#i wake up covered in sweat and gasping for air and in so much fucking pain every time i try to fucking sleep

[quaintii]

A small drabble.. of Miguel having a breeding kink.

Warnings: MDNI !! 18+ choking, no plot just smut, spanking, breeding kink, Miguel x fem!reader, nipple play, more. enjoy <3 (I didn't revise this, pls send some requests)

Miguel has you bent over the kitchen table, pounding into your sweet pussy while making sloppy sounds echoing around you. He pushes deeper inside of your cunt every thrust he takes, which made you clench around him.

Prickled tears falling down your cheeks, his calloused hands around your throat, making you face the mirror infront of your kitchen. "Don't make a sound, bebé.. don't want to wake up the baby.."

"I want you to see how good you look while being fucked like a slut." Miguel whispered in your ears and bit your shoulders while kissing your back, leaving many marks for later.

You whined and pleaded for him to stop being so rough on you, in return he slaps your ass for speaking back at him. "You like a good fuck don't you? You fucking slut. Taking me so well, you keep sucking me in..good girl.." He groans

Miguel pushed his body weight onto you, the gasps and moans emanating into the air, making the atmosphere thicken. You cover your mouth to not wake up your newborn, quivering as you could feel Miguel pound into the sweet plushy soft deep in your cervix. He grabbed onto your holds, gripping tightly as he changed positions, holding you in a mating press position on the counter.

The new angle makes you twitch around him, clenching him harder as he was swirling his tongue around your nipples and sucking your breast milk. You tasted so good on his tongue.

Miguel loved seeing your fucked out face as you gasp for air and trying your best not to scream and cry when he pounded deeper into your wet, scorching, cunt. "You look so good with my babies inside you, Mami..." He kissed and flicked your nipples with his tongue to get more reaction out of you.

"Feel that? Feel how fucking hard I am?" He pants into your ear, nibbling on it. He pressed his calloused hands on your stomach, feeling himself deep inside you. "You feel so good, mami." His hands traveled where you two connected, rubbing your clit in circles. "You want it so badly, don't you amor?" He sneered. Your skin buzzing with pleasure. "I want to see your belly round and swollen from my cum, baby. I want to see you filled up from me." He moaned.

"Please M-miguel" you whined incoherently. "I'm gonna fill your pretty pussy full of my cum, baby." He groans and pants on your neck, leaving bite marks as he sunk his fangs deep. Your walls fluttered around him. The dam completely broke, leaving you seeing nothing by stars as you rolled your eyes to the back of your head. "Oh m-miguel..p-plea..fuck im.." Your walls clench around him as he keeps chasing his orgasm, your throat choking out your moans as you fall into pure bliss. Tears running down your face with your mouth quivering. He cursed under his breath as you fell apart under him. His thrusting was frantic as he fucked you through your orgasm. He loved how each thrust made your breasts bounce back and forth.

Your orgasm completely blinding you, tumbling into ecstasy. Seeing your fucked out face, was enough to send Miguel over the edge. His jaw fell apart and his eyebrows furrowed together, savouring the delicious feeling of your cunt clenching around his cock. The slapping of skin against skin drew him insane. He kept plummeting his cock deep inside your cervix, kissing that sweet soft you loved so much. His thick brown locks sticking on his forehead from the sweat. The atmosphere thickening as pants of your eachothers breaths fill the room. Clouding the kitchen windows.

Choked little moans keep escaping your lips, now in an almost unconscious state. Miguel comes with s loud grunt, filling your womb to the brim. Breathy pants were heard as he laid his head onto your shoulders, feeling your heartbeat and begins steadying his breathing. He pulls out slowly and pushed his thick fingers inside your cunt, making you jolt forward to his face. "Can't have any of this go to waste, mami," he says, pushing your combined fluids inside. Your swollen cunt overflowing with his cum.

Miguel carried you bridal style to the bathtub, running his hands through the water making sure it's warm for you. He goes in first and places you on top of him. Your back on his chest. He washed your body while giving caressing kisses along you back and neck. Grabbing your face and kissing you softly.

He massages your back and washed your hair. He placed kisses all over your body, warmth being left. As you both finish washing up, he placed clean sheets and brought you close to him. You snuggled underneath his head, cuddling him. "I love you Mig." You say softly. "I love you too, baby." He whispered. The sounds of the night put you both to sleep.

a/n: stayed up til 2 30 am writing this cuz I luv y'all sorry I haven't been online! Personal stuff going on a lot recently, but I'll be sure to feed you guys some more smut! Send me some requests!! I love u guys very much 🩷🩷

[prodbymaui]

When The Sun Comes Up

I know you're leaving in the morning when I wake up

''Fuck–'' His hips pistons vigorously with no sense of rhythm, grunting against your neck, desperate for release. Your nails rakes down his back, but instead of appearing irritated, Jaehyun emits louder sounds– his breathy and raspy voice blending in together with your lewd moans. Everything screams obscene, from the sweat covering both your whole bodies to the skin slapping resounding the bedroom.

''Jaehyun, Jaehyun! Ah shit– uh uh uh! Shit, it's so good.. s-so big. I'm so full, baby! So fucking full–''

Profanities leaves Jaehyun's lips as he leans back, eyes falling on your fucked out face. He pushes the back of your legs until your knees touch your chest, planting his knees on the mattress. Brushing his sweaty hair back, Jaehyun observes how your face scrunches in pleasure. Smug is evident on his face as he notices the bump his cock causes in your belly, he feels so fucking smug to be the only one who can reach parts so deep it has you gasping for air.

Too drunk in this euphoria, you are out of your mind taking in all that Jaehyun could give you that a pleasurable slap on your face wasn't enough to put your attention back on Jaehyun.

''Uhuh, darling?'' His call is answered by a scream, you thrashing in his hold as his tip continuously jabs at your prostate. Jaehyun chuckles. ''You're so– ah shit– fucking adorable and fucking hot at the same time. You drive me crazy, darling. Ugh.. I'm so fucking lucky.''

Drools escape past the corner of your lips, rolling down your chin, joining the tears that had stained your face. ''Jaehyun Jaehyun Jaehyun! Jaehyun, please, I'm– I wanna.. Fuck, wanna– Oh my god–!''

''Yeah, just like that, darling.'' Jaehyun holds on to the last bits of his sanity as he savors the feeling of your walls clamping down his cock deliciously. A good kind of suffocation engulfing his hazy mind. He grips the headboard and finally lets go, painting your walls with his cum, filling you up to the brim.

As you watch his adonis face break down, breath heavy, cursing at the pleasure– you almost let the words expose your true feelings for the man. Words that cannot be spoken if you don't want Jaehyun to force his way out of your grasp.

Your mind class and your heart soars for only one man. To your luck, or lack thereof, that man gives no room for such genuine emotion as love. It was all for pleasure, and not devotion.

You keep your eyes and hands on him as much as you can. Because one sure thing about Jeong Jaehyun? He might be fucking your brains out tonight, but comes morning and he will disappear just as quickly as he shows up. Leaving you with nothing but wrinkled sheets– A firm proof that he's not just one of your dreams.

[hoshinasblade]

lmao i couldn't decide between hoshina smut and hoshina angst so i chose both. there might be a part two to this, im not sure yet.

too late

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader trigger warnings: NSFW, MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT; a pinch of angst towards the end. likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated. my masterlist is in my pinned post.

midnight.

his hands, your mouth - drawing shapes, coaxing a roadmap out of goosebumps, tracing a way out of an invisible labyrinth; savouring heaven, partaking in the delectable flavor of desire; indulging in a forbidden delicacy of sensual gratification. naked and unhindered - demanding possession, trespassing territories, laying claim on each other's entirety. mumbling lewd suggestions like a prayer, drunk on a promise of nirvana - only the silence is the witness to your sinful communion.

the clouds in the sky had obscured the moon, not allowing even a sliver of light to pass through. the room is plagued with darkness but the two of you moved with grace - as if he'd memorized your contours and curves; as if you are a virtuoso in the art of pleasure; as if you had done this a hundred times before.

you had.

"i want you." he murmured in husky desperation - a request, almost a plea - teeth grazing on your collarbone, nipping gently, leaving hickeys in his wake. the oxygen must be thinning - he is out of breath - but he's combusting nonetheless: heat gathering in his core pushing to find release.

"then get me." a hint of teasing tainted your shaking voice as you disconnected from the trance of his stare. a naughty smirk loomed on your face, taunting him to go on, to take it further - a glint of mischief directed to him - a whole world of fantasies lurking behind the black of your irises.

"don't i already got you?" his question was an unsure declaration, and a wave of anxiety ran through you. a monosyllabic answer was held hostage as your subconscious panicked, and you wondered if he had finally seen through your facade - if he had already learned of the truth you tried to cover up with apathy and promiscuity.

you gasped an inhale of air when he suddenly squeezed your bare breast with his calloused palm. you keened against him, abandoning all logical thoughts, squirming below him. sliding away from your upper torso, he trailed a path down your belly before cupping the apex between your thighs.

shifting above you, he had his index finger along your opening, then as fast as it got there, he removed it. the wild look in his eyes screams for you: a siren call impossible to ignore - or deny. you live for these moments - when it is like everything has dissipated in a puff of smoke; when it is like you are the lone person in his sight; when it is like it's only you and him. in the following second, you watched him suck in his finger, tasting you on himself. you moaned.

"fuck me." it was not more than a whisper - a quiet music of dark words dedicated for him alone.

as if worshipping you, he lowered himself, doing another exploration on your lips. the collision was phenomenal - an avalanche of sensations too much to bear, a stream of stimulus craving for a response. he pulled back, flashing you a grin. "your wish is my command." an addictive rush of adrenaline flooded your veins, threatening to demolish your composure and sanity.

gripping his nape, he found your waist. putting a halt in your kiss, his forehead on yours, you couldn't help but to give a smile.

your touch had strayed on his arms when he dipped into you. you held onto him, eyes screwed shut. "you're - god." your muscles contracted around him; his length was fully buried within you. when the tension couldn't be endured anymore, he started to surge in and out - obeying the rhythm as old as time, the both of you slick with sweat.

"nah, my name's soshiro actually." his chuckle sounded of angel's - sweet to the ears and even amid intimacy, you laughed. your hips are in contact, creating fiction and you tilted a bit to accommodate him.

"is that a ploy to make me moan your name?" you asked him but he did not respond in words.

pressure building, lust intensifying - your legs bracketing him, his weight straddling you, pinning me down. syllables transformed into curses, and the calm turned into begging as his every thrust and withdrawal became more furious, more fervid, more forceful. "i'm yours," he chanted.

no. you're not. you never will be. your denial was drowned in a series of expletives, a string of unholy utterances - a pile of desperate grunts of encouragement.

accelerating his actions, plunging into you deeper, your back arching off the mattress, your body out of control, writhing as you chased your own peak.

"soshiro", you panted, your vision glued on his face as he brushed the strands of his bangs off his forehead. your insides were bursting with satisfaction, and with a slip of the tongue, you betrayed myself. "i love you."

he leaned into you and that's all it needed to make you a molten mess of cells screaming for more. he drove into you with no mercy, and you counted the throb of your pulse, your nails digging into his flesh.

hovering over the edge, jolts of electricity - sparks flying, he failed to suppress the soft cries and whimpers - profanities that included your name, wreaking havoc on your well-being.

"i'm -"

"i know." swallowing your admission in one gulp, he gave you a peck in the cheeks. he's losing his balance and -

"shit." white warmth poured on you as he groaned - shattered, his body taken over by violet shuddering. you came after, quaking and quivering, crumbling apart.

delirium.

he collapsed onto you - spent, tired, sated. he was so close; his heartbeat mingling with yours to form a harmony of thumping. his chest was still rising and falling when he rolled into the other side of the bed. you felt empty.

you knew what was next. the routine is to gather your wits - when the ocean has ebbed into ripples, when the flame has been reduced into cinders, drenched in shame or still intoxicated, one must leave.

soshiro surprised you by talking. "don't fall in love with me."

"too late", you replied.

taglist- @lavenderkita @octrellue-ren22 @Iaminvalid @chuuberrysworld @hoshina-shiro-universe @noble-17 @lilialover11 @isentsworld @darling-delilah @aruatsu @beebumbo @asheseiler @k0z3me

honorary tag to my bestie - @umafanfiqueiraqualquer who sent me hoshina art last night

[lt-taylor7]

COCKWARM WITH JAVI X FEM READERR!!!

MDNI, badly written, not proofread

There was a storm expected for early the next morning just outside of you and Javi’s town, So you decided to camp out just outside of the nearby town, knowing there wasn’t nearby motels, and not wanting to wake up at the ass crack of dawn and have a chance of missing the storm, So here you are, In a tent set up just beside the lion, laying on your side with your back pressed up against Javi, clinging onto any warmth the two of you can muster up. You move and squirm trying to find a comfortable position that doesn’t open any of the blanket to welcome in the cold weather, “Babe-“ Javi whispers as his arms firmly wrap around you, “Stop moving around so much we will get warm eventual-“ he’s cut off by his own moan as you accidentally push yourself back into him. “Fuck I’m sorry-“ you said embarrassed as you quickly try to crawl away, Stopped by Javi’s arms pulling you in, feeling his breathe fan out over your neck and ears, he planted a kiss to the sensitive skin, “No no,” he planted another kiss, “No sorries,” he said, Peppering more kisses, “Javi cmon it’s freezing.” You whine as one of his hands come up to cup your chest, He leans up further to nip and kiss more around your neck and ears, “You’ll warm up faster, Cmon mami” he whines as his spare hand runs down your body, his hips slowly grinding up into yours, letting out a deep breathe of relief as he did. “Cmon.” He let out in another breathy moan,

you rolled over to face him, his hands shifting, One to tease over your hips and stomach, the other still playfully grasping your breasts, “Javi-“ you exhaled, his eyes looked into yours desperately, “Just let me have you mami, I’ll be good cmon-“ he purred as he kissed your jaw, you brought a hand up to his jaw, Making him look to you, Exhaling, “You better,” was all you said before bringing him into a desperate kiss, he immediately let out a low whine as he pulled your hips against his, Feeling his already hard cock against you as his hands slid into your waist band, A finger slowly circling over your clit as you gently gasped at the sensation, making him smile against your lips.

you allowed your own hands to roam your body, one wrapping into his hair and the other roaming under his shirt, Then to palm him over his sweats, He moaned as you did and bucked into your hand as he allowed himself to tease you, one finger still dauntingly circling your clit, before finally pushing a finger into you, “Fuck baby, your so tight-“ he whined as he struggled to keep his lips against yours as he whimpered at the sensation of everything going on, You brought your hand away from him, causing him to whimper and shake, although he let out a gasp as the cold air hit him as you slid down his sweats, he wasted no time to slip his fingers out of you and do the same, Bringing one hand up to cup your face and bring you into another warm kiss, His other being used to pull you closer, You could feel as he carefully teased you, covering himself in your slick before very, very slowly pushing himself into you, “fuck-“ he let out, taking his time as he bottomed out into you, “so tight-“ he whimpered out as he barely rolled his hips into you, Feeling every inch of him stretching you out, although he was right, you felt slot warmer now as you pulled yourself against his chest, His arms coming up around you as the two of you just barely rolled and rocked your hips against each other, soft moans and whimpers slipping past your lips as you drifted off to the sensation of him twitching inside of you.

(I’m so bad at witting smut but I hope you enjoyed)

[of-cauldrons-and-inkpens]

You Missed My Heart: PART 3

PART 1 LINK   |   PART 2 LINK  |   PART 3 LINK

Description: Miguel had died months ago. At least, my universe’s Miguel had died. Maybe I should have noticed when I could feel him touching me in my dreams, but grief is a hell of a thing. That is, until I woke up in a house that looked just like mine, but somehow different. 

Miguel had taken me from my universe and put me in one where he could relive his past, whether I liked it or not. 

Chapter Word Count: 15,059

Author’s Note: I’m sorry for disappearing for a bit! Chapter 4 and 5 (the last chapter) are both pretty much done! 

