pushed against his chest, but his grip only tightened, unyielding. "You think you can just control me like this?"

"You were a bet," he whispered, his voice rough now, but his grip still unshaken. "But you’re more than that now. You’re mine. And you’re not going anywhere."

Your heart broke all over again as you realized the depth of his control over you, the twisted grip he had on your life. You didn’t know if you hated him more for what he had done, or for what he had become.

"Please," you choked out, voice breaking. "Please let me go. I can’t do this anymore."

But even as you begged, you knew it was useless. The door was locked, and your heart had been sealed shut behind it.

He pulled you closer, almost tender now, pressing his lips to your ear in a way that sent chills down your spine. "Don’t worry, baby." His words were dark, possessive. "You’ll understand. You’re gonna stay here. You’ll stay for me. For Megumi. And you’re gonna love it."

And as you stood there, helpless in his arms, the room spinning with the weight of everything you had lost, you knew one painful truth: you would never leave. Because Toji wouldn’t let you.

And that was worse than any bet.

The world felt softer when Gojo was around.

The way his laughter filled the room, buoyant and unapologetic, made the edges of your anxiety blur. You were tucked away in a corner booth at your favorite cafe, his long legs brushing yours under the table as he speared your last bite of cake with his fork. You swatted at him, mock-offended, but his grin was so wide, so annoyingly genuine, that you couldn’t help but laugh. Gojo had this way of making you feel like the center of his universe, and after four months, you were hopelessly, undeniably in love.

“I’m telling you,” he drawled, tilting his head back dramatically, “you’re the only person who doesn’t find my charm overwhelming.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “Oh, believe me, you’re overwhelming. Just not in the way you think.”

It was easy, being with him. Too easy. You excused yourself to the bathroom, still smiling, still warm, still thinking about the way his thumb had grazed yours when he handed your the cup of tea earlier. But when you returned, you froze just outside the booth.

“...I can’t believe she still hasn’t figured it out.”

“That’s the point of a bet, idiot,” another voice chimed in, one you recognized as Geto’s.

“Yeah, but four months? That’s dedication,” someone else snickered.

Your stomach dropped.

“It’s Gojo. He always has to win,” Geto said, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “I mean, she’s cute, but still... a bet’s a bet.”

The air seemed to suck out of the room. Your hand tightened on the strap of your bag as your chest constricted, bile rising in your throat.

Bet? Bet?

Your feet felt like lead as you forced yourself forward. You didn’t look at any of them, didn’t dare meet Gojo’s eyes as you muttered something about not feeling well and left. He texted you an hour later, asking where you'd gone. You stared at his message for ten minutes before replying,

-“Period cramps. Really bad.”

His response came almost immediately: “You should’ve said something! Want me to come over?”

You stared at your phone, fingers trembling as you typed out, “No. I’m fine.”

Dry. Short. Controlled. Your heart wasn’t in it.

When you finally made it back to your apartment, you collapsed onto the couch and screamed into the cushions until your throat was raw. How could he? How could they? The whole group—your friends—had known and said nothing. Your tears burned, but fury burned hotter. Your mind replayed every moment, every kiss, every laugh. How much of it had been real?

The week that followed was suffocating. Gojo’s texts came in, as lively and obnoxious as always, but you gave him nothing in return.

-“Morning! Did you sleep okay?” -“Fine.” -“Want to grab dinner tonight? My treat 😉” -“Busy.”

He called once. You let it ring until it stopped.

At work, you barely acknowledged him. He’d saunter up to your desk, his usual grin plastered on his face, but your responses were curt, your eyes glued to your screen.

“Hey, you good? You’ve been acting weird.”

You looked up at him, expression blank. “I’m fine.”

It wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine.

The next group hangout was unbearable. They were all there, laughing and joking like nothing had happened. Like they hadn’t all played you for a fool. You were quiet, cold, your presence an icicle in their usual warmth.

“Hey, let’s grab a drink,” Gojo said, nudging your arm.

You stared at him, your jaw tight, before jerking your head toward a quiet corner. “We need to talk.”

He blinked but followed you, his usual confidence faltering under your glare. “What’s—”

“I’m done,” you said, loud enough that the others turned to look-god you wanted to humiliate him. “I don’t have time for your bullshit, Gojo. Your childish, manipulative, disgusting behavior.”

His eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb. The bet.” Your voice cracked on the word, but you pressed on, relentless. “Four months of my life, and it was a goddamn bet? Was it worth it, Satoru? Did you win?”

The color drained from his face. “Wait—how—”

“And you,” you snapped, turning to the rest of them. “All of you knew, didn’t you? You’re all assholes. Every single one of you. I trusted you, and you laughed behind my back.”

“Wait, it wasn’t—” Geto started, you cut him off with a glare that could shatter glass.

“I’m done,” you repeated, voice trembling with rage. “Have a nice life.”

You didn’t wait for a response, didn’t look back as you stormed out. Your chest felt like it was caving in, but for the first time in days, you could breathe.

Blocking them was the first thing she did when she got home. Every single one of them. Instagram, Twitter, Facebook (who even uses that anymore??), WhatsApp, even Spotify—gone. You didn’t want any trace of them in your life. No drunken messages. No half-assed apologies. No reminders of what you'd lost, what they’d taken from you.

Your phone buzzed relentlessly for the first few hours. Calls, texts, notifications from burner accounts, and even an email with the subject line, "Please, just talk to me." You deleted it without opening it. You didn’t owe him—any of them—anything.

The silence that followed was both a relief and a weight. Days stretched into a week, then two, and while you were still raw, still angry, you were learning how to exist in the emptiness they left behind.

Gojo, on the other hand, was unraveling.

At first, he was sure it was a misunderstanding. You'd cool off, he thought. You'd always had a fiery temper, but you weren't cruel. You wouldn’t just cut him off.

Except you did.

When he showed up at your apartment with a bouquet of sunflowers—the kind you loved—you didn’t answer the door. He stood there for half an hour, knocking and calling your name until a neighbor threatened to call the cops. He left the flowers on your doorstep, only to find them in the trash the next day, petals wilting, stems bent.

His texts became desperate.

"I messed up. Please, just let me explain." "I know you're mad, but I swear, it wasn’t like that." "I… I miss you. Can we just talk? Please?"

You read them all. Deleted every single one without replying.

At work, he tried to corner you in the break room, but you turned on your heel and walked out without a word. During a meeting, he sat across from you, staring holes into you as if his gaze alone could break your silence. But you didn’t look at him once.

One evening, he left a note on your desk: "Meet me on the rooftop after work. I just want to talk." You crumpled it into a ball and tossed it in the trash right in front of him.

The rest of their friend group tried to intervene. Geto texted you a half-hearted, "I know we messed up. Can we talk? I’ll explain." You blocked him immediately.

Shoko showed up at her apartment unannounced, knocking softly and saying through the door, “Hey, I just want to say I’m sorry. We didn’t mean for it to go this far—”

“Go away.” Your voice was cold, flat. You didn’t wait to hear Shoko’s reply before turning up your music to drown her out.

Gojo hit his breaking point one night when he sent her a long, rambling voice note. His voice was rough, almost frantic.

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this. The bet—it wasn’t supposed to mean anything! I wasn’t supposed to… to feel this way about you. But I do. God, I do. And now I’ve ruined it. I ruined us. I know I can’t fix it, but please, just… just tell me how to make it right. I’ll do anything.”

You listened to it exactly once. Not to feel anything, but to make sure you weren't imagining the crack in his voice, the sound of him breaking- you almost thought about answering. Maybe there was a valid excuse- no.

It should’ve satisfied you. It didn’t. You deleted it.

Weeks turned into months, and Gojo still couldn’t let go. He went through every stage of grief, cycling between anger, guilt, and desperation. He replayed every moment they’d shared, trying to pinpoint where he’d gone wrong, where he could’ve fixed it before it fell apart.

But you had moved on—or at least, you made it look like you had. Your Instagram was private now, your profile picture replaced with something generic. Your Spotify playlists—once filled with songs you'd joked were about him—were gone. You were a ghost, haunting him in your absence.

And of course, at their next group hangout, you weren't there.

“She’s done with us,” Shoko said quietly, picking at the label on her beer.

Gojo didn’t respond. He was staring at his phone, scrolling through their old messages, reading your words over and over again like they were the only pieces of you he had left.

“I don’t have time for your bullshit.” “I trusted you.” “Have a nice life.”

He wasn’t sure which hurt more: the words you'd said or the ones you never would again.

You were not built for betrayal.

Not this kind, anyway.

The world felt as if it had been turned upside down. Each breath dragged its weight through your ribs, and your skin burned with the realization, a gnawing, buzzing kind of agony that spread like wildfire.

Suguru had been laughing.

Laughing.

“Come on, don’t look so upset,” he’d said the day before, his honeyed voice sweet with mockery. “You’ve been fun. More fun than I thought you’d be.”

The room had frozen. Everyone had frozen. Satoru, with his cocky grin faltering but still plastered in place. Shoko, lips pressed so tightly they’d gone pale. Even Nanami had avoided your eyes. They all knew.

The truth clawed its way into your mind, carving a jagged wound: you were a bet. An experiment. Entertainment. The words replayed themselves in your head over and over, drilling into the cracks of your soul. More fun than I thought you’d be.

And Suguru had led the charge. The man whose quiet kindness, whose quiet smiles, you’d clung to like a lifeline. Who’d called you “special” in the dim quiet of late-night conversations. Who’d made you feel seen.

It was nothing. You were nothing.

*-*

That night, you hadn’t cried. Tears would’ve been too easy, too human. Instead, you’d locked yourself in your dorm, let the cold silence settle into your bones, and stared at the ceiling until the walls blurred into one endless void.

What had been the point? Of everything? Every joke, every shared drink, every time Suguru had rested his chin on his hand and watched you with that glimmer of something in his dark eyes—what had it all been for?

The cruelest part wasn’t even the lie. It was the tiny seed of hope buried deep in your chest, stubbornly whispering: he didn’t mean it. Not entirely. Maybe they made him do it.

You hated that hope.

Hated it almost as much as you hated Suguru himself.

You couldn’t face them the next day. You hadn’t slept. You barely remembered dragging yourself to a bar off-campus, ordering drink after drink until everything blurred.

You hadn’t even noticed the curse until it was too late.

It was stupid, really. They taught you this in your first year: never wander drunk. Never let your guard down, no matter where you were. But you’d been so hollow, so angry. Maybe some part of you had wanted to stumble onto something. Wanted it to hurt.

The curse had been waiting, a writhing, monstrous thing. You were too slow, too uncoordinated to summon even the faintest spark of your cursed energy.

Its claws ripped through your chest. Its teeth found your neck. And all you could think about, in those last agonizing seconds, was Suguru. His face when he’d laughed. The way his eyes had gleamed with amusement.

You didn’t scream.

*-*

They found your body the next morning.

Shoko identified it first. She didn’t speak, didn’t flinch, just stared at the mangled ruin of what you’d been. Suguru didn’t understand at first—didn’t want to understand.

“Who is it?” His voice was calm, sharp. Detached.

When Shoko turned to him, her expression empty, he knew.

His body moved on its own, shoulders tense, hands trembling. He fell to his knees beside you, eyes wide and unseeing as they traced the jagged edges of torn flesh and drying blood.

It didn’t feel real. You were so…still. So quiet.

Suguru thought about the night before, about your face when he’d laughed, the hurt in your eyes that he’d ignored. A hand pressed against his chest, his cursed energy stuttering with each ragged breath.

“You’re lying,” he whispered. “It’s not her.”

No one answered.

*-*

The funeral was quiet.

Closed casket. Your body too mangled to be seen.

Suguru didn’t cry. He didn’t scream. He didn’t do anything, really, except sit and stare at the ground, arms folded tight over his chest as if trying to hold himself together.

Satoru tried to talk to him afterward, but Suguru didn’t hear him. Didn’t hear anything beyond the blood pounding in his ears. You were gone. Gone.

He remembered your laugh. Your voice, soft but steady. The way you’d touched his arm when you thought he wasn’t listening.

The grief hit him in waves. Slow at first, then all at once, crashing over him in an endless tide.

And when it was too much—when the weight of it crushed the air from his lungs—something inside him snapped.

The laughter from that night wouldn’t stop echoing in his head. His laughter.

You’d deserved better than this.

Better than him.

Better than all of them.

That was the day Suguru Geto stopped being human.

The regret ate him alive, twisted and burned inside him until all that was left was rage. At the world. At himself. At everything.

He’d find a way to fix it. To burn it all down and rebuild something where people like you wouldn’t exist just to be broken.

But no matter what he built, he knew one thing:

Your laughter would never fill the silence again.

The room was alive with celebration—the sweet burn of sake, raucous laughter of Sukuna’s inner circle, the murmurs of passing servants. You stepped in, the familiar ache in your chest softened by the sight of him. Sukuna, draped in the loose elegance of his kimono, surrounded by his boisterous companions. His crimson eyes caught yours briefly, and his grin sharpened—wolfish, commanding.

He had always been a man of many faces: a conqueror, a husband, a god in flesh. And yet, for all his unyielding power, you believed there was a version of him that had chosen you. The one who watched you in the quiet mornings with a gaze softer than his cruel reputation allowed. The one who, when alone with you, could almost seem human.

You believed in that man.

Until tonight.

“I’m surprised she hasn’t figured it out yet,” one of the men drawled, drunk on his own amusement.

“Patience,” another snickered. “It’s more fun this way.”

Laughter rippled through the group, but the words fell like stone in your chest.

Figured it out?

The haze of the room blurred. Your hand trembled as you gripped the edge of the screen door. Sukuna’s voice cut through the noise, the resonance of it always unmistakable.

“She’s sharp, though. Too sharp to not catch on soon. You’ve already cost me enough sake with your doubts, Ryota.”

Another bout of laughter.

The world stilled. Your heart was a drumbeat, steady but deafening. Each word he spoke was a dagger slicing through the fabric of your reality.

A bet.

Your knees threatened to buckle as the pieces began falling into place, sharp and unforgiving. The glances exchanged when you entered a room. The veiled smirks. The lingering silence whenever you asked too many questions.

They all knew.

Every. Single. One.

You stepped forward, the warmth of the room no longer reaching you. “What is this?”

The laughter stopped abruptly. Heads turned in your direction. Sukuna, ever the commanding presence, leaned back lazily against the wall, his lips curving into something dangerously close to a smirk.

“Ah, my little wife,” he said, voice like honey over steel. “What brings you here?”

You ignored the question. Your voice was a whisper, sharp as a blade. “What bet?”

The silence was suffocating. Even the drunken fools who moments ago were basking in their audacity now had the decency to look away.

“Tell me,” you demanded, stepping closer, your voice breaking on the edges.

Sukuna tilted his head, as if considering you, weighing whether you deserved the truth.

When he spoke, it was almost casual. “A simple wager, nothing more. They doubted I could make you mine.” His eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t name—amusement? Pride? Indifference? “I proved them wrong.”

The room swayed. You thought you might vomit.

“All of you…” You turned, your gaze sweeping over the room, locking on each face. The betrayal carved deeper with every averted glance. “You all knew.”

No one spoke.

Your breath hitched as you turned back to Sukuna. “You let me believe this was real,” you whispered, the words trembling as they left your lips.

He rose slowly, deliberately, towering over you as he always did. “Careful, wife,” he said, his tone low, a warning wrapped in silk. “You are in my favor now, but that can change.”

The anger burned bright, but something colder seeped in beneath it. A numbness, hollow and vast.

You stepped back, shoulders straightening, the fire in your eyes extinguished. “Of course, my lord,” you said, bowing your head. “My apologies for the outburst.”

He blinked, caught off guard by the shift. “What—”

You didn’t wait for him to finish. With the grace and composure befitting a lady of your station, you turned and walked away.

*-*

The days that followed were excruciating in their monotony. You became a ghost of yourself—a woman of duty, of decorum, of practiced neutrality.

Sukuna, in all his arrogance, thought little of it at first. He smirked when you would rise from a conversation and leave the room upon his arrival. He found amusement in the way your laughter would fall silent the moment his shadow crossed the threshold.

But over time, the smirk faded.

He began to notice the absence of something he hadn’t realized he craved. The warmth of your smile, the brightness in your eyes when you looked at him—it was gone. Replaced by a cold civility that made his jaw tighten and his fists clench.

Servants whispered of the change. You, who had once breathed life into the grand halls of his estate, now walked its corridors like a specter. Even when he tried to corner you, to draw out the spark that had once burned so fiercely, you evaded him with polite indifference.

“Stop,” he growled one evening, grabbing your wrist as you turned to leave the dining room.

You froze, the contact sending a shiver up your spine. Slowly, you turned to face him, your expression unreadable.

“Yes, my lord?”

The words, spoken so softly, so devoid of the fire he had come to expect, made his chest tighten.

“Enough of this,” he snapped, his grip tightening. “Speak your mind.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “There is nothing to say, my lord. I am your wife. I will fulfill my duties as such. Beyond that…” You gently pulled your wrist from his grasp. “There is nothing more.”

It was a lie, of course.

There was anger, still, buried deep within the hollowed-out space where your love for him had once lived. There was pain, sharp and unyielding. There was betrayal, an ache so profound you feared it would consume you if you let it.

But you would not give him the satisfaction of seeing any of it.

And so, you walked away, leaving Sukuna in the silence of his own making.

The house grew colder with every passing day. And though he would never admit it, not even to himself, Sukuna found that he missed the warmth.

*-*

The nights at Sukuna’s estate were long, oppressive, and heavy with silence. It gnawed at him like a dull blade, chipping away at his carefully crafted veneer of control.

He had thought the hunts would help. The thrill of the chase, the satisfying crunch of bone beneath his blade.

But the emptiness followed him, relentless and mocking.

Her absence haunted him. Not in the physical sense—she was still here, still his wife, still dutiful in the way she moved through the estate. But she had become untouchable, locked away behind that maddening neutrality. No matter how he raged, no matter how he tried to provoke her, she gave him nothing.

Sukuna was many things—a tyrant, a god, a king—but patient was not one of them.

So, when the sun dipped low and the moon bathed his estate in its cold light, Sukuna had finally had enough.

*-*

You were in your chambers, the night air cool against your skin as you slipped your arms out of the sleeves of your kimono. The day had been uneventful, like all the others since that night. You had perfected the art of existing without feeling, moving through life as if the pieces of your shattered heart hadn’t left jagged edges that threatened to cut you open from the inside.

You were pulling the fabric down from your shoulders when the door slammed open, the force rattling the delicate wooden frame.

You gasped, clutching your half-discarded kimono to your chest as Sukuna stormed in, his crimson eyes blazing with fury.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, your voice trembling as you scrambled to cover yourself.

He didn’t answer. In an instant, he was on you, his four arms grabbing hold of your shoulders, your waist, your wrists. His grip wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t cruel either. It was desperate.

You froze, your mind racing. Was this it? Had your quiet defiance finally pushed him too far?

“Are you going to kill me?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.

He barked out a laugh, sharp and humorless. “Kill you? Don’t tempt me, woman.” He shook you, his claws biting lightly into your skin. “What do you want from me? Tell me how to fix this!”

You blinked, caught off guard by the raw frustration in his voice. “Fix… this?”

“Yes!” he snarled, his face inches from yours. “I’ll kill them, every last one of those idiots if that’s what you want. I’ll burn this entire estate to the ground if it will bring you back. Just tell me what the hell you want!”

Your chest tightened, a whirlwind of emotions surging through you. Anger, disbelief, a flicker of something you refused to name.

“You think you can just—” your voice cracked, and you shook your head, trying to find the words. “Do you even understand what you’ve done? You made me a game, Sukuna. A bet. Do you know what that feels like? To be nothing more than a joke to the man who swore to protect me?”

His grip faltered for a moment, his gaze searching yours. “You were never a joke,” he said, his voice low, almost quiet.

You laughed bitterly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Don’t lie to me. Not again.”

“I’m not lying,” he snapped, his frustration boiling over. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. I don’t care how it started. I don’t care about those fools and their bets. I care about you.”

The words were a punch to the gut. You wanted to believe him, wanted so desperately to cling to the possibility that this wasn’t all a lie. But the wound was still fresh, and your pride was a shield you weren’t ready to lower.

“If I find out you’ve lied to me again,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute, “I’ll go where you can’t follow. You know where I mean.”

His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “Don’t.”

“I mean it,” you said, meeting his gaze with a fire you thought you’d lost. “I’ll end this. I’ll end me.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your words hanging between you like a blade.

Then, suddenly, he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It was rough and demanding, filled with the fury and desperation that had been building between you for weeks. You resisted at first, your hands pushing against his chest, but the dam inside you broke. Your fingers curled into his robes, pulling him closer as you poured every ounce of your anger, your heartbreak, your longing into that kiss.

It was messy and heated, a clash of tongues and teeth and raw emotion. When he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, his breathing ragged, you could see the unspoken apology in his eyes.

“Never again,” you whispered, your voice shaky but firm. “I mean it, Sukuna.”

“Never,” he promised, his hands gripping you like you might vanish if he let go.

The tension between you snapped like a bowstring, giving way to something primal and all-consuming. He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the futon in the corner of the room. The anger and betrayal still simmered beneath the surface, but for now, it was drowned out by the sheer intensity of your connection.

*-*

Later, as you lay tangled in the sheets, your head resting against his chest, you broke the silence.

“I want them all dead,” you said softly.

He didn’t hesitate. “Done.”

You tilted your head to look at him, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “You’ll regret this, you know. I’ll never let you live it down.”

His lips curved into a smirk of his own, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

And though the wounds between you were far from healed, for the first time in weeks, the room didn’t feel so cold.

It hits like a slap, sudden and cold, pulling the breath right from your lungs.

Choso is staring at you, his eyes wide with that hollow, pitiful look you once thought was endearing. His voice is shaky as he tries to say something, anything, but you can barely hear it over the roar in your ears, the rush of blood pounding in your head. The betrayal tastes bitter in your mouth—sharp, metallic, and sour.

“Y/N, listen to me. It was just—” he starts, but you cut him off, your voice trembling but loud, louder than you ever thought it could be.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, taking a step back from him. Every inch of space between you and him feels like a mile, a chasm too deep to ever cross. “Don’t you dare tell me it was just some stupid bet.”

Choso's eyes flicker with confusion, the subtle tremor in his hands betraying the calm he tries to project. “It’s not— it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

You take a slow, trembling breath, staring at him, trying to ground yourself in the mess of emotions that are tearing you apart. Your mind is a whirlwind, flashes of memories twisting like knives in your chest. The late-night talks, the stolen kisses, the way he’d smile when he thought you weren’t looking. It was all so real, so pure.

But it wasn’t.

Your throat feels tight, your hands trembling at your sides as you finally piece it together. You’d been a bet. A joke, a wager. A way to pass the time. And worse? Everyone you called your friends—everyone you thought you knew, all those warm, intimate moments you shared—knew about it. Knew, and never once told you.

It’s impossible to swallow, the truth. How could they? How could he?

The pieces fall into place with a sickening clarity, sharp shards of realization that lodge deep in your chest. The subtle tension in the air every time you were around them. The way they’d glance at each other when you walked into the room, their smiles too tight. Too practiced.

Your stomach churns, bile rising as your thoughts spiral, the images of them—the rest of the group, the ones you thought had your back—flash before you. Megumi’s quiet looks, Nobara’s silence, Yuji’s forced cheer—they all knew. They all stood by, playing their parts. Feeding you the lies, watching as you fell deeper and deeper into Choso’s world.

Choso. His name tastes like poison now. How could you have been so stupid? So blind?

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, but his apology feels like acid against your skin. His hands are outstretched, as if he could reach you, as if he could fix what’s broken. But he can’t. He never could.

“You’re sorry?” The laughter bubbles up in your throat, but it’s not joyful, not even bitter—it’s hollow. Empty. “You’re sorry? Do you even understand what you did, Choso? Do you understand what you all did?”

His lips quiver as he tries to get the words out. “I never wanted it to go this far—”

“Then why didn’t you stop it?” Your voice cracks, and it’s like a scream trying to claw its way free. “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

Choso’s face contorts, a flash of panic in his eyes as he steps closer to you. “I… I didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want you to hate me.”

“I hate you now.” You can’t even hear your own words, the weight of them crashing down on you, but it feels so good to say. So cathartic. The relief is sharp and cold as it spreads through you.

“But I love you,” he pleads, his voice breaking. There’s desperation in his eyes now, a frantic need, like he’s begging for you to just… fix it. But there’s no fixing this. Not anymore.

You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Don’t tell me that. Don’t you dare tell me you love me when you treated me like a fucking game. How could I ever trust you again?”

Choso’s face twists, the desperation morphing into something darker, almost wounded. “You don’t mean that. Please, Y/N, please don’t leave me. I’ll do anything—just—just don’t walk away.”

But you can’t stop walking. You turn, slowly, not sparing him another glance. Not sparing anyone another glance.

Because they all knew. Every last one of them.

And they didn’t care enough to stop it.

Your footsteps echo in the hollow silence, the air thick with the weight of everything that’s broken, everything that’s ruined. Your chest is tight, the ache in your heart gnawing at you like a thousand tiny daggers. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You can’t feel.

You don’t know how you get home, don’t know how you fall into bed, curling in on yourself, as if the space could swallow you whole and take away all the hurt.

But it doesn’t. The hurt is there, with you, like a ghost haunting your every waking thought.

They all knew.

And it doesn’t matter that they’re sorry now. It doesn’t matter that Choso is sitting in front of your door, his voice trembling through the wood as he calls your name, begging you to open up.

He’s sorry. They’re all sorry.

But it’s too late. Because in the end, you were never the one. You were never anything more than the punchline to a joke you didn’t even know you were part of.

And no amount of sorrys can take that away.

A Bet. A Dare. A Life.

The room is suffocating. You can feel the heat in your chest, in your stomach—rising, boiling. It burns you like the sharpest ache, and you can’t stop the way your breath hitches every time you inhale. This is wrong. Everything is wrong.

You should have never trusted them. Never trusted him.

It started as a harmless fling. That’s what you thought, at least. But when you looked at him, when he looked at you with that grin—so open, so honest—you could’ve sworn that maybe, just maybe, it was something more. He wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t like the rest of them, the men who flitted through your life with no real intention of staying, their interests as fickle as the seasons.

But Shiu Kong was different. He was soft in his brutal honesty. He was clever, kind in his own way—he made you feel special. That’s what you thought. That’s what you told yourself, over and over again.

And now... now you were nothing more than a joke.

The words come crashing down on you, hitting like a slap to the face. "It was a bet. A dare. You were a dare." Shiu’s voice, like poison, laced with something deeper, something far more disturbing than you ever imagined.

You couldn’t have heard that right. You must be misunderstanding. His eyes, dark and unreadable, bore into yours like they always had. But there was something more behind them now. Something that wasn't there before.

“A dare?” you whisper, too stunned to make it louder, though every cell in your body screams for you to scream. To shout. You force your hand to your mouth, to keep it together, to not let it slip.

“Yeah,” he responds with that same nonchalance, the way he always spoke to you—like it was just another casual thing. “Me and the guys? We... we made a bet. Whoever could get you to fall for them, win the challenge.” His gaze flickers to the side, like he’s waiting for something, some kind of reaction.

And that’s when it hits you. Every damn thing that ever felt real, every moment you shared with him, every laugh, every quiet, stolen glance, was just... staged. It wasn’t real.

He was playing you.

Your body goes cold, a chill taking over your skin. You look around the room, your pulse quickening, and there they are—the others. The rest of the group. They’re watching. Watching you. Watching him. Like it’s all some cruel game, and you’re the only one who didn’t get the memo.

How long? How long did they know? How long had they watched you stumble, watched you let yourself believe in a lie, and said nothing?

You hate them. You fucking hate them.

"Is this... is this what you wanted?" You can feel the venom in your voice, feel the anger pouring out of you like a slow burn. "You all knew, didn’t you? You knew and said nothing. You watched me fall for him, for you, and said nothing. You watched me trust you—trust all of you—and did nothing."

A heavy silence falls. Not a single one of them meets your gaze.

Shiu’s fingers twitch at his side, like he wants to say something, but he’s scared to move. You know him. You know him well enough to see that hesitation. But it doesn’t matter. You don’t care.

"You," you sneer at him, your hands shaking now, trembling with a fury that makes it hard to stay upright. "You were the one I trusted the most. You were supposed to be different."

You feel a lump in your throat, that sickening ache of betrayal tightening like a noose. “You used me.” The words feel like knives. “You all used me.”

His eyes darken even further, but he doesn’t speak. Not even when you let the words break out, shattering the calm, composed mask you’d tried to wear for so long.

“What is it?” You laugh, bitterly. “What’s so special about me, huh? Was I just a joke to you?” Your voice cracks, but you can’t stop it. You don’t want to stop. “Was this all just a fucking joke?!”

“Y/N,” Shiu finally speaks, and his voice cracks too. You can hear the guilt in it, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.

“Don’t you dare try to make this sound like it’s anything other than what it is. You used me. You all used me. All for a damn bet.” The words taste like acid on your tongue. “You made me feel like... like I mattered. You made me feel like you cared. And for what? So you could laugh at me behind my back?"

You can’t breathe. Can’t think. The room spins.

But the most painful thing? The one thing that breaks you all over again, deeper than the betrayal, deeper than the lies, is the way Shiu won’t let you leave.

You know what he’s doing before he even takes a step forward. He’s blocking the door. Like a lion protecting its kill, but you’re not his prey.

You back away, your breath quickening. “Let me out.”

“No,” he says, his voice so quiet now, so broken that it almost makes you want to tear your ears off. “I won’t let you go.”

You stare at him, the desperation in his eyes more than you can bear. “What did you think would happen, Shiu? You think I’m just going to let you walk away with this? You think you can keep me here? Like I’m some... some thing you can possess? You’re out of your mind.”

He steps closer, and you want to push him away, scream, break down, but you won’t. Not now. Not ever.

But he’s already reached for you. His fingers brush your arm, and you shudder, your body recoiling from the contact.

“I didn’t want it to go like this.” His voice cracks again, quieter. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Y/N.”

“You already did.” Your chest tightens, the words coming out as a whisper, as soft and broken as you feel. “You already did.”

You should walk away. You should turn around, tear through the door, never look back. But your feet won’t move. Not now. Not anymore. Because somehow, you’re still here.

You feel the weight of it. Every word. Every lie. It settles on your chest like an unbearable pressure, and you wonder—if you had known, would you have walked away? Would you have let them all slip through your fingers before they did this to you?

You don’t know.

But you do know one thing for sure.

You are done.

It wasn’t just that Hiruguma had lied to you.

It wasn’t just that you had been deceived, manipulated, and toyed with for weeks. It was the realization that every single person you trusted—your friends, the people you leaned on, the ones you thought had your back—had known about it. They all knew about the bet.

The words echoed in your mind, ringing like a bell of betrayal.

“I was dared to date you.”

You stared at him, still trying to process what he had just confessed. Hiruguma stood there in front of you, hands clenched by his sides, gaze trained downward, avoiding yours. There was no defensiveness, no pride in his eyes—just guilt, guilt that sank deep into the pit of his stomach.

There was nothing in his face but honesty, and yet that was the one thing that made you feel even more sick.

"You’re telling me," you whispered, a venomous laugh escaping from your throat, "that you were a bet? That everything we’ve done... that everything I’ve felt... was just some joke to you?"

Hiruguma swallowed hard, his throat constricting at your words. His voice was soft but steady when he answered. "I was dared. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you. I didn’t think I would. But… I did. It became real."

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, but it made your skin crawl. It felt like nails on a chalkboard.

A part of you, somewhere deep inside, wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that maybe this wasn’t all just some sick joke. That maybe he hadn’t done it because of the dare. That maybe, somehow, this could still work. But the other part of you, the part that still couldn’t breathe properly, the part that felt like you were drowning in an ocean of betrayal, knew better.

You’ve been played.

You clutched the hem of your shirt, fighting the tears that had already started to well up in your eyes. You had to hold it together—just a little longer. You didn’t want him to see how much he’d hurt you. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how deep the knife had cut. But as the anger and betrayal boiled up inside you, the words started pouring out before you could stop them.

“Are you kidding me? And what about them?” You gestured violently toward the group of friends that had always been around you—Yuji, Megumi, Nobara. You couldn’t even look at them now. “They all knew, didn’t they?”

Hiruguma’s silence said everything. He didn’t need to speak; his lowered eyes were enough to confirm what you already knew. The rest of the group had kept it from you. They all knew. They all watched. They all let you fall for this, and they did nothing.

They’re complicit.

They lied to you, too.

"Why?!" Your voice cracked. "Why would they do this? Why would you do this to me?"

You could feel the tears beginning to fall despite your best efforts to hold them back. But no matter how hard you tried, they came, and soon enough you couldn’t breathe properly. It was the worst feeling in the world—the overwhelming sensation of being so utterly deceived that you couldn’t even trust your own mind anymore.

Hiruguma stepped closer, but you backed away instinctively, your chest tightening. “I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to make you feel this way,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I’ve always wanted you. I wanted to be with you... not because of a dare, but because I—"

“Shut up!" You snapped, your voice harsh, sharp. "Don’t you dare make this about you now. Don’t you dare."

His shoulders slumped, and his face contorted with remorse. He looked like he was physically crumbling, but it did nothing for you. All you could feel was the weight of the betrayal, pushing you deeper into the ground with every breath.

You squeezed your eyes shut, holding back the floodgates. You couldn’t look at him. Not now. Not when everything about him felt like a lie. Your thoughts were a mess—a tornado of anger, hurt, confusion, and disbelief. It felt like everything you had been living was ripped away in a single moment.

"You should’ve just left," you muttered bitterly, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. "You should’ve told me the truth from the start. Then maybe I wouldn’t have—" You paused, your voice breaking before you could say it. "Maybe I wouldn’t have fallen for you."

Hiruguma looked stricken, his face pale. He stepped forward again, but you didn’t budge. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to be closer or farther away. His presence was a paradox now—both a comfort and a source of pain.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything," he whispered. "But I swear, this... the bet—it doesn’t matter anymore. I want you. I love you. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I did, and I’m sorry for that. I’ll do anything... anything to make it right.”

You could feel him watching you, could feel his eyes on you like a weight that wouldn’t lift. But you couldn’t face him—not now. Not when everything you thought you knew had been shattered. Your thoughts screamed for clarity, but all you could do was stand there, numb, overwhelmed by the quiet ache in your chest. The emptiness where love once lived.

“You can’t just take back what you did,” you finally whispered, the words coming out hoarse. “You can’t just undo all the lies. All the people who knew—who watched me fall and did nothing.”

His eyes went wide, and he immediately looked to the others, your friends, who had been standing off to the side, lingering like ghosts in the background. “I know,” he said, voice low and broken. “I know they were wrong, too. They should have told you. I should’ve told you.”

You wiped your face again, taking a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I need time. I need space," you said, a trembling note in your voice. You were shaking all over, your emotions a storm you couldn’t control.

But deep down, as much as it hurt, as much as you hated everything that had happened, there was a part of you—small, fragile—that couldn’t completely let go. Not yet. Not when everything had been so real between you. Not when the love you felt for him had meant something, had been real for you.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked, voice so quiet you almost missed it.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you closed your eyes, taking in a shaky breath.

“No,” you said after a long pause, finally looking up at him with wet eyes. “I don’t want you to leave. But we... we have to start over. From scratch. Like we’ve never met before. If we’re going to do this, it has to be all the way. No lies. No more games.”

His expression softened, and there was something in his eyes—something you hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t relief, not exactly. But it was an acknowledgment. A silent promise.

"I swear. No more games," he said, his voice steady and firm. "I’ll do whatever it takes. No more bets. Just us."

And with that, the first fragile seed of hope began to take root inside you, despite everything. You weren’t sure how long it would take for things to heal, or even if they would—but for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something real to begin.

A/N: this was wayyyyy too long, anyways yuhhh, i loved writing this! Thank you to the lovely anon who requested, i mean it, thank you to every anon who's sent me requests, y'all are too cute

Masterlist.

:)

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Slipping through my fingers"

ok yall this is an emotional one!! it expands more on reader and jason's dynamic before he died and shows why jason is an especially sore spot for reader. it's also jason who she's most vulnerable and willing to forgive.

You and Jason ate the popcorn chicken on your bed in silence. For a moment, you pretended that everything was normal again. That Jason was still just Jason and you were still just you. That he was still your big brother that meant the world to you and that you were still his baby sister who he adored and couldn't go a day without.

For a moment, jason could pretend he wasn't the Red Hood, a vigilante who struck fear even in the darkest of hearts, he could pretend he was just comforting his little sister who meant the world to him.

Jason stares at you, his eyes locked onto yours like he’s trying to burn through the walls you’ve built between you. His breathing is shallow, tight with something unspoken, something raw. He’s been holding it in, holding it all in—his guilt, his regret, his anger—but it’s all starting to crack. The cracks are sharp now, and they’re starting to bleed.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he spits, his voice gravelly, thick with the weight of what’s unsaid. “I didn’t want to become this. I didn’t want to lose you.”

You let out a bitter laugh, harsh and mocking, and you can feel the edge of your own frustration clawing at you. “Well, newsflash, Jason, you did. You lost me the moment you decided that pushing me away was the best option. You don’t get to sit there and tell me how you didn’t want to hurt me when you were the one who abandoned me without a second thought. I ran into your arms and you acted like you couldn't care less.”

His jaw tightens and you see something almost vulnerable flicker across his face. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by something darker; guilt, maybe, but also something like self-loathing.

“You think I wanted to leave? You think I wanted to hurt you?” His voice is quiet, almost deadly calm, but the tremor in his tone betrays him. “I didn’t want to drag you down, okay? I didn’t want to make you part of this... mess I’ve become. I thought if I just kept my distance, kept you away from all the shit in my life, I’d be doing you a favor. ”

“And what the hell makes you think I needed your protection, huh?” You snap back, “You think I couldn’t handle whatever shit you were going through? You think I couldn’t handle you? You never gave me the chance to help. You just shut me out, Jason. Like I was just some... some stranger. Like you weren't the closest thing I had to family. There wasn't anything I wouldn't have done for you. you were my brother. I loved Dick but he was never you.”

Jason’s eyes flash, anger mixing with the guilt, there’s an almost pleading intensity to him now. “I wasn’t protecting you,” he murmurs, voice breaking, just a little. “I was protecting myself. Because every damn time I saw you, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I needed you. How much I wanted you in my life, and I was so fucking scared that if you stuck around, you’d see everything I was trying to hide. That you’d see how broken I really am. And you didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve to get caught up in my shit, in the mess I was making of myself.”

Your heart clenches at the rawness of his words, the vulnerability creeping in, uninvited and unwelcome. You want to scream at him, to tell him he’s a coward, to tell him how much it hurt, how much it still hurts. But instead, you feel a lump form in your throat, something tight, constricting. The years of silence between you, the hurt, the loneliness—it hits all at once.

“You were never a mess to me,” you say, quieter now, as if the weight of his confession is slowly wearing you down. “I knew you, Jason. I knew who you were before all this. The guy I could talk to about anything. The guy who knew me better than anyone. The one who made me feel like I actually belonged. ”

Jason’s eyes widen, his breath catching as if you’ve just hit him in the chest. “I thought about you every day, you know?” he says in a hoarse whisper, his voice trembling. “Every day. You think I didn’t miss you? I thought about those times, the way we used to be... how you would just be there. You and me against the world. I remember laughing with you. Just... sitting there, talking about stupid stuff, and it felt like we were the only two people who really got it. I missed that, more than anything.”

You feel a tightness in your chest at the words, something fragile breaking open. You remember. You remember the late nights, the quiet conversations that meant more than anything else in the world. He was everything to you, back then. But now... now everything is just fractured pieces, fragments that don’t fit together anymore.

“You left,” you whisper, voice shaking, barely audible. “You left me, Jason. You left me without a word, without a reason. And I don’t care how much you missed me. That doesn’t change what you did. How you let her in after years of ignoring me.”

Jason’s face twists in pain, the anger shifting into something else, something raw and regretful. “I thought you’d be better off without me,” he admits, his voice breaking, the quiet words ripping through the space between you. “I thought if I just stayed away, you wouldn’t have to deal with my shit. You wouldn’t have to deal with... me.” His fists unclench, and he runs a hand through his hair, pulling at it in frustration. “I didn’t think you’d need me anymore. I thought I was dragging you down. I was so damn scared of ruining everything we had. But instead, I ended up ruining everything. And I can’t fix that. I know that. I just... I just wanted you to know that I didn’t want to leave. I thought if I stayed, I’d hurt you even more. I thought... I thought it’d be easier to let you go than to keep pushing you away. I was wrong.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and painful, like a confession he’s carried for too long. You want to reach out, to say something—anything—but the words are stuck, lodged in your throat. The vulnerability between you is unbearable, but you can’t ignore the truth in his eyes. He’s not the same person who walked away all those years ago. And maybe, just maybe, he’s not the same person he was when he left. But you don’t know if that’s enough. You don’t know if you can trust him again.

"I wrote to you, you know? When i thought you were.... gone. I wrote to you almost every single day, I figured you'd like it, think it's something out of those books you used to read. It made me feel like you were still with me, like you were watching over me. When you, when you came back, I was convinced I wished you alive." You admitted your childish thoughts, voice breaking in between sobs.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” you say, your voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t know who you’ve become. I don’t know if you’re the person who cared about me, the one who sat with me and talked about everything or if you’re just some... some shadow of him. And I don’t know if I’ want to find out. Or if i'm ready to let go and forgive”

Jason stares at you, his face pale, his eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and frustration. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t deserve that,” he says quietly, his voice barely a whisper. “But I’m begging you. just let me try to make it right. I’ll prove it to you. I’ll prove that I’m not that guy anymore. I can’t erase what happened. I can't erease Tiffany. I can’t take back the years we lost. But I can try to be the person you used to know. The person you trusted. I can be your big brother again. I can still keep the nightmares away”

The silence between you stretches, each second heavier than the last. You’re caught in the middle—caught between the person you were, the person you are now, and the person he’s trying to be. But for the first time in a long time, Jason isn’t running. He’s not hiding from you. And as much as you want to shut him out, to protect yourself from more pain, something inside you is aching—aching for that connection you once had, aching for the possibility that it’s not too late to fix this.

What really broke you was seeing him cry. It was like you were a child again. It nearly broke your brain seeing Jason, your fearless big brother, your idol, cry.

“We can try” you whisper, your voice small, fragile, like it’s a decision that could break you. " it’s not gonna be easy, Jason. Things cant magically change no matter what we wish."

Jason nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, his face stricken with the weight of everything he’s put you through. “I know,” he breathes, barely audible. “But I’m not going anywhere. Not this time. Never again.”

After Jason left, you had to sit and process what happened. In truth, you didn't know if things could ever be the same between you and jason. So many years of neglect and anger couldn't disappear with just a conversation and apology. No, you would make him, them, know what it feels like to be begging for scraps. Maybe things wouldn't be the same with jason, maybe after time and effort, they could be better. You missed him. So much. It would be easier to forgive him than Bruce. Yeah, Bruce is your father but Jason was your hero.

When Bruce reaches your door, he hesitates for a moment. The heavy weight of guilt in his chest is hard to ignore, but there’s something more, something that unsettles him even more than the tension in the air: the fear that you’re slipping through his fingers. That what happened today might have cracked something too deep to repair.

He knocks once, then opens the door.

You’re sitting on your bed, your back to him, staring out the window as if you’re already a million miles away. It’s almost as if you’ve already shut everything out, ready to move on.

His voice comes quietly, strained. " we need to talk.”

You don’t respond, not right away. Bruce steps into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. The air feels heavy, like something’s already been decided, but he won’t let that deter him. He takes a slow, steady breath, trying to calm the rising panic in his chest.

He’s careful, almost too careful, when he speaks again. “I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. But what happened today, what you did to Tim and Damian, it can’t go unanswered. It wasn’t just about the fight. You crossed a line, and I need to know that you’re aware of that.”

You turn slowly to face him, your eyes burning with frustration, and Bruce can see the rawness in them. The anger. The hurt. It cuts through him, deeper than any physical wound ever could.

“And what should I have done, Bruce? Sit there and take it? Let them walk all over me? Let ya'll act like nothing's wrong? Like you didn't ship me away because some bottle blonde bitch said to?” You scoff, the bitterness in your voice thick enough to choke on. “I’m sick of being treated like I don’t matter. Like I’m just an afterthought. You and your little Batfamily can keep pushing me to the side, but don’t expect me to sit quietly while you pretend I’m not even here. Not anymore. Never again”

Bruce’s face tightens with guilt, but he doesn’t back down. “That’s not what I want. I never wanted you to feel that way. I know I haven’t been there like I should have. I know we've all been horrible and cruel. But that’s no excuse for what you did.”

The words sting, but your anger doesn’t dissipate. If anything, it flares up again. You stand up abruptly, pacing, the frustration too much to keep inside. “Oh, I get it. You don’t want me to do anything that inconveniences you or your precious Batfamily. You want me to apologize for fighting back like I’m the one in the wrong here, right? You want me to crawl back to them, all nice and meek, because that’s what you think I should be. What I used to be. But I’m not that person anymore, Bruce. I’m not. And it’s about damn time you realize that. If anything, me and Damian aren't even close to even, he's hurt me before, threatened me before, that always went unanswered. Because fuck me right? Who cares about me? Tell Tim he's welcome to come get his lick back, I wasn't thinking when I hit him.”

Bruce flinches, his jaw tightening at your words. You’re right, he’s failed you. He’s allowed the distance between you two to grow, let it fester until you finally exploded. He’d told himself that you would always be there, that you were part of his family, but he’d taken that for granted.

You were right, Damian was never punished but Bruce would ensure that no one, not even Damian would ever get away with hurting you again.

But then, just when he thinks he has a handle on the situation, you drop the bombshell that completely shatters any control he had left.

You cross your arms over your chest and exhale, your voice soft but full of finality. “I’m leaving tomorrow. For the South of France. I’m staying with Ariel and her dad for the summer.”

The words land like a punch in the gut. Bruce freezes, his hand almost involuntarily reaching out toward you, though he stops himself just short. His breath catches in his throat.

“France?” His voice cracks for the first time since he entered the room. His mind races, how could you leave like this? How could you just walk away? You two were making progress, learning to understand each other. How was he supposed to fix this if you left? Was it that easy for you? Was it that easy for him to lose you? “You can’t.” He states, his tone final and unforgiving.

“I can. I already have everything packed, in fact, I literally didn't even unpack.” You shrug nonchalantly, trying to hide the ache in your chest behind a mask of indifference. “Ariel and I have been talking about this for months, it's our trip.”

Bruce takes a step toward you, voice low and edged with something darker, more possessive. “You’re not leaving. Not like this.”

You shake your head, the fire in your eyes fading just a little, replaced by something more resigned. “You really don’t get it, do you? You’ve barely noticed me, Bruce. You’ve been too busy with your missions, your family, your life, and I’ve been here, waiting. But not anymore. I’m not going to sit around and wait for you to remember I exist. I deserve more than that. That boarding school was the best thing that happened to me.”

Bruce can feel the weight of your words, the sting of rejection, and it makes something inside him snap. He knows he’s messed up. He knows he’s made mistakes. But the idea of you leaving—of you walking away, out of his reach—is something he won’t stand for. Not now. Not when he’s just starting to recognize how badly he’s failed you. Not when he can still feel the resentment rolling off you in waves.

“I can’t let you go,” Bruce says, the words slipping out before he can stop them. His eyes lock with yours, the intensity between you two growing, thick with unspoken emotions. “Not like this. Not when I’m just starting to understand everything that’s been wrong. I’ve messed up, but don’t leave. I’ll fix this. I promise. I’ll fix it.”

You stare at him, unmoving, but the fire in your eyes softens just a little. There’s a flicker of doubt now, a tiny crack in the armor you’ve put up. But it’s not enough. Not yet. Not enough to change your mind.

“I don’t know, Bruce.” Your voice is quieter now, but still laced with hurt. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this. You’re not the person you used to be. And neither am I. Maybe that’s just... something we both have to face.”

Bruce steps closer, close enough now that his presence seems to fill the room, heavy and suffocating in a way that only he can. His hand reaches out slowly, this time not hesitating, and he places it on your shoulder gently.

“I don’t want to lose you, not when I've just started to see you,” he says, his voice hoarse with a desperation he’s never let show before. “I’ll fix this. I’ll make it right. But I need you to stay. I need you here with me, please.”

The words hang in the air between you two, a fragile plea that feels both urgent and terrifying. The mighty Bruce Wayne, billionaire, playboy, the Batman, stood in front of you begging.

You don’t respond immediately. Instead, you stand there, staring at him as if you’re seeing him for the first time in a long while. And maybe, just maybe, there’s a flicker of hope in your eyes. But not enough.

"Compromise. I'll stay with Ariel for two and a half months and i'll come back here for two weeks before school." You say, eyes gleaming with the signature look all Waynes get when negotiating. Yes, you wanted to give him a small chance but there's no way you're backing out of this trip and leaving Ariel and her hot dad hanging. You weren't about to give up a summer of tanning, flirting, partying, and country hopping with your best friends for the chance that you might fix things with your father.

Bruce raised his brows, almost smiling. You were cute when you tried to be tough, but the deal is what made him falter. Two teenagers, two months unsupervised in a foreign country, who knows what could happen? Who knows what kind of influence this Ariel is? But what was really funny was that you talked like you were going back to New York for school! No, you were coming back to Gotham Prep and staying the manor, where you belonged. But Bruce wasn't cruel. He'd let you hope. "We can go as a family, a family vacation. I'll meet your friend and decide if she's trustworthy. I have a villa right in the-"

"No! Please no! I would rather die. This is a girls trip. As in only me and Ariel. We've been planning this forever. I won't cancel. Or bring my family, that's so lame. You never would've cared before." You say almost stomping your feet, playing the guilt card. You couldn't have your family there seeing what you get up to and who you get up to it with!

"One month and you take Dick with you." There was no way you were going alone. Bruce wouldn't cave, nor would he be guilt tripped.

The mighty Bruce Wayne got hustled by his 16 year old daughter. In the end he caved, you would stay with Ariel for two months and two weeks, not a day more nor a day less. You would apologize to Tim and leave tomorrow after a peaceful family breakfast. You would have your location on at all times. Yeah Bruce got played, but as he walked out your room and looked back to see you grinning from ear to ear and calling your friend, jumping up and down, he decided it was worth it to see you this happy.

He would let you have these two months, then you'd be back home where you belonged.

The morning felt too still. Too quiet. The clock ticked on in the background, but it didn’t seem to matter. Every movement felt exaggerated, every breath, every shift of your weight, every step as you made your way around the dining table. It was as if the house itself were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Something to shift.

As you went and sat down at the table, it was quiet once again and the air was even heavier than yesterday.

Bruce sat at the head of the table, his face unreadable as he sipped his coffee, eyes occasionally flicking toward you but never fully meeting yours. He was distant, but somehow… present in a way that felt more intrusive than comforting. He hadn’t been this present in years, actually never. Not to you.

Bruce’s gaze didn’t leave you as you walked, his eyes colder than you remembered yesterday. Your fingers tightened around the strap of your suitcase, the weight of his attention pulling at your chest.

Jason sat to his right, his hand resting on his mug with a white-knuckled grip, his expression hard and unreadable. Every so often, his eyes would slide over to you, watching your movements, the way you tucked things into your bag or adjusted the straps of your suitcase. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at you, like he was mentally memorizing every detail, every shift.

Bruce’s gaze was fixed on you as he slid the black card across the table, its dark, sleek surface catching the light just right.

“Take it,” he said quietly, his tone laced with authority. “Use it for whatever you need. You don’t have to go without. Don't forget, you're a part of this family, always have been. I want to make sure you have what you need.”

You almost recoiled at the gesture, the black card a symbol of everything that tied you to this mansion, to this family. It was a physical representation of his control, their attempts to make you feel like you were part of something. But it felt more like a chain. But it is unlimited money... You didn’t take your eyes off him as you slid it into your bag, the tension in the room making your throat dry.

Your outfit—intentionally revealing, a far cry from the usual soft layers you wore when you spent time with them—felt more out of place than ever. The shorts, lulu lemon in the shortest length, the cropped top—it had been a subtle rebellion. A way to assert yourself, to feel free. But now, as their eyes flicked over you, you felt too exposed. Too seen.

Jason’s eyes lingered on your exposed skin, his expression unreadable, but his lips were pressed together in a thin line. There was an edge to his stare, like he didn’t like what he saw, but he didn’t speak. Not directly. His fists were still clenched at his sides, his jaw taut.

Damian’s eyes flicked over you as well, but his anger seemed to burn hotter, sharper. “Pathetic,” he muttered under his breath, too low for anyone else to hear. But it wasn’t meant for you—it was meant for himself, for the way he couldn’t control you. For the fact that you’d gotten away. For now.

And then, there was Bruce. His gaze never wavered, never softened, just cold and steady. He said nothing more about the card, but his eyes held something that felt too heavy to bear. Possession. It hung between them like an unspoken truth. And the way his eyes moved over you—lingering just a little too long on the exposed parts of her skin—made your skin crawl.

Jason’s voice broke through the silence next, but it was low, playful, but edged with something else. Something that made her skin crawl.

“No boys,” he said, his tone playful, even as his gaze flicked to the door. “I don’t care who you’re staying with, but no boys. Got it?”

The playful tone didn’t match the intensity in his gaze, though. She raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to play it off.

“I’m sorry, what?” you replied, letting a smirk cross your face, trying to make it clear that this was just Jason being Jason. They were back to normal.

“No boys,” he repeated, the humor slipping from his voice now, replaced with something colder. “I’m serious. No fucking around while i'm not there. No fucking around in general, figuratively and literally.”

Your heart skipped. You glanced at Bruce, expecting him to give a soft chuckle or a reassuring nod to say it was just Jason being… well, Jason. But Bruce didn’t flinch. His gaze remained locked on you, unwavering. His expression was cold, his lips pressed into a firm line. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t even looking amused.

“Jason’s right,” he said, his words steady and resolute. “No boys. Not while you’re here. Not while you’re under this roof.”

You almost scoffed, good thing you weren't gonna be under this roof for long.

You blinked, the sharpness of his words catching you off guard. He wasn’t joking. His posture was rigid, his eyes locked onto yours in a way that almost felt like a command.

Jason didn’t speak again, but the message had been clear.

No boys.

You nodded stiffly, the weight of his demand sitting in the pit of your stomach.

Duke, who had been mostly quiet up until now, was the next to speak, but his voice was softer, more thoughtful, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to handle the situation.

“You don’t have to go. You know that, right?” he said, his voice tentative, though there was an undercurrent of something else—something protective. "We could all go together. It’s better that way."

But his offer hung in the air like a dream you couldn’t quite reach. You could see it in his eyes—a hint of something, perhaps concern, perhaps something more. It wasn’t quite the same as Bruce’s cold stare or Jason’s intense grip on control. But there was an edge to it.

Cass, perched at the far end of the table, seemed as unreadable as ever. But there was something in her posture today—an intensity, like she was bracing herself, like something was about to happen, even if she couldn’t quite put it into words. She didn’t speak, but her gaze tracked every movement, every gesture, as if she were memorizing it.

Tim, seated next to Cass, had barely said anything all morning. His eyes flickered to you now and then, but it was more of a quiet observation, something far too careful and deliberate. He was almost… detached. But there was a coldness in the way he looked at you, like he knew something you didn’t. Like he was waiting.

Barbara was the exception—her smile was too wide, her eyes too bright, like she was trying to convince herself of something she wasn’t sure about. She kept trying to fill the silence with light conversation, but it always felt forced. And when her gaze landed on you, it lingered a little too long.

Steph, across from her, was the only one trying to keep things light. But the way she kept glancing at the door, at the phone on the table, at her own reflection in the polished surface—it was obvious she was uncomfortable. She was nervous. Especially after yesterday. And it was more than just the impending trip.

The room was alive with their watchfulness. It wasn’t just their presence—it was the way they didn’t speak directly to you, but everything they did seemed to be a reminder that they were there, that they could be there.

Damian scoffed from the end of the table and opened his mouth but closed it as Bruce looked at him sternly. He just rolled his eyes and went back to glaring at the wall, muttering things under his breath and gripping the table tightly.

He had been unusually quiet up until now and scoffed from his spot at the table, his eyes narrowed as he shot you a glare so venomous it was almost rivaled your actual venom.

“You think you can just leave, after everything?” Damian hissed, his voice dripping with disdain. His fists clenched under the table. “You think a simple apology makes everything okay? You punched me and left. You don’t just get to walk away from that.”

His anger seemed to grow with each word, but there was something beneath it, something that felt darker than simple sibling rivalry. As if the violation of his personal space and authority left him feeling more than just hurt, but threatened.

You knew that hitting him, striking him with all the force you could muster—had been the culmination of everything you couldn’t say, couldn’t express after all these years. But now, facing him again, you felt the weight of his anger. His rage wasn’t just directed at the punch. It was everything: the way you were walking out. The way you were leaving.

“Alright, listen up,” Dick said, his grin playful, cutting through the tension though his voice carried that same underlying weight. “Rules. You're not running off on some crazy solo adventure without us knowing every detail. I’m serious, okay?” His smile remained, but it was a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re not a little kid anymore, but that doesn’t mean you get to act like an adult. I’m gonna need you to check in—like, every single day. Got it?”

The way he said it, like it was a joke, yet his tone was so firm that it left no room for argument. And then, with a playful but almost possessive look, he added, “No crazy parties, no boys, no drinking, and if you get yourself into trouble, don't come running back here. Just kidding! If you need anything, call me.”

His words had a strange effect, both reassuring and infuriating at the same time. You didn’t need him or anyone else telling you what you could or couldn’t do, you didn't need him acting like cared. Like he was suddenly your big brother after years of ignoring you and brushing you off.

Dick was still watching you, like he was hoping you’d cave to whatever soft version of control he was offering. “Alright, just... make sure you come back. I know we don’t say it much, but we care about you, okay? I can't change the past but I do regret it and I do love you. Don’t forget that.”

And there it was—his mask slipping for just a second. His voice softened, but there was something underneath it. Possessiveness, cloaked in affection. It was hard to ignore, the way his eyes followed your movements just a little too closely, the way his words lingered like an unspoken demand.

You didn’t respond immediately, your mind swirling with everything you wanted to say, but didn't. Instead, you let the silence hang in the air, a heavy, thick thing. There was something off about the manor now. Something that hadn’t been there before. The way they all watched you, their glances lingering a little too long, the small, subtle ways they tried to control your every movement—it was suffocating, and yet... it was addicting.