Content Warning: smut, mild breeding kink, reader is being held against their will, dub-con (if you squint), piv, oral, unprotected sex; Miguel being manipulative and an ass, bit of angst (I mean his wife and child are dead so yeah)

Minors DNI! Story is below the cut

Cool liquid drenched my skin, ripping me from my dream. What the hell? I gasped as I shot upward. The air of the bedroom was freezing, but that didn’t have any effect on Miguel. He was wincing in his sleep with sweat pouring off of his body. He looked upset; he was sad and scared. I could hear it in the hitches in his breathing and the way his hands had dropped from my body down to the mattress. I could hear the fabric tearing under his fingers, but I couldn’t make out the exact level of damage to the mattress in the dark. 

Miguel was muttering in his sleep. 

“Hey,” I whispered. “Miguel, wake up.”

Was this a common occurrence for him? If it was, I hadn’t noticed him talking in his sleep before. Then again, he usually didn’t sleep when I did. He was almost always awake when I would stir in the middle of the night. He would always coo to me and tell me to go back to sleep.

Did he do this a lot? I wracked my brain for some kind of answer. I knew he had bad dreams, but did he always talk in them? Did he always start to tear into the bed?

“Miguel, I think you’re having a nightmare. Wake up.” He frowned in his sleep. Something was upsetting him to his very core. His face was twitching and his words were incoherent. 

I pushed my hands against his chest. I tried to shake him, but he was planted in place. More fabric ripped in his hands as his fingers searched for something to cling on to. It was as if everything was slipping away and he was trying to anchor himself. He whispered my name, his breathing growing more frantic. He was panicking. I could hear the terror in his rushed words. He begged for me, but in the dream I knew there was no response. 

I tried to shake him again, but once again he didn't budge.

"Miguel!" I yelled. 

He jerked awake. His arms flailed outward as he shot upward. I ducked out of the way and collided with the mattress. I figured it was the best idea; I didn't want to get my ribs broken or a hole in my head. His skin glistened in the moonlight from the sweat that covered his skin. His eyes were wide and his heart was so loud that I could hear it across the bed.

He was terrified. 

He blinked hard as he came back down to reality. He softly whispered my name before he realized exactly what had happened. "Fuck." He quickly crawled forward, moving toward me. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine." I said. I pushed myself off of the mattress and sat upright. I quickly reached upward to brush my hair out of my face. In the dim light of the bedroom, I could see his eyes focused on me. They swirled with a mixture of concern and fear. Fear of what he had done, fear of what he could do. He reached forward, though before he touched me, he stopped. He closed his hand and then lowered it to the bed. 

"I'm sorry." He said. I leaned forward and reached for him instead. I wanted to offer him some kind of comfort. My fingers traced the coarse stubble that covered his jaw. Slowly, I started to caress his cheek. He sighed, giving in to my hand. 

"It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong." I paused, looking for some sign as to what he was thinking. But he was always so hard to read. "Does this happen a lot?" I asked. He was silent for a moment. 

"I don't know.” His voice was cold. Just like that, I could feel him drifting away from me. Any chance of him opening up was fading away just like it always did. “I’m going to go sleep downstairs." He leaned away from my hand but I quickly reached down and grabbed onto his upper arm. I knew that when he stopped, it wasn't because I actually had the strength to hold him there. He was practically a god among men, yet he was willing to humor me. 

"Miguel, that's not what I meant." He let out a low sigh as glanced at me. His eyes were so dark that they were nearly black. “I knew you had bad dreams. I did, I just didn’t know that they were like this. You were talking in your sleep. You seemed upset." Scared was a better word; terrified was even better to describe how he had looked. But, I would never say that to him. That was a great way to get him to immediately clam up. 

"No. No, I wasn't."

"Yeah, you were. You were muttering in your sleep. I heard you say my name and you were sweating and tearing holes in the mattress." He looked back at the bed. Even in the darkness, I was sure that he could see them, even if I couldn't. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about." His voice was low. Whatever he had dreamed about, he didn’t want to talk about it.

I frowned. I was sure that he could see that, too. 

"Miguel, please." My fingers slid down the length of his arm, moving to his fingers. I tried to hold his hand, but he began to pull away. 

"Why won't you let me help you?"

"Because there's nothing to help." This was exactly what had happened with the door. He was blocking himself off from me, while also demanding that I open myself to him entirely. It wasn't fair and it didn't make sense. But hey, I guess 'rules for thee but not for me' had to apply somewhere. 

He pulled his hand away from me. I groaned and crawled forward. I pulled the blanket after me, hoping to maintain some sense of modesty as I went. I knew it was stupid, but I already felt too exposed. 

"Damn it." I muttered. I crawled to the spot in front of him, stopping only when I could feel his naked thighs against mine. "You're making this very hard on me, Miguel. I feel like I'm being yanked around so much that I don't even know what you want from me. You want affection but you don't want me to be too close. You want attention, but only certain kinds. I don't know how I'm supposed to help you." I pushed myself up onto my knees so that I was face to face with him. I could feel his warm breath against my face. 

“I don’t want or need your help.”

“But you want me to fuck you and call myself your wife? I don’t understand any of these weird mind-games you’re playing. You want me to play house with you, but how dare I actually try to get to know you. I don’t understand why you can’t just let me be kind to you.” He scoffed. There was something off in his tone.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” His voice was little more than a whisper.

“Miguel…” Why won’t you just talk to me? Why does it have to be like pulling teeth? I brushed my messy curls backward as I tried to find something to say to him. 

There was something that seemed to swim in his eyes. He looked scared, either from the dream or from something that he couldn’t push out of his mind. But, there was also something else in his gaze. 

He looked lost. Like he truly didn’t know where to go from this point.

Slowly, I reached outward. I gently pressed my hand against the side of his face. He sighed, leaning into my touch. It seemed to give him comfort.

Slowly, I pushed the blankets that had been covering me down, moving them so that they pooled around us. 

“Miguel, angel, take off your blankets.” I said. He quirked an eyebrow in confusion, but still did as I had asked. The blankets were the only thing that was preserving some sense of modesty between us. Our pajamas were somewhere on the dark floor, deserted during our nightly ritual.

I inched forward, moving so that I was sitting directly in front of him. Then, I carefully moved so that one leg was straddling each side of his thighs. I curled my arms around his neck, pulling him in close to my body.

“Is this turning you on?” His voice dripped with a mixture of sarcasm and a bit of concern. Maybe he was worried that I had finally snapped. 

“Hush. Let me be nice to you.”

I curled myself around him until my bare chest was pressed against his. 

I knew it was wrong; I shouldn't comfort him. Hell, he had kidnapped me. I should be happy that he was so distraught. But he was desperate and I couldn’t bring myself to be cruel to him. 

His skin seemed to burn against mine. But every muscle seemed to give into my touch, relaxing against my small frame.

He slid his hand down the side of my body, tracing the curve of my waist with his fingertips. But, before he reached my hip, he stopped. His fingers lingered there for a moment, taking something in. Then, they traveled upward once more, moving up my side. 

He was trying to memorize me; maybe, if he could, it would chase away the nightmares.

"Miguel, what's wrong? Please tell me. Seeing you like this is scaring the hell out of me.” He shook his head. He was pulling away. I could feel him slipping away and there was nothing I could do about it. We lingered in a weird silence for a small eternity. 

Then, he gently released the hold that he had had on my body. He slipped his hands under my thighs and carefully lifted me off of him. He sat me down on the mattress beside him. 

"I'm going to go shower." He said. There was something weird in his tone.

"Are you going to come back to bed afterward?" I asked. He looked at me for a moment. 

"I don't… I don't think so."

"I can get up with you, if you want." I offered. 

"No, but thank you." I nodded to myself as he crawled out of the bed. I watched as he made his way toward the bathroom. He flipped on the light and then closed the door. 

I sat alone in the darkness for a moment. Tonight had already been too eventful for me. My brain was too awake for me to go back to sleep now.

I sighed as I climbed out of the large bed. As I moved, I was careful to avoid the hole that Miguel had made in the bed. Something was eating him alive to the point that it was causing this vivid of nightmares. 

But, whatever it was, I knew there was pretty much no chance that he would tell me. 

I stepped onto the cold floor and quickly searched in the dark for something to wear. The best that I could find was one of his t-shirts that was oversized on me. 

Guess this will have to do.

I quickly tugged it over my head, pulling it on. I grabbed a pair of underwear from the dresser and snagged them on, as well. Then, I began to make my way toward the door. 

I knew that there was no point in going back to sleep right now. I wouldn’t be able to sleep even if I tried. 

I was worried about him, even if I shouldn’t have been.

He was my kidnapper, my captor, and yet I couldn’t help but worry about him, even if it was only a small amount. 

Downstairs, it was completely silent. I started a pot of coffee and then sat down at the table as I waited for it to finish brewing. As I sat there, I heard footsteps upstairs. 

By the time that the coffee pot had beeped, Miguel was already coming down the stairs. As he rounded the corner to the kitchen, he spoke. 

“You need to go back to bed.”

“I don't want to.”

“You’re going to be exhausted tomorrow.”

“Oh no, however will I manage with my packed schedule?” I muttered. “I don’t leave the house. I sit around all day and wait for you to come back or we sit around and piss each other off. If I need to sleep, I’ll just sleep later.” He wasn’t going to argue with that. He sighed as he reached upward and brushed his wet hair off of his forehead. He was wearing only pajama pants, leaving his chest and shoulders completely bare. As he moved, the muscles in his body flexed.

I couldn’t tell if he was showing off or if he was just naturally like that. 

“I made coffee.” I said. He nodded to himself.

“Thank you.” 

I pushed myself out of the chair and made my way toward the counter. As I walked, Miguel was close behind. He followed me across the kitchen, meeting me at the coffee pot. 

He pulled two mugs out of the cabinet and then placed them on the cold counter. Then, he walked to the fridge and pulled out the creamer.

I filled the two mugs with coffee and then put the pot back on the machine. I thanked him for the creamer and watched as he took his mug and began to walk back to the table. I guess he drinks his black. 

I quickly made up my drink and then followed him back to the table, returning the creamer to the fridge as I went.

I sat down again. I lifted my coffee mug to my lips and took a slow sip. Then, I sat the mug on the table, trying to get comfortable. 

I pulled my legs close to my body, accidentally knocking my bracelet against my shin as I did. I hated this damn thing. It was always getting caught on my clothes or on blankets. 

“You look exhausted.” I commented. He furrowed his eyebrows together. 

“Should I be insulted by that?” 

“No, you just look tired. I really do think that talking about it will make things better. And, if not better, it may make it a bit easier to sleep.” He took a long sip of his coffee. When he lowered the mug, he made a face. 

“I don’t think you really want to hear about it.”

“Miguel, I’ve cleaned blood off of you before. If I didn’t at least… care about you, then I wouldn’t have done that.” There was something weird about saying the word ‘care’ in reference to him. It felt wrong, like poison on the tongue. It didn’t fit the situation, but I also didn’t know what I was supposed to call it.

He seemed to be considering that notion. I mean, surely it meant something to him. Surely he could at least appreciate that I was worried about him. Or, maybe he would just use this as something to manipulate me with. Maybe he saw my gentleness as an adorable weakness that made me more malleable to his will. 

“You’re sweet.” He almost sounded like he pitied me for that fact.

Maybe he did see himself the way others did; maybe he pitied me for being gentle to a monster. 

I let out a low sigh in response. Steam rolled off of the top of the old coffee mug. I gently pushed on the curve of the handle, sliding it around so that I could see the front of the mug. 

He had stolen the cup from my old house. It was the exact same one that I had gotten when I was in college, complete with the chip on the side from where my Miguel had accidentally nicked it on the side of his desk. 

When I looked back up at him, his eyes were focused on my face. 

He was my monster, and I was his little ghost. 

“Miguel, I really don’t know what you want from-” I was suddenly cut off mid-sentence.

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve lost you? How many times I’ve seen you die? Because that’s what I relive every single night.”

“Miguel, you can talk to me about it.” 

“You’re here and then I lose you every single night. When I wake up, I can’t even tell myself that it was just a dream, because it fucking wasn’t. I have lost you in thousands of timelines. I have lost you and our child over and over again. There isn’t a single thing that you can do to help me. I don’t know why you can’t seem to understand that.”

“Because I don’t want you to feel like this anymore.” I whispered. He shook his head. 

“Then you’re going to end up being very disappointed.” 

“Miguel, this isn’t normal. I want you to be able to actually sleep at night.”

“You’re right. That’s the part of this that isn’t normal.” He scoffed.

“Jesus, Miguel, why can’t you just let me help you?”

“Because you can’t help me.” His words were harsh, but deep down, I knew they were probably true. 

I winced, turning my attention down to my chipped cup. He must have seen my expression, because he quickly changed his harsh tone.

“I’m sorry.” Miguel said. 

I nodded, accepting the apology. 

A weird silence hung in the air. I swallowed hard, searching for something to say. 

“When you were getting my things from my house, did you see a green and gray scrapbook? It had a purple ribbon sticking out of the top.” I asked.

“Not that I know of. Why? What was in it?”

“Just family pictures and some other things.” I said. 

Outside, rain hammered against the roof. 

“I can look for it for you.”

“Thank you.” I said. He offered a soft smile. His fangs almost seemed to glisten in the dim light of the kitchen. He was beautiful. 

“Um, if its not too much of a hassle, can you also see if there’s a dark red book? It should have a little gold clasp on it and there’s probably card stock sticking out of the top of it.”

He nodded quickly. Weirdly enough, being given an act of service seemed to perk him up. He seemed to like feeling useful; he liked feeling like he was doing something that would genuinely make me happy.

“Of course. What’s in that one?”

“Just brochures and some pictures that he collected.” 

“Brochures for what?” He asked. 

“Different things. We had talked about vacations and trips and things like that. He had also looked into this renovated building that used to be a church. It had massive stained glass windows and in the morning, the sun would come in and turn everything pink from the glass.” He nodded slowly, understanding.

“So you two did talk about getting married?”

“A couple of times, but nothing was ever set in stone. He was always working on one project or another. Alchemax started needing him more and more, so we just kept pushing it back. Then, just like that he was gone.” I winced, turning my attention to the cooling coffee that sat at the bottom of the chipped mug. “He never really even proposed, he just seemed to know it would happen eventually.”

“Did you have a specific date in mind?”

“We talked about getting married around Christmas, we just never picked a year.” I said as I reached to adjust the neck of my t-shirt. His clothes were too big on me, but that’s precisely why I kept taking them. 

“Why Christmas?” He asked. 

“Because I love Christmas.”

Thunder rolled, making the table shake ever so slightly. I winced, grabbing onto the coffee cup to keep it from vibrating toward the edge of the table. It seemed to rain constantly here. Most nights were dark and dreary, peppered with bright streaks of lightning and thunder that was so loud it could shake the house. 

“Do you have to go to work in the morning?” I asked. He nodded, sending a wet curl tumbling across his forehead. 

“You should at least try and lay down. Some sleep is better than none.” 

“Maybe…” He trailed off. “But, I can deal with being tired. It won’t effect me.”

Lightning painted the room a blinding shade of white. I winced then blinked hard to readjust my eyes.

I thought for a moment about his ‘work.’ I thought about how he would come home beaten and bloody and would strip down and shower before crawling into bed. I would bury my face in his freshly scrubbed neck and shoulders, acutely aware of the bruises that were blossoming on his skin. He would use the darkness of the bedroom to hide them, but I always knew they were there. 

Miguel frowned. I guess I was making a face at the thought of him being hurt. I sighed, quickly trying to find something to say. 

“So there’s just thousands of different versions of you.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m the only Spiderman like me. Remember? You bullied me about my teeth.”

“I absolutely did not bully you over them. I simply asked a question. A question, mind you, that you said I could ask.” He rolled his eyes, smirking as he took a long sip of his coffee.

“Alright, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he opened his mouth to speak but I held up my hand, motioning for him to be quiet. He frowned at my hand and quickly sat the cup he was holding down on the table. “Are there really thousands of people who have spider powers?”

“Are you trying to shush me?” He asked. 