It felt nice being cared about, knowing you had control over their feelings now.

Your mind wandered, thinking of the freedom waiting for you in France. The sun, the beaches, the boys, the carefree nights with Ariel and your other friends—the perfect escape from all this suffocating attention. They don’t get it.

And then you realized—it wasn't just you going on vacation. Something would change when you came back.

When the time came, you’d have to navigate this new, tense version of your family. A family who acted like they cared.

The game had shifted, and now you were part of a strange, unspoken power struggle—your power over them was now as much as theirs over you used to be.

As you were leaving to the airport, your family bid you goodbye. None of them were driving you, they all had busy days today. Jason wrapped you in a short, tight hug, telling you to text him when the plane took off and landed and telling you to be careful, his eyes hard and filled with warning.

Something is his tone set you off, you pulled away before you realized it and got in the car, ignoring Bruce and Dick's awkward attempts to hug you and not even glancing at everyone else.

As you pulled away from the manor and watched their figures in the distance, dread pooled in your stomach. You didn't know why but you were already dreading coming back.

OK YA'LL SORRY ITS LATE. Idk why is struggled writing this chapter so much! lmk what yall think of it and why the reader thinks things are off.

Taglist:

@strwberryglass @lilithquillete @delias-stuff @bellatrixmld @damainwayneisthebestrobin @kittzu @lilyalone @yokesmam @sanjisluvbot @facelessisnthere @dollwhite @superstarbucks

@angelunatic @littledollete @cutelittlesugarfairy @darbystrange @sxftiebee @zealous0mouse @trashlanternfish360 @galaxygirlsblog @euphoria-looney @1simpchunkygirl @a-lurking-fae @analuixxy @naturallyspontaneous @horror-lover-69 @pastel-mouse @ladyrosemone @frankie-moon3 @catley1011 @justannie18 @yandereaficionado @ithoughtthinks @asdfghjklgayblog @shadowyknightbeargoth @peche4et3chocolat @boredselkie @rogueofbullshit @iamabeaner @rosesunderthegarden

[tarotsoul]

ghost in the wind — part four

summary: struggling to get a grip on your newfound power, azriel is the only one your magic allows close. and there’s no stopping either of you when you spend the night alone together.

warnings: grieving, mentions of death, swearing, kissing, teasing, fingering, dirty talk, shadow play (hehe)

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist

Lucien Vanserra knew not to question his mate when she demanded they left for Velaris immediately. Two days of travelling. He had not asked questions—had not doubted his mate’s worry and vision, not even for a moment. 

Elain saw the blast before it occurred. She felt the earth quake beneath her feet, felt the soil and life around her stand still. A power had been awoken. A power so fierce it had shook the lands of even the Day Court. 

She had known of your presence in Prythian. Feyre had sent word to her, promised it had been nothing to worry about, that Nesta had taken you away from Rafe and that you were finally safe. 

Safe. 

That feeling in her stomach promised anything but safety. Two days of travelling. Two days of no rest. And despite her seering abilities, despite the far future she had already glimpsed, nothing could have prepared her for what greeted her arrival.

While Velaris remained as beautiful as ever, as busy and bustling as it had before she and Lucien left to travel just over a year ago…there was nothing but desolation in the air. Every breath was hard to inhale, every step on cobblestones and patchy soil a struggle to walk. 

Something was very, very wrong. 

Those suspicions were confirmed the moment she stepped foot into the River House. An eerie silence settled as soon as she passed the threshold of her High Lord and Lady’s home. Lucien could sense it, too. The hairs on the back of his neck spiked the further he walked through the grand abode. 

Rhysand met them in the foyer, a grave and wanton look to his handsome features. Elain did not apologise as she pushed past him and made for her two sisters. Both stricken with tears and pure dread. Elain struggled to loose a breath, struggled to come to terms with the energy that invaded her. 

“I came as soon as I felt it.” 

Feyre met her gaze, eyes lined with grief. Elain took a step closer. “Where is she?”

Nesta sniffled, raised her head and kept her chin high. But Elain knew her sister, knew she was close to crumbling all over again. She could not speak, could not open her mouth in fear of what animalistic cry might break through. 

Feyre spoke instead. “She’s upstairs, Azriel will not leave her side.” 

Azriel, yes. Elain had seen those visions, too. 

A question rose on the tip of her tongue, one she never considered she’d ever have to ask. She felt Lucien’s presence as he neared, a comforting hand reaching to caress her arm in comfort. She melted into it, though unlike usual, he was not able to settle the dread in her chest. 

“Her heart stopped beating after the blast,” Rhysand spoke softly as he entered the room, reaching for his mate. “However, Madja believes her soul is still in her body. She thinks Y/N is still fighting, despite all else suggesting otherwise.” 

Elain blinked back her tears. It was never supposed to have gone this way. You were never supposed to have died. 

“Madja is looking into some remedies, into the history of your mothers bloodline. For now, all we can do is wait. She has taken samples of blood and hair from Nesta and Feyre, there are no magical markers that match with Y/N’s, though if you’re willing, we’d like to test yours, just to be safe.”

Elain allowed her head to dip in acceptance, though the movement was completely subconscious. This would not be the end of you. Could not be the end. Not after everything Elain had peeked in the future. 

Azriel had not left your side in two days. The moment the blast settled, he shot through the skies to reach you. He did not expect to find that stone mountain covered in soil and tulips.  He did not expect to find your cold, lifeless body collapsed above the rubble.

He had never felt such fear, such despair. And the moment you were laid in his bed, in his room at the River House, he had not left your side. Not for food, water or rest. Not for anything. 

He stayed when Madja came to assess you, when she took samples of your blood and hair, when she smoothed a salve over the marred skin of the crescent moon on your chest. He stayed when Mor came to brush your hair and paint your fingernails. He stayed when Nesta came to read to you, when Feyre laid beside you and prayed. 

He could not leave that room, could not leave your side. 

And when Madja had returned that morning, with a hopeful gleam in her eye that she may have found something to help, he still would not allow himself to hope. 

Fear crippled every ounce of his being. Fear of speaking his hopes into existence, that the mother could be cruel to deny him. So he kept his hope buried deep. So deep that his soul latched onto it and called out to you. 

The taste of your lips still lingered on his, your scent still wrapped around him. But Azriel could not bring himself to touch you, could not dare a feel of your cold skin. Your heart had stopped beating, your chest had stopped rising. 

But he would not allow the idea of your death to linger in his mind. He could feel you, somehow, somewhere. And deep in his soul, he begged for you to hold on, to use whatever power you had to come back.

A gentle knock sounded on the bedroom door, Azriel did not need to turn to know it was Elain. Though he could not scent Lucien beside her. 

She moved like a gentle breeze, every step light and hesitant. He knew how hard it had been for everyone, for your cousins. He wanted to allow Elain a moment alone with you, as he wanted with the others, but just as before, his soul would not allow his leave. 

“Hello, Elain.”

His voice, so cold and distant. It had been a long time since he had addressed her in such a tone. She bowed her head in greeting and took a seat on the other side of your bed. He didn’t watch her, neither did his shadows. Both he and those wisps of darkness fixated on your unmoving body. 

Elain reached for your hand, a breath parting from her pink lips. “She’s cold.”

Azriel closed his eyes, tried to shut out the anguish he wanted to cry. He remained in silence, so did Elain. They sat unmoving, watching you. 

Until Elain spoke again. 

“I have seen a field of tulips. Where the air is fresh and the soil is rich.” Always speaking in cryptic words, nothing ever as simple as it should be. “I have seen what lay beyond the forest. There is a promise of something stronger than I have ever felt. Something soul-binding.” 

Elain did not look at Azriel as she spoke, she did not take her eyes away from you. Uncurling your hand, she placed three seeds in your palm and then curled it shut tight, her fist caressing yours. 

“Did you know that green tulips symbolise hope and rebirth?” She turned to him then, her face void of any emotion. “Brown tulips symbolise resilience and commitment.” Her eyes wandered to Azriel’s scarred hands that sat in his lap.

He watched the middle Archeron for a moment, his mind processing the words she spoke. He watched her gaze travel to your spare hand, the one that seemed to reach for him, palm open in invitation. 

His mind screamed not to touch you, not to hurt his heart like that. But his soul. His soul ached to feel you once more. 

Against his better judgement, he allowed a shaky hand to reach yours—skin cold and lifeless as he held you again. Azriel bit back a cry, willed the tears not to fall. His shadows followed their masters lead, snaking around your fingers and wrist and up your arms. 

Elain removed her hand, her eyes fixated on your fist of seeds. It was then that she opened your palm, and right before their eyes, the seeds bloomed into tulips. One green, one brown, one white. And your chest heaved its first breath in two days. 

Time stopped, Azriel froze. 

And your eyes blinked open. 

The air kissed your skin in a way you had never experienced before. The green of the grass was more vibrant than ever, the fluttering of a robin's wings like music to your ears. The river flowed softly, a hum of a sweet lullaby that soothed your soul. 

This is what it was supposed to feel like. The power, the magic. Was this how you were destined to live? To be one with the earth and feel its life beneath your feet? 

You felt their eyes on you from feet away, felt the way they itched to approach, to hold and soothe you. Elain had been the one to keep everyone back, to allow you a moment to breathe again. 

You felt no pain, no sorrow. 

They had followed you out of the River House and toward the embankment, allowed you a moment to let your magic flow. A sweet relief, to touch the soil and watch the buds of flora bloom. 

Though, you had no control. You did not wield your power to plant in the soil, you did not ask for lily pads to perch on the gentle waters surface. You had no control, but you would. You would find a way to harness it, to wield it. 

Another breath, your final moment alone. You turned to the others, to their hopeful faces and a smile began to stretch across your lips. 

Cassian was the first one to grin, the first one to step forward to join you. But his sudden movement startled something in your gut. And a root of sharp thorns shot from the soil and dared to pierce through Cassian’s brown skin. 

He jumped back, eyes wide and your lips parted in shock. You had not meant to do that, had no thought to hurt Cassian. Your magic acted on impulse, to protect you. 

He stepped back again, hands in the air in surrender. Rhysand watched with a tilted gaze, watched when the vine of thorns sunk back into the ground. 

So your magic would not allow others to approach you uninvited. Perhaps if you approached them instead. 

Your steps were slow, cautious. You held your breath in an attempt to hold down the power that begged to course through your veins. 

You dared another look at your friends. 

“It’s okay,” Mor smiled. “Take your time.” 

Another deep breath, another step. One foot in front of the other, your teeth gritting to keep the power at bay. Three feet away from them, you took another deep breath. This time to calm your racing heart. 

“I have no control over it.” 

Rhysand offered a gentle smile. “That’s to be expected. How do you feel?” 

Your eyes flittered between them all, lingering a moment too long on Azriel before you gazed at the world around you. A tilt upturned your lips. 

“I feel like I can finally breathe. I can feel everything in the soil. It’s like the trees are whispering to me, like the birds are singing.”

You looked back to Rhys, to Feyre. “How am I even alive?” 

Feyre dared a step closer, and you willed your power to understand she would not harm you. None of them would. 

“Madja is looking into it. For now, you need to take it easy. The smallest thing could make your power spiral or act out.” She looked between her family, returning her gaze to you. 

“Perhaps it would be best if only one of us remained by your side, for now. Maybe we can test to see who your magic doesn’t see as a threat.” 

“Well clearly I’m out of the picture,” Cassian mumbled, scuffing his feet against the grass. 

You considered Feyre’s suggestion, perhaps it would be the safest way for now. One step would be enough to see if your power responded, one step enough to create distance just in case. 

“Okay, yeah let’s do that.” 

Feyre took a step first, hesitant but with a gentle and excited smile. Her emotions were palpable, you could feel the relief that you were alive, the excitement of the prospect of you having a newfound strength. 

No one could ever take advantage of you again. 

But your power did not allow Feyre another step closer. It wrapped vines around her ankles, keeping her in place. She did not move, her calmness did not falter. You pinched your eyes shut, begged and pleaded for your magic to release her. 

And after a few moments, it did. 

Feyre returned to her previous position, and Rhysand cleared his throat as he took his turn. 

Your power did not allow him closer. It did not allow Mor, or Elain. Nor Lucien or Nesta. It left only Azriel. And your heart thudded wildly in your chest. 

You met his molten gaze, and you could feel the taste of his lips on yours again. Azriel did not move to begin with, he instead sent a lone shadow to reach you slowly. 

Your magic flickered, but it did not attack. When the shadow weaved through your hair, daisies sprouted in their wake. You didn’t notice Azriel step closer, did not notice until the toes of his boots were just a foot from you and you finally met his gaze again. 

Your breathing hitched, throat tightening. Something stirred in your gut, a simmering feeling of relief and comfort and something you felt far too often in your life. 

Shame. 

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You don’t have to hold it back if it’s too much.” 

You blinked, only now realising that you didn’t need to hold your power back. It was settled deep within you, no longer begging for a release. 

“I’m not.” You shook your head.

His gaze searched your face, shadows touching your hair. He trailed his eyes down your neck, to your chest where he fixated on that marred area of flesh for just a moment. Hazel eyes snapped back to yours. 

It was as though your beauty had been amplified tenfold. Your skin glowed, a lightness in your posture by no longer having such a heavy weight on your shoulders. And your eyes, your eyes gleamed with something he’d never seen before. 

Azriel’s chest tightened. 

He cleared his throat. “Madja is looking for something to help you learn control. The more we understand your magic, the easier it’ll be.” 

You nodded, did not dare to break his gaze. Azriel took another step closer. Just a shuffle of his feet. The toes of his shoes nearly touched yours. 

“Don’t be afraid of it,” he advised. “Your power is part of you. If you accept it as such, it’ll yield itself quicker.” 

Another nod. Another blink. 

A gentle breeze brushed past you, wafting his scent through your senses. Pine and wood and parchment. Mint and a gentle kiss of cinnamon. 

You breathed again. 

Madja had stopped by to check on you later that afternoon, taking another sample of your blood and hair and asking an abundance of questions you did your best to answer. Your magic had not let her get very close and when she’d pierced your skin with the needle, it took every ounce of self-restraint to keep that power at bay. 

Even for just a few moments, it had exhausted you. 

Dinner had gone as well as it could. You’d sat at the furthest end of the table, Azriel close beside you but still allowing you some breathing space. 

You’d suggested it would be safer for Nyx not to attend, having no control over your power, you would not allow him to be in the same room as you. Not until you harnessed it more. 

Your magic flared up twice. Once when Lucien offered you a dish of potatoes. And again when Cassian laughed a little too loudly at something Rhys said. Vines had twisted their way around the legs of the table, creeping over the surface as they slithered to reach the Illyrian. 

Azriel placed a hand over yours, his eyes demanding your gaze. “It’s okay,” he reassured softly. And that power began to retreat. 

You offered Cassian an apologetic look, though you were certain the warrior was beginning to feel a little targeted. He’d brushed it off, waving a hand and stuffing another spoonful of potatoes into his mouth. 

As the night drew to a close, that familiar feeling of discomfort began to bubble in your stomach. The thought of going back to the House of Wind deflated you, suffocated you. 

Away from nature, it no longer at the tips of your fingers. You did not want to be confined to the House in the mountains, despite how much it had begun to feel like a home. 

Azriel must have noticed as such, because he titled his head to catch your gaze. “Would you like to stay at the townhouse tonight?”

Your eyes widened marginally. “Oh, no. It’s fine. I don’t want to intrude in anyone else's home.” 

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “You wouldn’t be intruding. Ever.” There was no room for discussion in his tone. He pulled back slightly, shrugging a shoulder. “Besides, it’s usually empty. I stay there when Nesta and Cassian are…louder than usual.”

A snort slipped past your lips at the innuendo and Azriel had to ignore the way it warmed something in his chest. You’d grown to learn just how loud your cousin and her mate could be. Perhaps the townhouse would be a sweet reprieve from that, too. 

Azriel watched the couple quietly, clearing his throat. “Plus, they’ve been drinking,” his voice lowered to a soft whisper, “I can promise you a restless sleep at the House tonight.” 

Another breathy laugh slipped off your tongue and Azriel’s eyes twinkled at the sound. Perhaps it was selfish of him to try and convince you to stay at the townhouse. With him and only him. But your power would not let others get closer to you, and he wanted to offer at least one night of peace and comfort. 

Especially after all you’d endured. 

You bid your family goodnight from a distance, Mor blowing kisses to you across the table and Rhysand reminding you to reach out if anything feels wrong. 

The walk from the Riverhouse to the townhouse was a short one, though you enjoyed it nonetheless. Walking beside Azriel as the moon lit your way was nothing short of beautiful, and you did not miss the way his shadows intertwined with your fingers. 

“Nuala and Cerridwen have brought some of your things to the townhouse,” Azriel said softly beside you, a lone shadow whispering in his ear. 

You offered him a grateful smile, making a mental note to thank the twins whenever you next saw them. Azriel’s lip quirked. “They’ve run you a bubble bath, too.”

Your smile stretched to a grin.��

By the time you reached the townhouse, you could smell the lavender oils the twins had used for your bath. Azriel led you into the foyer and a sense of warmth surrounded you. 

The townhouse was beautiful. Portraits and trinkets hung on the walls, soft glows of gold and greens as the lamps reflected off the plants. Thick but worn rugs on the floor. You took a breath, your shoulders relaxing. 

This felt like home. 

Azriel closed the door behind you both and his shadows slinked up the stairs and out of sight. He pressed a very gentle hand to the small of your back. “Come, I’ll show you to your room.” 

He guided you with that same hand just above your coxis, up the stairs and to the left and down the hall. It was a large landing, three or four doors that you could see on this side of the townhouse. You wondered how many other rooms were on the other side of the stairs. 

You followed the lavender trail, stopping short outside a door and Azriel turned the knob and pushed it open. This room was much smaller than yours at the House, but Gods was it cosy. 

A four poster bed in the centre of the room, two slim dressers either side, a high-back armchair in the corner with a little bookcase beside it. And to the left of that, was an open door that led to a private bathing chamber. 

You couldn’t help the smile that pulled on your lips. Nor could you help the feeling of comfort that blanketed you. 

Azriel cleared his throat. “I’ll let you bathe and get settled. My room is just opposite yours if you need anything.” He pointed to the door behind you both. 

You thanked him, watched him disappear into his own room before you closed the door and made your way to the bathroom. 

The water soothed every muscle in your body, seeping into your pores and nourishing your skin. A fresh night slip had been left folded on the counter by the sink, a new bamboo toothbrush and a small basket filled with your favourite moisturisers, oils and balms. 

After an hour of scrubbing and soaking, you dried and dressed, applied your creams and combed through your hair. It had been a long time since you’d taken such care of yourself, since you felt relaxed enough to take your time. 

You could not shake how much this townhouse felt like home to you. 

Scrunching your wet hair softly with a cotton towel, you padded into your bedroom when a knock sounded on the door. You didn’t need to open it to know who it was, Azriel had already informed you it would just be the two of you at the townhouse tonight. 

“Come in,” you called over your shoulder. 

But nothing could have prepared Azriel for what he walked into. Your back to him, your tiny night slip barely passing your ass, your wet hair pulled over your shoulder as he took note of your shoulder blades. 

Such a simple thing should not have affected him the way it did. His shadows pinched the mugs of tea from his hands and floated them to a nightstand, returning to their masters shoulders just as you turned to greet them. 

Azriel was no longer wearing his leathers, now adored in a pair of grey sweatpants and a dark blue knitted sweater. It was unusual to see him in something other than black, in something so relaxed. 

But Gods, was he beautiful. His hair was slightly damp and mussed from his own bath. He cleared his throat, pointing to the nightstand. “I brought tea.” Azriel was nervous, you could sense it. Smell it. 

He stood in the centre of the room, large wings tucked close to his back. You almost frowned at the sight and the comment slipped before you could stop it. “Do you feel uncomfortable around me?”

Azriel’s own brows pinched at that. “No, of course not. Quite the opposite, actually.” He tilted his head, taking a slow step forward. “Why?” 

A familiar surge of magic bubbled in the pit of your stomach. Not out of fear or anxiety, and it was not the same as before when it tried to protect you. No. This was different, this felt electric. Excited. 

You shrugged, jutting your chin to the dark membrane. “Your wings. They’re tight against your back.”

Azrie’s shoulders sagged slightly, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his full lips. But he couldn’t bring himself to admit he was uptight because your nipples were pearled and almost cutting through the very thin silk of your slip.

“You’re quite observant,” he noted, “I’m not uncomfortable around you, Y/N. I enjoy your company, your presence. I was trying to give you some space. This room isn’t very big, I didn’t want your power to feel suffocated.” 

Your head tilted at that. “You could never make me feel suffocated, Azriel. I enjoy your company and presence, too.”

His smile grew broader, a row of white teeth gleaming at you and you had no control when your face mirrored his. His heart thumped in his chest at the sight, at the way a sweet scent of lavender and jasmine wafted through the air. 

“You know that night…in the library?” Azriel did not need to ask to know which evening you were referring to. It took every ounce of self-control not to kiss you that night. Only for you to peck his lips in a hasty goodbye just two days later. 

He dipped his head in acknowledgement. 

Your brows furrowed just slightly. “You said you’d come to my room later so we could talk.” He nodded once more, his mind having already replayed every interaction he’d ever shared with you. 

“Can we do that now?” You fiddled with your fingers. “Talk, I mean. If you don’t have other commitments.”

Azriel would drop any prior engagements to spend the night with you. And by the way he gazed into your eyes, it was as though he was silently begging you to understand that. 

He did not need to speak or nod, for you only motioned to your bed and he got the hint. Azriel sat with his wings sprawled across the headboard.

He swallowed thickly, watching you tuck your legs beneath your body, the night slip doing very little to keep you covered. His mind would not stop racing, his shadows would not stop whispering. Dirty thoughts of what you were wearing beneath. If you were wearing anything at all. 

Azriel struggled to stifle his arousal. 

His shadows moved to reach you, caressing every inch of bare skin they could find. A giggle fell from your lips, warmth coating your flesh. 

Azriel could not help himself. “You’re so beautiful when you smile.”

Your grin grew, brows raising, eyes finally meeting his. “Only when I smile?” You teased, a newfound feeling of ease settling in every part of your body. 

He was pleasantly surprised by your response and dared lean a little closer. This was easy, talking with you. “You’re always beautiful. I’ve always thought so.”

You had expected a teasing retort back, not something so sincere and…well…romantic. Your smile faded slightly, a breath stuck in your throat. You swallowed around it. “You have?” 

Azriel nodded. You took in a breath, allowing him to reach for you. His wings spread behind him, drooping just enough to show he did, indeed, feel relaxed around you. He reached for you, tucking hair behind your now pointed ear. 

Your soul began to hum, content and blissful under Azriel’s keen but gentle touch. No male had ever called you beautiful before. No male had ever looked at you the way he was. As though he was besotted, as though he had never seen anything so wonderful in his life before. 

“I had every intention of coming to you that night.” His voice was rough, his tone gentle. It scratched an itch somewhere deep in your core. “Had Rhys not sent me on that mission, I would’ve been there, I would have told you.”

“Told me what?” you breathed. 

He swallowed, his scarred hand cupping the soft skin of your jaw as his thumb smoothed over the apple of your cheek. It took everything in you to fight the fluttering of your eyes. 

“That no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about you. The moment you crossed that wall, you consumed every part of me.” 

Your breathing staggered, your core pulsed. 

“I know you’ve only been here a short time, but I can no longer pretend that I’m not drawn to you. That I don’t crave your touch.” Shadows slinked your skin again, curling at the nape of your neck and imitating a scratching at your scalp. 

Your lips parted, chest heaving. Azriel’s eyes fluttered closed at the scent that oozed from you. Sweet arousal consumed him, dared to drag him under. 

He loosed a breath. “You have no idea what you do to me.” 

Your body felt like it was on fire, an excitement you had never once felt before. Your chest ached, your thighs trembled. And you knew if you parted your legs, you’d find a pool of wetness dribbling from your core.

No part of you felt guilty for it. No part of you tried to deny your body what it craved. Your soul sung to his, your body shifting closer. His hand on your face trailed down to caress your neck, lower to graze your collarbone, then lower again to skim over the marred flesh of your mark. 

Your eyes fluttered closed, a shaky breath sounding from you. You wanted him, needed him. That power surged in the pit of your stomach, desperate. You breathed deeply, the air thicker than before, and full of something you had never once scented. 

It was Azriel’s scent, only stronger. A raw and unfiltered scent that stirred the coil in your gut. Eyes fluttering open, they landed on his lap—on the girth that grew beneath the grey of his sweatpants. 

You swallowed thickly, chest heaving. You began to stir, hips shifting and brows knitted. “Az…” You were breathless, almost panting and his jaw clenched. 

“It’s okay,” he ground out. His fingers toyed with the thin strap of your slip, goosebumps erecting across your skin as his shadows caressed your arms and neck. Your head lulled to the side, eyes hooded. 

“Touch me,” you pleaded through a broken whisper. 

His jaw clenched again, his pupils blown and wings outstretched and tight. He did not move, did not look away. You reached for his wrist, daring to guide his hand over your full breast, over the perk of your nipple. 

A soft moan slipped past your lips. You had never felt arousal like it. Had never felt so needy that you’d resort to begging. Never had you expected to end up in such a state. You never had for Rafe. But this was Azriel. And everything about Azriel was intoxicating. 

With your hand over his, you encouraged him to grope you, to feel you. Azriel allowed you to guide him, would allow you to set the pace so long as you were comfortable and sure. So long as he made you feel good. 

The strap of your gown slipped down your arm, and you tugged the other down along with it. A low growl sounded from the back of Azriel’s throat. He was losing whatever control he had left. And you were desperate to see him snap. 

You shuffled closer on your knees, almost settling in his lap when you pulled his hand away from your breast and allowed the slip to fall past your chest, baring yourself to him. His eyes remained on yours, his chest rising and falling but you did not look away. 

If you want something, despite how wrong that desire may feel at first, take it.

But nothing about this felt wrong. No part of this felt like it wasn’t supposed to be. You did not feel unworthy beneath his gaze, you did not feel guilty for giving into your desires. 

Because the way Azriel looked at you, the way his gaze shifted to your chest, the way his eyes fluttered closed and he inhaled your arousal so deeply…you knew he wanted this just as badly as you did. 

With his eyes still closed, Aziel blindly reached for your hips and dragged you into his lap. A gasp escaped you, your legs parting to wrap around his waist and your soaked cunt sat over his throbbing cock. 

Your fingers tangled in his midnight hair, his head tilting as his breath ghosted your clavicle. Your nipples hardened, back arched. And he swiped his tongue over a pearled nub before suckling it into his warm mouth. 

You arched into him, tugging at his hair and rolling your hips against his. Azriel’s grip on your hips tightened, but he did not control you. He allowed you to move at your own pace, allowed you to decide how far you wanted this to go. 

You tugged at his hair, beckoning him to look at you. He pulled off your breast, eyes blown with a look of undeniable hunger. You stared at him for a moment, basked in his dark gaze and the feel of him pulsing beneath you. 

The weight of your position did not feel heavy, you did not want to stop. But you did not want to rush. You wanted to savour this—him. You wanted to take your time, wanted to understand how sex and intimacy was supposed to feel like. 

And Azriel could read as much in just your eyes alone. He leaned close, noses brushing as his lips ghosted yours. “I don’t need to use my cock to bring you pleasure,” he whispered, enveloping your lips in a searing kiss. 

Azriel’s hands travelled from your hips, up your waist and to your chest, kneading your breasts and pinching at your nipples. You hummed into his mouth, allowing his tongue to massage yours. 

“Let me show you how good it can be. How it’s supposed to feel.”

Your brain felt like it was overgrown in blooms, unable to do anything but nod and hand him the reins. Your magic grew excited, flora sprouting in your damp hair with every kiss he littered down your jaw and neck. 

“Turn around for me.” Azriel helped guide your body to how he wanted you, sat between his parted legs, your back to his chest and his lips breezing against the shell of your ear. 

“Good girl.” 

You were royally fucked. 

He let his hands travel down your covered stomach, fingers reaching for the soft skin of your thighs. You welcomed every touch, basked in the rough skin of his scarred hands. You could hardly breath, so pent up in anticipation. 

Azriel nipped at your ear. “Can you spread your legs for me, baby?” 

A pathetic mewl sounded from your throat and you found yourself nodding obediently and spreading your thighs for him. Azriel’s shadows wrapped around your thighs, down your legs and ankles and slithered back up again. A few rushed back to him, whispering their findings to their master. 

Dripping. Excited. Delicious. 

Azriel took a laboured breath to steady himself, his cock pressing into your ass. He let his hands grip your waist, fingers reaching the hem of your slip and bunching it in a strong fist.

He pulled it away, exposing your sopping heat and your head lulled back against his shoulder. “Can I touch you?” You nodded before he even finished his question, your legs spreading wider for him. 

Azriel snuck a hand between your thighs, cupping your sex as your arousal coated him. His deft fingers rubbed teasingly through your slick folds, spreading the wetness across your entire cunt. 

A shuddered breath escaped you. “Please.” 

With clenched teeth, Azriel appeased you, reaching up to your clit and pressing the pad of his middle finger against it. A gasp slipped from your mouth, his finger rubbing right circles on that puffy bud. 

Rafe had never once touched your clit. 