“I am, actually.” He rolled his eyes as he reached a hand outward. Four fingers curled around my wrist, moving so that his thumb was pressed against the inside of my hand. 

“Well, other than the pig. And the popsicle…” he paused, thinking for a moment. “Oh, and Earth-11580.” He pressed a gentle kiss against the palm of my hand before he let me go. 

“What is Earth-11580?” I asked. I was already intrigued. 

“He’s a man made of spiders.”

“Oh God, no.” I muttered. He chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I thought, too.” He said. 

“So, all of your Spidermen do little jobs for you?” I asked. He nodded. “Now, are these real jobs or are they fool’s errands?”

“Such as?” He asked. I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or was genuinely wanting me to continue. 

“I don’t know. Maybe you have an annoying Spiderman, so you make him go on a snipe hunt for a couple of days to get him out of your hair.”

“First of all, is Annoying Spiderman his actual title or are you just being your version of funny?”

“Actually, it's my name for you.” I taunted. 

“Ah, so you are being funny.” He smirked as he spoke. “So, why would I have them look for a bird?”

“A snipe hunt? It’s an expression because snipe aren’t real. So it means that you’re sending them to look for something that doesn’t exist.” He stared at my face hard for a moment. 

“Yes, sweetheart, they are. Snipes are absolutely real.” 

“No, they’re…” I paused. “Are they real?” He quickly nodded. I could see a smile beginning to pull at the corners of his mouth. Blood shot to my face, turning my cheeks bright red.

“I can’t tell if you’re messing with me or not, Miguel.” 

“Okay, sweetheart, hand on my heart, I swear that they’re completely real.”

“Okay, now I just feel stupid.” He smirked as he lifted his coffee cup to his lips. He quickly downed the last of the drink, frowning when he realized it had gone cold during our little conversation. 

“So, how do you know specific things about each timeline? Like, how do you know if certain birds or animals or things like that exist in that timeline?  Is there a multi-versal Google?” I asked. 

“Not that I’m aware of. The closest thing would be Lyla, but unless you would like your answer with some gentle bullying, I wouldn’t ask.” 

“Ah.” I said. 

A weird silence hung in the air. His eyes met mine. His head swam with little things that he wanted to ask but was too scared of the answer.

If things remained unsaid, then he would never have to deal with the chance of being rejected. 

Something stirred in his dark eyes. He knew that it was now or never. “Are you happy here?” He asked.

Part of me wanted to say yes; that seemed to be the answer that he wanted. But, the other part of me demanded that I tell him the truth. 

“Miguel, people weren’t meant to live like this. I feel like I’m in a cage.”

“You aren’t in a cage.” It seemed like a ridiculous accusation to him.

“What do you think this house is? I can’t leave and I’m always alone.”

“I’m here.” He said it as if it was obvious.

“Barely. You’re usually working. You leave before I get up and you come home after I’ve gone to bed most of the time.”

He ground his teeth. The worst part of what I was saying was that it was completely true and he knew it. 

After a moment, he let out a long sigh. He was wracking his brain for something to say. He wanted to change the subject, but he seemed unsure about what to talk about. 

It was too late at night to be doing this. 

I pushed myself up from the table, carrying my coffee cup as I went. I began to make my way across the room. After a moment, Miguel pushed himself up and followed me toward the kitchen counter. 

“I’m sorry that you’re lonely.” There was something to his words that I didn’t recognize. 

I nodded and then sat my coffee cup on the counter. 

“I mean it. My intention was not…” he paused. “I don't want you to feel alone.”

“But I do, Miguel.” He made a face at my words. He knew it was true.

I leaned back against the counter, listening to the roar of thunder outside.

His dark eyes peered into me with such an intensity that I couldn’t help but squirm against the cabinets. His stare seemed to be flitting between fascination and want.

A want to touch me; a want to be touched in return as I begged for more. 

Blood flooded my face, turning my cheeks dark maroon. 

“I’ll be a better husband. I’ll make sure to give you as much attention as possible.” The first part sounded sincere. The second part was lined with faux pity. He stepped closer to me, moving so that his chest was only inches from mine. I could feel the heat radiating off of his skin. He smelled like soap, coffee, and a third thing that I could never place. 

“Miguel, I-” My words died in my throat when I saw how he was looking at several fading love bites on my neck. He seemed fascinated by the yellow tinge they had taken on. It was the last color before they would disappear completely, wiping away any proof of his handiwork. 

He would always be careful when he made them. He was always cautious not to let his teeth sink into my skin. Instead, he would suck hard on the flesh, stopping only when he knew there would be a small mark left behind. They were his little works of art that he adored creating. 

I closed my legs. There were two fresh marks on my inner thighs that I wanted to hide. He had given them to me when he had gotten home later than usual one night. I had been sitting up, waiting for him. As a reward, he had buried his face between my legs as he asked me to tell him about my day. After twenty minutes of stuttering and gasping through what I had eaten for breakfast, I had given up on trying to talk.

Slowly, he leaned downward. One of his hands moved up to graze the side of my cheek. “Miguel.” 

“Just let me kiss you.” He whispered. His voice was like honey. 

How could I tell him no?

He pressed his lips against mine. His fingers pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. I leaned in, giving into the kiss. He groaned. 

Our lips slid against one another, moving in such perfect harmony that I couldn’t help but sigh. 

As our lips danced against one another, my hand slid from the counter to his shoulder. I moved forward and pressed my chest against his. I could feel his heart through his skin. Without a word, his mouth began to roam across my cheek, peppering small kisses as he went. He didn’t seem to have any rhyme or reason to where he was going. 

He just wanted to touch me.

His other hand planted itself in the middle of my back, holding me in place while he worked. I felt his warm lips pressed a kiss against my temple. 

“You need to go to bed. You have work in the morning. We can do this tomorrow.” I whispered. His lips drifted downward, heading for my jaw. His thumb caressed my cheek.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just keeping you company.”

“You know what you’re doing.” I whispered.

“And what is that?” The hand that held my back dipped downward. He slipped his hand under my shirt and immediately began to tug at the waist of my underwear. He gently pulled my panties down, guiding them over my thighs before letting them fall to the floor.

“Trying to distract me.”

“Is it working?” He teased. 

I rolled my eyes, too ashamed to admit that it actually was. 

I dipped down, catching his lips in another kiss. Our lips glided over one another for a moment. Then, I did exactly as he had done and moved downward, sliding my lips along his rough jaw and neck. Stubble littered his skin. It scratched my mouth as I placed an open mouth kiss against the base of his throat. 

He groaned. 

I continued downward, moving from his muscular shoulders to his broad chest. Patches of dark hair adorned his skin. It formed a dark path that crept downward before disappearing below the waist of his pajama pants. 

I kissed the skin over his heart, then dipped down further. My lips pressed over the taut skin of his stomach, peppering kisses anywhere that I could reach. 

I could feel him staring at me when I pressed my knees against the tile floor. He was watching with an almost perverse fascination. 

The front of his pants was pulled tight. I could see the distinct outline of his cock through his flannel pants. He was so hard that he was straining uncomfortably against the material. 

At least I knew that I could get him as wound up as he got me. 

“What’re you doing?” Miguel asked.

I placed one hand on his upper thigh. I slowly slid my fingers upward, feeling the hard muscles of his leg as he went.

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked. He quickly shook his head. 

“No! No, you’re okay.” 

Heat radiated off of his body.

My fingers traced up the side of his hip, stopping once I reached the waist of his pants. I gently pulled on the band, sliding it downward and freeing his straining erection. I pulled the material down further, moving it so that I could see the muscles in his thighs. His dick landed heavily against his thigh.

Clear fluid was beginning to bead on the tip. I reached upward and curled my hand gently around the appendage, making sure that my thumb caught some of the fluid as I went. I slid my closed palm back, dragging it across the velvety skin. He let out a desperate moan as I pumped my hand up and down a couple of times, making sure that he was hard. 

Then, I leaned forward until my face was only an inch away from his cock. 

I flicked my tongue over another clear bead that was leaking from his dark pink tip. He gasped, moving his hips closer so that I had better access. I smirked, moving myself forward. 

I curled my lips around the head of his dick. I slid my tongue along the underside, feeling a long vein that pulsed against my tongue. 

His breath hitched. His fingers brushed the back of my head, encouraging me to keep going.

Slowly, I leaned in, sliding him deeper into my mouth.

I worked him deeper and deeper until I couldn’t fit any more of him. Then, I slid backward. As I did, I worked my hand toward my lips, feeling his tight skin move under my fingers. 

After a couple of practice movements, I started to build a good rhythm. When my mouth slid backward, so did my hand. They followed suit as I moved forward toward his pubic bone. All the while, I slid my tongue along the velvety skin of his dick, making him moan with every movement. 

I glanced up at him through my dark eyelashes. As our eyes met, I worked my tongue across the head of his cock. 

His groans were getting louder by the second. Every so often, his breath would catch in his throat as he groaned out my name.

“Touch yourself.” He instructed. His voice was thick with lust and need. 

“Hm?” I hummed. His request had caught me off guard. 

He groaned at the vibration in my mouth. 

“Touch yourself. I know you can. I’ve watched you do it before, sweetheart.” My face turned dark red. But regardless, I parted my thighs. I slid one hand between my legs, moving my fingers to graze my clit.

I could feel Miguel’s burning gaze as I gently began to rub myself. My fingers traced small circles over the bundle of nerves. I rocked my hips against my hand. All the while, I never slowed the bobbing of my head.

He curled his fingers in my hair, careful not to pull too hard. I moaned around him. My tongue traced over his thick vein as I tried to rub my clit faster. I wanted more friction.

This felt good, but it wasn’t what I needed. 

I needed him. 

I wanted him so much that my body was beginning to ache.

When I bobbed my head back, I let him slip out of my mouth. I wanted to say something poetic or sexy; something that would drive him crazy. But, instead, all that came out was a desperate “Miguel, I need you.” 

Despite how on the nose it was, it seemed to break something in him.

Miguel dipped down. He gently grabbed onto me and hauled me upward. I stood upright, still dazed from being pulled off of him so suddenly. Miguel inspected me carefully. 

He searched for something in my gaze. I was sure that I looked wide eyed and pathetic.

He leaned down and pressed another kiss against my lips. This time, it was wetter. I pushed myself up onto my tippy-toes and curled my arms around his neck.

I wanted him desperately. 

It was a want that soaked into my bones, infecting every piece of my soul. 

“Miguel, please.” I whimpered. 

Oh God, I did sound pathetic. 

I felt him smirk against my lips.

That was all the encouragement that he needed.

He slipped his fingers under the hem of my shirt and quickly pulled it over my head. He tossed it onto the floor, then placed a guiding hand on the small of my back. 

“Turn for me, sweetheart.” I obeyed without question.

I turned so that my back was to Miguel. All the while, his hand remained fixed on my skin. 

He stepped forward. As he did, he nudged me, making me walk with him. He moved me toward the table that rested in the middle of the room.

My hips bumped against the edge of the table. I already knew what he wanted me to do.

My suspicions were confirmed when his hand slid upward, moving to grasp my shoulder. “Down, sweetheart.” He instructed. 

I bent at the waist, laying my upper half flat against the cold wood of the table. One of my hands grasped onto the edge of the table that rested beside my hip. The other hand slid outward. My fingers splayed open on the table top in an attempt to balance myself.

He smirked when I obeyed. 

“Good girl.”

He pushed a muscular thigh between my knees, holding them open. 

I heard Miguel mutter something under his breath. Before I could ask what he was talking about, he pressed a firm kiss against my left shoulder. Then, he pulled his hand from my shoulder. He moved it upward and covered my splayed hand.

I was dwarfed beneath him; it was entirely too easy for him to dominate me and he seemed weirdly proud of that fact. 

He slid his tip between my folds, sliding his cock back and forth in an attempt to collect some of my wetness. He groaned, tightening his grip on my hand. 

"God, you're going to be the death of me." His words were lined with a thick lust. He was desperate and I couldn't help but smile against the table.

Then, without warning, he buried himself inside of me. I gasped, overwhelmed by his size. My spasm spasmed as it tried to stretch to accommodate him.  

Miguel gently squeezed my hand. It was intended to be a reassuring gesture.

My husband, the romantic.

I felt his other hand roam across my skin, taking in every small dip and curve. I felt his fingertips drift over my waist before roaming down to my ass. He grasped the plush flesh and smirked. Then, he rocked hips, thrusting into me hard enough for me to see stars. “Miguel!” I screamed. A bright smirk painted his features. 

He pulled his hips backward and nearly slipped out of me before he came crashing back inside of me, hitting unfathomably deep. The tightening in my stomach was getting impossible to ignore. 

I leaned backward, moving into his touch. I wasn’t going to last long.

We were both driving one another to oblivion and we were getting there fast. 

Suddenly, I felt the tightening in my stomach unfurl, sending a shock wave of ecstasy through me. He finished quickly after I did, following me down the path of gasping moans and swears. Toes curled and hips desperately ground against one another, begging for more contact. My fingers dug into the table as I struggled to keep myself upright. The hand that he had placed on my ass quickly grabbed onto my waist to keep me from falling during one of the small tremors. 

I came down from the high, feeling warm tingles spread over my body. I sighed softly, feeling happiness radiate through me. It was as if I was glowing from the inside. 

Miguel leaned down. He brushed my hair off of the back of my neck and began to pepper soft kisses against my skin. 

His body covered mine, shielding me from the cold night air. 

Our bodies were covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He gently squeezed my hand as his lips traced my bare skin. All the while, we were still connected at the hip. When he would move slightly, I could feel the newfound wetness between my thighs. 

My insides felt impossibly warm. 

The difference between the frigid air and his burning skin was overwhelming. Especially with my chest still pressed between him and the cold wood. Everything felt beautiful in that moment. 

He inched his hips forward one last time. He wanted to savor the moment. It was then that I felt him close his open lips against the skin on the back of my left shoulder blade. He inhaled deeply, breathing me in. Then, I felt him suck on the skin, hard. It only lasted for a second, but that was all he needed. 

He gave a low sigh. Then slowly, he slid out of me. 

As his hips moved backward, I felt my legs go weak. 

Miguel didn’t miss a beat. He dipped downward, catching me before I had the chance to fall.

He curled his arms around my body and gently pulled me upward. He pulled me off of the table, then up into his arms. He held me to his chest, making sure to cradle me so that I didn’t tumble out of his arms. 

He knew I was too weak to walk. 

I always was afterward. 

He always made it look so effortless. Hell, to him it probably was. 

The kitchen was dim. Rain beat against the roof. The sound filled every room of the house. Despite everything that had happened between us, I felt at peace like this.

He stared down at me with a look of adoration and awe. Something stirred in his dark eyes. 

As his eyes drank me in, the kitchen shook with another roll of thunder. 

Several days had passed since our night in the kitchen. We fell into our own routine where I would do something, then Miguel would decide that he simply had to be involved. When I had decided to reorganize the shelves, Miguel had eagerly carried heavy dishes and grabbed things from higher shelves. When I had decided to mess with an old paint kit that he had found at my house, he sat behind me, kissing my neck as I tried to focus. 

When I had decided to lay on the couch and watch a movie, Miguel had curled up beside me. However, he had also decided that staring at me was more interesting than watching the movie, so every couple minutes he would ask what was going on. 

I rolled my eyes as I leaned back against the pillows that Miguel had stolen from our bed. His eyes were trained on me, as if he was waiting for something to happen. 

“What?” I asked. He shook his head, but did not drop his gaze. 

My eyes danced up the ceiling. My eyes traced the small patterns in the paint, trying to act as if it didn’t bother me that he was staring. After a good five minutes, I broke “Why are you staring at me?” 

“I’m sorry, am I not allowed to look at you?”

“You’re not looking. You’re staring and it’s making me self conscious.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Oh my God.” He muttered. “This is my house.”

“I thought you said this was our house.” My voice dripped with sarcasm. 

“Alright. That’s it.” He muttered, his tone the closest to playful that he could achieve. He closed his hand around my calf and gently pulled me down the length of the couch. He moved me as if I was completely weightless. And I’m sure that to him, I was. 

“Miguel…” I groaned. He slipped his arms around me and lifted me off of the cushions. Then, he crawled into the spot where I had just been laying. He wedged himself against the back of the cushions and then laid me down so that I was in front of him. He offset our height, making sure that my head landed against the pillows I had dragged down from the bed. He wiggled his body so that his face lined up with my ribs, then curled one arm around me to make sure that I didn’t slip off of the couch. Miguel laid his head against my ribs. He wasn’t putting his full weight down. Just enough so that his head and arms held me in place. 

“Better?” He asked. He closed his eyes against the material of my t-shirt, breathing me in. 

“It is, actually. I don’t like it when you stare at me.” He turned his face into my skin. 

“Why?” When he spoke, I could feel his warm breath soak through my shirt. His strong nose brushed against one of my right ribs. 

“I can never tell what you’re thinking. You always get this distant look in your eyes and I can’t tell if you’re thinking something good or bad about me.” 

“I would never think anything bad about you.” His voice sounded sincere, but I wasn’t sure if he was just an excellent liar or not. I knew how often I pissed him off. I knew that I argued with him and didn’t cooperate when he asked me to do things. Maybe he secretly liked those things about me; or maybe he was just willing to take the good with the bad. 

I lifted one of my hands up to rest on the back of his head. He let out a low sound. It was the same sound that he always made when I gave him some kind of gentle affection.  

I slid my fingers through his dark hair. He pushed himself deeper into my body, sighing as I worked. His fingers slid against my skin absentmindedly. 

“Your hair is always so soft.” I said. 

“Hm?” He looked up at me with tired eyes. He was beautiful like this. His eyes had taken on their warm chocolate brown color. He reminded me of a puppy when he was like this; rather than a man who was capable of murder at the drop of a hat. 

“I love your hair.” I said. I felt him smile into my skin. 

“I need a haircut. It’s hard to get the mask on with it like this.” 

“No, it’s perfect how it is.” I mumbled.

“You can be the one to cut it, if you want.”

“I would probably just butcher it.” I said. I lifted my hair upward, letting his curls slide gently through my fingers. 

He was so warm against my body. He was better than any blanket, mainly because when he wanted to be, he was capable of being loving and affectionate.

I heard something fall in the bedroom upstairs. I stopped my gentle strokes and instead pushed my elbows into the couch. I attempted to sit upright, but Miguel locked me in place. “It’s nothing important. If something broke, I’ll replace it in the morning.” He gently hooked his fingers around my wrist and pulled my hand back to his head, commanding me to continue playing with his hair. 

He was worse than a needy house cat. 

I rolled my eyes as I relaxed back against the pillow. I gently sifted my hand through his curls. I felt him smile against my ribs. 

That was Miguel; ever pleased with his little victories over me, no matter how easy they had been to win. 

“I have a surprise for you.” He said. 

“What is it?” I asked. 

“I can’t tell you. That’s what makes it a surprise. But it’s something that I think you’ll like.” I was intrigued. 

“Really?”

“Oh course, sweetheart. We’ll do it tomorrow night. I should be back early tomorrow, so we can do it before sunset. If you want to, you can dress up.” 

I had taken the time to put on one of the dresses he had taken from my old house. It was a medium length pink dress that my Miguel had adored. Based on the fact that it had been laid out on the bed for me when I had woken up, I had guessed that this version shared the same affinity for it. 

When he had returned, I was sitting in the living room. Instead of wearing his usual suit, he wore a white button-up and dark pants.

“Aw, no spider suit?”

“Would you prefer the spider suit?” He asked. 

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that I was just starting to get used to it. It’s weird, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything other than the suit or pajamas.” I said. 

If he was wearing glasses and was a little bit shorter and less muscular, he could easily pass for my Miguel. Maybe that was why he was dressed like this. Or, maybe he just wanted to wear something that hadn’t been previously covered in blood. 

“Ready for your surprise?” He asked. I nodded, watching as he stepped across the room, moving toward the front door with every step. 

What was he doing?

He opened the front door of the house and then tilted his head to the side, motioning for me to follow. 

“We’re going outside?” I asked. He nodded. Was this some kind of weird test? “Really?”

This had to be some kind of mind game. Would I fail if I left the house?

I stood frozen for a moment. 

“Sweetheart?” His voice pulled me from my thoughts. He had already stepped out onto the front stoop. He was staring at me, waiting for me to move.

“What?”

“Do I need to carry you?” He asked. He was being completely serious. I quickly shook my head. 

“No, I can walk.” 

“Good girl. Now come on.” He lifted his hand and motioned for me to follow. Internally, I groaned. But despite feeling slightly demeaned by the motion, I followed after him, closing the door as I went. I followed him down the steps, careful not to fall as I went. 

We made our way out into the street. With every step I took, I heard my heels make a low clicking sound against the pavement. 

“So I can leave when I want?” I asked. Maybe that was the surprise: a little bit more freedom. 

“Not when I’m not here. I want you to be safe. But, I didn’t think there would be any harm in having you out here when I’m around.” He said. My disappointment was clear. He offered a dry smile as he searched for something to fill the weird silence. 

After a moment, he reached down and grabbed my hand. “Alright, come here.” He said. He pulled me toward one of the buildings that rested on the left side of the street.  

My heels clicked as I stepped up onto the sidewalk.

Miguel stopped walking. He quickly adjusted his stance, leaning down slightly so that he was closer to my height. But, despite his best efforts, he still towered over me. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Hold still.” 

He dropped my hand and then quickly curled his arms around me, lifting me up bridal style. Without hesitation I curled my arms around his neck. He curled one arm around my body, cradling me close but leaving his other arm free.

“Do I want to know what you’re doing?” I asked. I could see the almost childlike glee on his face. There was something almost unhinged about how happy he looked. 

“I thought you might enjoy this.” He glanced up at the concrete that hung over the edge of the building. 

In that moment, I remembered how he had used a web to pull me closer to him in bed. 

He can’t be serious.

Based on the way that he was eyeing the surrounding buildings, I knew that he absolutely was.

He was going to try and swing with me in his arms.

“What if you drop me?” I asked. He rolled his eyes as if that was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. 

“I’m not going to drop you.”

“Isn’t it a little weird that I can’t leave the house, but swinging through the air is perfectly safe?”

“The difference here is that I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He bounced on the balls of his feet, readying himself. I tightened my hold around him. 

“Ready?” He asked. I felt my stomach twist. 

“No.” 

I buried my face in his neck and closed my eyes tight. I didn’t want to see any of this; I knew that if I did, I was going to end up throwing up. 

Without hesitation, I felt him tighten his hold against my body. Then, with his other hand, he fired a web that hit the concrete overhang of one of the distant buildings. 

Every muscle in his body tensed. Then, he bolted forward. 

My body bounced slightly as he ran. Then, suddenly, I felt his feet leave the ground as he pulled on the webbing. 

Oh God, oh God, oh God!

I dug my nails into his shoulders.

My hair beat around my face as I clung to him. Cold air encircled us, making me very aware of the fact that there was nothing but open air beneath our bodies. 

Oh, God, this is how I’m going to die. I managed to survive almost getting crushed by a car, only to fall to my death. 

Thankfully, it was all over as quickly as it had begun. 

I winced as he landed on the rooftop. I could feel my stomach flip as a second wave of nausea hit me.

“See? That was fun.” He seemed proud of himself. He sat me down on the ground. Miguel slipped his fingers under my chin, lifting my face upward to meet his gaze.  

I tried to give him a soft smile, but it looked more pained than intended. I felt like I was about to throw up.

I officially never wanted to do that again. 

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” I quickly nodded. 

“Perfectly fine.” He didn’t seem to believe me. Then again, I didn’t believe me, either. I glanced over, seeing a set of stairs that poked over the side of the building. There was no way in hell that I was going to let him swing me down from the roof. The stairs were more than enough for me. 

As I glanced across the rooftop, I spotted something else. 

On the corner of the roof, he had set up a small table and chairs. The tabletop was adorned with the glassware and plates from our house, as well as food that he had made ahead of time. 

I smiled.

“I thought you might like to get to be in the sunshine for a little while.”

“Thank you.” Even with the chill in the air, I appreciated getting to be outside. The air smelled clean and wet, lined with rain that had fallen the previous night. 

Miguel smiled to himself as he motioned for me to follow him across the rooftop. Without question, I did. 

As we sat down at the table, I glanced out at the vast emptiness of the city. It was eerie to see the world like this. It was so quiet here that it made me acutely aware of the sound of my own footsteps when I walked through our house, or even how loud I sounded when I spoke. I wasn’t used to the lack of sound and I knew that I never would be. 

“Is there anything out there? Past city limits?” I asked. He didn’t answer. Instead, we fell into a strange silence. 

A while had passed before one of us spoke again. 

“So, tell me about what you do.” I said. 

“I’ve already told you that you wouldn’t like me anymore if I did.” 

“You don’t have to give me specifics. Just explain the basic gist of it.” He furrowed his brows together, unsure of what to say. “Please.” 

He grinned in response. 

“Well, I look for an event or person that breaks the canon, and I do my best to ensure that it is corrected.”

Corrected. I already knew what he meant by that. 

“But, how do you know if something doesn’t belong in a timeline?”

“Because it disrupts the flow. It’s usually pretty easy to spot the one thing that doesn’t belong.” I didn’t belong in my timeline anymore; but, I was easy enough for him to find based on his ongoing fixation with any version of his wife.

“So, I know that certain things have to happen-”

“Canon events.” Miguel interjected. 

“But how do you know what you’re looking for exactly? Even if it doesn’t fit in, don’t timelines change? Can’t they be made to fit eventually?”

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Well, people have the freedom of choice. What if someone is supposed to do something, then they decide not to?”

“That’s not how it works. Everything is already set in stone.” He said. 

“But, isn’t the timeline vague?”

“No, not really. Because things have to happen in a certain order. There has to be a specific series of events, one after another. If those events don’t happen, then a timeline can collapse in on itself.” He said. 

“Yeah, but does it have to be those specific things? Like if a person is going to get hurt that day, does it matter if they break their leg versus breaking their arm? Wouldn’t either one fulfill that slot in the timeline?”

“If one is destined to happen, then it has to be that specific one. The timeline doesn’t deal well with substitutions. If I see that one thing in particular has to happen, I have to ensure that it does.” He said.

…What?

“I’m sorry… I think I must be misunderstanding something.” I said. My voice was so faint that it almost died in my throat. 

“I thought that the timelines were much more abstract than that. Like, John Doe wakes up, drinks coffee, goes to work, goes home. I thought it didn’t matter what time he wakes up or what kind of coffee he drinks. So, you can see those minute details? You know exactly what will happen and when? And those things are all set in stone? They all show up in the timeline, unchanging?”

Miguel went quiet.

“You know every single detail of someone’s life, down to the second.” It was now an accusation. And he knew exactly what he was being accused of. 

Surely I was wrong; surely there was something that was getting lost in translation between the two of us. 

All I wanted was for him to interject; to tell me that I was wrong.

He looked down at the ground as he tried to find something to say. 

“That’s not… sweetheart, there isn’t… I don’t…” He stumbled over his words before falling completely silent. He looked like a guilty child. It was as if he had been caught and was desperate to cover it all up and to make it go away.

It all hit me at once. 

“You said that you used to watch him and I. You used to look into our timeline. That’s how you knew I didn’t belong there after I was supposed to die. That’s also how you saw him and I in our more… intimate moments. That means that you saw all of the timeline.”

I stared at him for a long moment. Thousands of thoughts shot through my head, each one worse than the last. 

He knew.

He fucking knew and he did nothing.

“You knew he would die. You knew when and where and how. You knew every last detail, down to the second. You could have stopped it.” 

“It was a canon event for your timeline. It was destiny; it had to happen. You know this.” 

“No, I didn’t know this. Having a vague idea that something will happen is completely different than this. You knowing he’ll die someday is completely different than knowing every last fucking detail. You could have stopped this. You could have prevented it. But you didn’t.” 

“You’re misunderstanding the situation.”

“No, Miguel, I don’t think I am.” He turned his gaze from the ground back to my face. He bit the inside of his cheek as he stared at me. 

“What are you wanting me to say?” He asked. “I did my job. I did everything that I could to protect you and to ensure that your loved ones would have a timeline to continue to live in.” 

“If you had let him live, then you couldn’t have taken me.” I said. He had already admitted that he was jealous that my version of him got to have me.

“If I wanted to take you, then there wouldn’t have been anything that could have stopped me.” 

“No, I don’t think you would have taken me if it would have meant leaving a version of you completely alone. I think you’re too narcissistic for that. You had to let him die to excuse taking me.” 

“I saved you.” His voice was low now; it was almost a growl.

“You say you love me and yet you put me through that. You could have saved me from being devastated, yet you did nothing. Why could you let me live but not him?” 

“Because he was supposed to die!” He yelled.

“So was I!” 

“And I couldn’t watch you die again!”

“Then you didn’t have to watch! You could have just let me die!”

His mouth formed a hard line. I could see a deep line forming between his knitted eyebrows. He let out a low sound as he lifted his hand to his face. Slowly, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm himself down.

“No… no.” Was all he said. Somehow, his lack of anger scared me more than if he had started screaming at me. There was something eerie about how little he said. 

I winced, feeling another wave of nausea come over me. I pushed myself up from the table and began to make my way across the rooftop. I could see the top of a metal staircase on the edge of the building. I just wanted to get away from him. 

“Where are you going?” Miguel asked. 

“Home. Or however far I can get on foot, given that I’m trapped here.”

“I can take you home.” He said. He pushed himself up from the table

“Miguel, leave me alone.” I said. I made my way toward the stairs that wrapped around the side of the building. He began to follow after me, following me down the stairs and onto the empty street below. 

“None of those things should matter now because you love me. I can see it in how you look at me. I can tell by how you tried to comfort me when I had a nightmare and how scared you were when I came home covered in blood. You were scared because you love me.” 

“You really don’t see how you did anything wrong? Are you serious?”

“I saved you.” He repeated. 

“You kidnapped me. Besides, how do I even know I was supposed to die? How do I not know that you kidnapped me just because you wanted to?”

“Because I love you. I wouldn’t do that.”

“You love who I remind you of and that’s exactly why you would do that.”

The sidewalk was a perfect imitation of the ones in my home universe. The concrete was littered with opening in the sidewalk that contained small sets of concrete stairs. The stairs led down to small apartments that were partially hidden from view because of how low they sat. 

Miguel said something under his breath, but I didn’t hear what it was. Instead, I looked up at the sky. It was beginning to churn with heavy clouds. It was going to rain soon. I could already smell it in the air. 

There was a dip in the sidewalk in front of me. The tip led to a small set of concrete steps. 

It all happened so fast. I stepped forward, moving one heel in front of the other as I stepped down the concrete stairs. Then, all at once, the heel to my left shoe snapped, sending me down the four steps. I landed hard against the concrete at the bottom, landing directly on my wrist. 

I winced when I made contact with the ground. It hurt bad, but there was something else that was wrong. I pushed myself upward. I was sure that I had broken my wrist from the pain. But, as I lifted it upward, I saw that it wasn’t broken. The pain was coming from the broken metal that was stabbing at my skin.

The bracelet was broken.

I didn’t know much, but I knew that this was bad. This was very bad. 

I glanced over my shoulder to see Miguel dashing after me.

“Miguel, I think it-” my words were suddenly cut off 

Pain shot through me, infecting every nerve. It felt like I was being set on fire.

My body jerked hard, but it wasn’t like anything I had ever experienced. When my muscles and limbs jolted, parts of them blurred or smudged and then disappeared in brightly colored fits.

What the fuck?

“Miguel!” I screamed. He quickly reached for my arm. His hand caught my skin before I could disappear again. 

“You’re glitching. Just hold on.” His fingers slipped under the metal band of the bracelet. I whimpered, trying to hold still for him. But, as soon as I was able to keep my body from shaking, another wave of pain shot through me, followed by another hard glitch. 

I was glitching out of this reality, but I wasn’t being pulled into another one. 