Your hips bucked into his hand and Azriel began to rub faster. But it wasn’t enough. The pressure built in your lower stomach, a feeling only you had been able to get yourself to, and even then never passed. 

Azriel could sense your need and replaced his finger with his thumb and reached lower. A single digit probed your fluttering hole, swirling in arousal before slowly sinking between your walls. 

You hummed in pleasure, eyes closing as he curled his finger against a spongy spot. Your hips rolled, chest heaving. You had never felt anything so exhilarating in your life. Azriel added a second finger, stretching your cunt deliciously. 

“Gods, Az…” you couldn’t find the words to describe what he was doing to you—how he was making you feel. He hummed, nuzzling his nose up your neck and latching his lips to your jaw; kissing and licking and biting. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Look how well you’re taking me.”

Azriel’s praise went to your head, your heart, your cunt. You could feel him everywhere. Shadows pinched at your nipples, Az’s hand working tirelessly against your core. Your hips rolled to meet his movements, your legs shook as he curled and scissored. 

You had never imagined it to feel this way. 

You rolled your head back, lips parted as you blindly searched for his. Azriel met you in a searing kiss, his tongue licking the insides of your mouth as you fought to meet his pace. 

Then the shaking started, and the small whimpers and moans turned to cries as you bucked against him. Azriel only kissed you harder, fucked you harder. The sound of his fingers pummeling your cunt were obscene, wet and loud and spurring you toward the edge. 

Your stomach pinched, coiled. A wave of uncontrollable pleasure and power coursed through your very being as you cried out into his mouth. Azriel did not relent his pace, did not offer a moment's reprieve. 

He worked you through it, pumping and pinching, sucking and biting. That tight rope in your abdomen snapped, your jaw slacking and eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

Azriel watched as you came around his fingers, his own release coating his pants as you clenched around him and cried and thrashed. He had never seen anything so fucking beautiful before in his life. 

Your chest heaved, legs trembling. And a flurry of petals rained down on your bodies, clinging to the sheen of sweat on your skin. Azriel reluctantly removed his hand, guiding fingers to his mouth to finally reward himself with a taste. 

He regretted it the moment he did it. Because now he did not know how to live without that taste on his tongue for the rest of his life. His cock hardened again at the thought of tasting you properly. 

Azriel gazed down at you, fluttering lashes and flushed skin. You were catching your breath, unable to speak a coherent sentence. He leaned down to kiss your mouth slowly, your lips mirroring his. You could taste yourself on his tongue and it only made you crave it once more. 

“You doing okay?” He asked gently. 

You hummed, chasing his lips when he tried to pull away. Azriel chuckled at your eagerness, he’d given you a taste and now you were hungry for more. 

“Not tonight,” he told you. 

You couldn’t help the frown, but Azriel planted a kiss to your brow and rested his forehead on yours. 

“I don’t want you to rush yourself into these things. You have consumed me, Y/N. There’s no rush. We have all the time in the world.” 

A tether tugged at your soul, so light you almost missed it. But your magic had responded, wrapping itself around that thin piece of string and humming in approval. 

“You have no idea how scared I was when we found you in the mountains,” he whispered solemnly. “I thought you were gone.” 

You strained your neck to look at him, at the silver that lined those molten honey eyes. Your hand reached for his face, fingers gently striking the stumbled skin of his cheek. 

“I’m okay,” you reassured him. “Different, now…yes. But this is who I’m supposed to be. I have to believe the Mother intended for it to be this way.”

He hummed, and that feeling tugged slightly once more—a little harder this time. Your gut, most likely, butterflies. 

“I won’t let you do something so foolish again.” 

Your head fell back against Azriel’s chest, his shadows working to cover your exposed body again before they tugged the blanket over you. 

And there, in his arms, you became someone else. Someone you were always fated to be. 

a/n: okay so i got slightly carried away with the teasing between az and y/n so it ended up a bit longer that the other parts BUT the next part is a very big one and potentially the last :(((( but even if it is, i have some ideas to do some check in fics with them in the future!

if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated <3

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[hana-no-seiiki]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓’𝐒 𝐔𝐏 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 ?

╰┈➤ [ CH 02.1 ] LEAP OF FAITH

pairings: yandere! various (batfam, spiderverse) x miles morales! reader

tw/cw: mild yandere themes, stalking, spoilers for the spiderverse movies (this part covers a majority of the first one) and spiderman games. VV LONG PART!! Lots of canon divergences!!! reader gets called a kid multiple times but they’re an adult.

status: severely unedited

a/n: although i included spanish and uncle aaron, please be reminded that [y/n] looks however you’d like! you may even alter how unc looks since i don’t describe his appearance anyways. i’ll also be adding stuff from the spiderman games to expand on some characters so everything is not one to one from the movies.

wanted to get this out sooner for you all so this part will be divided into two or more depending on how far i get into the movie

[previous] [masterlist] [next]

The dark, putrid alleyways of Gotham was a place that should never be treaded by a small, weak kid like you. You cringed at the sound and feel of your favorite shoes sinking into the water with every step, and then frowned at the thought that your mom wouldn’t be the one washing these later now that you lived in a dorm. Still, even if those criminals didn’t capture you for ransom, or maybe your favorite vigilantes didn’t accidentally kill you, you were sure your dad would — no absolutely will. Maybe having a new home to go to wasn’t so bad.

“I’m gonna get in so much trouble.”

You muttered with a massive grin on your features. Fear always treated you a little differently. If anything it made you walk a little faster. It had been a while since you and Aaron had little fun together, and you definitely wouldn’t let a future sermon get in the way of such a rare opportunity.

Your uncle, his hands tucked into his puffer jacket-hoodie hybrid nudged you with his shoulder. Your much smaller, younger frame almost toppled over.

“Hey man, tell him your art teacher made ya.”

“How’d you know about this place?”

“Did an Engineering job down here.” Whew, even hearing the word Engineering from your Uncle made you shudder. “What?” He asked, you couldn’t tell if he was concerned, weirded out, or just chillin’. He was always hard to read.

“Nothing.” You took a deep breath in, “Dad wants me to get into Engineering.”

You two stop at some metal fencing with a door, which was conveniently climbable. Your uncle quickly demonstrated how with a few swift moments. Damn, it was almost as if he was used to breaking and entering.

“And you?” He smirked.

“I-“ You took a deep breath, It wasn’t as if you weren’t used to getting into shenanigans and sneaking into places yourself. You jumped, barely able to reach the door’s height, awkwardly heaved your body upwards to the gap between the fence and the ceiling, before not so gracefully squeezing yourself and your backpack through. “augh — don’t know yet.”

“Whassup?” You looked at your uncle, a huge and crooked grin of triumph in your features.

“Hahaha— I knew we were related. I’ll tell you something though. Just make sure you can pay the bills and sort out your taxes.”

You groaned in response to his advise. You definitely weren’t ready to be a proper adult yet.

You two then proceeded to the best spot you’ve ever seen in Gotham yet.

“Whoa!” Your mouth was so wide open in awe that it almost hurt. You yelled, “Gothaamm!!” Jumping giddily at the echo.

“There’s a lot of history on these walls.” Your uncle let his hand graze across the old graffiti, tracing each line with a soft, yet proud look on his face.

Excited, you swiftly dropped your backpack, taking out a few cans of paint. “This is so fresh.” And so you did your thing. Letting your instincts guide you as you got back into the groove of spray painting. It had been a while, your hands were shaky at times, but nonetheless you were in your element. Free. Unafraid of mistakes or the far future.

You smiled, truly, for once since your enrolment. There was just a few last touches.

“A little help?”

“Wow.”

“Too crazy?”

“Nah, man. [N/N] I see exactly what you’re doing here.” Aaron patted you on the back before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “You know, your dad and I used to do this back in the day.”

“Stop lyin’! A guy a like him? I bet he snitch on ya right after.”

“No, no, it’s true! But then he took on the cop thing and . . . I don’t know.” Your uncle had a tense look appear on his face. As if he tasted something bitter. And then, a distant, yet sweet nostalgic one replaced it as the words escaped his lips, “He’s a good guy . . . just . . . you know what I’m sayin?”

“Speaking of good. You don’t have to act all strong when you’re with me.” He gave you a light punch to your arm. “I knew you two were close. Heck, I made a couple of bets that you two would get married in the future. Didn’t know I’d lose to nature of all things.”

“Wait. Hang on— bets?!” Blood rushed to your face. You feel warm and cold at the same time. Were you two that obvious?

“I didn’t know him that well. But what I do know is that he put a huge smile on your face. Bigger than any of the ones I could ever draw on ya.” His rubs his thumb to the corner of your lips, “So feeling bad that he’s gone? That’s a given, kid.”

“Thanks, unc.” You leaned into his touch, “But it really isn’t Miguel. It’s—“

His phone rang. Damn.

“Sorry, [N/N]. I gotta roll.”

“No problema.”

A grave look flicked across your uncle’s features. Must have been the stress from work you supposed. Being called at this hour? You were dreading Engineering even more.

“[Y/N]! We gotta go.”

Turns out spending most of the night outside in the cold right before school was a bad idea. It was as if everything was irritating you. Your clothes felt tighter, your sweats… sweatier. Wait. This could only mean one thing.

“I think I hit puberty!” You exclaimed. Finally you could be as tall as those other kids in school.

Realizing you yelled that out loud and startled your roommate was a tad bit embarrassing though. “. . . Ehehe. . . sorry.”

‘I gotta get new clothes.’

‘Wait, why is the voice in my head so loud?’

“Watch where you’re—“ Of all the people you bump into . . . “[L/N].” Damian’s beautiful green eyes would have been great to stare at if he didn’t use them to glare at everyone. You almost shriek at the random tingle you feel behind your neck. Why were you getting goosebumps all of a sudden? I mean he is hot but not that hot.

“You know my—“

“Yeah. I know everyone’s.” He quickly overtook your attempt at a conversation. “6pm. Weekend. Don’t be late, 42.” And there he goes.

Wait, wasn’t that your raffle number?

“How does he know— He- He really has some issues.” You shook your head. Your mom often brought you around the community to help and whatnot, as such you weren’t that fazed when people just knew stuff about you without knowing who they are.

“Talk about it.” In anycase, you know who’s actually that hot?

“Gwen!”

“Hi. You called me by name for once.” Her eyes traveled all over your body, and it took everything in you not to grin like an idiot, scream and turn red all at the same time. “Are you alright or . . ? You’re sweating, like a lot.”

Shit. Damn your body for betraying you! “I am?”

“Hang on.” She brings forth a face towel, a little damp to the touch, but useful nonetheless.

“Sorry, it has my own sweat on it.”

“It’s great, I mean fine! Thank you.” Holy shit you just sweat melded with Gwen. Laughing awkwardly you give it back to her. Or at least attempt to.

“Uh, you can let go now.”

“I think . . . I think it’s stuck to my hand?”

“What?”

“I- It won’t come off!”

You suddenly feel a static, and judging from Gwen’s face, you know she felt it too.

“What was that?!”

“Okay, [Y/N] listen. Pay close attention. I need you to calm down.”

“Calm down?! How does calming down help?!”

“It’ll be much more helpful for you to be calm rather than panicked at the very least!” Gwen slowly inhaled and exhaled. Damn was she good at everything she does? How is she not panicking like you were? “Breathe in, and out.”

In anycase, a couple of breathing exercises later and a horrid excuse to not make your crush — and hence why your nerves were on end despite the calm atmosphere of a library — that obvious. You two part ways.

Well not without a final word from her.

“We have to talk later” She says. The lighthearted, calm tone turned serious.

You don’t know how you got to this moment. Somewhere, sometime when you were running away from the school guards because of your new found powers — you found yourself in a middle of a fight between Spiderman and The Lizard.

“Dr. Curtis, listen to me! You cannot open up a portal to another dimension. Gotham is not zoned for that. We’re barely surviving here in the first place!” Geez harsh dig, but man was he right. You don’t know how many days your mom spent crying wondering if your dad would come back after being sent to fight Joker of all people.

Still your dad never fails to intimidate you. Despite your powers being oddly similar to Spiderman, you think it’d be best if you left before your parents started calling—

“It’s not up to me!”

You gulped, perhaps the lizard looked a little more imposing than a sermon.

“Why won’t you quit?!”

“I guess I like Gotham not being sucked into a black hole?! Metropolis maybe, not Gotham!”

You gasp as the floor beneath you disappears, you find yourself free falling.

THWIP!

“You’re cute. And your shoes are untied.” As if you weren’t already out of breath, Spiderman just had to call you cute while you were basically heaving from all the physical activity and the anxiety of having a giant lizard on your ass. “I’m basically wearing a onesie so I don’t really have to worry about it.” The man makes it worse and approaches you, holding up your Air Jordan’s and tying it laces.

You feel a tingle down your spine that flows down your limbs. One that looped over and over like some sort of feedback. Same as Gwen’s but somehow stronger.

Spiderman snapped his head from your shoes to your face once more. The white eye-like part of his mask widened.

“You’re a Spider, too? Damn.” Spiderman mouthed the last word breathlessly, though it didn’t seem to be out of being tired. He seemed quite . . . relaxed almost. He was in his element.

You shook your head, “I don’t want to be . . .” And clearly, you weren’t being good enough for it if you couldn’t handle even half of what he’s doing.

“We don’t have a choice.” The unyielding nature of his statement took you aback. You weren’t sure if it was out of awe or fear for the future.

“Got a lot going through your head I’m sure. You’re gonna be fine, I can help you. Show you the ropes? I just needta destroy that big machine before the space time continuum collapses. Try not to move around too much.” He gives your shoes one last tug, and you see the mask shift a little around his mouth area. He’s smiling.

He then styles on you by backflipping unto a rail, doing the classic “hero stake out” pose before he saluted, “See ya.”

“Crap.” Spiderman mouthed as the entire contraption collapsed.

“What happened there?! Are you alright?!" You ran to his frankly, horrid state of self. On the floor, bruised and beaten. His mask torn on one of his eyes, revealing a brilliant blue.

“Talk later, escape now.” He coughed, spitting out some blood.

“Right. Where do I. . .?” Crap. Were you really going to learn about Spiderman's real identity just like that? You wondered were such a man lived. Prolly up town where all the socialites were. Dude's probably neighbors with the likes of Bruce Wayn-

“ . . . Gotham Visions Dormitory.”

“I can’t believe Spiderman just slept next door and he’s a senior in my school!”

“Sshhhh! And yeah, well. The world is a small place. Gotham’s even smaller.” He puts a finger on your lips. A sigh escaped his. Seconds pass before he continued, “I just can’t believe Papa’s kid would be my protégé.”

“You-You-Y-You heard that?!”

“I hear a lot of things.”

You nodded at him. You too have heard many things since your powers first manifested. You wonder how he can handle so much stimuli every single day while going to Visions and being a badass hero.

What were you supposed to do again? Right - ! You had a spider to save. You swiftly shuffled through his belongings. Strangely enough you don't see any pictures of him lying around. Not that you wanted to sneak a peek as to how those pretty blue eyes fit into the picture. Not at all.

After a minute or so, you find a first aid kid and begin mending the most damaging areas of his body. Thankfully you don't spot nor feel foreign objects stuck inside him and it seems as if he's already healed many of the minor wounds.

Superheroes man. So cool.

“You seem pretty experienced with handling this kind of stuff. Should I be concerned?”

“Had a friend that got beaten up quite a lot. Picked it up for him. May I?" You gestured to his mask.

“I . . . see. And go ahead. I need a breather and this thing ain't helping."

You patted his face and neck for any indication of where to pull, finding a slit underneath his chin. Gingerly, you tugged on the latex like fabric.

Your [e/c] meeting those baby blues once more, only more clearly now.

And the fan blogs about him were so right, he is blond!

That would make him the second blondie you've had the feedback loop with now that you thought about it. You were about to mention Gwen but -

“Harry!” Spiderman covered the rest of his body with blanket so quickly that you barely even processed the new person by the time he finished making his move.

What the heck- why'd he even let you- was he just making fun of you- using you-

“Pete. Woah. You look . . .” 'Harry' looked at your new Spider tutor with a mildly concerned glance. Not even moving to help you with the first aid.

“Yeah yeah. You know the drill."

“And you . . .” Harry's eyes drift to your spot. You look away, scared of making direct eye contact. Great, another hot guy.

“Papa’s kid. I know.” You mumbled. A rising sense of resentment for your father ebbed and flowed within your spider venom infested veins.

“No no. There is that yeah, but I mean. You’re the one Peter kept—“

“Harry!” 'Peter' groaned. Huh, you never expected Spiderman to have such a nerdy name.

“Fine. Though, he wasn’t lying. You really are cute.”

Peter groaned even louder this time, an achievement considering his face was buried in a pillow for this round.

“You called me cute earlier too, why are you hiding now?”

“That’s different!”

“Woah, Peter called you cute? To your face? Who are you and what have you done to my friend?”

“Shut up.”

You sense an upcoming wave of awkward silence. As such, the kind person that you were, you quickly finished helping Peter with the injuries he had exposed and stated, “That should be it. My room is just next door. To the left. I’ll be there if you need me.”

You silently return the first aid kid where it belonged and sneak your way to the door as if the two men weren't staring at you at this moment. "Goodbye um- sir Peter. Sir Harry."

And then you were gone.

“You don’t mind if we share right?”

“Harry. Could you not? I’m serious.”

“Woah. What’s with the attitude and volume?”

“I. . . like them. A lot. You know this already.” Peter suddenly had this longing look on his face. Equal parts in hopeless romantic and obsession.

“Clearly I didn’t truly comprehend the extent of your yearning ‘til now. Sheesh. Okay, they’re all yours.” Harry paused for dramatic effect, “For now.”

“Harry!”

“Hey, uh — Gwen. Got caught up in something. I’ll talk to you after I’m done with . . . everything. I should be free just before next week starts. See ya.”

Click!

You were never really good with excuses. Your mind raked through everything you knew just to give Gwen that message.

In anycase, overwhelmed as you were. Your feet took you to one place the anxiety and stress seemed to melt away (aside from Uncle Aaron’s crib).

“This week just keeps getting worse.” You sighed, slamming the window to your room shut after sneaking in.

Well, getting in and getting caught right after.

“Police! Put your hands up!” Your father exclaimed. But his voice doesn’t alert you at all. If anything you were bracing yourself for the sermon right after.

“Wait a sec. [Y/N]?” Your mother appeared from behind him with a frying pan in hand.

You took a deep breath. Facing them both.

How could you say that you were afraid? Scared? Unbelievably crushed underneath all this pressure about going to Gotham Visions and possibly becoming a hero of your own soon.

You'd have to fight giant lizards. Giant sandstorm creating men.

And all you had was you,

and your family.

“[Y/N]—? Why aren’t you at—“ You rushed to hug your dad. Encasing the old man with your arms so tight that it almost took the wind out of the poor officer. “Woah woah. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“. . . No. No it’s . . . “ Not. Everything is not okay. You were about to take on the responsibility of a lifetime. Something you couldn’t – shouldn’t — escape even if you all you wished was to run away from it all.

“[Y/N]? Qué te pasa? Is it the earthquake?” Your mother joined in the hug. Rubbing your back as her other hand held her husband (frying pan put aside).

“Can I sleep here tonight?” You asked.

“[Y/N], it’s a weeknight. You made a commitment to that school.”

“Jeff, they’re upset.”

“Of course you can stay.” Your father immediately changed tune. Heh, he really was weak to your mother.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really hate Spiderman?”

“Yeah. . ? I mean, for a vigilante he isn’t as bad as that friend of his, Red Hood—“

“Jeff, mi amor?”

“What? They asked me! Baby you know how I feel about those people c’mon.” Your father’s voice fades away, taking your mother’s stern look as a sign that he may not be wanted there all too much at the moment.

“Tú sabes que él te quiere mucho. That’s why he’s tough on you. You know that, right?”

“Mhm. I . . . I know.” You knew. But most of the time than not you couldn’t fully comprehend or understand your father. Despite clearly never appreciating or responding well to his tough love approach, he kept doubling down and forcing what he thought was good for you. “Mami. Do you ever think about moving out of Gotham?”

Your mother shook her head.

“Our family doesn’t run from things, [Y/N].”

“What’s this?” You gestured the red box Peter handed you. It was wrapped by some blue ribbon.

“My old suit. Figured we should get that part right before anything else.” He watches you with a smile as you opened it. “It’ll just be a placeholder before I give your measurements to my aunt.”

“Your aunt?”

“My partner in crime. Well — fighting crime. Aside from Jace. But we don't talk about him behind his back otherwise he'll just suddenly appear like the devil." He whispered the last part into your ear. Jace? Was that another vigilante? Sounds like a pompous name. Or maybe you’ve been watching Arcane way too much in anticipation for the next season.

“This is . . . a bit too big.”

“Who knows? It might fit, eventually. Spider puberty is a little finicky.”

“Tell me about it.” You’ve gone through a lot of your handkerchiefs from all the sweat you’ve been excreting.

“You mind?” He gestured his hands in a pulling down motion. You tilted your head in confusion but then slowly pieced together that he wanted to help you put it on.

“Go ahead.”

“That should be it.” He patted your back after securing your suit on.

It sagged a bit on your body, but worked nonetheless.

“That static, tingly thing in our heads. What’s that?”

“Spider-sense. It alerts you of incoming danger. It should do you well to listen to it.”

“Listen to static??”

“You’ll learn its language soon enough. In anycase, first on today’s agenda! Web-slinging. Very important. That’s how we get to any place at any time, whenever someone needs us. It’s what puts me — now us — Spiderpeople ahead of other vigilantes in the area.” He said with what you could assume was a big grin on his face by the way his mask moved.

“Alright. What do I do?”

“Just jump across and —“ Peter flicked his wrist forward, almost hitting you with the sticky goo that makes up his web.

You nod. This should be easy enough right?

Jump and flick. Jump and flick.

What you failed to calculate within your plans was that flicking your wrist needed to be timed precisely otherwise your web would not reach its proper destination.

“AAAAAAAH—!” You screamed as your webs landed on air, your body falling down.

With your eyes sewn shut, you fully expected a crash and the painful reality of falling at least 5 stories.

But somehow, you miraculously get caught. You opened your eyes and . . .

“Woah.” Your mouth went agape. If Peter was cute, whoever just saved your ass (literally) was pretty. Impeccable pale skin, dark and mysterious blue eyes that screamed sleepless but nonetheless striking, and oh his hair. Jet black. Perfectly framing his face.

And as if the heavens decided to reward you for trusting Peter's guidance and taking the fall (literally), it seemed that the ogling was not one-sided, “Are you an angel from heaven?” You both say in sync.

It had not been a moment since that came out from your mouth and you already regretted it. Augh. Cringe.

“Timmy! Old pal!” Peter landed behind him with a large smack to the shoulder, almost making this ‘Timmy’ drop you. “I see you’ve met my protégé.”

“Spider . . .” Peter struggled to put a title on you, “ . . . baby meet Timothy “Tim.” Drake, my underclassman. Timsies, meet my new partner.”

“He knows?” You whispered, as if Tim wasn't there still holding unto to you.

“Yep, he’s actually the Red Robin.” Peter whispered back, playing along with you.

“Peter!” Tim whisper-shouted, smacking Peter’s nape. Not before putting you down gently, of course. What a gentleman.

“R-r-red RobIN?! I’m such a huge fan! I - I bought all of your merch and—“ An alarm went off from inside your suit. You curse as you realized that getting your phone out to close it would take ages. Thankfully you knew what it meant however.“Crap. I gotta go.”

“Go where—?” Peter questioned.

“Well, I have this project with this kid from my class, Damian Wayne?”

“You were partnered with him? Good luck.” Tim had a look of both pity and a hint of delight.

“That happens to be Tim’s little brother.” ‘Barely’ the person in question muttered. “Why don’t I bring you there? Think I should have given you a proper example before throwing you off a building.”

“Why am I not surprised that you almost broke someone’s back with your antics? One day you’ll get ‘em killed.”

Peter doesn’t even answer him properly, “Oh no, your coffee.”

“Ah.” Tim stared at the brown stain in the snow. “I’ll just buy another one. Take care you two.”

And you somehow don’t throw up as Peter took you to the skies. He gives you pointers once on air. Something about wrist angles, pendulum theories and a whole bunch of physics. Unfortunately for him, half of the time was spent with you being thinking and being distracted by how pretty Tim was.

“You’re a godsend. Sometimes.” At least, even with the crap spider tutelage, being a baby spider meant free, fast rides across the New York.

“Just your friendly neighborhood spider.”

You heard lightning in the distance.

“Never gets old.” Peter put his hands on his hips. Neither surprised nor creeped out by the eerie ambiance. “Don’t worry about the creepy atmosphere, the Waynes are huge softies inside. I’ll pick you up at . . . ?”

“Oh, no no no! I’ll be fine. You’ve already helped a lot. (and almost killed me a couple of times) Thank you.” You vehemently denied his help. Fearing for what may happen despite the safe journey here.

“Always here to help. Or not. Good luck, Spiderbaby!”

“You’re on time.” The green-eyed classmate of yours looked raised his annoyingly perfect eyebrows. Considering your track record with classes, you couldn’t blame him.

“Of course.” Damian terrified you way too much for you to be late. He does not reply, so you open your mouth to keep the atmosphere from being too awkward, “Nice place you—“

“No small talk. Now that you’re done fulfilling the bare minimum. We can begin. Follow me.”

He led you through a bunch of hallways. Probably filled with antiques that would make your entire neighborhood go bankrupt. Your past experiences in rich people’s houses made you repeat one thing in your head as your treaded the extravagantly carpeted hall

‘Keep your arms to the side.’ His voice bounced around in your head. Echoes of the past that you've buried for so long. The moment you even raised a finger, you could be charged for theft. Especially if the owner was extra elitist and a douche. Like how his dad used to be.

“Woah, you draw too? These are so cool!” You ogled as you and Damian reached his room. It was as fancy as you expected it to be. Dreary and dark if not for the presence of animal toys and art supplies.

“I said no—“

You continued yapping, far too excited by the concept of Damian having something in common with you to stop. “A whole Windsor and Newton set, of course. I could only wish to have these.” You sighed dramatically. If only you could—

You feel static down your spine. Just by the width of a hair you managed to dodge Damian throwing a paintbrush at you. You look behind to see the wooden end of it stuck within a wall.

“What the heck, that could have hurt!”

“You have good reflexes.”

“Not even a sorry?” Damian raised one of his eyebrows (which are super thick now that you looked closely) and then gave you one scathing hot glare. “Fine, fine.”

It took about half an hour before you found yourself dosing off to dreamland.

“What are you doing? We don’t have all night to work—“

“I’m done. Been waiting for you for forever.”

“Give me that.” He snatched your paper off of your hands.

“Hey!”

“This is . . . acceptable.” He then waved your paper around before slamming it unto the table. “Only that it doesn’t hold any substance at all. It’s too vague. Our teacher told us to talk about our personal experiences. Not hypothetical ones.”

“I’m afraid if I write my personal experiences it’d be way too depressing.” You half joked. Trying yet failing to get a laugh out of your partner to ease the mood. A terrible one to pick for that reason but hey, playing dumb this entire year was your forte at this point.

Maybe cause you were actually a little stupid in some places.

“Then write it.”

“I just said—“

“So what if your life is depressing? It’s your own life. Your story. If she judges you for being honest then it’s her fault.”

“Damian?” Your mouth agape in awe, you said, “You’re so cool, y’know that?”

Besides being the son of Bruce Wayne, he was also the little brother of your favorite hero. You’ve also heard of the rumors. How perfect Damian was at everything. Some people were just favored by the Gods you supposed.

“I know. Besides it’s what was written in the instructions.” Damian huffed. Again, seemingly unaffected by your words. Understandably so, he probably got praised on the daily with how utterly immaculate he was.

Kind of makes you want to push his buttons.

“To be honest, you seemed so scary I almost bailed. Glad my fear of angering you outweighed my fear of you in general.”

“Hm.” Nope. Nothing at all. At least, nothing that you’ll ever see. As the moment you looked away out of boredom, an ever so faint smirk etches itself unto Damian’s countenance.

The rest of the evening passed in silence. Nothing comfortable, you were in an eerie mansion with one of the scariest people you knew after all, but nothing too awkward or chilling either.

“Bye Damian! It was nice working with you!” You waved, making your exit. A sense of relaxation and slight euphoria in your veins as you finally got whatever that was done.

“They seemed nice.”

Damian does not reply to Alfred’s words verbally. Only nodding as a polite response before he left.

Alfred stared at your form as it grew smaller. “. . . albeit a tad familiar.”

“Hey, Mig.” Your body instinctively relaxed as you saw the picture frame above his gravestone, right next to a large bouquet of fresh flowers; a thin layer of snow atop of it.

You wiped it off from both items, before proceeding to kneel down as you always did during your visits, “I missed ya.” You began.

“I’ve been a bit behind on my Spanish lessons, and I haven’t had much use for it since, you know.” Your hand moved around, animated. “Everything has just been so hectic. I feel like every single time I thought things were at its worst the world just piles on more duties for me to take.” And then it fell back to your side.

You bury your face into your knees.

“Is this what you felt like?” You recalled the hours he spent perfecting table manners and speech. The way his life was turned upside down by a single revelation of his parenthood. “Your dad got a lot nicer when you were gone. Your death was definitely a wake-up call to his prejudices. He even offered to pay for my fees at Visions.”

Of course, you refused. Citing the fact that now that Miguel was gone there was no use to niceties. It was too late, your opinion of him and those rich folks who walked all over you would never change no matter how much they poured.

. . . Actually, you change your mind. With the way the current Spiderman was teaching you, you might need some help paying a couple hospital bills along with damages of property.

“You are supposed to be where I am. I bet you’d do a lot better as a Spiderman too.”

In fact, you believed that he would have been perfect. Miguel was the kindest, most self sacrificing person you knew. He would have taken this responsibility with stride and his head held high.

If only you had a better teacher. Someone who was more practical and had more experience.

“Hey Kid.”

After what felt like a chase and a half, you managed to bring the man you knocked out back home. It took a while but you knew your father had some rope, a punching bag, and a place where you wouldn’t get caught (your room, securely locked with a table).

But most importantly, what your dad had was a lot of movies with cops/detectives in them. Interrogation techniques were always something he’d discuss and use on you whenever you’d do something against the house’s ‘laws.’ Which was… more often than not.

“Why do you look like Peter?”

“Because I am Peter.”

You looked at him with a face of utter disbelief. Gesturing to his form you questioned, “Then why are you older? Why is your hair different? Why is your nose broken? And why is your body a-a different . . . shape?”

“Did you just call me fat?”

“N-no- just different!”

“Hey listen kid. Fat shaming isn’t a part of cute privilege alright?”

Ignoring the part where this random ass stranger called you cute, for the sake of this conversation’s brevity and your curiosity you surmised the following, “Are you . . . Are you from another dimension, like from a parallel universe where things are like this universe but different and you’re Spiderman in that universe but somehow traveled to this universe, but-but you don’t know how?”

“Wow cute and smart. That was really just a guess?”

“Learned about it in physics. Visions really drills those in within the first month.”

“Quantum Theory.” You two mouthed in sync.

“This is amazing! I can have two teachers! You seem a bit more experienced too. Maybe I can minimize the bones I break this way!”

“Yeah right.” He swiftly dismissed your idea. Groaning at the thought of dealing with what was basically a child in comparison to his experience.

“Please?”

“Well here’s lesson one kid; don’t watch the mouth. Watch the hands.” And the whole thing that tied him to the punching bag unraveled. Damn it, that took you at least an hour to do! Not only that but the man then kicked the thing at you, making you slam backwards unto a door. Yikes.

“Other Peter, seriously—!” And now you have his web all over your mouth. Great.

“Trust me, kid. This’ll all make you a better Spiderman.” Peter—or whoever this rude man was—jumped out of your window and slung a web, ready to leave. But before he could take off, his body suddenly glitched, the distortion rippling across his form, and he crashed downward, slamming through a set of stairs with a loud thud.

“Hey, are you - are you . . . okay?” You asked, wiping off the remnants of his web from your lips. “What’s going on with your body?”

“I don’t think my atoms are all jazzed about being in the wrong dimension.” He turned his body around, facing you and glitching once more. “Look, I’m not looking for a side gig as a Spiderman coach. ‘Sides you already have one! With a not broken nose! And I got a little going lot on in my dimension.”

“I heard a wise guy once saying that with great power comes great—“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence! Don’t do it! I’m sick of it!” He pointed at you with an accusatory finger, his voice trembling with frustration. And then he glitches again. Huh you might have felt bad if he didn’t just kick and webbed you. “Want my advice? Go back to being a regular kid. We already have a bunch of vigilantes in Gotham I’m sure they can work things out.” He spoke as he hung from a platform with one hand.

“I’m part of this now. I can’t just run away! That supercollider could potentially destroy my universe, everything and everyone I know!”

“What did you say?” Suddenly, Peter turned his head to look at you.

“I can’t just run away?”

He started walking towards you, feet sticking to the brick walls like a natural, “Blah blah responsibility! Who cares about that? Where’s this collider?”

“Under Fisk Tower.”

“Goodbye.” He walks back down the walls. Tearing the eye contact he held with you just seconds ago like it was nothing.

“Where are you going?”

“When it runs, I’ll jump in and get back to my life.”

“You can’t let them run it! You don’t even know if you’ll get sent to the correct dimension much less be alive through it all!” You attempt to follow him, not so gracefully sliding down the walls, “We’re supposed to destroy it so it doesn’t run at all and cause — I don’t know — a rupture in the—“

“‘Space time continuum’ That is what they always say. But there’s always a little bit of time before everybody dies and that’s when I do my best work.”

“You’re really gonna go home and leave me, a kid mind you, to figure this out all by myself?”

“No, I’m leaving you with other, frankly speaking, much more responsible vigilantes to fix whatever aftereffects of that thing is.”

“You good with that Spiderman?”

“Yeah.”

You sighed, falling to your knees.

Older Peter looks back at you from the rooftop with the most unamused look he's ever had this whole night. “What are you doing?”

“Using my ‘cute privilege’ to make you feel guilty. Is it working?”

“I hate kids. How could it— No. Look at me. Does it look like it’s working? No, no it’s —Ohohoho. AAAHH! NO! NO! DO NOT LET THEM WIN!”

You muster all your will not to smile or laugh at his mighty attitude falling at the face of your cuteness.

“Alright kid, you win. We don’t have a second to lose. Bring me to your Spiderman mentor you mentioned.”

“Mmm. I love this burger. So delicious. Mmm. One of the best burgers I’ve ever had. In my universe this place closed six years ago. Mmm. I don’t know why. I really don’t. Mmm!” Peter Burnout spoke as he gorged himself in food. Some of the ketchup spraying to yours and OG Peter's face.

A waiter passes by and drops a bill on your table.

“You have money, right? I’m not very liquid right now.”

“I can’t believe you replaced me!” Peter cried as he looked at his older, more . . . rotund counterpart.

“Peter. Sir. Respectfully speaking super healing doesn’t really help with pain from broken bones. If anything I’m just grateful I didn’t give my parents a whole buttload of debt from my injuries.”

“And I was — pfft — really sorry about that!”

“You’re still laughing about it!” You yelled, watching Peter do his best to hide his amusement at your predicament. This man who so calmly took care of a giant wizard and a world ending collider, did not have the chops for acting or lying at all. “Back to the topic at hand people. Any Spiderman tips Other-Peter?”

“Yeah I got plenty.” He said as he licked his fingers clean. Gross.

“Disinfect the mask. You’re gonna wanna use baby powder in the suit, heavy on the joints. You don’t want any chafing, right?”

“That . . . is actually pretty useful.” You nod, bringing out your phone to quickly type down his words. Although you didn’t have a proper suit yet, you always wonder how heroes felt underneath all that tight latex like material. Of course, you’ve attempted cosplays and whatnot but those have always been with cheap, sweat inducing products.

“Speaking of, your suit should be ready in a bit. Do you have a color of preference?” Your Peter brings up.

“Think I’ll go with [Color(s)] and Red. Just to match up with you a little.” You replied, attempting your best version of your Uncle’s cool nonchalant smile as you were gushing in excitement inside. You then looked back to Peter B. “Anything else?”

“Nope, that was everything.”

“And I thought OG Peter was bad.”

“Hey!” Peter clutched his chest as he feigned hurt. You only deadpan at him, a broken heart won’t soothe your broken bones.

“Look up more about Fisk Tower and whoever you fought at the collider.” Peter B. instructed as he grabbed your french fries.

“Kingpin.” You muttered, typing down ‘Fisk Tower’ as per his instruction.

“Him? Must have been tough that one.”

“Alchemax?”

“Great. We have a lead. Now check where it is.”

“Hudson Valley.”

“Other-Peter can teach me to swing on the way there!” You make a ‘thwip’ ‘thwip’ ‘thwip’ motion with your hands, a huge excited smile gracing your features.

And… it’s quickly replaced with a disappointed frown once you three stepped into a bus, “I’m not swinging to the Hudson Valley! Not after a hearty burger breakfast. Keep your arms and legs fresh. You’re gonna thank me later.”

“Still think I’m a bad teacher.” Peter nudges you with his elbow, a stupidly cute grin on his face.

“Yep.” Peter loses his confident smirk real quick, “Not the worst but still bad. To be fair to Peter B. he hasn’t gotten me injured yet.”

“That’s a no on the cape.”

“But it’s my latest Robin merch I wanna have it for my first mission—“

“No.” The two Spidermen stated in sync, though one much more sternly than the other.

OG Peter pinches the bridge of his nose, “Do you know how many times I’ve had to help the Robins with their cape related problems? I’ve told every single one of them that it won’t work, but they just have to follow Batman’s footsteps.”

“So the theory about the Robins being different people really is true huh…” You thought to yourself, knowing that your two mentors could probably hear you even if you mumbled.

Other Peter also pinches the bridge of his (less perfect) nose, “Yeah take that off. It’s disrespectful. Both to the mantle of Spiderman and every Incredibles movie there is.”

You pout but heed their advice. You took off the yellow and black cape, a sniff in grief follows.

“Okay spiderfolks here’s the plan: Step 1, we infiltrate the lab. 2 Find the head scientist’s computer.” Peter B. Parker started laying down the plan. A surprisingly detailed one considering. . . Well the man’s incompetent to say the least. “Step 4: I download the important stuff. Then 5, I grab a bagel from the cafeteria and run.”

“What are we supposed to do?” You asked, already knowing what he’ll answer with but still clinging unto hope.

“Step 6: Lookout. That’s a very important job. Watch and learn kid I’ll quiz you later!”

“I’m totally the better teacher right?” OG Peter asks you. His puppy eyes on display.

“Anything is better than janky, old, broke hobo spider.”

“Fair enou—“ Peter began his reply but was interrupted by you absolutely decimating a boulder with your fist. “That’s new. And good to know. That’ll come in handy in fights annndddd when I know you’re angry.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Touché. We goin’ in?”

“Oh we’re definitely going in.”

“Whoa!”

“You alright?”

“Not so much with you on top of me!” You whisper shouted. Seriously, even with your new super strength this man was built like a fridge.

“Let’s go. Other Peter!” You whisper shouted again, crawling through the vents with much more noise than needed. Slamming face first unto the Burnout’s ass.“Ah! Other Peter!”

“What are you doing here?!”

“Kingpin’s here. Just move your butt over.” You moved between his legs and then his arms before shimmying yourself beside him.

“Augh, you’re stepping on my foot. Get back outside!”

“No! I - We can’t just sit and let you get caught — or - or die without doing anything about it. I’m not doing that again!” You felt guilty enough with how fucked up Peter OG was after the fight last time, you’re sure as hell ain’t letting that happen again under your watch.

Peter Burnout just stares at you. Silent and unmoving.

“What?”

“Most people I meet in the workplace try to kill me, so . . . you’re a nice change of pace.”

“You have such a low bar. You need to surround yourself with better people. A proper support system is really important for hero mental health.”

“I’m guessing there’s no more room for me there.” Peter pipes up from behind the two of you.

“No.”

“No.”

“Mr. Fisk. Look at this data. I know you can’t really understand it but these are really good numbers.”

“ . . . Anddd I got the password!”

“Wait wh-“ You looked at him, incredulous. Other Peter can be cool sometimes.

“Um, Mr. Fisk, if we fire again this week, there could be a black hole under Gotham. You see this and this? This is multiple dimensions beginning to crash into each other.”

Peter puppets his hand as she speaks.“This is pretty standard Spider stakes. You get used to it.”

You turned your head to OG Peter for confirmation. That couldn’t be right, right? He was just a kid like you! I mean you never felt any threats to your safety at all during your whole time at Gotham, but then again you lived with a cop dad and an incredibly rich b—

OG Peter nods. He nods! You have a mini anxiety attack inside. You make a mental note to give him more respect in the future. “You get used to hearing threats to your safety and the world? I think you both just need therapy.” Okay but not too much that you don’t get to cash in a quip. What? You were a Spider. It was literally in your blood.

“Watch this.” Peter B. tapped your shoulder several times to get your attention back, ��He’s gonna say, “You’ve got 24 hours’”

“You’ve got 24 hours.” He winks at you.

“What this means is that there’s going to be a rupture in the space time continuum!” Dr. Olivia continued.

“Ooh. That’s bad. Actually, everything she said was bad I was lying before.”

“Good to see you admit and communicate your feelings and concerns in a healthy matter, Mr. Other Parker.” You nod in approval. The two of you then move out, one more gracefully than the other.

“Wooh, it was getting a lil tiring just staring at other me’s ass.”

“Just his?” You asked, almost offended that your cake wasn’t mentioned.“Sorry didn’t mean to flirt on the job—“

“No, no, no! Flirting is very much welcomed. I’m single.” OG Peter admitted. His body practically trembling at the awkwardness of his confession.

“Not to be the savior of this awkward atmosphere you kids are creating but a little help here? What are you doing bud?”

“I- I’m stuck! I can’t move!” Not this again.

“Okay, relax your fingers. We don’t have time. Just let go. Be in the moment.”

“I am in the moment! It’s a terrible moment!”

“[Y/N]. Breathe in and out.” OG Peter tried to pull you off but is unable to due to his super strength potentially decimating the octagon shaped lights.

“They’re right there, they’re gonna see you! [Y/N], you gotta unstick. What do you do to relax?”

“You listen to music right? Why don’t you think of a tune that helps you chill out?”

“Relax. Okay, okay, okay.” You close your eyes. Thinking of what you always did when you wanted to relax.

The Robins.

Ah yes, the perfect specimen that is the OG Robin. His musculature that rivaled the Greek sculptures of old. And better yet, his ass? Good lord. You were so glad when he moved on to be Nightwing and shed off that horrid cape. Maybe Spiderman was right, capes were no good.

“Ah . . . Nightwing.” You think back to the pictures you drew of your OC and the vigilante and a finger unsticks. You reminisce of the times you’ve seen them in real life, out at night when your family thought you were asleep and another finger pops off.

You fall once you remember the moment you took a photo with him. “Nightwing. . .”

“Teenagers. Just the worst.” Peter Broken Nose sighed at your hormonal moment.

“Wait, where did [Y/N] go?” Peter Perfect Nose asked, whipping his head around as if you might materialize out of thin air.

“I’m right here.”

“Where? We can’t see you.”

“Pete, I’m literally right in front of you.” You looked down at your hands, stunned to see that you were in fact, invisible, “Can Spider-Man turn invisible in your universe?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Ow!” You groaned as you reeled from Peter B’s slap. “What was that for?”

“This is incredible! Some kind of fight or flight thing.”

“What’s that?”

Pop! And you disappeared. Out of sight. But never out of mind.

"This might pinch a little." She then shoved him unto a chair that automatically strapped him on. You were about to gawk at the kind of furniture she kept around. Thankfully OG Peter had his uses and kept you on track.

"Organize your desktop, lady." You sweated at the amount of icons she had on there. Insane behavior this was.

"This'll take too long. Grab everything before she spots us." And he takes to the ceiling.

"Wow, just complete cellular decay. Never seen anything like this!" Dr. Olivia observed cheek cells she swabbed out of Peter Burnout. You slowed down in concern. Glitching must be completely painful. You had to get him back to his dimension as soon as possible.

And so you followed your tutor’s command.

"What are you two doing?" Peter shook his head as he spots a floating PC and monitor, you, slowly moving to the exit.

"Just taking the whole thing!"

"And obviously you've been glitching."

"Oh god, [Y/N] hurry up!" OG Peter whisper shouts.

"You stay on this dimension for too long your body will start to disintegrate. Do you know how painful that would be, Peter Parker?"

"Oh, I don't know."

"You can't imagine. And I for one, can't wait to watch."

You look to Peter above you, a silent pause as if to say, "This lady is actually insane." Like seriously, how can she teach students like you with a mouth like that?

"What did you say your name was?"

She stood up. A relaxed posture to her form. Her hands reached up to remove her octagonal glasses. "Dr. Olivia Octavius."

Holy shi—

[AUTHOR’S NOTE]:

Character: *breathes*

Author: You’re part of the harem now.

(removed those that couldn’t be tagged) TAGLIST IS FULL!!! SO SORRY FOR THE REST!!! I’LL TAG YOU ON A REBLOG!!!

taglist: @yell0wdreams @humanoid606 @holybatflapexpert @girlcrafter408 @imbiafandbored @miwsolovely @manduse @kiyomisan @vanessa-boo @w31rdg1rl @crystalsbirds @ghestie93 @animelover745-blog @phoenixgurl030 @speckle-meow-meow @mysteriouslyfantasticthief @beta-is-sleeping @day-dreams-posts @paranoiac-666 @ghestie93 @7074lly @yourcutelittlegayfriend @altusha @proffesorbunny @snowwy-night @moonchild-cupcake @the1an0n1y @fuck-the-reaper @siphite @mel-star636 @trickysnack19 @thatone-gayweeb @swagbucksjester @starwritesyanderes @gaozorous-rex-blog @rainnyydaysworld @0-undead-0 @taru-nami @iiiitsfoxie @one-green-frog @victoria1676 @sugarrush-blush @arlynared @ceramic-raven @carnalcrows @victoria1676 @sugarrush-blush @suckitsideways @urminebutidontwantyou @badussyussysstuff

[norrisainz33]

foodie || platonic grid

☆ summary: f1 it girl runs popular influencer account but no one knows until a certain netflix series reveals her secret

☆ pairing: driver!reader x platonic grid

☆ fc & warnings: none

☆ requested: yes!! thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

formulafoodie has made a post 📍Essentia Ristorante

liked by ynuser, lando, yukitsunoda0511, lance_stroll, georgerussell63, and 1,345,294 others

formulafoodie: ciao dall'italia! having the best time here in italy as always. lucky me got to enjoy some of the best pasta in the whole world (don’t tell my trainer) at Essentia! feeling spoiled! [hello from italy!]

view all comments

user1: on god that looks delicious

user2: can’t tell ur trainer if we have no clue which one of you this is

user4: my bets are still on yuki! he’s the grid foodie through and through

user6: idk i don’t really get yuki vibes from these posts. i feel like it’s gotta be y/n, alex or carlos

user2: oh i could see it being y/n/n. she has posted some stories that do look very similar to the places formulafoodie has been

lando: @ whoever runs this account - where was my invite?! [liked by ynuser & charlesleclerc]

user6: well user2, looks like we can rule out lando

user3: wake up babe! fav influencer just posted

f1: yum! 😋

user4: bookmarked this restaurant as if i’ll ever go to italy

ynuser has made a post

liked by lewishamilton, charlesleclerc, carlossainz55, lando, astonmartinf1, lance_stroll and 897,375 others

ynuser: monza! grazie for the point! wasn’t an easy one but at least italy always spoils me. oh and congrats charlesleclerc 🤍

view all comments

user3: felt your aura from 5 scrolls away

lance_stroll: points points points

ynuser: points 🗣️

user12: we love y/n points in this house

charlesleclerc: merci y/n/n ❤️

ynuser: well deserved my friend 🥰

astonmartinf1: monza! thanks for being good to our girl

user6: hmmm a certain influencer also said they felt spoiled in italy… coincidence? 🤨

alexandrasaintmleux: y/n amore mio [y/n my love]

ynuser: alex 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

user33: forever gagged by how beautiful and talented you are

formulafoodie has made a post 📍Willow Restaurant

liked by f1, alex_albon, pierregasly, yukitsunoda0511, oscarpiastri, ynuser and 1,973,356 others

formulafoodie: singapore!! the food here absolutely never disappoints. thanks for having me willow

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user2: quick f1gossip did you catch any of the drivers at willow???

f1gossip: we got no reports of any drivers spotted at willow! y/n, lance, and esteban were spotted out for drinks not too far from this restaurant though!

f1: looks delicious!

user4: def not lando with all that shrimp

lando: you got that right

user4: LANDOBSJV

netflix: delectable

user3: netflix what are you doing here

formulafoodie: it certainly was 😉

user6: wait wait wait this has to mean something. formulafoodie never responds to comments

oscarpiastri: great! now i know where to grab dinner

user8: omg the last slide 🤤

user22: another fire post mr tsunoda

formulafoodie has made a post 📍 la barbecue

liked by danielriccardo, ynuser, estebanocon, iamrebeccad, oscarpiastri, netflix, astonmartinf1

formulafoodie: everything is in fact bigger (and better) in texas. labarbecuetexas you made the best bbq i’ve ever been blessed to eat!! thank you for having me 😩🤍

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user4: my mouth is watering

lando: again here asking where my invite was???

user14: omg omg i’m going here for dinner tonight

danielriccardo: knew you’d love it 💙 [liked by formulafoodie]

user6: WAIT DANNY KNOWS WHO RUNS THIS ACCOUNT?!

netflix: 🤤 us looking at these photos [liked by formulafoodie]

f1gossip: for those wondering - closest driver sightings to this restaurant was y/n, pierre and yuki out at a cowboy hat shop which reportedly has the same sign as the second slide 👀

user6: omgomgomgomg

user21: it’s yuki confirmed

user31: no wayyyyyy

user12: gonna have to get myself to an authentic bbq place asap

user19: whenever i need a recommendation for where to eat i come to this page

ynuser has made a post

liked by astonmartinf1, lance_stroll, estebanocon, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, lewishamilton and 1,023,459 others

ynuser: in another life, i rode horses instead of driving cars. thanks for the love, the points and the barbecue austin! 🤍🏎️

view all comments

danielriccardo: 💙

ynuser: 🤍

user13: i almost started barking

lhughes_06: any chance you want to come to a hockey game while you’re in the us?

jackhughes: have i not taught you nothing?! [liked by ynuser]

_quinnhughes: this was the best line you’ve got luke? [liked by ynuser]

ynuser: i could be persuaded 🤭 though when am i going to see one of you three at a race?

user43: i have no one to talk about this with

user55: HI [louder than everyone else]

iamrebeccad: gorgeous 🥰

ynuser: love you honey 😘

user98: she’s beauty, she’s grace, she’s the fastest girl in the race

user83: consistently proud of you for dragging that tractor into the points

formulafoodie has made a post 📍Broadway

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1, maxfewtrell, lance_stroll, georgerussell63, carlossainz55, and 1,234,425 others

formulafoodie: abu dhabi!!! thank you for the wonderful food and to broadwayuae for having me.

as the season comes to a close, i wanted to say thank you for spending yet another season with me! stay tuned for my regular programming of my favorite recipes starting next week 🥰

view all comments

user4: already looking forward to your off season content!!! love love love your recipes that you feed us with during the winter 🫶🏻

user7: no thank YOU for taking us along with you this season

f1: see you soon formulafoodie

netflix: what race had the best food this season?

formulafoodie: hmm… good question!! everyone make sure to tune into the newest driver to survive episodes to find out 😉

user6: OMG THEYRE SOING A REVEAL ON DTS

user12: i will only be accepting gold plated coffee only from now on

user8: thank you for a great season 🫶🏻

user19: we love you formulafoodie!

netflix has made a post

liked by ynuser, astonmartinf1, lando, pierregasly, yukitsunoda0511, yourbff, georgerussell63, and 987,245 others

netflix: drive to survive’s first episode is out now! we sat down with y/n y/l/n, the grids resident it girl and foodie, as she navigates the pressures of being the only female formula 1 driver and her quest to bring aston martin to its glory.

[tagged: ynuser, formulafoodie, astonmartinf1]

view all comments

user6: NO WAY FORMULAFOODIE IS Y/N?!

astonmartinf1: how lucky we are to have y/n 🤍

user20: “in my rookie season i really found that i needed an outlet and i wanted to express myself outside of the confines of driving. so i turned to my next passion which is cooking and in doing so i started this amazing community and i wouldn’t trade it for the world.” DONT LOOK AT ME IM DEF CRYING

user18: my shayla 😭😩

user19: we gotta protect y/n and formulafoodie at all costs

user14: only watching the episode to hear my queen speak 🗣️

lando: so this is how i find out ynuser??? do you hate me??

ynuser: stop it you muppet. i love you and you know it

lando: but you never took me to dinner?

ynuser: bc you’re shit at keeping secrets my dear

maxfewtrell: she’s right mate you can’t keep your mouth shut

lando: SLANDER

lance_stroll: so this is why you always bring the best local desserts to our hospitality ynuser

ynuser: you got me 🤭

user13: netflix new how to hook me right in for this season with giving me y/n first

formulafoodie has made a post 📍home

liked by lance_stroll, maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc, lando, alex_albon and 1,298,475 others

formulafoodie: back home and finally able to cook!! feeding my favorite muppet lando today (he wouldn’t stop asking)!! i am so beyond grateful for this community and for all of you. here’s to a new chapter together 🤍

oh and be sure to check out my bolognese recipe on my website!!

view all comments

user4: the first face reveal post 😭

user12: RUNNING TO GO MAKE THIS RECIPE

lando: F I N A L L Y!!!!! thank you for the pasta my friend

lance_stroll: and you’re going to cook for me when?

estebanocon: can i make reservations at maison de y/n?

charlesleclerc: no no have alex and i over first!

ynuser: i’ll hold a grid dinner soon don’t worry 🫶🏻

user12: cutie patootie

user4: looking forward to all your new content y/n/n

astonmartinf1: enjoy 🍝

user18: this looks so good 😋

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!!! likes, feedback and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[tbaluver]

Hey!

I love your husband/dad version of the love and deepspace boys!

I was wondering if you could do like headcanons or something of them picking out outfits for the baby or babies?

Maybe add Caleb only if you want to or are comfortable with it, I don't see much with him and since he's a new love interest i wonder what it would be like for him?

Love your work!!!

Picking Out Baby Clothes With Them- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader genre/ tags: fluff fluff a/n: hihi my lovely ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ MWAH thank you so much my angel for reading my works !! i love writing them as dads or soon to be dads so much so this was a rlly cute headcanon to write (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ hopefully i did this justice pls lmk but if not ill try to add more later ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ i hope you enjoy reading ! p.s i love ur banner (∩˃o˂∩)♡

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Xavier was in complete awe the moment he stepped into the store with you. Everything looked so small and the thought of your future baby would eventually fit into all these tiny clothes hit him hard. He couldn’t shake the feeling in his chest that his child was already growing so fast and he wanted to savor every moment of it.

Shopping for baby essentials was easy enough but shopping for clothes were a different story. Xavier stood beside you in the baby clothing aisle, looking at the tags with a confused expression. He was unsure if he should show you the 0-3 month size one or the 3-6 month one, so he’ll just grab both sizes and explain to you later that your little one would grow into them eventually. Plus it would look cute to look back on and compare from how much they've grown.

But what really got Xavier were the onesies. He kinda blacked out and picked out so many without even realizing it. Each one made him imagine how adorable your baby would look in it, tiny with their squishy little cheeks as if they were a little plushie.

Zayne:

Zayne would start off with a basket in his hand as you both strolled through the store so you can keep your arms linked together, just in case you started feeling tired, even if you were still in your early stages of pregnancy. But he’ll quickly swap it out with a cart after noticing how much energy and time you were putting into picking out baby clothes.

You’d catch the softest smile on his face whenever he picked up the smallest items. Tiny socks that were meant for a three month old that could barely stretch over his thumb or the little beanies that shrunk when he compared them to his hands. The clothes were tinier than he’d ever imagined and he couldn’t help but imagine how quickly your little one would soon arrive and would be growing into them soon.

Zayne would let you be in charge on picking out the ones that caught your eye whether it were bright colors or playful patterns, he’ll give you the space to choose whatever style you liked best for the baby. Every now and then, he’ll hold up a piece, showing you the ones he thought would be perfect for your future baby. His choices would always be thoughtful, carefully deciding the style and material that would keep them warm on chilly days or nights or light, breathable materials for warmer months.

Rafayel:

You two would spend HOURS in that store, completely immersed in picking out clothes for your little children that are due in a few more months. Each piece would vary on the color for the seasons. Every outfit and piece sparked a conversation, discussing why each piece would be cute on your babies and why they need it. It didn't take long to persuade him and it would immediately be in the cart

But before you knew it, wandering further into the store were toddler sized outfits and Rafayel was already imagining your babies growing up, they weren’t even born yet.

He’d get ahead of himself, picking out swimwear for your babies, picturing their first dip into the water with him and then later on, their first swim together. He’d also start choosing adorable outfits that would match or compliment each other's outfits for the perfect family photos you’d take together in the future.

Sylus:

You both already did your fair share of online shopping together with him, filling up the online cart with baby clothes you liked and loved. Sylus would make sure to select the express delivery even though your baby wasn’t due for a couple months, plus it's not like it'll hurt his card anyway. But if you ever felt like that wasn’t enough and you wanted to see more in person, he won't hesitate to take you out to shop.

This would already be your third cart in the store while Luke and Kieran wrap up the other two carts that were filled with baby supplies and toys you both might need. Now, the current cart was almost overflowing with baby clothes you thought would be perfect for your little one in a few months.

Sylus would let you roam around the aisles, admiring how focused you were while he pushed the cart around. He'd also throw in a few suggestions of matching outfits with your baby. Some could be for an event or just some casual wear that you could match with them at home. He would also have to remind you that the adorable little pieces you showed him were already ordered online, a little smirk tugging on his lips as he watched you fall in awe with the clothes all over again.

Caleb:

Shopping with Caleb would be filled with excitement and nostalgia. He’d pick out baby clothes that reminded him of what you wore when you were younger, he just wants his little baby to look just as cute as their mama. He’d also gravitate towards anything with adorable apple designs, which also means getting cute little baby bibs for them when they're ready for feeding

The entire time you two are shopping, he’ll frequently hold up a tiny outfit, his eyes lighting up as he explains to you how it reminded him of you when you were younger, no matter how embarrassing the story was, he'll manage to convince you to add it to the cart. He’d imagine how adorable it would be if a mini version of you wore it. He'll also add in a toddler apron so they can cook beside him in the kitchen in the future

He’s already planning ahead and imagining recreating those precious childhood photos of you and wanting to capture those same moments with your little one soon.