I screamed. It felt like I was dying.

And maybe I was. Based on how panicked Miguel looked, I knew that that was a very strong possibility. 

“I know it hurts, sweetheart. I’m going to fix this.” I closed my eyes, trying to focus on something other than the pain. 

“No, no, no, no.” He whispered. I could hear the fear in his voice as he tried to fix the bracelet. His perfect hands worked impossibly fast, tearing at the metal and the small gears and pieces that rested below it. He was desperate. As he worked, his face was painted with a look of agonizing panic. 

For the first time in a long time, he was truly terrified.

My body spasmed again. This time, the pain was worse. I couldn’t keep myself from screaming. 

I felt him jerk hard on something in the bracelet. Then, after a moment, he pushed something back inside of the metal casing. 

I sat still, waiting for another wave of pain to overtake me. But instead, I was left sitting on the cold sidewalk. I opened my eyes, suddenly very aware that Miguel was watching me with a wild stare.

Whatever he did, it seemed to have worked.

Miguel leaned forward. I wanted to say a soft ‘thank you’, but before the words could leave my mouth, he leaned forward and pulled me into his lap. 

He pressed my body against his chest, caging my body in his arms.

“You’re okay… you’re okay, sweetheart.” The words weren’t for me. He was desperately trying to prove it to himself that I was alright.  

“Miguel, I’m okay. I think you fixed it.” I squirmed slightly, but he didn’t let me go. 

Hell, he didn’t even seem to notice.

“Miguel.” I protested softly. However, he seemed to take my complaints in a very different way.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. This won’t happen again.” He whispered.

Won’t happen again. 

What the hell did he mean by that?

The inside of the house was dark, save for the faint glow from the kitchen. Miguel sat me down on the ground, allowing me to stand upright. 

“How do you feel?”

“Nauseous. Plus my wrist hurts, but I don’t think there’s anything that can be done about that.” He lifted a hand upward. He ever so lovingly brushed my hair out of my face. 

“You’re going to feel sick for a while from glitching. I’m not sure for how long, though. It’s different for everybody.” He whispered. His voice was soft and gentle. 

I wanted to tell him that I had felt nauseous before I glitched. I felt sick when he was swinging around with me, as well as when I was allowed to leave the house for the first time in what had seemed like forever. But instead, I nodded along to what he said. 

I sighed to myself as I began to step toward the stairs. My head was pounding and I felt like I was going to be sick. 

“I’m going to go upstairs and sleep for a while.” I said. 

“I can carry you up there.” He moved toward me, but I quickly shook my head. 

“Miguel, I’m fine. I don’t need you to carry me.” He immediately backed off. Any chance of me loving him was hanging by a thread right now. He knew that hovering was only going to start a fight.

As I began to make my way up the stairs, I felt Miguel staring at me. It was the same sad gaze that he would give me when I washed the dishes after dinner, or when I was stretched out on the couch reading with my legs thrown over his lap. It was also the same look he had given me the first night we had made love and the night that I had cleaned the blood off of him and given him a bath. 

“Please stop looking at me like that.”

It made me feel weird when he looked at me like that. It almost made me feel bad for being angry with him.

When he was moony eyed like this, he almost looked innocent. Maybe he was aware of that.

“I love you.” Miguel said.

A part of me wanted to tell him I loved him, too. I mean, I did. But right now, I just wanted him to leave me alone. I needed to calm down before I ended up screaming at him. 

While there was a part of me that loved him, there was also a part of me that hated him. I hated what he had done, between the fact that he had kidnapped me and that he had hid so much from me. He had hid these things because he knew what would happen. He knew how I would react. 

When I reached the top of the stairs, I half expected him to follow after me. But, when I glanced over my shoulder, there was no Miguel to be found. I sighed, shaking my head. 

I made my way down the hall, trying to keep from falling as I walked. I made my way into the bedroom and quickly crawled into the bed. I just wanted today to be over. I didn’t know how much else I could handle. 

I pressed my back against the mattress, feeling the room spin. Was glitching supposed to make me feel like this? Maybe this was all just a mixture of glitching and nerves. I had been nervous before the bracelet had broken, so surely that was to blame for my sickness.

As I laid there, I tried to remember when the last time I had gone outside before today. Then, another question hit me.

How long had I even been here? Five weeks? Maybe six? Seven?

I tried to count backward to when I had been taken. But, no matter how many times I did it, I came up with different numbers. 

And no matter how long I had been here, I hadn’t gotten my period yet. 

Fuck.

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

I pushed myself off of the mattress and scrambled to the bathroom. 

I jerked open the bathroom cabinet and immediately began to throw random things on the floor as I searched for the pink box at the back. 

He knew this would happen. He had bought a box of pregnancy tests for this exact purpose. 

He had wanted this to happen. I remembered his smug comments the first night we were together. Whatever happens, happens. 

If I was pregnant, I could already imagine how gleeful Miguel would be. I could imagine him beaming with pride as I got bigger and my stomach became more obviously round. I could also imagine him becoming infinitely more protective than he already was, if that was even possible.

I spotted the box laying against the back of the cabinet. I quickly pulled it forward and ripped the top of the box off. The bathroom was going to look like a tornado had hit it, but that could all be dealt with later. 

I flipped over the box and quickly read off the instructions. It was all standard fair.

Sounds simple enough.

I sighed as I tried counting backward again. I just wanted to know how long I had been here. Maybe Miguel would tell me if I asked. 

Or, maybe he would ignore the question altogether. 

I pulled down my underwear and then sat on the toilet. Downstairs, I heard something move across the floor. 

What the hell was he doing down there? Something fell against the floor and I heard him swear to himself.

I peed on the stick as I read off of the back of the box.

Replace the pink cap and then wait three minutes. 

Great.

I did as it had said and pushed the pink cap back onto the now-wet end of the stick. 

A part of me didn’t trust the first one. Maybe it would be wrong. Maybe it was going to be some kind of false result. Who knew how long the tests had been under the counter? Maybe they were expired. Could these things expire?

Without hesitation, I grabbed a second test out of the box and quickly repeated the process. 

I needed to know for sure. 

I sat the second one on the counter beside the first. Then, I began to pace around the bedroom, careful not to step too loudly. I didn’t want to draw his attention to my pacing. I needed time away from him to calm down.

It was then that I realized I was still wearing the pink dress. I sighed and quickly began to pull at the zipper. It came undone and I discarded it on the floor. Then, I pulled on another one of his shirts that he had folded and placed on the dresser.

Given the fact that I never saw him wearing any of his shirts, I wondered if he had placed it there for me. 

Miguel was more than capable of being sweet to me when he wanted to be. He would often bring me small gifts and always offered to help with whatever I was doing. He would follow me around like a shadow, ensuring that I was taken care of.

God, he really did see me as his little pet.

Several minutes passed before I ventured back into the bathroom. I was scared to look. 

Slowly, I peered over the side of the counter, looking for the little windows in the middle of the tests.

There they were. Each window was lit up with identical pink plus signs.

I was pregnant.

I had curled up under the blankets, burying my face in one of the pillows. The room was dark and quiet. But still, I couldn’t sleep. My mind was running at a thousand miles per hour, flooded with too many thoughts to keep up with. I was overwhelmed by it all, and the nausea didn’t seem to help. Nor did the two pink sticks that I had placed on the bedside table. 

I could deal with them later. I could throw them away and forget about them. But, even though I knew that they were just plastic and they couldn’t hurt me, I couldn’t help but glance up every so often just to stare at them.

I hadn’t had the stomach to leave the room in almost an hour. Maybe Miguel would just forget about me and I could just stay up here forever. Maybe he would get bored of me and send me home. 

But, when I heard a series of footsteps at the end of the hall, I knew that all of my hopes were in vain. 

Miguel tapped his hand against the door twice before stepping inside. Since when did he knock?

“Sweetheart?” He let out a low sigh. “I know that today was… rough. But, I…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say. Maybe there was nothing that could make this better. Maybe this was how things were simply supposed to be.  

Maybe this was some kind of divine punishment; or maybe, this was simply him having to live with the consequences of his actions.

“I’ve only ever wanted what was best for you. All I have ever wanted was to keep you safe.” He stepped deeper in the room, moving toward the bed. As he walked, the light from the open bathroom door shone around him, casting a long shadow against the far wall. “And you’re alive and you’re okay, so I don’t consider any of my actions to be failures.”

“You kidnapped me.” I mumbled. 

“But you’re alive and you’re safe, so I would try to be a little more grateful.” As he made his way across the room, something caught his eye. He turned toward the bathroom. He saw the contents of the bathroom cabinet strewn across the floor. 

“Is there something you were looking for? Do you need me to get you something?” He asked. I rolled my eyes as I pushed my face deeper into the pillow. He sat down on the edge of the bed, sitting close enough that he could reach out and touch my legs but not so close that he would spook me.

“Go away, Miguel.”

“I know you’re upset with me, but I want you to know that I love you and that I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready to talk.” 

“I feel like shit. Just go away.” I said. I grabbed onto the edge of my blanket and went to move it upward to shield my head. I didn’t want him to see me and I didn’t want to see him. 

However, as I went to haul it upward, Miguel grabbed the blanket, keeping it in place. Slowly, he reached forward and laid a hand on my leg. 

“I can make you something to eat before you go to sleep.”

“I don’t want anything to eat.” I pulled on the blanket again. Still, he held it in place. 

“Just let me look at you. I need to make sure you’re okay.” He leaned upward, moving so that he could see the back of my head. “Sweetheart, roll over and let me look at you.” 

I knew that if he wanted to, he could easily force me to roll over. The idea of that was too demeaning to bear. I groaned and slowly turned over. His eyes met mine and he offered a faint smile. 

“There’s my beautiful girl.”

“Miguel, stop patronizing me and just go away.” 

He ignored my comment as his eyes danced over my face. He gently placed the back of his hand on my forehead. “You feel clammy.”

“And you’re burning up. Stop touching my forehead before I throw up on you.” I said. I winced as I squirmed out of his touch. His skin was too warm, even in contrast to the cold house.

“You still feel that sick?” He asked. I nodded, pulling on the blanket again. Though, this time, I was able to pull it upward, hauling the blanket up until it was just under my chin. 

The only reason he had let me pull on it was because now his attention was turned to the night stand. On it, he saw the two pregnancy tests.

Without saying a word, he pushed himself up from the bed. He walked around the side of the mattress, moving so that he was standing in front of the bedside table. Miguel leaned downward and grabbed onto one of the pregnancy tests. In the dim light, he inspected it carefully. 

“Oh.”

What the hell did he mean by ‘oh’? I glanced over and watched as he looked down at the second test for confirmation about the results of the first one. He eyed it carefully, checking and then double checking multiple times before he said anything.

Sure enough, each time he looked, he saw the same pink plus sign. 

“Well, at least we know that you aren’t dying.” Really? That’s all you have to say?

He had gotten exactly what he wanted. Why wasn’t he saying something… nicer? Something sweeter?

He sat back down on the bed, sitting down on the empty space that rested between me and the table. He held the pregnancy test in one hand and reached out for me with the other. A warm hand landed against my clothed shoulder. He gently slid his fingers downward, moving over the area where the shirt ended and my bare skin began. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“For letting him die or for knocking me up?” The second part made him smirk for a fleeting moment. However, the look quickly disappeared and was replaced with his standard, serious glare.

“I’m sorry for our misunderstanding.” He said. 

“That’s not an apology.” He glanced down at the floor. When his eyes looked back at me, they seemed softer somehow. 

“I’m sorry…” he tried to find a decent middle ground. He wanted his words to make me happy, while somehow absolving him of blame. “For how things turned out. And I’m sorry that we see things differently.”

I rolled my eyes. I could feel another wave of nausea beginning to wash over me. I closed my eyes and leaned back into the pillow behind my head. 

“Miguel, I really don’t feel good. I don’t want to argue about this right now.” He let out a low sigh. 

“Okay.” He sighed. “I just want you to be happy here.”

“Miguel, I can’t stay here. I can’t be alone all the time. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“I know.” His voice was so soft that I almost didn’t hear him. There was a layer of pain in his voice. He knew, somewhere in his soul, that this was wrong. But, his own selfishness usually fought off that aching feeling.

Slowly, he leaned forward, moving toward my face.

He pressed a gentle kiss against my temple. Then, he quickly dipped down and pressed a second kiss against my clothed shoulder. Without missing a beat, he slid his hand under the blankets and gently pulled them down to expose my body. 

I watched as he leaned downward, moving so that his face was level with my abdomen. Then, he pressed a gentle kiss against my stomach. He lingered there for a moment, his fingers tracing soft lines over the top of the t-shirt. As he touched me, I felt my heart skip a beat. He was so gentle with me; so careful not to do anything that could hurt me.

His fingers were warm against my skin. But somehow, unlike before, the heat wasn’t making me feel worse. It actually felt nice to be touched. But I couldn’t tell him that. 

I was fighting a weird mixture of anger and a want to move into his touch.

Miguel then moved upward, moving so that his eyes met mine once more.

“I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done to you.” He actually seemed to mean it this time. “I love you. I just hope that someday you’ll understand that everything I have done has been an act of love.”

I reached up and brushed my hair out of my face. As I did, his hand moved to caress the side of my cheek, sliding back to push several stray curls behind my left ear. 

He flashed a gentle grin. As he did, he showed his white fangs. He was gorgeous… and terribly lovestruck.

“I’ll get you some ginger ale and saltines.” He whispered. With that, he pushed himself up, moving so that he was standing again. He gave me a soft smile and then began to make his way toward the door.  

My chest hurt just looking at him. I knew that if he left, I would just end up begging for him to come back later.

“Miguel…” Don’t go. Don’t leave me here. Please don’t make me spend the night alone, craving your touch and your skin against mine. 

But, none of that came out. I could only say his name. But, that seemed to be enough. He stopped in the doorway, his fingers brushing the frame. He turned to face me. In the dim light of the bedroom, I could see a flicker of hope in his eyes. 

I had him wrapped around my finger, for better or worse.

“Come back.” I said. Without hesitation, he did as I asked. He slowly made his way back to the bed, careful not to startle me.

I lifted my hand upward, curling two fingers toward me. It was a motion he had made to me about a dozen times at this point. 

“Get in.” I said. He quickly nodded as he climbed over the side of the bed. His devotion was charming, if nothing else. 

He crawled across the bed, moving until he was sitting close to me. Then, he carefully maneuvered himself closer, stopping only once his body laid behind mine. His chest pressed against my back. He curled his arms around my body, moving them so that he was cradling me against him. Each touch was featherlight. 

He didn’t want to hurt me. 

Once he had settled into his spot behind me, he pressed a gentle kiss against my shoulder. 

“I can be a good husband.” His voice was low and pained. It sounded like he had thought about this a lot. 

This was what kept him up at night; what made him tremble in the early hours, forcing me to wake him from his nightmares. 

He could be good to me. He could make up for every little failure. 

He knew could fix this; he could make this all better. He just needed time. 

But, time had never been overly kind to him. 

I glanced over my shoulder, moving so that my eyes met his. His eyes were the color of warm coffee in the dim light.

Miguel offered a soft smile. He wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, he leaned forward, moving his face closer to me. 

He pressed his lips against mine. The kiss was soft at first. He was hesitant, but as I leaned in closer, that gave him all the encouragement he needed.

I squirmed in his arms. I wanted to move; I wanted to be closer to him in a way that wasn’t going to make my back hurt in the morning. 

He groaned, releasing his hold on me long enough for me to roll over. I twisted in the blankets, moving so that my chest pressed against his. All the while, we never broke our kiss.

Our lips slid against one another, eagerly giving into another’s embrace.

“Thank you for saving me earlier.” I murmured. He nodded, sliding one hand down the curve of my hips. He gently grasped onto the back of my thigh, lifting my leg so that it wrapped around his hips. 

“I’m never going to let anything happen to you.” He ground himself against me. “Does this mean you forgive me?”

“No chance in hell.”

“Then what does this mean?”

“I thought I was your wife. I can be pissed at you while doing other things.”