[animamii]

lockedup!toji lovessss receiving letters from you. 💌

"Fushiguro, you got mail," one of the corrections officers would knock on his open cell door. Toji always had this smirk tugging at his lips when the guard said those words. Although it was only a mask for the thrum he felt in his heart. He would always be handed a nice little stack of letters, all from you. The envelopes would be different colors, pinks and reds and purples. You'd really put a lot of effort into these [mostly love] letters. Even going as far as buying the cutest stamps you could find. He would never admit it out loud—he'd rather choke— but Toji loves when you put those cute little Hello Kitty stamps on the letters. Toji didn’t seem like the type to care for stuff like that, but those letters? Oh, they meant everything.

His name would be written in your cute handwriting, Toji Fushiguro with a little heart next to it. Flipping over the letter, you'd alway put a cute sticker over the seal. Or a heart if you couldn't find a sticker you'd like. He never rushed to open them, though; instead, he’d take his time, flipping through the envelopes, savoring the sight of your adorable scribbles. Toji loved the scent of them, always smelling like the spritz of perfume you'd put on the paper (thank you for the idea, Grease). He loved it just as much as the lipstick kisses you'd put on every blank space of the envelope and letter. Even if you weren't much of a lipstick user, you made sure to keep some different shades in stock so you can send Toji kisses through the mail.

It was the highlight of his day, pulling open the envelope with a rare softness in his usually rough hands. Always being ever so careful not to rip the envelope or the sticker you so thoughtfully sealed it with. He’d sit on the edge of his cot, back resting against the cold cement wall, eyes scanning over your handwriting. Every curve of your letters, every word you wrote, he soaked in every little thing. You wrote about every little thing; what you ate, what you listened to, what you watched. Your little girlish gossip. Toji preferred to read multiple pages of you rambling on about whatever came to your pretty little head. Made him feel like he was with you again, sitting there babbling to him like you always did.

After reading through one of your letters for the first time, Toji would lean back, holding the paper loosely in his hand, a rare softness washing over his sharp features. His lips would curl faintly at the edges, almost like he could hear your voice through the words on the page. He’d trace over your little doodles in the corners—the hearts, the smiley faces, even the exaggerated stick figure versions of you and him. Toji wasn’t a sentimental man by nature, but these small things? They clawed their way into the part of his chest he thought was hardened long ago. Sometimes, the other inmates would glance his way, curious about what kept the infamous Fushiguro so quiet. He’d shoot them a glare that said, Mind your own damn business. No one dared ask questions.

Toji had a little ritual for your letters. After reading through them, he’d carefully fold them, put it back in its respective envelope, and tuck them into his pillowcase. It wasn’t much, but it kept them close to him, right where he could feel that connection even when he wasn’t holding the paper. Later, when the lights dimmed and the prison settled into its eerie quiet, he’d pull one out again, holding it under the faint glow of the moonlight seeping through the bars. It didn’t matter if it was the same letter he read last week or one you’d just sent—it still carried that same warmth.

"Y’know," he muttered to himself one night, voice low enough not to carry. "You’re making me soft, sweetheart." But he didn’t really mind. Those letters gave him something to look forward to, something worth counting down the days for.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆

y'all I wanna write more drabbles like thiss. Also I'm thinking... maybe some letters from Toji himself? Or from reader? both?? o.O lemme know bebecitas I wanna write what y'all wanna read!! xoxo

taglist ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ @psoycy (aka my favee)

[astralnymphh]

𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥!𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞: 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬.

note: every gayass fucker i know has been going thru country!ellie ovulation rn—including me—so i thought i would create somethin' for the grand potluck. encouraging others to share as well (please). mdni. sexual themes. discord server.

nah, it's for certain not credible to claim that all of her clothing choices are indecent, or in other words—exhilarating; when you step into the boots of swooning-eyed women versus their cross-bearing mothers, the perspective tips like stones on a scale. droves would claim that it's plain distractin'. but, it's also for certain that it's gotten you into bushels of trouble! you aren't gettin' paid to ogle up the sheriff's daughter; hold your horses.

chances are, some faith would do you good—your mother said once. nothing is blasphemous in her eyes, but the toll a wild-hearted gal can take on responsibleness and practicalness is a dangerous one. from the top of her dotted sternum, which is prideful and free in an open button-up, to the pulsing sight of her belt buckle, dangerous things are written. and, with inhibitions loosened—mind you, there were evenings that led your fingers down both. in sadie-lou's parlor (the saloon you often bump into her at, coincidence or not), intoxicated to the length you both begin to swell specters of odd personalities, a dance-off across the bar gets you to whip out a couple crisp bills.

you watched—teeth pinching your lips—at intimate positions with her bootcut calves, groping and lulling her to get down low. “c'mon, williams, 'wanna give you somethin' worth your time!” you hollered, too sucked in the moment to mind the other bar-goers, and convinced her with soft fingers to kneel. she smiled, rolled her tongue over her lips, and said, “thought you said gettin' drunk wasn't worth it—these dance moves change your mind, baby?” before her teeth bit her own, interested in figuring out what exactly she felt pushing past her leather belt—it'd been none other than you: stashing a crumpled 20 in that faithfully-tucked crevice. her smile grown was worth a couple pennies more. “huh, guess it did.”

and, about that more pretentious, more offensive opening under her stupid grin, it had been dealt with on some occasions. once, in particular, cost you a room at the time-old inn. “fuck, that's it—ah, that's fuckin' it, sweetheart. goddamn, you're so good to me.” a rough junction ruts against you; ellie felt that she was entitled to gettin' herself off—if you were helpin' her along; pursed mouth around her nipple. one long roll of her hips elicited a long, grated whimper out of her, and everything about that southern song made your clit thump. pressed tits in your face and sibilant sounds through mouths after each stare caught while you—do that thing that fucks with her head: now that is a definite danger. real dangerous, if you continue and find her belt undone before you can do it yourself. “thought i'd get it outta 'ur trail,” she mutters, sun-tanned thumb pushing her panties just low enough that auburn hairs spring up behind it. wetness glistens in dripping lines. “hope you don't mind.. helpin' a little more?”

[alotofpockets]

Stay where you are | Keira Walsh x Reader

5k celebration prompt: "Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you."

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.5k

-----

Today had been a long day, and it was finally time to pack up and go home. The rest of your coworkers had already left, but you had to finish some work, so you had stayed behind. After packing your stuff and closing up the office, you made your way to your car.

When you reached your car, you went through your bag to find your keys. You were so exhausted that you had just tossed them into your back, so of course they had made their way to the bottom of the bag. 

Once you finally find them, you unlock your car and sit down with a sigh of relief. Finally time to go home and relax. You slot the key into the ignition and turn it to start the car, but nothing happens.

With a frown you tried again, twisting it harder as if that would make a difference. The engine made some noise, but it still refused to start. You felt the panic set in as you tried time and time again, but your car still wouldn’t start.

You let out a frustrated groan and let your head fall back against the headrest. Why did this have to happen today of all days? You were exhausted and just wanted to go home, order some dinner, and relax, but no. 

For a moment you look at your girlfriend’s contact in your phone, wanting to call her to pick you up. But with a shake of your head you put your phone away again. Keira was hanging out with her friends today. A night out with some of the girls on the team she had said before you left this morning.

You knew that if you called she would drop everything to come and pick you up, but you knew how busy she had been lately. She deserved to enjoy her night off and to hang out with her friends uninterrupted. 

The bus was your next best option. The nearest bus station was only a few blocks away, so you got out of your car and locked it again before taking off. It was dark out already. The past few weeks it had started getting dark so early, but you should be fine because there were plenty of street lights lighting up your path towards the bus stop.

That feeling of thinking you should be fine, faltered after you had just turned the corner off of your office’s street. At first it just felt like someone was walking behind you, that feeling quickly got confirmed when you heard footsteps.

You felt your chest tighten. It was probably nothing, but still the thought of someone following you was enough for you to be on edge.

However, the longer you kept walking, the less you were convinced that they weren’t following you. Only one way to find out, you thought, and took the next turn right. The bus stop wasn’t to the right, but you were going to take three more rights to come right back where you just were to see if they were really following you.

With your phone in hand, you pretended to check for directions, trying to act casual in case the person behind you really was following you.

Your heart was nearly beating out of your chest as you turned the last corner and were back where you started, with the person still behind you. Your feeling had been right, someone was following you.

Trying to act like you hadn’t noticed them, you kept walking. Getting into a bus right now wasn’t a good idea. What if they followed you home? So, instead of taking the left to head to the bus stop, you took a right to take you into the city centre. 

You didn’t stop walking until you made it into a bar. A crowded place, with plenty of people around to keep you safe if necessary. 

Your heart was still beating rapidly when you got your phone out of your pocket and dialed Keira’s number without thinking twice. 

“Hi love, is everything alright?” Keira said as she picked up the phone. You could hear muffled noises in the background, she was clearly in a crowded area, out with the girls. 

“I’m sorry I called and interrupted your night out, but I think someone is following me.” You scanned the room to check if the person had followed you inside. “Wait, what? Where are you now?” Keira’s voice instantly turned to worry. 

“I was walking to the bus stop because my car wasn’t turning on, and someone was behind me the whole time. I even walked around a block and they still followed me. I didn’t want to go home in case they-” You started rambling, but Keira stopped you. 

“Hey hey, take a deep breath.” She waited to hear you do so before asking, “Are you somewhere safe now?”

“I’m at our bar.” You didn’t even have to say which one you meant, Keira knew that our bar meant the one that you had met, and had gone too often to celebrate your relationship. “It’s crowded, and I thought it was safer than staying outside.”

“Good thinking, love. Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you." Wait, that’s not what you intended, you just wanted to hear her voice, not for her to drop her night out with friends. “Wait no, you don’t have to. I’ll just-”

“No. Stay where you are. I mean it.” You could hear her already moving, keys jingling, muffled voices in the background as she hurriedly spoke to someone. “I’m with the girls. We’ll be there in ten.”

You could hear by the tone of her voice that there was no convincing her to not come and pick you up. Still you were about to argue again, but that died out the moment that you saw the person that had been following you. Well you hadn’t seen their face, but they wore the same black hoodie and jeans that you had seen when you had been faking looking for direction.

“He’s inside.” Your voice dropped to a panicked whisper as you were trying to move further into the bar so he wouldn’t be able to see you. 

Keira’s surroundings had started to sound different, but you didn't notice. You were way too panicked to hear that she was already on her way. “Make sure you stay near the bar or close to people, okay? Stay on the line. We’re about five minutes out.”

You did as Keira said and moved towards a crowded section at the bar. Keira’s voice was the only thing keeping you from freaking out. “I’m scared.”

“I know, love. You’re okay and you’re not alone. We are almost there, I promise.” Five minutes sounded fast, but they felt forever as you kept going over the crowd to see if he was coming closer to you.

And then finally you spotted Keira, followed by Ona and Patri. They searched the bar for you, and were relieved when they saw you unharmed walking towards them. 

Keira immediately wrapped her arms around you and held you close. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” Ona and Patri stayed close, looking around to check that no one was following you, while Keira guided you out of the bar.

The rest of the girls were waiting outside. Aitana was talking to the security at the door, and when she laid her eyes on you she motioned you to come closer. “I’m so glad you’re okay. Can you describe what he looks like? I told security what happened, so they are going to kick him out after we’ve left.”

You nod and tell the security guard all the details you knew. He told you he would take care of it, and that he wished you a safe rest of your evening.

Keira, who hadn’t left your side since she found you at the bar, wrapped her arm around you and guided you to the car. “Thank you.” You said softly.

“You never have to thank me for keeping you safe. Just promise you’ll call sooner next time, alright? I would come pick you up if you weren’t in danger too, no matter what.” You nod, “I promise.”

When you got back, you expected them to just drop you off and continue their night, well everyone except Keira. You didn’t think she would leave your side any time soon. But all of them got out of the two cars and followed the both of you inside.

“You guys should continue your night out, I’m okay now.” You tried to tell them, but they weren’t having it. None of them were planning to leave any time soon, so you all decided to watch a movie together. Pina got to work on ordering everyone some food, while Vicky looked for a movie to watch.

Meanwhile, you sat leaned into Keira’s side with her arm wrapped protectively around you. 

She held you close, her fingers drawing soothing patterns on your arm. The comfort of her presence, combined with the chatter of the girls as they settled in, began to ease the tension that you had been feeling in your chest since you left the office.

Keira pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We’ve got you.”

-----

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[earthchica]

always and forever

aaron pierre x black, fem! reader {actress}

summary: you and Aaron have been dating for five months. It's been great, and both of you are happily in love despite navigating each other's busy schedules.

warnings: explicit smut 18+, light teasing, morning sex, unprotected, light daddy kink, breeding kink, long-distance, dirty talking, bubble bath, boyfriend/girlfriend, actor/actress, not real life, original characters, use of Y/N, words: 6k

note: part 3 is here, and part 4 will be out on Saturday. thank you to everyone who voted in my poll yesterday. I hope you enjoy it.

part one | part two

The sun peeked through the curtains, casting a soft glow across your bedroom. You stretched lazily, feeling the warmth and comfort of the bed where you lay next to Aaron.

Your heart swelled as you watched him—the way his lashes fanned against his cheek and the slight smile that danced on his lips in his sleep made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Aaron was everything you ever wanted; the way he treated you with love, respect, and emotional support was irresistible. He stirred, as if sensing your gaze, his eyes fluttering open slowly.

When Aaron finally focused on you, his lips curled into that playful grin you adored. "Caught you staring again, love," he teased, his voice still thick with sleep, sending a rush of warmth through your cheeks.

You rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance. "I can't help it! You're just so adorable when you sleep," you replied, a laugh bubbling up as he wiggled closer, practically snuggling into your side.

"Adorable, eh?" Aaron raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the compliment. "Well, you might just want to keep that to yourself. I’ve got a reputation to uphold, you know."

You couldn’t help but giggle, the sound breezy and light, as you nudged him playfully. "I think you’re just too easy to tease."

"I am not," Aaron shot back, playfully puffing out his chest. "Mhmm, okay, Aaron," you said with a smirk.

"I mean, I’ve got myself such a gentle giant with a little rough side to him. What more could a woman want?"

Aaron chuckled, leaned in, pulling you closer, and his eyes softened. “You know I’ve been doin’ a lot of thinkin’. These past five months? They’ve been…”

He hesitated, looking for the right words. “We've known each other for two years as friends, but our relationship has blossomed into something so special. It's been amazing, and you make me so happy that I can't imagine myself not spending the rest of my life with you."

Your heart raced, you said, looking up at him and caressing his jawline with your finger while looking between his eyes and lips.

“Oh...I feel the same way, Aaron. You make me so happy, keep me grounded, and always make me feel assured and never doubtful.”

And then, with a deep breath that seemed to carry the weight of the moment, he said it: "I love you, Y/N."

For a split second, time froze. Your heart did a little flip-flop; surprise washed over you, followed quickly by a swell of happiness. “I… I love you too!”

The words slipped out almost instinctively, and a radiant smile broke across your face.

"Really?" Aaron asked as his face lit up. He pulled you into a warm embrace and began kissing your neck, which caused you to laugh, which filled the bedroom.

"Yes, I love you," you repeated with laughter. "Repeat it," Aaron whispered in your ear with a more lustfully, darker tone. You look into his eyes, and you know that like all too well.

Moreover, in a matter of minutes, you didn’t think he would have you on all fours, his strong hands gripping your hips relentlessly as he pounds into you without mercy.

Your right hand will be held behind you, rendering you to his every desire. And with each thrust, he demands that you declare your unwavering love for him.

"Oh, fuck I love you, Aaron," You cried, looking back at him. Aaron’s grin turned wicked, his eyes darkening with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

“Repeat it, love,” he demanded, giving your ass cheek a sting smack as his voice dropped low, rough, and dripping with that British accent that always made you weak in the knees.

“Tell me how much you love me.”

“I love you, Aaron,” you gasped, feeling his hands slide possessively down your sides, gripping your hips with a firmness that made your breath hitch.

“I love you so damn much, you are the air that I breathe, Daddy.”

“Mm, that’s my sweet girl,” Aaron purred, his lips brushing against your ear as his fingers dug into your dark-brown skin. “You’re mine, ain’t ya? All mine.”

“Yes, ahhh,” you whimpered, arching into him as his mouth trailed hot kisses along your lower back. “All yours.”

“Good,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “Cause I'm not sharin’ you with nobody. You hear me? You belong to me, baby. Every inch of you.”

His words sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you nodded frantically, your hands clutching at the sheets as he let go of your arm.

“Yes, Aaron. Only you.” you cried softly. Aaron chuckled darkly, pulling out of you, causing you to whimper and look back at him again.

“That’s what I love to hear,” he murmured, his voice dripping with dominance and tenderness. His hands moved to your waist, lifting you effortlessly before flipping you onto your back.

Aaron hovered above you, spreading your legs up to get a better view of your wet pussy. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

"Fuck..you got me all heated, with just you saying three little words,” Aaron said, his voice low and gravelly, that British accent wrapping around every word like silk.

“I guess you got that great effect on me, love,” Aaron grunts, and you bite your lip, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Is that so?” you asked, looking up at him. “Mm-hmm,” he hummed, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. When he pulled away, his breath was warm against your skin.

“You got me all twisted up. Can’t focus on nothin’ but you.” His hands roamed your breasts, leaving trails of fire in their wake. “You feel that?”

His voice was rough as his hard dick traced up and down the wet pussy folds. “Feel how hard I am for you. That’s what you do to me. Every damn time.” He said and you moaned, unable to find the words as his touch ignited a fire deep within you.

Aaron’s lips found yours again, and this time, the kiss was deep and demanding, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless.

His hands moved to your thighs again as he settled between your legs. “You ready for more, baby?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

“Yes,” you breathed, your heart pounding in your chest. “Good,” he said, his lips curving into a wicked smile. “Cause I ain’t stoppin’ till you cumming.”

And with that, he entered you in one swift motion, filling you completely and drawing a moan from your lips. His hands gripped the back of your tights, holding you in place as he began to move, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Aaron,” you moaned, your nails digging into his arms as he pounded into you with a rhythm that had you seeing stars.

“Shit, dear—you feel so fuckin’ good. Tight, wet, all mine.” His voice was raw, guttural, each word dripping with a possessive hunger that made your head spin.

“You like that?” he growled, his hips snapping against yours with a force that had you arching off the bed. “You like how I’m stretching you out, fillin’ you up? Huh? Tell me.”

“Yes, oh yes Aaron!” you cried out, your voice breaking as he hit that spot deep inside you, over and over again. “Aaron—please—don’t stop!”

Aaron chuckled darkly, vibrating through his chest and straight into your core. “Oh, I'm not stopping, baby. Not until I hear you screaming my name. Not until I feel you clenching around this dick like you can’t let go.”

His hands slide up your body, gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head as he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You gonna take all this dick, baby, like I know you can?” He asked in your ear.

“Yes,” you gasped, your body trembling beneath him as he drove harder, deeper, his rhythm relentless. “Fuck—Aaron, you’re so deep—I can’t—”

“You can,” Aaron growled, his breath hot and ragged against your neck.

“You're gonna take it all, sweetheart. Every inch. Every stroke. You belong to me, and I’ll ensure you never forget it.”

His words sent a jolt of electricity through you, your body clenching around him as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core.

His grip on your wrists tightened, his body pressing you into the mattress as he fucked you with a primal intensity that left no room for thought—only feeling.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice rough, demanding. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his darkened gaze.

“That’s it. Look at me while I fuck you good. Watch how much you’re taking this dick like a good girl.”

You moaned loudly, your hips lifting to meet his thrusts as the heat inside you threatened to explode. “Aaron—I’m close—please—”

“Yeah?” Aaron rasped, a grin across his face. “You are gonna cum for me? Are you gonna let go all over this dick? Huh?”

“Yes!” you cried out, your voice cracking under the weight of the pleasure building inside you. “Aaron—I’m gonna—oh goodness, I’m gonna—”

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, his pace quickening, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, more urgent.

“Cum for me. Let me feel you lose control. Let me feel that pretty pussy milking this dick like you can’t get enough.”

The pressure in your core snapped, and you came undone with a scream, your body convulsing beneath him as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

Aaron didn’t let up, driving into you relentlessly as you rode out the throes of your orgasm. “Fuck,” he groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction.

“That’s what I wanted. That’s what I needed to see. You cumming on this dick like you can’t take no more. But don’t think we’re done yet love.”

Aaron slowed his pace slightly, allowing you to catch your breath before he leaned down again, his lips brushing against your ear. “You ain’t tapped out on me yet, are you?”

“No,” you whispered hoarsely, your body still trembling from the intensity of your release. Aaron lifted you effortlessly, his strong arms cradling your body as if you weighed nothing.

Your legs instinctively under his arms as his hands gripped your waist as he slid back into you with a deep, deliberate thrust. The sensation was overwhelming—your nails dug into his shoulders as a low moan escaped your lips.

“Hmmm, fuck” he growled, his voice dripping with hunger. “You feel that? We were made for each other. Fits you so damn perfect, doesn’t it?”

Aaron punctuated his words with sharp, punishing thrusts, each one sending shockwaves through your body.

“Aaron—” you whimpered, your head falling back as he pounded into you with a raw intensity that left you breathless.

“Nah, baby, look at me,” Aaron demanded, his voice rough and commanding. You forced your eyes open, locking onto his dark, smoldering gaze.

“That’s it. Look at me while I give you this work. You see how much this pussy belongs to me? How much do you need this dick?”

“Yes, fuck Aaron,” you gasped, your voice trembling as he drove into you harder, your body bouncing with every thrust. “It’s yours—it’s always been yours.”

“That's right,” he growled, his breath hot against your neck.

“And don’t you ever forget it. I want you to remember this moment and every movement we have. When I’m not here, even when we’re apart. Remember how this dick makes you feel. How it stretches, you fill you up just right. How it got you moaning like a mess, begging for more. You gonna remember that, ain’t you?”

“Yes, Aaron,” you moaned, your voice breaking as another wave of pleasure began to build inside you. “I’m gonna remember—oh Goodness—I’m gonna remember everything.”

“Good,” he said, his lips curling into a smile. “Cause Imma never letting you forget. This pussy mine and I’ma make sure it stays that way.” He shifted his angle slightly, hitting a spot deep inside you that made your toes curl and your vision blur.

“Fuck!” you screamed, your body arching against him as the pleasure became almost too much to bear. “Aaron, oh my goodness—I can’t—it’s too much—”

“No, baby, you can take it,” he snarled, his thrusts growing more erratic, more desperate. “You gonna take all this dick, ain’t you? You’re a big girl; big girls do big things, right?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, your voice rising with each word as the pressure inside you reached its peak. “Give it to me—please—I need it—”

“That’s it, love,” Aaron growled, his hands tightening on your legs as he buried himself deep inside you one last time. “Now cum for me, baby. Let it all go for me.”

The command in his voice was all it took. Your body convulsed as another orgasm ripped through you, your screams echoing off the walls as you clung to him for dear life.

Aaron’s groan was guttural, primal, as he felt you clenching around him, milking every last drop of pleasure from his body. His thrusts slowed, but they were no less intense, each one drawing out your climax until you were trembling in his arms, utterly spent.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his voice softer now but still laced with that same possessive edge. “Let it all out. Let me feel you cumming on my dick. Fuck, you’re so beautiful like this—so fucking perfect.”

You could barely form a coherent thought, let alone speak, but your body spoke for you. Your legs tightened around him, your hands clutching at his shoulders as if you never wanted to let go.

And then, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer. “This dick is mine, right?” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with quiet confidence.

“Who else makes you feel like this? Who else gets you this hard, this desperate, this… undone?”

“Fuck, only you, baby, it’s all yours” Aaron let out a low, rumbling growl and buried himself deep inside you one final time. You felt him pulse within you, hot and thick, marking you as his in the most intimate way possible.

For a moment, neither of you moved, wrapping up in each other’s arms. The only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths and the soft patter of sweat dripping.

Aaron’s forehead rested against yours, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He laid you gently on the bed and finally pulled back to look at you, his eyes softening as he saw you.

His fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face, and his gentle touches flutter you. “You alright, babe?” he asked, his voice a low murmur filled with concern.

His rough exterior melted away, replaced by a gentleness that always managed to flutter you. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He asked softly.

You shook your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “No, Aaron. You were amazing. Just… just the way I needed you to be.”

Aaron nodded, his thumb stroking your cheek as he studied your face. “Good. Cause I’d never wanna hurt you. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you whispered, your hand reaching up to cup his face. “I trust you, Aaron. More than anyone.”

His lips curved into a genuine smile that matched his eyes, making them sparkle with love. “Good, I love you, And I ain’t ever letting you go.”

You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his skin against yours.

“I don’t want you to,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t ever want to be without you.”

“You won’t be,” he promised, his voice firm and unwavering. “Not as long as I’m breathing. You’re stuck with me, love. Always and Forever.”

“Always and Forever,” you echoed, your heart swelling with emotions you could barely contain. Aaron’s fingers lingered on your dark-brown skin for a moment longer before he kissed your forehead, soft and lingering.

Then, with a reluctant sigh, he pulled away, the warmth of his body leaving you feeling oddly exposed.

“I’ll run you a bath,” he said, his voice soft laced with tenderness. “You deserve to relax after… well, after all that.”

"Yeah, but i'm not complaining," You teased and watched as he padded across the room, biting your lip at the sight of his naked ass, his broad shoulders and muscled back catching the dim light filtering through the curtains.

Every movement was deliberate, and every step carried the confidence that made your stomach flutter. He disappeared into the bathroom, and soon, you heard the sound of water running and the faint hum of him adjusting the temperature.

You tried to get off the bed, but your body felt like it had been turned to lead. Your legs were jelly, and slight panic flickered in your chest for a moment.

You flopped back onto the bed and let out a soft groan, half-amused and half-frustrated. Aaron reappeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame with that infuriating grin of his.

The one that always seemed to know exactly how to get under your skin. “What’s the matter, love? Can’t move?” Aaron teased, his voice dripping with mock sympathy.

“Guess I really did a number on you, huh?” he added and you pouted, crossing your arms over your breasts as best as possible, though the movement felt like a monumental effort.

“You’re not funny, Aaron,” you muttered, though the corners of your lips twitched despite yourself.

“Oh, I think I’m hilarious,” he shot back, pushing off the doorway and sauntering toward you. His steps were slow and deliberate, like a lion stalking its prey.

When he reached the bed, he leaned down, his face inches from yours. “Just say you need help, baby.”

“I don't,” you lied, your cheeks heating up under his intense gaze. He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent shivers down your spine.

“Liar,” he murmured before swooping in to kiss your lips quickly. Before you could protest—or kiss him back—he straightened and offered you his hand.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You hesitated momentarily before taking his hand, your fingers trembling slightly as they interlaced with his. His grip was firm and steadying, and he quickly pulled you to your feet, though your legs still felt like they might give out at any moment.

Aaron wrapped an arm around your waist, his touch grounding and electrifying as he guided you toward the bathroom. The room was filled with steam, the air thick with the scent of lavender and eucalyptus from the bath salts he’d added to the water.

One candle flickered on the countertops, casting a soft, golden glow that made everything almost magical. The tub was enormous, bubbles spilling over the edges, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh of anticipation.

“Thank you, babe,” you murmured, leaning into him as you stepped closer to the tub. “Of course, only the best for you,” he said simply, kissing your head.

Aaron released you long enough to kneel by the tub, testing the water with his hand before nodding in satisfaction. “Perfect temperature.”

He stood and turned to you, his eyes soft but still teasing. “Now, are you going to need help getting in, or can you manage on your own?”

You shot him a look, though no real heat was behind it. “I think I can handle it,” you said, though the way your legs wobbled as you stepped toward the tub suggested otherwise.

Aaron didn’t say anything but hovered close, his hands ready to catch you if needed. The water was divine as you slipped in—warm but not scalding, the bubbles clinging to your skin like a soft embrace.

You sank down with a contented sigh, letting the tension melt away from your muscles. Aaron watched you for a moment, and that infuriating grin still played on his lips before he began to leave.

“Where are you going?” you asked.

“Let you relax,” he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Unless you’d rather I join?”

“Duh, get in here,” you said with a smile. He chuckled, low and warm, and soon stepped into the tub behind you.

The water rose dangerously close to the edge as he settled in, his chest pressing against your back, his legs bracketing yours. You leaned into him, letting his warmth envelop you as the bubbles tickled your skin.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the soft lapping of the water and the occasional flicker of the candle flames.

His fingers traced idle patterns on your arms, his touch feather-light but enough to send little jolts of electricity through you.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself drift in the moment's tranquility.

“You’re quiet,” Aaron murmured after a while, his breath warm against your ear. He added, “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” you said softly, though that wasn’t entirely true. “Just… this. You. It’s nice, I’m gonna miss you real bad”

You felt Aaron's arms tighten around you ever so slightly, his breath hitching for a moment before he let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh.

His lips brushed against the curve of your shoulder, and you could feel the warmth of his smile even without seeing it.

"I’m gonna miss you too," he admitted his voice low and tinged with something that sounded like regret. "More than you know."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. You turned your head slightly, catching a glimpse of his profile in the candlelight—his strong features, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks.

Aaron looked pensive, almost vulnerable, and it made your chest ache. "It’s not forever, just for a few weeks," you said softly, though the words felt hollow even to your ears.

"True," he agreed, but a weight to his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced. "But it doesn’t make it any easier."

You reached up, tangling your fingers with his where they rested on your arm. The steam from the bath curled around you both, making everything feel hazy and dreamlike.

"We’ll figure it out," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. "We always do."

-

An hour later, you and Aaron were dressed, having shared a leisurely brunch filled with laughter and lingering glances. Now, you stood outside, watching him as he methodically loaded his suitcases into the trunk of his car.

The sunlight glinted off the metal, illuminating your surroundings, but all you could focus on was the rising emotion within you. You felt comforted and heartbroken when he closed the trunk with a decisive thud and walked over, wrapping his strong arms around your waist.

Looking into his deep eyes, tears began to well up, threatening to spill over. You had never anticipated that saying goodbye would be this hard; it felt like he was taking a piece of you.

The thought of him being away for just a few weeks loomed heavy in your heart, making it feel like you were parting from your true other half.

“Don’t cry, baby,” Aaron murmured softly, brushing a thumb against your cheek.

“I promise we can make time; we can call, text, and FaceTime each other whenever you want, okay?” His voice was warm and reassuring, yet it still didn’t quite alleviate the ache inside you.

You nodded a silent agreement that felt both comforting and bittersweet. He glanced at his watch, and the moment felt even more fleeting.

“I’ve got to go now,” he said gently, his voice barely above a whisper. The reality of the situation hit you hard.

“Don’t forget me while I’m gone,” you said, trying to inject humor into the sadness, your voice tinged with melodrama. He chuckled softly, a warm smile spreading across his face, and then his expression softened further as he took your hands in his, kissing each one tenderly.

“I could never forget you, baby,” he said, sincerity etched across his features.

“It’s going to be okay; we can do this.” He pulled you into one last embrace, holding you tightly as though he could squeeze every bit of love and reassurance into that moment.

You both reluctantly pulled away, eyes locked, whispering the words that felt like a lifeline. “I love you, Aaron”

“I love you too, Y/N We’ll be back together before you know it.” With a heavy heart, Aaron reached down to grab his handbag from the ground.

Aron stepped back towards his car but then paused, turning to look at you one last time as if committing your image to memory. The moment stretched, and he climbed into the car, starting the engine, the sound a bittersweet reminder that he was leaving.

As he drove away, you watched until his car was just a dot on the horizon, feeling the weight of your longing settle deep within your chest.

[doestarkey]

summary: sneaking onto drew’s phone after a gnawing suspicion of him cheating on you

the age gap between you and drew had always lingered in the back of your mind, quietly eroding your confidence in the relationship. no matter how much you tried to push the thought aside, it left you questioning—doubting. if it was a concern for you, surely it was for him too… right?

at twenty one, you were still navigating life—balancing college, exploring career paths, meeting new people, and experiencing things for the first time. drew, on the other hand, was in an entirely different chapter.

he had everything already figured out—a thriving career as the ceo of a globally recognized company, financial security, a beautiful home, and the kind of life experience that only comes with time. and, of course, there was the attention.

women—his age—throwing themselves at him, drawn to his success, his confidence, and the effortless charm that came with being an attractive man in his late thirties. women who seemed like they belonged in his world more than you ever could.

so what made you any different?

late nights at the office became a routine for him. he explained it all—overtime, project deadlines, the occasional presence of a coworker or two in the building. you never questioned it.

until one night.

maybe it was real, or maybe it was just your own insecurities manifesting into something tangible. but as you washed his suit, you could have sworn you caught the faintest trace of perfume that didn’t belong to you.

it gnawed at you. the doubt, the fear. until, finally, you caved to the one thing you had sworn to yourself you wouldn’t do.

as he slept beside you, you carefully reached for his phone on the nightstand, your fingers hesitant but determined. the screen lit up, illuminating your face in the dark. you tried once. twice. a third time—

“it’s your birthday.”

his voice was soft, laced with sleep, yet fully aware. he lay on his side, head propped up on one hand as he watched you, offering the password without hesitation. a quiet reminder of the trust you were on the verge of betraying.

a lump formed in your throat, but you pressed forward. as the phone unlocked, you combed through everything—messages, photos, calls—desperate for proof of something that didn’t exist.

and there it was.

nothing. no betrayal. no late-night secrets. just the overwhelming weight of guilt settling in your stomach.

silently, you turned off the phone and handed it back to him, unable to meet his gaze.

drew chuckled, taking the phone and placing it back on the nightstand before reaching out, his fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“feel better now?” he asked, voice calm, understanding.

you didn’t answer, just stared at him with a deep frown, the shame too heavy to put into words.

“it’s okay,” he reassured you softly, though there was a hint of hurt in his voice. “but talk to me, baby. why’d you do that? what did i do that made you go through my phone?”

“you didn’t do anything, i just—” you hesitated, frustration bubbling up. how could you explain this without sounding irrational?

his head tilted slightly, reading you with ease. “been in your head too much, thinking things you shouldn’t?”

you nodded, exhaling shakily. “i just got scared… you’re always working late, and there are so many women—women your age—”

drew let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “that’s what you’re worried about? women my age?”

you pouted, not finding the humor in it, but his smile only grew.

“baby, if i wanted someone my age, i’d have them. but i don’t. i want you. age doesn’t change that.”

the sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten. “i’m sorry, drew,” you murmured, burying your face in your hands as embarrassment burned tears into your eyes.

“hey, none of that,” he whispered, pulling your hands away before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against his bare chest. “c’mere.”

you clung to him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, your sniffles the only sound in the quiet room.

“m’not upset with you, sweetheart,” he promised, one hand threading through your hair as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“why not?” you mumbled into his skin, the warmth of him grounding you.

he chuckled. “because i know you didn’t mean any harm. just promise me that next time, you’ll talk to me instead, yeah?”

you nodded against him, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. “i promise.”

“good.” he sighed, his arms tightening around you. “now, let’s get some sleep.”

“i love you,” you whispered.

“i love you too, baby.”

[godmadeaterribleerror]

What You Do

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Love Confessions, Smut (p in v, oral both receiving, fingering), light angst, light fluff, sex pollen, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: This isn't a sex curse. It feel like a sex curse, and looks like a sex curse, but it's not. It has a similar cure to a sex curse, but it's not. And Dean can't fix this.

But the asshole is still going to try.

Author's Note: Back on my (not) sex pollen bullshit. Enjoy!

Title from Shadowboxer by Fiona Apple

Word Count: 7.6k

Sometimes you wish Dean was just a little bit worse of a person. 

He seems to think he’s a worse person. He thinks he’s a bad person. 

He’s not. 

Because a bad person would have left you to writhe and moan on the floor after you got hit with this stupid curse, snapping at you to stand up and pull it together. But Dean had fallen to his knees at your side, brushing away your hair and wiping sweat and blood from your skin. With his hands. Big hands. Big, warm, rough hands with strong, deft fingers that always move so deliberately, that can bruise and mark your skin and fill you up and-

You wished you’d had the strength and mind to push him away in that moment. To grab those hands and shove them away from your face, because where they were usually sparking fireworks, they were setting off nuclear explosions. You wished you’d screamed at him in that moment to at least stop cradling your face, brushing his thumbs over your cheekbones and sending lighting through your blood and into your gut.

But you hadn’t understood what this was. You’d really thought that you were just high on adrenaline and Dean’s touch, the combination making you hornier than usual. 

You’d been so fucking wrong. And now Dean won’t stop being a good person, and it’s going to kill you.

He’d insisted on carrying you. You’d taken two, shaking steps, your knees had bucked in an attempt to relieve the pressure between your legs, and Dean had simply refused to let you fall.

“Dean, I can get it, I just need to keep-“

“You say trying,” He’d snapped your name, hooking his arm under your knees and hauling you up his chest. “I’ll fucking shoot you.”

Normally you would’ve protested—insisting that you did need to keep trying, and Dean was just being dramatic—but he’d been warm and strong around you, muscles flexing and shifting as he walked back to the Impala, and your face had come into dangerously close contact with his neck. 

You’d bitten through your lip in order not to brush soft kisses over his jaw, suck a spot on his neck, or bite him and see what he’d do to get you back. You’d only made it to the car—and later, into the motel—because you’d been able to bury your face in his skin, and it had tided you over. The smell of Dean—evergreen and spice and gunpowder and something you knew to just purely be him—acting as an anesthetic. Dulling the stabbing, throbbing, and aching pain between your legs and in your gut, soothing your heart back down from the franticly paced rhythm it had set since you’d been hit by that spell.

When he’d set you down on the bed, there had been a brief moment of relief—no more reason to worry about accidentally jumping on him at the worst possible time—before it had all gotten worse. Dean had drawn away, and everything had become a white-hot flame on your every nerve and a sore, blistering cold on your skin. You’d screamed, Dean had rushed back to your side, and he’d started to touch you again. Looking for a wound or mark on your body that he could blame.

There wasn’t one. This was entirely the curse. And every time Dean drew away it was worse—sweat staining your clothing and shivers moving up and down your spine—so you’d agree for him to just stay near you. On the edge of the bed, not touching you because that made everything worse in a different way. Proximity was the best he could offer. 

But it wasn’t a fool proof. You were still going out of your mind with desire. And Dean was not helping. He was still being a good fucking person, and he wouldn’t leave you alone. You’d been rolling and moaning into the sheets, whining and humping the air, and Dean had just sat there. 

His arms had been braced on his knees. You’d almost started crying as the memory of those knees being shoved between your thighs had sent a newer, stronger wave of desire through your body.

Just another reason Dean needed to go. He’d been refusing to look at you—only staring at the floor like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen—and that makes your lungs feel like iron in your chest because why. Why wouldn’t he look at you.

It could be is that he was disgusted by the sight of you. That he’s only ever seen you like this in low, glowing darkness, and when you’re cast in the shifting sunlight between the blinds, he can’t pretend you’re just another body in a bed. Maybe this is making that too real for him. That you’re the one that makes those desperate sounds that always make his hips stutter. You’re the one who grinds like this onto his dick, and who scratches at his back the same way you’ve been scratching at the mattress.

But then sometimes Dean would look at you, and it was far worse. You couldn’t read that expression, either because he didn’t want you to, or because nothing existed outside of Dean when he looked at you. Things like reading him—studying his every breath and shift in the chair—didn’t matter. He was so handsome. Strong jaw and tanned skin, small freckles you could map in your sleep—you’ve certainly done it before, in the dead of night when he couldn’t know—and green eyes that were almost too pretty. They were like falling stars. Bright and colorful and never yours to just reach up and take. Passing by you in the night. Never colliding with you in a way that would leave a damage you’d love to suffer through.

Dean would look at you, and you’d get lovelorn and drunk on his attention, and then you’d make a lewd sound you couldn’t swallow and buck off the bed. 

And he’d cough, sit up a little taller—more vigilant, like he could just defend himself for the horrible sight of you—and look away.

And you’d be left in pain and want again.

He’d kept trying to talk to you, while you waited for Sam to call him back with a name for this curse, and a way to cure it. 

“So, uh.” He’d cleared his throat, the sound had been gravely and rough, and you’d almost flown out of your skin. “We’re gonna have to stick around for a few days, to make sure this isn’t a coven situation, but we can do whatever the hell we want. Long as we’re in town. I was thinking, I saw a movie theatre-“

You’d gasped, something jumpstarting in your chest and shooting into your gut at the idea of going to see a movie with Dean. His hand on your thigh in the dark, wandering up your leg and tracing pattens, leaning down to your ear to whisper bad jokes, chuckling when you told him to shut up, but fully laughing when you’d joke back-

“Shit, are you-“

“I’m fine.” You’d said, and you don’t think he’d believed you. Fuck, you hadn’t believed you. “Movie sounds good.”

“Yeah, uh, I saw a diner too. We could do a movie, and get dinner.”

You hadn’t been able to see him. You’d started to lie flat on your back a few hours ago, and Dean had been nothing more than a deep, strong voice that sounded like rainfall and crackling fire in your head. Drowning you in the sound and echoing it around your skull, ravaging through you with just noise and igniting an iridescent light on every part of you he’d touched before.

He’d touch you everywhere before. He’d touched you at a diner. Bumped his foot with yours under a table, raised his brows in a silent question, and smirked when you’d given a small nod. He’d knocked on your door that night. He’d been gone from your bed the next morning. 

And dinner and a movie wasn’t what you and Dean did. You did things like that.

But Dean had been suggesting it. Saying it casually in that impossibly powerful voice. You’d had to bite down a scream at the idea of getting to lean over the table in the diner—wiping some crumbs off his lips as he grinned at you—and he’d still been talking- 

“Then I saw an awesome looking carnival a town over, we could check that out-“

You’d passed out. 

When you’d woken up, Dean was hunched at the side of the bed, muttering low words into his phone. 

The first one you’d been able to make out was Sam.

You’d never moved faster in your life.

You’d grabbed the phone out of Dean’s hand, ignoring his grunt of protest and how touching his hand had made you a little dizzy. “Sam Winchester, if you can’t tell me what the fuck is wrong with me, I’m going to throw your fucking hair mousse-“

“I don’t- Uh-“ Sam had cleared his throat through the speaker. “How did you know about-“

“I get bored and snoop.” You’d snapped. “Nothing gets past me, Samuel, and I swear to god I’m going to take all the razors you hid and let Dean shave your head-“

“Jesus,” Sam had muttered your name, and it hadn’t been a good sign that the didn’t sound mad or annoyed. He’d sounded like he pitied you. It had made your whole body tense. “It’s really that bad, isn’t it.”

You’d frowned into the air. “I don’t-“

“The curse. You’re really pissed, Dean says you get like that when you’re, um…“ Sam had trailed off, and you’d scowled.

“When I’m what?”

 “I don’t wanna say it.”

“Sam-“

“Pent up.” Sam had muttered, the words clipped through the speaker, and if the thought of him dead didn’t make your heart fracture and splinter, you would’ve killed Dean right there. The asshole.

He’d still been sitting on the bed. If you’d leaned a little closer, you would’ve collapsed over him. He’d needed to stop looking so fucking worried. Being so warm you could feel it radiating from his body and seeping into your skin and stoking that need-

“Sam,” you’d whispered, your fingers curling in the sheets and your nails pushing into your skin. “What’s going on?”

He’d let out a long breath, only static silence on the phone for a long moment before he spoke. “I think it’s a famine curse.” 

“Oh.” You’d said, then blinked into the air as the words actually sunk in. “What?”

“Look, just so you know, I told Dean it was a sex curse. This isn’t really my thing to tell him, and it’s not technically a lie, but you are going to have to tell him or this, it will kill you-“

“It will what?” Your voice had cracked, and Dean had frowned. 

“Are you-“

You’d given Dean a thumbs up, lowering your voice to a hushed, nervous whisper. “Sam, please just say it, I don’t know what going on and I’m so tired and it hurts-“

“It’s-“ Sam had sighed, his voice far too fucking gentle. “The thing you’ve been starved off and craved the most, you need to have it, or you’ll die.”

 You’d shaken your head, falling flat onto your back. “I don’t know what I-“

“Yeah, you do.” Sam had said, and now you understood the sympathy. The pity. The rambling and awkwardness.

Because Sam knew. You’d gotten really drunk and cried about the thing to him a year ago. He rarely mentioned it, but he knew.

And this wasn’t going to get better. Not until you made it better. 

Until Dean made it better. 

So you were fucked. 

“What do I do?” You’d whispered into the phone, closing your eyes to pretend Dean wasn’t only a few feet away. “This isn’t going to- There’s nothing that will- Sam, what do I do-“

You’d started to cry, Dean had moved to hold you in a flash—taking the phone and muttering to Sam that he’d deal with it before hanging up—and after your breathing had steady back to a ragged rhythm, you’d gotten a text from Sam.

Tell him.

You’d stared at the screen, ready to throw it across the room or smash it to pieces so you could just die in peace, and another message had come through. 

Please.

And now you’re here. And Dean’s still being a good person, and you can’t do this.

He thinks it’s a sex curse. Sam had apparently said that you needed intimate connection, Dean had taken that to mean sex curse, and Sam hadn’t correct him. In Dean’s defense, it really does seem like a sex curse. You’re twisting and grinding and moaning on the bed, your skin long bare because clothing stuck to your skin and felt acidic on your body, and you’re pretty sure he can smell your arousal, but you don’t crave sex.

Dean offers you plenty of it. You haven’t wanted for sex in almost three years. 

What you want is going to be impossible to have. Because Dean Winchester doesn’t do love. 

And he still won’t stop being a good person.

He tells you it’s okay to rub one out. He cares so much that you’re comfortable. He keeps putting water on the bedside table so you don’t pass out again, and he coaxes you out of bed for food with slow, firm words.

“You need to eat.” He mutters, reaching for your body but flinching back at the last second. You have to bite down a whine. “You look like shit, sweetheart, and until you let someone help you, we’re going to need to keep your energy up.”

You shake your head, burying your face in a pillow and bunching the blankets between your legs, managing to relieve enough pressure to speak. “I don’t wanna.”

“Don’t wanna-“

“Move.” You mumble, rubbing your thighs together. “It hurts-“

Dean says your name, his voice low and rough and not at all helpful. “I’ve told you I’m okay dealing with this-“

“No.”

“Why the hell not? It’s nothing I haven’t done before, and you know we’re good together-“

Your gaze goes a little blurry, and you almost pass out again. He can’t keep saying shit like that. 

“Dean, I-“ You roll onto your back to glare at him, and it’s a mistake. He looks concerned. And handsome. And a little flushed as he watches you hug your chest and fuck the mattress. 

You can’t look him in the eyes. 

You can’t really do anything at all.

“Please just drop it.” You curl further into yourself, praying he’s started to stare at the floor again. “Please.” 

Dean lets out a long breath, but he does. He drops it, on the condition that you eat. And when you do, he keeps trying to talk to you, and you’re too exhausted to tell him to shut up.

“What’d you mean, when you told Sammy you snoop?” He asks, and it takes three steady breaths to answer him.

“Sometimes you guys go out, I stay behind, and I get… bored.” 

“Bored?”

You nod, fidgeting with your fingers and trying not to hump your chair. “I go around and find where you’re hiding things.”

“Like...” Dean pauses and you can hear his confused frown. He’s probably making an adorable face. You wish you could look at him and not moan. “Hair gel and razors?”

“And romance books. And a secret laptop for personal use.” You drop your brow to fully rest on the table, raising your voice. “And a Taylor Swift cassette tape, and a very soft blanket, and three emergency pies-“

“Alright, alright I get it.” Dean chuckles, and the sound rolls right through your body. “You’ve really just poked in our business, huh, sweetheart?”

“You poke in mine all the time, Dean-“

“I don’t know where your secret stash of shame is-“

“And you never will,” you mumble, a small smile pulling at your lips. “I hid it where even demons wouldn’t want to go.”

Dean hums. “Sammy’s room.”

“No.”

“Your room?”

“That would be a terrible hiding spot-“

“My room?”

You’re silent for a second too long, and Dean’s tone becomes disbelieving.

“You hid it in my room?! What’d you do that for?!“

“Shut up.” 

“Nah, baby, you’re gonna have to explain that one-“

“Dean!” You snap, glaring up at him. “Shut up!”

You’re looking at him. His eyes are darkened. And you’d misread his tone. It’s awe on his face. Awe and confusion.

You fall out of your seat with a moan.

Dean catches you. 

“Fuck this,” he mutters, half dragging you back to the bed and placing you carefully on the mattress before digging through his jeans. “If you’re not going to let me help you, I’m calling Sam and he’ll- fuck- he’ll do it-“

“Dean, no-“

“Yes.” He snaps, shooting you an almost violent glare. “I don’t know what the fuck I did that you don’t want to touch me, and I’m not gonna cross that line, not for nothing, but we’re still fixing this. You don’t want me, you get Sam. You don’t want Sam, I’m calling Cas. You don’t want him, you better start brainstorming, sweetheart, because I’ll be damned if I’m going to just fucking sit here and watch you die-“

You’re going to start crying again. It’s all too much. He sounds angry and your cursed and addled brain can’t handle it. You’re burning up from the inside. You’re breathing and it doesn’t feel like oxygen because Dean’s mad and you can’t do anything-

“Please don’t call them.” You mumble, pulling your knees up to your chest. “They won’t be able to help.”

Dean shakes his head, his focused, furious determination not breaking. “Then what the hell will help?! Because you’re going to have sex! You’re not allowed to clock out on me,” he shouts your name, and now he just sounds pained, and it’s worse. “I don’t- I’m not- If I can’t be the cure for this we’re finding someone who can-“

“It won’t work-“

“Yes, it will! Sam said you needed to fuck, you’re-“

“That’s not what Sam said.”

There’s a long pause as Dean blinks at you, and then-

“What are you talking about.”

“He said I needed an intimate connection.”

“Yeah, sex-“

“No-“

“It’s a fucking sex curse, baby-“

“Stop saying that!” You scream, and the room seems to be spinning a little bit. “Stop calling me baby! It’s not fair, and I- I can’t- You’re making it worse, Dean! Just stop being so fucking nice!”

The silence is going to suffocate you. It’s like oil and gasoline leaking into your lungs and surrounding your body, and you’re going to drown in what feels like nothing at all as Dean’s just silent-

Dean says your name, his every word slow and measured. “What kind of curse is it.”

“Dean-“

“You said it’s not a sex curse.” He snaps. “So what the hell is it.”

You swallow, and you’re too far gone now to push back. “Famine curse.” You whisper. “I- I need something that I’ve been starved off. And craved.”

You can hear his frown. “But we fuck all the time-“

“We do.” You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your palm over your pussy. It doesn’t really help. “It’s not just about the sex. It’s- I need more.”

“More…” Dean trails off, and you’re defiantly crying now. “More intimacy? Would we like, need to cuddle or something-“

You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “More than cuddling. It’s- You’d have to- I-“

Dean says your name in a low warning, and you might break that hand between your thighs. ‘What-“

“You’d have to mean it. You’d have to, um, fuck me and-“

“And mean it? I always mean it-“

“You have to love me!” You almost scream, your mouth moving faster than any sense of self-preservation or will, and you’ve fucked it.

You’d said the thing. You weren’t even supposed to think it. You’d trained yourself to keep it only a ravenous, deep and insatiable feeling inside your body that picked up and rioted when Dean was around you and grew bitter and heavy when he wasn’t.

But you’d said it. 

And he’s not gone. He didn’t fly out the door or scramble off the bed with wide eyes. He’s not reminding you in gentle but firm words that that is not what you two are supposed to be. 

But what he does is worse. He leans over your body to look at you, takes your face between his hands and scans over your slack, open features, and says your name.

You pass out again.

It’s not hard, waking up. This time it’s simple and slow, a comfortable weight draped around your shoulders a sense of ease filling your whole body. 

There’s a strong arm wrapped around your stomach, and a warm thumb rubbing small circles on the bare skin of your waist, and nothing is aching or painful at all.

Oh.

Oh, no. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” Dean’s voice is low in your ear, and you almost moan again. He’s not naked behind you, but he’s changed into sweats, and his shirt is gone. You can’t stop the frantic grind of your ass back into him, or the desperate sound that leaves you when Dean’s grip tightens, stopping any further attempt to move on him.

“Please,” you whisper, squirming against him, because if you’re going to die from something as dumb and pathetic as this, you might as well go out with Dean buried inside you. “Dean-“

“None of that right now.” He mutters, completely pinning you against his chest. “Not yet. We gotta talk first.”

“Dean-“

“You want me.” 

“Yeah.” You mumble, and Dean hums, his voice slightly hoarse.

“You love me?”

“I love you.” You can’t stop the words, and he’s still not gone.

His hand starting to drift lower. And when he speaks, and his voice is almost a growl, and you’re going to implode or explode or something. Burst into flames somehow, because that’s his I’m going to fuck you so good, baby, voice.

“You need me to mean it?” He mutters in your ear, and you nod weakly.

“Yeah, Dean, but you don’t have to-“ 

Dean grabs your chin and angles your head back, slamming his lips into yours with a bruising but careful force, and you don’t explode. You melt. Molding against his body and going slack in his arms, leaning your head back to try and devour the taste of him. Cheap coffee and mint and that purely Dean thing that’s always been like a drug. Always hooked you and dragged you right into him. 

This won’t be different. It might end in your heart literally breaking, but you’ll still be chasing him until your legs give out. If he catches you, he catches you. If he doesn’t-

There are worse deaths that this.

“Sit back, sweetheart.” Dean murmurs against your skin, dragging his thumb over your lower lip. “I’m going to mean it so hard you’ll see stars.”

“Dean, I- It’s more than that-“ 

He cuts you off with another kiss. He needs to stop doing that, because now he’s being soft and sweet, running his tongue over your teeth and letting you melt all the way into his touch without thought. Teasing you with a deep hum that you can feel in his chest behind you, making your eyes flutter close as you let yourself get lost in him. How good he is, how he good tastes, how good his hands feel as they start palm at your tits-

You gasp as he pinches and rolls a nipple between his fingers, and you’re already so overstimulated from nothing at all that it’s like being slammed with a freight train. A good freight train. A freight train that’s made of Dean’s mouth starting to wander down your neck, and his thumb rubbing soothing circles around the peak of your breast.

“I know, baby.” Dean keeps speaking against you, and it only stokes the borderline maddening need for him in your body.  “Trust me. I’ve got you.”

He’s got you. You’re drowning in this almost primal need for him, and he still hasn’t said the thing that would save you, but he’s got you. 

And you’d trust him. With everything you have, you trust Dean. Every single shadowed and scarred and mauled part of you has long known that, even when you have nowhere and no one, you have Dean. Not the way you want, but at your side in the day and above you in the dark. He can be a protector and a secret. You really could’ve lived with both, if it wasn’t for this stupid fucking curse. 

But Dean says he’s got you, and you can’t think of anything to do but believe him. Especially because this isn’t the dark. There are lamps on, and he can see you. All of you, naked in his arms, and making lewd sounds as his knee shoves between your legs and his mouth starts to suck small marks on your neck.

He’s never done that before. Dean’s only marked you between your thighs and on your breasts. You think he’d liked that only he would be the one to see them. He’d been possessive every time he’d put laid them there, muttering low praise and gripping you tight enough to bruise your hips, tracing rough fingers over the dark spots with a gleam in his eyes you’d never allowed yourself to read into.

He’s being possessive now, too. Every time he moves to a different spot on your neck, he kisses the mark he’d just left, and he’s trapping you against his knee with an arm over your stomach, growling as you grind against him and throw your head back on his shoulder.

“Dean,” you gasp, your nails digging into his skin as he flicks your nipple. “God, please, I- I need- Need it-“

“’S alright, pretty girl.” He mutters, and your hips jerk against him. “Just let go, I’m here-“

You scream as you cum, and Dean grabs your chin, keeping your head against him as he swallows the sound with a groan.

“There’s one.” Dean smiles against your lips, and your wiggle against him as he rubs his knee back and forth on your cunt. “Good work, baby.”

For a second, everything is okay again. Dean’s kisses wander over your jaw, he’s still holding you, and the bliss in your body is only a clear, dazed light in your head and gentle warmth in your gut. 

But then the light becomes blinding and searing in your skull, and the warmth becomes fire. Leaving blisters on your organs and making your skin spiked and wired and burnt-

You barely have a moment to shriek before Dean’s kissing you again, and it dulls everything but the pleasure. Just Dean’s tongue pressing onto yours, his hands gripping you by your hips and rolling you onto your back, his body covering yours entirely as he pulls away with a wide, almost boyish grin to look at you.

You’re a mess. You must be a mess. You’re wet in every possible sense of the word—arousal leaking between your thighs you know he’d been able to feel on his knee, sweat pressing your hair to your brow and staining the sheets below you—and you’re flushed and panting and a little fucking dizzy as you hang on the edge of. This isn’t how you’d want Dean to see you. Not like this, not for the first and last time, not when your breathing is ragged and you’re already wrecked and he looks like a god-

“You’re so fucking hot,” he mutters, shaking his head like he almost can’t believe. “Shit, baby, you’re gorgeous.”

You whine, because it’s all your mouth can manage to figure out how to do, and if you’re hot Dean’s volcanic. His nostrils are flaring as he scans over you, his skin looking like it fucking glows and his body carved from your deepest desires, and his cock is big and proud and poking on your thigh, and his eyes-

There’s a gleam in them. The possessive gleam you’ve never seen in full light. It’s intoxicating, and aimed at your soul like the barrel of a gun. 

Dean starts to move again, and all you can do is let him work. Let him leave those same marking kisses down your chest—between and across your breasts, briefly sucking each nipple between his lips and flicking it with his tongue before moving on—and over your stomach, trailing feather-light touches over your torso and arms and waist, driving you out of your mind as you focus on breathing. Just breathing as your body starts to roll and rush with pleasure, and your head just spins around Dean. Everything smells like him, and you can hear him groaning against your skin, and you can feel him everywhere.

He’s reached your abdomen. And when his mouth finally drops lower, all he does is press one, soft kiss right over your clit before drawing back. Letting two broad fingers run over and between your pussy lips, spreading your folds wide for him to see and pressing his thumb right over your cunt without breaching inside.