“You don’t seem upset.” He dipped down, pressing an open mouth kiss against the curve of my neck. 

“I’m still extremely pissed at you, Miguel.” I said. My voice was more serious now than it had been before.

“I can tell.” He taunted. He sucked hard on a small piece of skin, careful not to let his fangs cut into the flesh. Once he was sure there would be a small bruise, he let go of the skin with a soft ‘pop’.

“Shut up.” 

“I could always make you forgive me.” He remarked. I rolled my eyes as I felt his hands roam under my shirt. 

“How so?” His lips curled into a dark smirk against my skin. I knew that he wouldn’t elaborate on his vague threat. 

I pushed my arms against his shoulders, motioning for him to lean backward. 

He did exactly as asked, moving so that his back was pressed against the mattress. 

“I thought you could make me do things.” I commented. He smirked, flashing his white teeth and glistening fangs. I pushed myself upright, then moved to straddle him. But, as I did, Miguel quickly leaned forward. Any smugness that he had melted away, suddenly replaced with a deep concern as he reached for my body.

He was making sure that I didn’t fall. 

“Careful, sweetheart.” He whispered. He slipped a hand under my back, pulling me gently on top of him. I moved one knee to either side of his waist, making it so that I was straddling him. 

A lovesick smile slid across his face. 

I hated him. Or, at least, some part of me did. But when I looked at him, it was hard to maintain that same level of rage.

He seemed okay with knowing I was pissed at him. He figured it would pass. I could practically hear him now with his ominous ‘it always does.’ 

That was another thing that I hated.

I hated how he assumed that he always knew best; how he assumed that he knew every single thing about me. Maybe he did, or maybe he was just an ass. But either way, he always seemed so smug about all of it.

I looked down at him, meeting his gaze.

In that moment, he was completely happy. 

The night drifted on, filled with sweet nothings and gentle touches. 

When our lovemaking drew to a close, Miguel clung to me, whispering soft professions of love. They were words that didn’t seem to fit someone who was so easily capable of bad things. 

As the night faded to morning, I felt him fall asleep against me. But instead of his usual nightmares, this time he didn’t stir. He slept with his face buried in my neck and his hand on my stomach.

For the first time in a long time, he was at peace.

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[the-moogle-of-your-nightmares]

i don't wanna fucking be alive anymore man i'm so tired of this shit

you ever just want to walk facefirst into a wall of buzzsaws and get it over with

[vibratingskull]

I absolutely love your fics (and your account ngl) and I have a request (that you can totally ignore!) for just the filthiest Thrawn x reader smut like go crazy with it! I want you to just make the smut of your dreams 🙏 again you can totally ignore this if it breaks any of your rules or if you don't like it!!! 💖💖💖

Thank you very much my dear :3 I hardly think I can top my Yandere Thrawn smut, but I was sooooooo curious about submissive Thrawn!!!

Thrawn x f!reader

Tags: Thrawn pov, submissive Thrawn, cunni, somnophilia, p in v, creampie, breeding, rut

Thrawn wakes up with a gasp. He clutches the cover over his chest trying to breath desperately, but any inhaled air gets stuck in his throat, never reaching his lungs.

He feels the warm waves crashing down upon him, setting fire to all of his nerves.

He desperately tries to breathe as his body irremediably gets ready for what is to come.

He simply hoped he would have more time since the last cycle.

But the rut suffers no scruples. 

It comes and it takes, mercilessly.

His throat loosens finally, allowing him to breath, he takes big gulps of air, trying to calm down his beating heart. He coughs, trying to get rid of his discomfort but he knows it will not leave him until…

He turns his head to you, sleeping peacefully, blissfully ignorant of his torments. You have a relaxed expression, deep into your dreams.

You are so beautiful! 

So graceful!

He could eat you, right there and here, devour you and leave not even a bone.

He inhales painfully as his hunger starts to take the reins and silence his morals.

He shouldn’t do anything to you…

But this is so uncomfortable, it’s unbearable! 

With a whistling breath he lets his hand travel in his pants, groping his clothed cock over his boxer. It is so warm to the touch… So sensitive… He feels it jolts at the touch of his palm.

He passes the hem of his boxer, seizing his cock firmly and starts fisting it roughly. He breathes through his nose as he masturbates harshly, desperate for release or any relieving contact.

He feels his cock swelling up gloriously in his large palm, the mechanic back and forth offering some release but so far from what he truly needs. He curses under his breath, forcing himself to calm down.

He is a Chiss for Warrior sakes! A highly moral and civilized being, not a baseless beast directed by animalistic instincts!

But being a Chiss is the problem here, whether he likes it or not. Maybe their high morals comes from their deep desire to overcome their bestial nature. To distance themself from the indignity of the heat.

He jolts when your scent reaches his delicate nose. Your feminine pheromones come teasing his nerves and he feels like he is about to get electrified at any moment. The tension only rises up and up, a coiling pool burning his guts, ravishing him from inside.

He sighs, fisting his cock rapidly but the touch only edges him more. His heart keeps pumping up blood like a machine, gorging his big blue girth and much to his horror, he realizes that he is only making things worse. 

His instincts roar, scream, claw at his reason.

Breed.

He needs to breed.

He needs to fuck.

He needs to cum deep inside a womb. 

He needs… You!

Adorable you.

So tantalizing you.

How you brought him to his knees, begging for mercy and a modicum of relief. A single caress, a single glance in his direction… This is all he needs. 

He feels cold sweat rolling on his temples, soiling his luscious hair. Your scent has invaded his lungs entirely, he cannot escape it unless he flees this room altogether.

Despite his best judgment his gaze graces your form once again, torturing him with your sight. He can see your beautiful locks adorning your head like a crown. The thin braces of your little nightgown barely hold on your shoulders leaving him imagining your delicious tits he can guess under the thin fabric.

Oh dear Warrior, that nightgown…

He remembers it suddenly, so light, so thin, so short, so easy to tear apart… He sees you in this skimpy apparel moving around the bedroom, unaware of the turmoil you trigger in the heart of your Chiss… 

So innocent.

So ignorant.

He turns fully to you, detailing your gorgeous sleeping face. He presses himself to you, you are naturally colder than him but he remembers how deliciously warm and wet you are inside.

Oh he remembers it so well…

He comes caressing your cheek, brushing the shell of your ear. Your skin is so cool, so smooth, so soft. He feels himself melt at that sole contact and a groan escapes him inadvertently. Deep in your sleep cycle you nudge our cheek against his warm palm with a thin satisfied smile, making him melt instantly.

His thumbs brushes the plump of your cheek tenderly and you moan in response. Not a dirty moan, not a naughty one, a simple, sighed moan. And the effect is immediate! He feels his cock jolting and he spurts his semen in his hand, shuddering under the covers like he was stricken by  lightning. 

He is used to cum at your command after all…

He pecks your nose and the tip of your lips, desperate for some physical affection.

No need to wake you up for him, he can take care of it himself.

Wasted…

That is the only word that crosses his mind. All of this potent semen, simply wasted. He deeply inhales to gain back control of his thoughts and himself! 

How unbecoming of him!

He is a Grand Admiral, a Chiss! Nothing he does is wasted!

This is not wasted because now peace will come back in his flesh, his breath will slow down, his heartbeat will calm down, his sweating will cease and his thoughts will get back to normal.

No more undignified and servile thoughts!

…

Then why does he still feel tense like a bowstring?

His heartbeat doesn’t slow down one bit and he actually feels his cock gorging itself with blood once again.

Usually the rut subsides for a few hours after he takes care of himself. But today…

Oh no…

He digs his nails in the fabric of the cover.

Oh Warrior, why put him in this trial?

Feverish he pulls on the cover, revealing your body to his eyes. He feels himself trembling with anticipation at that simple sight.

How perfect your body is…

Just the way he likes it.

And how generous with it you are. You never refused him, you always helped him satiate his hunger.

And tonight he is ravenous.

He gropes your thigh, kneading the soft flesh tenderly, so soft, so… squeezable. He places himself between your legs, opening them wide for him. 

Such beautiful thighs… so gropable. He wants to bite into the flesh and lick your bruise…

His hands slowly, oh so slowly snake their way up your thighs, finally reaching your hips. He pulls on the hem of the nightgown over your stomach, revealing your undergarments to his eyes.

It is not even particularly alluring undergarments, but the simple fact that they tease him, hiding what he truly wished to see and desire from the bottom of his bones from his gaze is enough to send him over the edge again.

He knows your pussy well, very well.

But each time he reveals it, it feels like the first time. He rediscovers your sweet cunny each time, taking his breath away.

Each.Time.

The very simple, very sporty undergarments work their magic and his cock twitches, demanding immediate attention once again. He groans.

The rut makes him so needy…

He always feels so ashamed, you are used to seeing him in control whatever happens, but the rut… He feels like a spoiled child demanding sweet treats, like an infuriating little scalawag abusing the patience of the sweetest person of the galaxy. Usually he manages the rut on his own, only asking for sex once or, rarely, twice during his cycle, maybe slightly more pressed than usual but he usually leaves with his dignity mostly intact.

But he feels it.

The more times pass without him fathering an heir, the more pressing and uncontrollable the rut becomes…

His body knows… that each of those torrid nights of sex you shared are unfruitful.

And his organism rejects that truth, demanding an urgent correction immediately. His body wants you pregnant with his baby!

His genes must survive! His genes must be passed down!

That's what his instincts are screaming at him, frozen over your asleep form. 

He remains still, like in a deep state of shock.

He resumes the fisting of his girth, but soon enough the mildly pleasurable sensations give place to a burning sensation, like his skin was peeling off. He curses in Cheuhn.

Against his own will one of his hands comes grazing your clothed pussy. It knows instinctively where your sweet clit is hidden under the fabric and brushes your nervous bud. You let out a faint gasp. Unbolden, he pulls your panty to the side and he sees the light of his own eyes shining brighter in the dark bedroom. He grazes your pearl, flicks it, rolls it under the pad of his finger.

You mewl, deeply asleep, but undeniably reactive. He feels his guts tighten. In a trance state he seizes your hips to pull them closer to him and he presses his erected cock against your sweet pussy. He gently rolls his hips, grazing his length up and down between your soft folds.

Oh that is so delicious, so delectable… That simple touch makes him shudder, his breath short, your colder flesh relieving the burning sensation. 

What a delight…

Plunge into her. Fuck her. Breed her. Make her discover proper Chiss love, how it is truly done…

He groans lowly at his intrusive thoughts, trying to keep them at bay. But they are numerous and powerful. The siren calls are so alluring…

He never fucked you.

Only made sweet love. Taking you in a tender embrace. Lovingly hugging you. Submitting to your will with glee, he absolutely loved letting you take the reins and surrender to your power. Really, everything should push him to seize power in your dynamic, he is a mighty Chiss and you’re just human, he is a Grand Admiral while you’re a Commander, he is considerably older than you… But he found his serenity in letting you take the lead.

He wasn’t keen on that at first. He only allowed himself to take charge, but you convinced him to try at least once. For you he could allow it, you were the only person close to him, a relationship so close, built on trust, the most fusional one he lived through since his brother.

He was used to serving, after all, the Mitth, then the Ascendancy as a whole, and now you. It was so… relaxing for him, just obeying your whims and honoring your grandeur, he tasted the delicacies of surrounding power to someone he trusted fully. You were not ungrateful and gladly gave back to him, you mercifully let him explore that part of his identity and do not relinquish pleasure from him, instead letting him indulge it at your hand.

He told you about his rut, of course. You were his as he were yours and you deserved to know. It was the least he could do. To you the sex was always tender and sweet, only he knew when he entered his cycle. He felt the rampant tension and got rid of most of it with masturbation, only taking you when he felt really, really pressed. But he always remained gentlemanly, loving and submissive, hiding his desperation under the stoic mask he mastered for years now. He managed to save face during all this time.

But tonight he doesn’t know if he has it in him to be sweet and tender…

Tonight might be a red letter night.

The night he lost to his breeding instinct for the first time in his life…

He feels drools rolling down his chin as he lowly growls.

He wants you.

He desires you.

He craves you.

He needs you…

He wants to bury himself deep in your pussy, but… does he have the right?

He remembers you discussing it the day he confessed his condition, you suggested that he uses your sleeping body to relieve himself if need be, you didn’t mind. He remembers scoffing at that simple thought.

Like he would ever be so desperate and riled up to give in to such extremes.

And look at him now… Oh how the table have turned.

But It was years ago! He never once had to resort to such actions. Do your consent carry to this date? Would you wake up and scream if he tried anything more? While he is debating the morality of his actions, he feels his body getting on the verge of implosion, tense like never before. All his powerful muscles are flexed, fire burning under his thick blue skin.

Desperate, he settles for something else.

Maybe… Maybe if he pleases you instead, it would be okay… He remembers how feeling you satisfied helped him with the urges in the past…

He lays on his stomach between your legs, kisses your delectable thighs, peppering kisses on the soft flesh before diving in. He plunges his nose in your pubes and inhales deeply your raw, sexual musk. He takes a long lap at your slit with the flat of his tongue, gripping your thighs with his large warm palms, digging his fingers in the plush flesh. He hears a faint moan in response.

Oh thank the Warrior, that’s what he needs!

He starts avidly lapping at your pussy, trailing your slit with the tip of his tongue. 

How much does he love your sweet, savoring cunny…

Instinctively he starts purring, too lost in the sauce. He always loved eating you out, that is one of his favorite hobbies with visiting a gallery with you. A skill he takes great pride in. He absolutely loves eating you out for hours, drinking your essence as you helplessly cum, ordering him to continue even if  you were overstimulated. He eagerly obeyed, licking you until you cry real tears of pleasure and desperation, trembling in his hands. He knows better than to disobey you…

Those nights are so good and too rare for his taste… You brought him to his knees so easily with your wit and charm, just as he loves so much.

Mewls escape you as he keeps laving at your cunny. Oh such melodic sounds, practically musical. He feels your essence dripping along his chin and jaw, your wetness spilling out your sweet, sweet sex. He drinks with abandon. You taste sweeter than any nectar, any drinks that ever graced his tongue. He feels his hunger subsiding as he laps you diligently, to his deepest relief. He kisses your sex reverently, silently thanking you for the relief, and focuses on your clit. He teases it with the dart of his tongue, glides across it, brushes it, flicks it rapidly. He makes it roll between his lips, sucking it like a lollipop, groaning his pleasure loudly, without any shame. He realizes only now that his hips started rolling, humping his big cock against the cover in rhythm with your whines. He follows them, letting you set the pace. He will let you guide him to completion as you know so well, obediently follow your voice, letting you order him around, and submit his power to yours.

You take a deep breath, one of those peculiar breaths you take as you slowly awoke, but he doesn’t slow down nor stop. He keeps lapping at your pussy and puffy clit. You yelp as he pushes his flexible tongue inside your wet and warm cunny, he waves it expertly against your G spot, crossing and grazing the sensitive gummy spot, making you wet like a fountain. He can drink your essence as it invades his mouth clasped on your puffy pussylips.

Oh the sounds that escape him. 

Rabbid.

Animalistic.

Bestial.

Absolutely deviant…

But he cannot help it, eating you out is such a natural high, better than any handjob with your sweet, soft little mewls. He is thoroughly lapping at you when he suddenly feels a hand on his hair, trying to pull him away. By pure instinct he growls a warning.

No, he is not willing to release your dripping pussy.

He will eat you until he feels satisfied! 

He takes his eyes from your delicious pussy with immense difficulty to meet yours, round in surprise and questions.

“Thrawn?” You just ask, at loss for words.

Your voice is still full of sleep but your eyes are alert and well awake, demanding explanation.

His eyes dive deep in yours, like daring you to deprive him of you right now. His growl dive into deeper tones, awaiting if you would have the absolute nerves to try to escape him…

He immediately chastises himself for his defiance, if you order him to let you go, he will.

No matter the pain.

He will obey you.

Do his eyes are crazy and feverish? Dark and full of meaning? Because you just look at him for a few seconds before nodding slowly, with a comprehensive glance.

“It’s okay, Thrawn. You can go on.” You mercifully agree.