“So fucking wet,” Dean says your name, and you really wish you could see his face right now. See if he looks as awestruck as he sounds.

You make a strangled sound that’s supposed to be his name, and he chuckles.

“Jesus, babygirl, you’re fucking soaked. Bet this pussy is ready for a proper fucking.” He presses his thumb slightly down, and if you had the energy to spring off the bed, you would. “But I think you’re going to need to hold it for a second. Let me get you nice and ready to take this cock.”

Your fingers curl in the bedsheet as you try to figure out how to scream at him to just take you, to stop being so fucking good and just fuck you, but you can’t. All you can do is listen to Dean’s deep, lustful drawl and hope you look half as pretty as he pretends you are.

Dean drags your hands from the sheets to tangle in his hair, and all you get is a small squeeze of your thighs before he’s shoving them fully apart and burying his face in your cunt.

It’s unfair, how good Dean is at this. He can’t be handsome and funny and able to ruin you with just his mouth, but he is. He knows exactly how to touch and taunt and toy with you, how to play with your pussy until you’re higher than fucking heaven. He tongue-fucks your cunt with an almost brutal fervor, and his strong nose rubs back and forth of your clit, and fuck, his hands are teasing at your thighs and keeping your legs split open for him to devour you. 

You’ve never made these sounds before, and it’s spurring him on. Dean starts to circle your clit with his tongue, licking and sucking and rolling until you’re in a frenzy, and his stubble is perfectly soft and rough on your skin, and his teeth are grazing you ever so slightly-

You don’t scream this time. You moan and choke on air as you cum, and a flood of warmth rushed through your dripping cunt as you tug at Dean’s hair. 

He rises up, wiping his face of something shiny and wet that you might have put there, and grins at you with bright, sparkling eyes. 

“I didn’t know you could squirt.” He examines his fingers, looking back to you with a wide grin “We’re gonna have to figure out how to make you do it again, though, because that was fucking hot.”

You didn’t know you could squirt either. And you’d linger on how you might not have an again, but this relief is lasting longer, and Dean decides it’s a good idea to lick his fingers clean. 

You’d had just enough strength to push up on your palms. You almost collapse back down at the sight, the ache starting to reignite between your legs. 

But it’s not enough to hurt, though. This orgasm seems to be cresting, tiding you over for a little until the curse regains its hold on your body, and you plan to take full advantage of that. Dean’s still hard. And massive. And fucking throbbing.

You need him. Now.

When you move to your knees, crawling forward on the bed, Dean’s eyes widen.

“Shit, wait, sweetheart-“

You surge up when you meet him, crashing your lips to his and hanging off his body as he holds you upright. Thank god, he lets you have this. Dean groans into your mouth and ruts into your thigh, tugging on your hair to grant himself further access to your lips and throat. 

You lower yourself to your knees and take Dean’s cock in your hands, slowly pumping him as he keeps a hand in your hair, shaking his head slightly.

“Baby, you don’t have to-“

“I do.” You whisper. You have to. Not for the curse, but for you. He needs to feel good too. You have to taste him, feel him heavy on your tongue and hear him groan when you touch him-

“I-“ He lets out a low groan as you run your thumb over his already weeping slit, and God, he’s so handsome. “Are you feeling-“

“I’m good. I promise.” You stroke him one last time before leaning back, rising your arms over your head as you hold his gaze. “Please.”

“Jesus,” Dean mutters your name, rubbing his jaw. “You’re- shit, okay.”

You smile at him as he moves to straddle your chest, bracing one hand on the headboard and the other in your head. 

“Don’t know what the hell I did to deserve you, baby.” He mutters, pressing his dick on your lower lip and grunting when you part for him. “So fuckin’ pretty. Gonna fuck your mouth until you scream, sweetheart, so you need to-“

You grip Dean’s thighs, fully opening your mouth in a silent invitation, and his eyes flash, his hand tightening in your hair.

It’s all the warning you get before Dean shoves his cock between your lips and starts to rut into your mouth. He’s bumping the back of your throat and groaning your name above you, and he looks divine and tastes like salt and earth and Dean. 

“God, you feel so good,” his words are fully slurring, low and almost a growl as you hollow your cheeks. “Shit, babygirl, you’re a fucking sin, look so beautiful suckin’ my cock, so fuckin’ good-“

He’s so fucking good. Dean’s head thrown back and his eyes hooded and trapped on yours, his biceps flexing as he leans forward and angles your head, and the ache is starting bubble over again so you drift a hand between your legs, and every time his hips jerk you whine and swallow around him-

“Fuck-“ Dean hisses, and he pulls away from you with a pop and groan, grabbing your wrist and pinning it back above your head. “Can’t do that yet, I told you we need to hold on-“

“Please,” you whisper, the pain starting to become overwhelming again. It’s worse this time. You feel like you’re being flayed alive every second Dean’s skin isn’t pressed to yours, and you don’t know how much longer you can hold on for. “Dean, I need you, please.” You almost sob, and his jaw clenches. “I’m sorry, I just, it hurts-“

This is the softest kiss so far. Just a press of his lips on yours, the type of kiss you’d give a real lover, just to assure them you’re there. That you’ve got them and you’re never letting go.

“I know, sweet girl, I know. I’m gonna take care of you.” Dean scans over you, his voice so painfully gentle. “How do you-“

“However you want.” Your voice is barely a breath, and you spread your legs as wide as you can, praying he’ll just take what he wants.

But he’s a good person. So he doesn’t. Dean presses one last kiss to your brow, rolls you above him, and guides you down onto his cock. 

You make a loud, shameless sound of relief as he bottoms out. You’re in a daze of pure Dean—filling you up and pressing deep inside of you and so good—and when you start to rock your hips, he lets you. Dean just watches you grind onto his dick with a dark, slightly glazed expression, grunting when you roll in a circle and holding you upright by your waist.

He lets you set the pace, lets your hands wander over every scar on his chest and your body writhe above him.

“Dean-“ You gasp, falling forwards to kiss him deep and desperate into the pillows. “I- you’re- God-“

He sucks on your upper lip, his voice only a growl that rumbles right into your cunt. “Say it again.”

“Dean-“

“No.” His hips jerk up, his grip tightening slightly. “Say the thing.”

“I love you,” you moan, and this time there’s no panic. He already knows. And whatever he asks of you, you’ll offer. Anything to stay here. Stuffed with Dean’s cock, a little high on how he’s watching you like you’re the first sunrise. “I love you, Dean, you’re- fuck, you’re so good-“

The sound that leaves Dean is feral, and he flips you over without effort. Pulling out briefly to reposition you beneath him, slapping the head of his cock on your clit, and shoving back into you with a groan and deep, rough kiss. 

His pace doesn’t change from what you’d set. It’s almost in perfect time, rolling his hips to press against the deepest part of you and kissing all over your face as he drags you right back up to the edge. 

“Look at you, baby. Takin’ this cock so fuckin’ good,” he grunts in your ear, his skin slapping against yours. “So pretty, such a tight, sweet pussy, so good, all mine-“

You moan, squeezing around him, and Dean groans, speeding up just enough to slam against at gooey, needy spot inside of you.

“There we go, sweetheart, gimme one more-“

You shake your head, clinging to his shoulders as he starts to rub furious circles on your clit. “Dean- I can’t-“

“You can. I know you can, baby, you gotta cum-“

“Dean-“

“C’mon!” He growls your name, and he sounds almost desperate. “I’ve gotcha, baby, I’m here, you just gotta cum for me, fuckin’ cum-“

You think you scream his name. You’re not really sure. Pleasure numbs your every other sense as your orgasm hits, and all you can hear is your blood pounding in your ears and Dean’s voice, right next to your ear.

“I love you,” he says your name, and you really wish the world wasn’t just light and hazy warmth right now. “So much, and I- fuck- I need you. Please.”

The next few moments are utter oblivion. You can’t tell if you’re cured or not, because all you can smell and feel is Dean and warmth leaking between your thighs, but all you can hear are Dean’s words bouncing around your head, and all you can see is white.

He loves you. 

He needs you.

And when you come back down, your vision clearing and every bit of pain evaporating into the air, you feel good.

Dean’s no longer above you. He’s moved you into his lap, and he’s holding you to his chest as if you’re a stuffed animal. Your face his pressed into his neck, and his voice is low enough you can’t make out exactly what he’s saying, but it sounds like he’s praying. 

You wait a second as your mind returns to your body, and he’s not praying. He’s mostly just saying your name, over and over again, but his tone is heavy and rough, and it sounds like a prayer.

“Dean,” you whisper, pushing slightly off of his chest to meet his wide eyes. “I-“

He kisses you. But this isn’t one of the soft, reassuring kisses, or the heady, lustful ones. It’s long and deep and careful, and it feels like he’s trying to push his breath into your throat. He’s holding you like you’re fragile and—when he pulls away and presses his brow to yours—looking at you like just his gaze might turn you to mist in his hands.

“Did it work?” His voice is strained, his fingers digging slightly into your skin like he’s trying to tether you together, or drag you into his body. “Are we good?”

You nod, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth because you can’t help yourself. “We’re good.”

“Thank fuck.” He lets out a long breath, his eyes squeezing shut. “Son of a bitch, I had the three orgasms down, but Sam said you I’d have to say it during climax, and he didn’t say if it would be mine or yours so I had to take the gamble-“

“Sam said?!” You lean away from him, gaping slightly. “When did you ask Sam-“

“After you said you love me, then passed out.” Dean gives you a flat look. “You weren’t going to be helpful, sweetheart, and I needed to know how to fix this.”

“You-“ You swallow, flushing as you force yourself to hold his gaze. “Did you- Did you know you could fix it? After I told you how?”

Dean nostrils flare, and he nods. “Yeah.”

“And did you mean it?”

A small smile plays on his lips. “Curse wouldn’t have worked if I didn’t, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, whacking his arm. “Shut up, I’ve had a long day-“

“You’ve had a long day?” Dean raises his brows, his grin becoming shit eating. “The girl I love almost just died because she would just let me fuck her-“

“Well how was I supposed to know you loved me! You’d never said it-“

“Neither had you-“

“Yeah, but- you-“ You scowl at him, even as you drop your brow back to his. “You never fucked me with the lights on.”

“You never asked me to fuck you with the lights on.” Dean lets out a long breath, tracing his thumb over your cheekbone. “I thought you just didn’t want me to.”

“Oh.” You sigh. “Well, fuck.”

Dean chuckles in agreement, nodding. “Also, did you tell Sam and not me-“

“By accident-“ You pause, your eyes widening on Deans. “Wait, he didn’t know that you-“

“He was the only person that knew. The little bitch.” Dean grumbles, and you giggle, kissing him on the cheek and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Sam is not little.”

“He’s gonna be little when I’m done with him. Letting me think you didn’t love me when he fucking knew-“

“I did tell him not to say anything.” You offer. “There were threats of stabbing.”

“He shoulda risked it.” Dean snaps, and you just hum against his skin. 

You could get used to this. 

You really need to make sure it’s real, and that the oblivion wasn’t actually death, and you’re not just in heaven right now. You probably wouldn’t actually make it to heaven, but it could also just be a really creative hell, so you have to check.

“Dean?”

He grunts, tracing pattern on your hips, and you let out a slow breath.

“How long have you… loved me?”

“I-“ He sighs, not quite meeting your eyes. “A while.”

“How long is-“

“Long enough that I don’t remember.”

“Oh.” You mumble, and he lets out a dry chuckle.

“How about you?”

“Forever.” You whisper, scanning over his face to figure out if you can find what you’d somehow missed before. 

And there it is. In the light, it’s easy to see. Clear, soft and solid love written on Dean’s every feature, all of it designed for you. It’s not really in his eyes or the curve of his lip, or how he’s holding you or shifting to keep you comfortable above him. It’s all of it together, spelling out so obviously that Dean loves you.

You wonder if he can see something similar on you. If that’s why his eyes flash and his lips part, his hands stilling on your body and his voice growing rough.

“Are we- Is this it?”

“This-“

“Us.” He mutters, and you’ve never seen him nervous before. Bowing his head as he blushes, leaning a little closer to your body like he could move into you forever. “Together.”

“I-“ Your fingers trace over a scar on his abdomen, and you take a long breath. “Do you want to do this? Us?”

“More than anything.”

“Oh.” You swallow, and Dean looks up at you with an almost panicked expression.

“Do you- I get it if you don’t, Sammy and I don’t have a great track record, but I fucking swear, baby, I’d-“

It’s your turn to cut him off with a kiss. And when you pull back he looks a little dazed, and you smile.

“I want you, Dean. More than anything.”

Dean drags you into a deeper longer kiss, he really is the best person you’ve ever known. 

A worse person wouldn’t hold you like this. A worse person wouldn’t say they love you and make sure you feel it in your bones. A worse person could never smile like Dean does—wide and toothy and bright—or light up your whole world with just his presence and voice.

“You and me, baby?”

“Okay.” You smile back, and he’s so good. “You and me.”

“Awesome.”

End Note: Is it even porn if it isn't emotional??? Am I even me if I don't make it emotional??

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[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

junior.

synopsis: holding your child for the first time is always the first step to becoming a good parent. and…what now?

ft; itoshi rin, mikage reo, barou shouei

a/n: my tiktok is cryinggirlnamedhelen with a thanos pfp from squid game season 2. follow me if you want to.

itoshi rin

rin didn’t know how to feel about the cries and yells inside of the delivery room.

it wasn’t common for husbands in japan to stay with his wife during labor, so rin waited outside, pacing around with beads of sweat rolling down his temple. sae and rin’s parents sat on one of the benches while your parents sat on another, hands clasped together and mumbling prayers.

god, rin wasn’t even this nervous during the finals at the world cup.

stupid isagi and bachira had begged to come, and when they came, they just kept on asking what rin’s thoughts were on some stupid names for the baby that they had come up with. rin had shooed them away, and the two were now in the cafeteria, getting food for you when you would finally be done with the painful labor.

rin’s palms began to sweat; why was it taking so long? was it really normal for you to be screaming bloody murder in there? rin didn’t like hearing you in pain, not at all. each of your yelps and cries felt like a stab to rin’s heart. if he could be in there and stay by your side, he would in a heartbeat. but the doctors didn’t want him to be there, and rin trusted the doctors more than himself.

and finally, the high pitched cries of a baby erupted.

everyone stood up, and isagi and bachira came just in time with mountains of food on each plate that they held. the moment a doctor came out of the door with a smile, rin sprinted through the door and kneeled down by your side.

he placed a hand over yours, your skin pale and your breaths shallow, although to rin, you still looked like an angel. “rin. he’s healthy. he’s got your lashes.” a shaky smile made way to your lips before a doctor gently handed rin your newborn baby.

a tuft of dark green—almost black—hair was atop his head, and long underlashes that has been in the itoshi family for generations made way onto his eyes. rin felt his chest tightening, and his eyes began to water.

why did he feel so prideful of someone who he had just met?

the baby boy’s eyes opened; a bright teal, the color of sea glass. rin stiffened; was his kid going to cry? was rin holding him too tightly? did he fail at a father already?

but the small boy just smiled up at rin.

rin’s eyes gleamed, tears glossing over his turquoise irises like the most expensive porcelain china. “hey,” rin whispered softly. rin smiled gently when his son giggled softly. “you must’ve recognized my voice from when i used to talk to you through your mom’s stomach, huh? your mom’s amazing, she just delivered you through so much effort.” isagi and bachira stared from the doorway with their jaws dropped, although isagi’s eyes soon softened.

rin didn’t know why he loved this child so much. he didn’t know why a smile crawled to his lips the moment he saw him. he didn’t know why he felt the need to protect him forever. it scared him a little, but rin knew this feeling well, and he welcomed it.

after all, it was how rin felt when he had first met you.

mikage reo

reo once again winced at the sound of your screams, holding in even more tears and begging that your pain will end soon. once again, he asked his butlers and secretary the same thing as a few minutes again. “is everything there? her favorite foods? her favorite video games and snacks? her favorite movies? that one drink that the nurse recommended that was good for women who just gave birth?”

nagi, who was sitting on one of the benches and was dragged here by reo, replied tiredly, tapping away at his console. “reo, we just checked 3 minutes ago. they’re all here. even your butlers seem tired of this.” reo sent him a glare.

“reo, honey, you should sit. the nurses didn’t want you in there for a reason.” reo’s mother’s attempts at coaxing him were weak, and reo wouldn’t budge from his position standing right next to the door of the delivery room. “they knew that your crying during her pain would distract them.”

reo ignored his mom’s words. he had even tried bribing the nurses into letting him in before realizing that he really would just be a hindrance to deal with in the middle of trying to deliver a baby. a crying husband probably wasn’t a good addition to a screaming and wife.

suddenly, the screaming became higher pitched, more wet, more…alive.

your daughter was born.

without needing any confirmation from the doctors, reo shoved the door open and ran in, sitting on the chair right next to your bed that was placed by the doctor who had cleverly predicted his intrusion. “love, are you okay? does it still hurt? are you hungry? tired? how are you feeling? do you—“

“reo, im okay. thank you. and…” you weakly gestured to the nurse who held your baby wrapped in a bundle of purple blankets. instantly, reo stood up and took the baby into his arms, his eyes brimming with warmth.

“she looks just like you. she’s just as beautiful as her mom.” reo whispered, sitting on the chair again and gently cooing at his newborn daughter. he gently tickled her cheek with his pointer finger, and she giggled. reo’s heart melted and his eyes began to water again before he sniffled. “you’re like an angel. both you and your mom.”

reo’s parents walked in, discussing something about the future heir of the company, although reo ignored them for now. he’ll have to talk to them about how he wanted his daughter to follow her own path at another time. but for now, he just wanted to value this beautiful moment with his wife and newborn daughter.

nagi walked in, reading the room and shoving his gaming console into his jean pocket. he walked to you. “reo panicked a lot, and you screamed a lot. was it really that bad?” at your weak nod, nagi’s eyes widened a little bit. “wow. im suddenly really glad im not a woman.” a glare was sent from both reo and a few nurse.

reo glanced down at his daughter again, and his eyes softened, as if his daughter were the most precious thing in the world. “i love you so much.”

reo barely even knew this newborn girl for a few minutes, but she was always tied for the most beloved person in his heart: tied with you.

barou shouei

barou grew up with two younger sisters. he tolerated and loved them through temper tantrums, periods, puberty, boy heartbreak, and girl problems. he’s been changing their diapers, teaching them how to walk, feeding them, and cooking for them ever since they were infants.

so why was he so nervous about his own daughter, who was soon to be born?

barou didn’t tremble as he waited outside of the door, nor did he cry when he heard your wails and moans of unease. however, he was awfully stiff and overly snappy, even for barou. even when his beloved sisters tried to talk to him to ask about you and your soon to be born daughter, barou was practically already yelling.

when barou’s mother tried to calm him, barou couldn’t bring himself to reply, knowing that he would say rude things that he would regret later on to his own mother. he’d rather not risk it, and instead just nodded, trying to believe that you’re okay in there and that you’re trying your best, which he knows you are.

when the wails of a newborn baby daughter reached barou’s ears, he pushed open the door without even using the handle and instantly stood by your side.

“are you okay? was it too bad?” barou knew that he was being weirdly gentle, but how could he not when his wife just gave birth? you were pale, panting, and beads of sweat rolled down your face and neck, but you were still drop dead gorgeous in barou’s opinion.

“no, not at all.” you whispered. “you know what they said? they said that she’s one of the healthiest they’ve ever seen, maybe the the healthiest. you really did spoil and pamper me during the pregnancy, huh?”

“well, what else was i supposed to do? mistreat you? im not heartless.” a nearby nurse offered barou to hold his daughter, in which he accepted. same colored hair as him, and when she looked up, the same ruby red eyes as him. only difference? her eyes were soft and full of warmth like yours.

barou didn’t think that anything could ever be more perfect than you, but maybe he just found a tie.

[the-binding-of-asscheeks]

Actually had an experience with this recently. My best friend pointed out to me how I seem to just be trudging along through life and it made me realize how I was getting through struggles by simply not feeling them and I don't think that's a good thing. Feeling situations is how you grow from them and learn how to adapt to them mentally. Ended up being on too much escitalopram so I adjusted it with my doctor and while I'm still not where I wanna be, I do feel a lot better than I did just trudging through everything

90s movies: Psychopharmacology is as good as a lobotomy. If you take pills to treat your mental illness it will literally murder your imaginary friends and you will become a boring, lotus-eating conformist drone.

Me after taking my meds: drives the scenic route home to see if there are any geese on the pond and does a little dance in line at the grocery store and comes home to throw everything​ in my fridge into a stew pot because I can finally taste food again while singing songs at my birds in which I replace all the instances of "she" with "Cheese" and doing a Dolly Parton impression on the phone to my sister

[sugarwarachan]

summary: A city-wide blackout leads to some questionable decisions on Eraserhead's part: for four nights in a row now, Aizawa Shouta has been watching you get yourself off. Is tonight the night he joins in? pairing: aizawa shouta x reader wc: 1.7k content warnings: SMUT mdni, dark content, stalker!aizawa, stalking, voyeurism, dubcon, power imbalance (pro hero/civilian, ya know) voice kink, dirty talk, aizawa's big dick, truly don't know if his quirk helps him see in the dark but i don't care

The watching starts before Aizawa knows how to stop it.

One minute, he’s on patrol during the worst blackout the city’s ever seen; the next, he’s looking into your room and watching you get undressed.

You stopped him dead in his tracks, all plush curves and soft skin, almost otherworldly in the cool blue dark. Maybe that’s why he stayed that first time, frozen on the ledge of a neighboring building, watching you writhe and whimper on a purple dildo.

He has no excuse for why he returns the second and the third night, only that he's hungry for more, that the cover of dark in a still imperiled city is making it easier for him to accept the dark desire churning in his veins that he needs to know exactly what you sound like when you stuff yourself full.

He takes a shaky breath, cold air stinging his cheeks. Darkness blankets the city as thoroughly as gauze, a hazy film that puts anyone with eyes that aren’t his at a disadvantage.

He can see you perfectly, surrounded in your bedroom by candles and wearing those sleep shorts that hug the meat of your ass so well he has to palm his dick roughly through his pants, grunting into his fist.

You can’t see him.

Aizawa pulls out a burner phone before he can stop himself and punches in your number. Your face scrunches adorably at the unfamiliar caller, but you answer all the same.

“Hello?”

Fuck. You’ve got a voice like heaven, soft and low and sweet.

“Hi,” is all he can think to say, and he sucks in a breath when your nipples pebble under your thin cami.

You like his voice already. That’s good. He can work with that.

“Who is this?”

You’d be lying if you didn’t already have a suspicion. Just because you don’t have a quirk doesn’t mean you don’t have senses; you clocked him the first night he watched you out in that expansive dark, the gleam of something like goggles shining in the dark.

You don’t know why you kept touching yourself, why his gaze on you made your heart race instead of reach for the phone to call the cops.

Not much good they’d do anyway. They’d just send Mr. Pro Hero outside, or someone like him.

“Does it matter who I am?”

His voice is everything you like. Deep and rumbling, a little rasp raking over the syllables and zipping up your spine.

“Guess not.” You shrug one shoulder; the strap of your cami slides down. On cue, you hear the faintest inhale of air. Dude must have fucking super vision. “Why did you keep coming back?”

You almost roll your eyes at how off-route your priorities are. There’s been a man watching you fuck yourself, and you’re hung up on specifics?

“You’re beautiful,” he says, simply, like he’s rattling off stock prices, but it makes your heart stop all the same. “Why is it you’re alone?”

You can't help but laugh. “You’re not pulling the ‘you’re too pretty to be alone’ card, are you?”

He laughs, too, a soft rumble that crackles the phone with static. “So what if I am? The only action I’ve seen you get the past few days is when that toy of yours disappears between your legs.”

Arousal knocks the wind out of you. Heat flushes up your hairline.

Another low chuckle on his end. “Embarrassed, pretty girl?”

You walk up to the window, peer out into the dark night. You can’t make anything out other than shadows.

“How many times have you watched me now?”

“You don’t know? Seemed like you were putting on a show.”

His teasing tone makes your cunt clench.

“Four days now, sweetheart,” like he’s counting down your anniversary, not how often he’s spied on you masturbating. “What were you thinking about last night that had you shuddering and gasping like that? Knew I had to get your number just so I could hear you fall apart.”

This is wrong this is wrong this is wrong is blaring on repeat in your head, but that’s increasingly falling to the wayside with every word that falls out of this stranger’s mouth. Your sleep shorts slide between your folds. Blood rushes in your ears as your heart beats in your throat. You feel so turned on it’s like every cell is alight, responding to the chemical reaction that is the man on the other side of the window.

It’s cold tonight. The window sticks just like it always does when you open it up, the cool night air a balm for your arousal-drenched skin.

You don’t address him; you’re not really sure why, but you like not knowing where he is, a figure in the dark hell bent on nothing more than watching you cum.

You settle back down on your bed, crossing your legs and groaning a little. You’re damp and sticky and so turned on it’s already starting to hurt.

“I was thinking about you,” you answer honestly. "I like your voice.” Your own shakes, with a mixture of lust and fear and excitement. “Can you talk to me?”

“Of course I can talk to you.” His voice drops another octave, takes on an even more gravelly tone. Your whole body erupts in goosebumps. “What’s my pretty girl wanna hear?”

“Anything,” you say, and you mean it. This man could probably read you the directions to a microwave meal and get you off. “You can see me, right?”

“Mmhmm,” he intones.

“Then tell me how to touch myself. Like if you were here.”

Aizawa crushes the phone in his grip so tightly he hears it crack.

You’re already squirming on your bed, sitting on your fucking hands like you’re waiting for permission. His heart kicks up against his ribs, his cock jumping violently against his uniform.

“I can do that, sweetheart.”

You smile, tuck your chin into your chest like his attention is all of a sudden making you shy. He wonders if you’re doing it to tease him, or if he’s bringing it out of you. It doesn't matter either way; he's harder than he's been in his entire life.

“Lay back down on the bed for me, yeah?” You comply instantly. “Make sure I can see that gorgeous cunt, baby, don’t be hiding from me.”

Your breath hitches. You scoot forward just enough, and the flickering candlelight plays over your skin like water. His mouth dries up at the sight.

“Spread yourself open, use those pretty hands of yours.”

You part your folds, the pad of your middle finger gathering up the arousal pooling between your legs. “Jesus—fuck—look at you, gorgeous. All that just for me?”

He sees you nod.

“You gotta talk to me too, sweetheart. Use that cute mouth of yours.”

You choke out a little whine that blacks out his vision.

“S-sorry. I don’t understand how it feels so fucking good already.”

Your hips move in little circles, chasing your release.

“How many toys do you have there with you?”

“A few. Why?”

“Which is the biggest?”

You huff out a disbelieving giggle. “You’re not doing that thing where you lie about your endowments, are you?”

The grin that crosses his mouth is wild, hungry. He wasn’t planning on touching himself tonight; only wanted to tease you in the dark until he splattered the front of his pants like a teenager. But your tone is making him ignore his earlier impulses as he tugs out his cock and snaps a photo of it, hard and heavy and leaking in his palm.

He sends it.

You’re silent for a moment. He sees your legs press together before he hears—

“Fuck,” you whimper, so desperately it’s like he can see your mouth water. “I don’t—I don’t have anything as big as you.”

His cock literally jumps in his hand. Pre-cum oozes from the tip; he stuffs it back into his briefs before he can change his mind.

“You can’t tell me things like that. Makes me want to climb through your window and stuff you full with what you really need.” The muscles in his stomach bunch as he fights for composure. “Take out that purple toy of yours. It’ll be enough for now, ‘kay princesss? Don’t whine for things you can’t have.”

It’s an admonishment to himself, too.

“Don’t turn it on just yet. Get it all nice and wet, pretty girl, I know you’re fucking dripping.”

You follow instructions in a way that soothes the miasma of thoughts in his head. Here the world makes sense again. Here he can do good.

“Can I know your name?” You pant. He watches you trace small caresses across your belly, the soft undersides of your tits.

God, he wants his teeth on you, devouring you whole.

Against his better judgement, he tells you. “Sho is fine.”

“Okay. Sho,” you breathe it out in an overdrawn sexy drawl, but fuck, even his shortened name is enough to make that low-belly punch of arousal spike.

“Inch that toy in nice and slow, honey, go on now, stop being a tease.” He watches the tip start to part you open, your ragged gasp harsh in his ear. “If I was there, we’d be stretching out your little cunt for hours, make sure you’re ready for me. I could probably sit you on just the tip of my dick and make you cum. Isn't that right, sweetheart? You're fucking shaking and I haven't even touched you—”

“Sho,” you’re pleading, and it’s making his head fucking spin. “Can I turn it on, please? Let me turn it on—”

“Of course you can, baby, that’s it, look at you.” Your legs are spread obscenely, arousal dripping from your hole, glistening on your thighs and core. “Show me you how you like it, sweet girl, show me how you want me to fuck you next time, yeah?”

Aizawa feels each shuddering gasp and keening moan like you’re there beside him. Your orgasm overtakes you, back bowing off the bed, his name like a prayer on your lips. His hips jerk as he watches you, one hand tight on the phone, the other pressing against the pulsing-hot ache of his cock as he ruts into his palm.

His phone pings a moment later as he's catching his breath, a too-dark picture of the mess between your thighs and a text:

[y/n]: Come back tomorrow <3

a/n: actively launching myself into outer space!!!