His growl rises up in higher notes, more akin to a purr now and he resumes his important work. He doesn’t break eye contact with you, looking straight at you, shame long gone with his Chiss dignity, now he’s just on autopilot, letting his sexual instincts dictate his next course of actions.

And he really, really wants you to come in his mouth right now!

This is non negotiable.

He takes quick but long laps with the flat of his tongue, soiling your pussy with his drool and your essence. 

But that is how it should always be, he decides, dripping with your wetness of both of you.

You lay your head back down, relaxing your body to better welcome the pleasure. Your hands come to grip his hair, locking him against your pussy, caressing his head. He purrs louder, emboldened by your moan and how you wave your body to fuck yourself on his tongue.

He knows just by hearing you that is doing a good job, pushing him to continue harder!

In your confusion you press your thighs around his head, imprisoning him. He can barely breathe right now, but he doesn’t want it another way. Dying suffocated against your pussy and between your luscious thighs while eating you out is an honorable death in his eyes.

He keeps humping the cover according to your whines, but now he is in pain. He is so erect it is agonizing and the rubs of the fabric burn his sensitive skin. He winces between two licks, digging his fingers in your soft flesh.

He feels your gaping pussy convulsing around his tongue until you come with a cry, arching your back. You seize his head to press it further against your pulsating, infuriatingly empty pussy. You squirt in his mouth to his utmost pleasure and he licks you clean while you descend from your high. Your whole body seems to relax suddenly, falling back on the mattress with a “oof” while he peppers kisses all around your vulva and thighs.

“I am sorry, cheo Ch’acah. I had no intention to ever use you like that but… I needed it so bad!” He mumbles between each kiss.

“It’s alright, Thrawn” You sigh satisfied, panting “It’s okay…” 

You caress his hair until he seizes your hand to kiss your palms lovingly. He kisses it like a holy relic and him a devoted worshiper. He then presses your palm on his cheek and nuzzles against it with a deep sigh. You brush his cheek with your thumb, looking at your Chiss with loving eyes.

“It is alright, love.” You repeat softly, “Do you feel better?”

He crawls on you to reach and capture your lips languorously. He kisses you eagerly, letting you taste yourself on his swollen lips and tongue. You moan, circling his neck with your arms, putting your forehead together. You feel his erection rubbing against your loins and you circle his hips with your legs to imprison him.

He kisses you one last time before sighing again, taking a big breath before answering.

“Barely…I am in rut.” He admits, “It triggered instants ago.”

You brush your noses together, caressing his black blue hair, holding him close and tight.

“It’s alright, my love.” You reassure him.

“No…” He greets his teeth, “I need… more.” He hisses the last word like a pissed off predator.

“ We’re gonna do it.” You propose, compassionate.

“I am in so much pain.” He continues, “Please, Ch’acah, please. It is unbearable, I need you, I need to feel you pressed against my body, I need your pussy strangling my cock until I come. Please…” He asks, almost begging with an urgent tone, capturing your lips, hugging you tight, his hands snaking their way under the thin nightgown to caress your back.

“You don’t need to justify yourself, Ch’acah.” You comfort him, “Take me, I am yours.” You whisper in his ear before kissing his sharp cheek.

He repositions himself to align his painfully hard cock with your gaping pussy. Pre-cum is abundantly leaking from his tip,  brushing it and teases your entrance with it before pushing inside gently. Your mouth opens in a perfect “O” as he enters you deeper and deeper, invading your tight pussy with his large, long, ribbed cock. He always was a challenge to take on but he always took care to prepare you well each time, letting your abundant wetness act as a lube. 

He shudders, feeling your little pussy squeezing his big cock.. You’re so warm and wet inside, the absolute perfect shape for his dick, or maybe his dick is the perfect shape for your pussy…

Sometimes he likes to think he was made by the Warrior to please you, and not the other way around. It gives him comfort and a purpose in his difficult situation. Sometimes he likes to think the Warrior guided his steps to the Empire to meet and love you.

It is his only solace in this cold universe.

“Relax Ch’acah.” He gasps as he feels you clench around his girth, “It is almost in.”

You breathe through your nose, letting him stretch you out so much. His cock is as long and large as the rest of his body, so it is always difficult to fit, but you make it work.

“There.” He announces breathefully, “Everything is inside…”

He starts moving his hips, short, shallow thrusts, letting your pussy embracing his shaft, letting it welcoming him inside your fluffy, soft walls. You moan as his ridges caress absolutely every spot in your pussy, feeling all your inner muscles work to let him move back and forth. 

He installs a slow, languorous pace for your sake, at the absolute end of his rope. He doesn’t want to hurt you or cause you any pain in any way. He reserves pain for his work, not his private life. He buries his nose in the crook of your neck as he makes sweet, sensual love to you, rolling and waving his hips voluptuously.

He tries his best to behave himself, for you, to be obedient. He greets his teeth hard, breathing deeply through his nose to try and tame the dark urges spreading in his veins.

But it is so hard…

He needs so much more…

He needs to fuck deep and hard…

He needs to breed you immediately.

He grunts and groans against his impatience and fights back his carnal desires.

He would break you in a million pieces if he did that. He is no more than a lustful monster taking advantage of you and your kindness.

He digs his fingers deeper in your flesh and you groan in pain.

“My apologies, Ch’acah.” He immediately apologizes, cursing himself.

“It’s okay.” You squeeze him in your embrace.

He resumes his agonizingly slow and shallow thrusts, finding solace in your pleased moans. He focuses his senses on your delicious mewls and how good you strangle his cock, how perfect your body is to his own. 

Being buried in you is such a blessing.

He measures his chance to have you, someone who accepts him for who he is and not what he could do for you. You truly lightened up his life, alleviating the weight of guilt he felt and offering him unconditional support in all his undertaking.

“You feel so good, Ch’acah. You little pussy takes me so well!” He praises like a litany.

You respond by pecking his whole face, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his forehead, his temples and the corners of his mouth. He purrs and revels in your touch, indulging as much as he can, but his deep pressed desires spoil all of his fun.

He cannot help but hiss in frustration.

“Is everything alright?” You ask with short breaths.

“Yes. Yes it is.” He responds without missing a bit.

He will be dead before admitting that your gorgeous body isn’t enough to satisfy him in any domain!

But you seize his head between your two hands to force him to look into your eyes. Surprised, he stops moving entirely.

“Thrawn.” You say seriously, “Do not take me for an idiot.”

Your gaze is hard and stern. He feels his heart clenching at your words. He never took you for an idiot, and never implied it.

“Is everything alright?” You insist.

He lost himself in your clear gaze. Your eyes are just so beautiful…

He sighs deeply.

“I need more, Ch’acah. Your body is giving me so much but… I need more.” He admits against his will.

You look at him dead in the eyes, silent for a moment before capturing his lips in a kiss that left him panting and heart racing.

“Take me as hard as you can.” You decide.

“It is not a good idea, C’hacah. I do not know how-”

“That wasn’t a proposition, warrior. That was an order.” You seize his hair in your fist and yank his head back, exposing his neck to you, “Understood?” You shut him down immediately, licking his neck.

Oh, how he loves when you set the tone and order him around as you please! He feels his cock twitching at your authoritative tone. He desires nothing more than to satisfy you in every way and submit to you in bed. This is such a thrill to him!

“Yes, Ma’am.” He slightly bows his head in submission.

“Good boy.” You nod, “Now fuck me good.”

He seizes your body with better grips, eager to obey you and prove his worth to you. He slides out his length out of you, leaving just the tip and rams it back inside hard.

All air is knocked off your lungs with the impact, but he doesn’t loses a second and does it again, and again, and again, accelerating each time until he fucks you like a jackhammer.

Your little pussy has difficulties adjusting to the brutal change of pace but it feels so good, any fleeting sensation of pain dissolving in the pleasure you feel.

“Oh fuck!” You let out, in shock.

Taking his full girth ramming into you is such a trial, but that feels just so good! You lock him between your legs, and dig your nails in his shoulder blades, clawing his back. He holds you close, kissing your neck tenderly while fucking you nastily. His lips are just so tender on your sensitive skin, he peppers kisses all around your neck and shoulder while plunging deep into you.

“Keep going, Thrawn!” You gasp, “You’re doing so great, Ch’acah!” You encourage him

Embolden by your praise he rolls his hips sensually, starting to get lost in the sensations you're giving him. He fucks you enthusiastically, moaning, groaning, grunting, panting, letting you hear how much pleasure you are giving him. One of your hands comes to caress the back of his head, disheveling your proper Grand Admiral.

But there is nothing proper about him anymore. He just let you commanding him, fucking you to his heart content, melting in the pleasure.

It feels so good!

It feels so right!

He needs to continue!

“How is it Ch’acah? Does it feel good? Should I slow down?” He asks, so eager to please you.

“It’s amazing, Thrawn! Do not slow down, keep going!” 

So he does!

He gladly fucks you, getting his fill of you, inhaling your scent deep into his lungs.

Oh that just feels so good!

He feels right in his place fucking you, giving you what you want. He raises on his knees, forcing you to lift up your hips to follow. He grabs your hips and impales you on his big cock, slamming into you with such force he threatens to push you over the bed if he doesn't hold down on you. He buries himself to the hilt, letting your sex strangling his shaft so deliciously.

You are both sweaty and panting, the obscene wet sounds echoing to your ears, flesh hitting flesh.

“Good boy! Continue!” You chant, ecstatic.

His heart palpitates at the pet name. He loves it so much! He is an obedient good boy, your good boy. Maybe if he keeps being a good boy you will let him breed you?

His cock twitches at that thought. He feels his blood rushing to his sensitive sex, pre-cum leaking of his tip with anticipation.

Oh it would be so glorious! You round and heavy with his babies, the living proof you were his and he were yours! He would parade on Coruscant and on the Chimaera with you at his arm, heavily pregnant. It would suit you better than any fine jewelry or designer clothes, glorifying your beauty, enhancing it to a new extreme.

He knows he will not be able to keep his hands to himself, he will need them all over you, making sure you lacked nothing, that all your desires and needs were met. He will protect you from any envious male that would come too close to you. 

His possessive and territorial tendencies will show dramatically as he has witnessed it on the Chiss worlds. He saw the sweetest men turning rabid when their fiance got pregnant, getting aggressive and restless.

And he understands why.

This imperial desire and primal instinct to guard and protect his mate and heir is just so strong and powerful! 

He wants to protect you, to shield you from anything else, so nothing can reach and hurt you. That’s also why he submitted to you all this time, so he cannot hurt you himself, by subduing his power. Warrior knows how dangerous it could be when a Chiss gets to unleash their full strength, your human body could be severely bruised and wounded. Just like right now.

He can already see the bruises flourishing where he seized your body with his powerful hands, your delicate skin contused. 

He feels a pinch of guilt at that sight, how he uses your body for his only benefit, for his only desires. Yet you allowed it, letting him do as he pleases to your body.

How generous you are enduring his whims and entertaining them.

How undeserving he feels of you.

“Harder, Thrawn!” Your order, arching your back in ecstasy.

“Are you sure, Ch’acah? I am not sure-”

“Harder!” You shush him authoritatively.

 He opens his legs wider to secure his supports, and resuming the hard fuck, harsher, more brutal, making you scream in response. Each powerful thrust earns a scream of euphoria in return. You are still hips in the air, letting him set the pace, but you hold on surprisingly well, keeping up with his stamina.

His looks down at where your bodies met, he observes, absolutely fascinated, how your body eagerly swallow him all, how his cock disappears inside your warmth, leaving a creamy “o” at his base.

This is so hypnotic, this so dirty, so obscene…

He is absolutely addicted.

He feels so good. He never fucked like that, letting go of everything, letting his more animalistic side take the reins.

“Can I breed you?” The words escape him, panting.

He immediately berates himself, how dares he get so lost he forgets himself? 

“What?” You ask, eyes closed with a blissful expression on your face.

He gulps. That was stupid of him, but that might be his only chance…

“Can I breed you?” He repeats a bit louder, his heart racing at his own demand, “I need it. I need… to breed you! I need to fuck a baby into your womb, to father an heir. Please. I ask you on my knees Ch’acah, I beg of you! Will you let me breed you?” He begs, desperate.

You open back your eyes in a flash, sounding him up and down with a cold expression.

He feels a pinch of fear at that gaze, why would you say yes? You are in the middle of a fantastic climb in the hierarchy, a baby would just slow you down. You are still young contrary to him, your life goals mustn't include a child for now. You take care of your body, working hard in the gym to perfect your muscles, a baby would just ruin all your hard work.

“Forget it, Ch’acah.” He immediately tempers, regretting he asked.

But instead of mocking him, your expression sweetens, melting in an infinitely loving smile and adoring glance.

“So that’s your kink.” You simply say, “You always remain so set back in your desires, I had all the pain in the world to make you open up…”

He looks at you with an indecipherable expression, incredulous at your response. 

You’re not mad at him? You don’t mind him exploring his own desires?

Hips still in the air you circle his waist with your legs, pressing him tighter against yourself with a found smile full of sweetness and support.

“Come in me, Thrawn. Give me a child.” 

His heart jumps.

He is so elated he almost cum right there and here. But he has more self control than that and he cannot cum before satisfying you first, so he resumes his thrust with such energy your head hits the bedhead.

He feels full of energy, pure, raw strength running in his veins, burning his nerves with a fire so great it is almost unbearable. He gasps at how tight you are, accelerating his ministrations, feeling bold.

“I will give it to you! I will fuck a child into you! Everyone will see you are mine and mine alone!You are mine, Ch’acah! Cheo Ch’acah! Cheo Vir! My love! I will give you as many babies you order me to, I will give them to you, if you promise me to be mine forever!” He thrusts into you between each grunted words.

You burst out laughing, a beautiful laugh resonating musically in his ears. 

You jump to seize him and force him down the mattress, surprised he loses his balance and falls on you, to your delight. You seize his head to kiss you with abandon.

“Of course, Thrawn!” You peppers kisses all over his face, “As long as you are mine for the rest of your life in return.”

“Yes!” He responds without missing a beat, “Yes! I am yours, Cha’cah! All yours!

“Only mine?”

“Yes!” He responds, his last modicum of self control and dignity dissolving in the pure pleasure and joy he is feeling right now.

He keeps fucking you until he feels your sweet pussy tightening and convulsing around his big blue cock. You come with an elated cry and he feels your wetness all across his groin, spilling all over the sheet. He sees your eyes rolling inside your skull as you arch your back again, pushing your soft, round breast against his large chest.

His pace slows down into erratic hip movements while the warm waves of pleasure spread in his nerve ending, his thighs muscles convulsing, his abdominals flexing hard as his climax crashes suddenly on him. He freezes down, his cock twitching and spurting his potent semen inside your sweet, sweet pussy.

He remains still, laying over you, panting, sweating, kissing your neck tenderly while you caress his hair and back lovingly.

“How was it?” He worries.

Did he please you? Did you like it? Could he… do it again?

“It was fantastic, Thrawn.” You bite his ear teasingly, “You should be honest with your desire more often” you chuckle breathlessly.

He purrs at the pet name, satisfied with his good work.

But he feels his cock still erect and hard like wood. His body is blissful and orgasmed wonderfully but is not yet content with the breeding. 

“Another round?” He asks, nuzzling his nose in your neck. “What do you think, Ch’acah?”

You giggle, tired, but caressing him still.

“Are you never tired?” You sigh.

He raises his head to look at you, his expression is stern and aloof but his eyes… His crimson eyes are begging.

“Alright.” You gave in with a little smile. “Go on, my big boy…” You lick his ear.

He puffs up his large chest, ready to fuck you into the Coruscian sun and back.

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay, @obbicrystaleo, @germie2037

[durmom]

It’s Useless

Summary: you are pulled from your universe to the supernatural world. You have to navigate your relationship with the boys and knowing what’s going to happen.

Warnings: talks of depression, weed, smoking, swearing, alcohol.

Part: 1/? First part is a lil slow maybe a lil depressing but part 2 is where it gets good

You wake up screaming bloody murder, sweating and gasping for air.

Fuck another nightmare.

Its dark as fuck in your room before you hear footsteps slamming down the hall. Panic sets in, you live alone. The door slams open and there they are in all their glory, guns blazing, Sam and Dean Winchester.

“What. The. Fuck.” You freeze. Not even a second later,

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

“This is a dream,”

“It has to be.”

“Where's my shirt?” You keep repeating ‘what the fuck’ over and over while you reach down and grab you shirt to cover yourself. Forgetting there are two guns pointed at you.

“This isn't real.” A shot goes off. You’re stunned for a moment looking next to you. He fucking shot the wall inches from your head.

“Hello?! Who are you?” Dean asks. You finally make eye contact and you throw up in your mouth.

“No. No. Fuck Imma be sick.” frantically you look for a bucket, trash, anything. You get up seeing the bathroom and vomit into the tub.

“Lady! Seriously, who are you? If you don't answer, imma start shooting!” Dean warns you.

“Y/n, my name is y/n”

“And?”

“And what Dean?” You snap. This isn't real, you're going to wake up any second. Cas?

It was an absentminded thought but Cas pops in next to you. “Hello Y/n” and black.

Boys POV

She lays on the floor of the bathroom, passed out, probably from stress.

“Cas?” Sam asks exasperated.

“This is y/n”

“Yeah we got that much.” Dean says annoyed.

“Why is she here, how’d she get here, what is going on?” fires off Sam.

“This is y/n she is from an alternate reality, she was brought here by Amara. She along with your mother is a present to you Dean. She is human, trust her.”

“Wait, Amara got me my mom and some random chick from another universe?”

“Yes.” And with that Cas is out.

Your POV

“What do we do?”

“Well she ain't staying here.”

“Dean.. she's got nowhere else to go.”

“Sammy, she's not just a dog on the side of the road. She's a person.”

“Yeah Dean shes a person, shouldn't we-”

“- Damn y'all are so annoying,” You rub your head, sitting up on the tile, “one of you boys please tell me what's going on.” Grabbing the counter to stand, you feel shaky and almost fall before Sam grabs you and guides you to the bed. He squats down so he's eye level with you,

“Well Cas said that you're from a different reality.”

“Yeah no shit sherlock. I mean who brought me here? Chuck? Amara? Who?”

“What the hell did you just say?” Dean asks the gun still at his side, Sam had holstered his once Cas left.

“I said, Dean, Who brought me here?”

“Yeah, yeah I got that but what do you know about Chuck and Amara?”

“I'll tell you what I know once you put away the damn gun and tell me who brought me here.” Dean looks at his gun and debates if he should put it away. He looks to you. Shes just a girl, in a fucking t-shirt, not armed, and probably weak he thinks before tucking the gun in the waistband of his jeans.

“That's what I thought.” You sigh.

“Amara.” he states clearly done with you.

“Amara brought you here.” Sam tries to restate nicely.

“Thank fuck.” You lay back on the bed, covering your eyes with your hands.

What should I do?

“Okay.” you say sitting up.

“Okay what?” Sam stands up to get out of the way.

“Okay let's do the interrogation.” you walk towards the door, shocked that they boys move out of your way.

“Don't you want pants?” Dean asks, looking you up and down.

“Nope.” You walk down the hallway hoping to find your way to the library. Luckily it was pretty easy, they make the bunker look way bigger in the show than it is. You sit at a table and the boys follow suit. Your dissociation is so bad, everything looks and feels fake. You are trying to just go with it because that's what they do in the fan fics right?

“Okay, my name is y/n y/l/n, I am not from your reality. Remember when you guys got thrown into an alternate universe and your lives were just a tv show? My reality is like that, well different, same thing, different fonts. I am a huge nerd and am obsessed with the show. So yes I know pretty much everything that has happened and will happen. In my world there are no monsters so hunting is not a thing. I literally have no clue why I am here and I am honestly panicking and none of this feels real so it's gonna be real interesting, I cannot believe this is happening, this is a dream right, it has-”

“Y/N” Sam stops you. �� Slow down.”

“Did you just jump realities for no reason? I didn't think so, I will slow down when I feel like it. This is the craziest thing to ever happen to me so sorry im fucking freaked.” You sit back crossing your arms.

“Damn you got a mouth on you.” Dean finally says something

“Shut up Dean.” You and Sam snap before whipping your heads to each other in shock.

“Ughhhh, what the fuck is happening?” You run your hands down your face.

“How do we know youre telling the truth? And you're not some witch, or demon, or some other thing?” Finally Dean gets to what he’s been wanting to ask.

“Test me.” You reply nonchalantly holding out your hand. Dean grabs the duffle sitting on the table. He does everything, he cuts your hand three different times, with the demon blade, an angel blade, and silver.

“Okay okay enough Dean, Cas already told us she's human.”

“Wait what did Cas say?”

“That you were brought here as a gift to Dean from Amara, that you’re human and we should trust you.” Damn Sam’s puppy eyes are just as intoxicating as they look on tv. You can’t help but laugh, a gift to Dean.

After a hundred and one questions the boys seemed satisfied enough to let you stay. Well Sam did, Dean was apprehensive as always. They had tried to ask about the future but you told them you didn’t know what to tell them or if you should as you didn’t want to mess with their timeline. They asked mostly what you knew about them and everyone they knew. Nothing about you yet. It was only seven by the time everything was done but you were exhausted so you wandered around looking for the room you had woken up in. Finally taking in the room you saw you had some of your personal belongings. Some of your clothes, your baby blanket, some makeup and personal hygiene. Everything was so surreal. As you got ready for bed you realized you had none of your medication, your vape, or any weed. Nothing to help relieve the stress of the day. Fuck. You spent most of the night tossing and turning until fully knocking out around three am.

Boys POV

After you had left they made their way to the kitchen to grab some beers.

“We have to find a way to get her back. Maybe Rowena knows a spell, or we can-“

“Dean maybe this is a good thing” Dean looks at Sam in bewilderment

“Sammy how on Earth is this a good thing? We have a girl we know nothing about, who doesn’t know how to hunt, all she knows is what’s in a TV show!”

“Dude she’s a gift from Amara. She knows how everything goes down. Honestly we could use a break.”

“In the form of a girl who knows nothing about hunting, and is a hundred pounds soaking wet?”

“Dean, come on.”

“No Sam, Seriously how is she supposed to be our break?”

“I don't know but she knows everything that has happened and will happen so maybe she can help.”

“I'm calling Rowena.” Sam sighs as Dean leaves the kitchen.

Your POV

The next day you woke up around four pm. Well the boys didn't wake me up.

All you wanted to do was lay in bed. What they don't get right in the fan fics is the panic that sets in not knowing how to navigate the situation. You lay in bed debating this exact thing

I mean how bad could it be if I told them everything? I mean if I hide everything they aren't going to trust me. If I even hide half of the shit they aren't going to trust me. Stupid. Dumbass trust issues.

You groan very loudly, slamming your fists on the bed, throwing a tantrum. There's a knock on the door.

“Come in.” You sit up in bed as Sam walks in.

“Hi, I was just wondering if you wanted to eat?” He has a bag from some fast food joint.

“Yes please.”

“I didn't know what you like so I got a few different things.” He hands you the bag standing at the end of your bed. You pat the bed and he sits on the edge of the bed.

“I like pretty much everything, except for mushrooms.”

‘Ha, well I got nothing with mushrooms.”

“Ugh you know me so well.” You say laced with sarcasm before laughing.

“You think you're funny.”

“I think I'm hilarious.” You smile taking a bite of your burger. Sam laughs and sits smiling at you.

“So..”

“So.. what's up Sam?”

“Well I just wanted to ask a few questions.”

“Mhm… go on.”

“What was your world like?”

“Oh!” The question caught you off guard,” umm, its, its mundane, I guess, I mean theres things I loved but the world was going to shit, I mean back in my world we have a genocide going on in palastine and our government has gone to shit. Even with the election about to start it all felt hopeless. But to be positive, my generation was trying to change the world. We have this app where information spreads like wildfire. I could learn how to do something new everyday, it's awesome.”

“Kinda sounds like here, I mean we have monsters, and I know our government is corrupt but monsters are kinda the big problem. Do you want to go back?”

“I mean not really, I don't have anything for me at home, but knowing Dean he's probably already called Rowena.” Sam laughs, “What? Did he?”

“Yes, he did. How did you know?”

“I mean I have been watching the show since I was twelve, and in all of the fan fics that's what he does.”

“I'm sorry the what?” Your face runs hot and a blush forms.

“Shit I just outed myself… Uh, fan fiction, so people write about the show inserting themselves into the story and this, what's happening to me is a popular one.”

“Wait so you’ve read about this?”

“Yes, it's not at all like they describe. I mean they dont write about how panicked you are and how literally nothing feels real, you dont feel human, and its fucking awkward as hell talking to the people youve grown up watching.”

“I mean I dont think it's awkward, but i'm not you i guess.”

“Yeah it's very awkward. Anyways, do you think Rowena’s spell is going to work?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well let me know when Dean is about to go through with it so I can be prepared.”

“I will.” You and Sam make light conversation while you eat. You tell him about your life in your world. You don't have any family as they all either passed away or you went no contact with them. You were just working a serving job while figuring out what you wanted to do. You had just quit your nursing job as it was draining the life out of you. Changing careers at almost thirty was a huge change and it had been stressing you out. You then come to the realization that you are almost thirty. Supernatural ended almost five years ago.

“Wait, what year is it?”

“2017”

“What the fuck!” you get up pacing the room.

“What?”

“In my world it's 2024, I am 29 there.”

“So.. you’re 22 here?” Sam's eyes widen as he does the math.

“Dude no, there's no way I am 22 again.” You run to the bathroom looking in the mirror for the first time since you got there. Shit. “Sam, I'm definitely 22 again!”

“What do you mean?”

“Sam, I am 22 again. I mean I can tell, my face is younger”

“What?” You pull up your sleeve noticing that some of your tattoos are gone,

“What the hell? Sam, some of my tattoos are gone.”

“What?”

“Sam ask me what one more time and I’m going to lose my shit.”

“I just.. I don't know what else to say.”

“I don't either!”

“Okay, okay, I mean physically you're 22 but mentally you're 29 right?”

“Yeah, I guess, so it's the least of my problems.”

“Yeah, yeah, one thing at a time right?” Sam is clearly freaked out.

“Right.” You calm down. I mean most girls dream to age backwards right? To wake up looking younger than you did the day before. You hear Dean yelling for Sam.

“Go.”

“You sure?”

“Yes Sam, Go.” He leaves the room and a panic attack ensues. You try to calm down, frantically looking for your phone. Yesterday you had been too exhausted to try and find it luckily it had come with you to this world. Unfortunately Supernatural had been what would calm you down during these moments but it didn't exist in this world. Youtube however did exist and luckily so did your favorite youtubers. You calmed down within twenty minutes and by that time Sam had come to inform you Rowena was here. As you walked to the dungeon Sam told you he tried to convince Dean to let you stay. Clearly it did not work. As you walk in you see Rowena working away at her spell. Her beauty took your breath away.

“Wow,” She looks up at you, “ You are more beautiful in person.” She gives you a smile and a light chuckle before turning to Dean, “You sure you want to get rid of her?”

“Shut up Rowena.” He scowls, arm crossed. He hadn’t even acknowledged you since that first night.

“You don't always have to be an asshole, you know that right?” now you were crossing your arms.

“Who even told you we were in here?”

“Sam did.”

“Why?” he looks at Sam, clearly annoyed.

“She-”

“-I asked him to. I said knowing you, you would call up Rowena trying to find a way to get me home. So I asked him to let me know when, so I could be prepared.'' He just scoffs before asking Rowena if she's almost done.

“Magic takes time my dear.” He glares at her, “But yes I am done. Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“Do it.” You and Sam don't have time to object before the bowl lights in flames. The bunker rattles a bit but nothing happens. You stay standing there with your arms crossed.

“Well?” Is all you say before Dean starts tearing into Rowena.

“Dean!” You yell getting his attention.

“What?” He snaps whipping around to face you.

“It didn't work, dipshit. It's not her fault. Rowena is the most powerful witch in history, she did the spell right. Stop throwing a tantrum because things didn't go your way. Normally in fan fictions something is keeping the reader here… So my guess is Amara made it so I can't go home.”

“I like her.” Rowena smiles at you and you return the gesture.

“Not now Rowena, get out.”

“But we-”

“NOW!” he yells. Rowena gathers her things and leaves the dungeon giving your shoulder a pat before she exits.

“Now what did you say?” Anger fills his eyes. Sam is just looking back and forth between you guys.

“Dean, I don't know why you’re so angry with me. I was brought here for you. If anything I should be mad at you. Like I said, Amara probably made it so I can't go home. That's always how it works.”

“How it works in what?”

“Fan fictions.” Is all you say. He could've come and talked to you if he wanted more information. And why not fuck around with him. Make him think it's something important.

“Sam, help me out here.” He sighs exhausted from the whole situation.

“No.” Now this is shocking, very unlike Sam, he chuckles before saying “ No, you could've tried to talk to her. She was pulled from her life and put here. She's in shock dude. She was brought here by Amara and all you've asked her is about the past and future. You have yet to ask a single question about her. Why are you always such a jerk to people you don't know?”

All Dean does is sigh. He tries to leave the room but you block him just standing in front of him with your arms crossed.

“No Dean, I wanna know. Why are you such an ass to me? I've been here for 36 hours? Pulled from my home with basically none of my shit, got interrogated and cut up. I've answered all your questions. Hell Cas even said you could trust me. I just don't get why you can't be a little more open minded.” He finally makes eye contact with you before he just picks you up, turns around, sets you down, and walks out.

“What the fuck man?” You start to follow him down the hall.

“Dean!” you finally catch up, “ Seriously, do you need the I wont hurt you or your brother pep talk?” he ignores you.

“Okay, here we go, I know everything that happens down the line. I know all your lies, secrets, and even how you die.” He perks up just the slightest amount, “I have been watching you boys since I was thirteen, I seriously want nothing but the best for you boys. I never in my life thought I would be in this situation but here I am.” You turn into the kitchen and he cracks a beer open, finally looking at you, “I know that you have a hard time trusting people, I get it, I do too. However you can’t just treat people like shit because you don’t trust them. Even though I know everything about you boys I still don’t trust you. Seeing it on a screen versus experiencing it is very different. I’m fucking scared dean, terrified. I’m in a whole new world. You could at least treat me like a human being.”

“You done?”

“Yes.”

“Listen, I don’t want you here. I don’t care that you’re some fucked up gift from Amara. I don’t care that you know what’s going to happen. All you are is a burden that we now have to take care of.”

“ You’re an even bigger ass in person.” You storm out. Sam was listening at the door of course. Tears well in your eyes as you go to your room before shutting yourself in.

Boys POV

“Really Dean?”

“What Sam? What?” He slams the rest of his beer before opening another.

“You have to be so hard on her? She’s in a new world. She had no one back home and now she has no one here. God! You don’t think before you speak. Can’t you for once just try to be nice?”

“Why should I?”

“Because she’s stuck here and I’m not going to let her go off on her own in a world of shit she’s never dealt with. Seriously, why are you being so mean to her.”

He sighs debating in his head,” because…”

“Because what?”

“Amara came to me.” Sam’s face softens now worried, “she said- she said that y/n is supposed to teach me what I need most.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know man. She came to me in my dream and that was it. She just left.”

“So you’re being a jerk why?”

“Because I don’t need her to teach me anything! She knows nothing about our life. Everything she’s seen is through a screen!”

“Maybe she can teach you something. You don’t know that. She’s staying so you better get on board.” He leaves Dean in the kitchen mulling over what was said. Maybe he was too harsh. Seriously though, what is that girl supposed to teach him?

Your POV

Two days had passed and you hadn’t left your room. Sam would bring you food and try to talk to you but you just sat in silence. He tried to say his brother is just a jerk and he’ll come around. That’s not why you were sulking. Honestly you went into a depressive episode. Not being home with your comfort items, alone, scared. On day five Dean was the one who brought you food. He walked into the dark room. You were under the covers with your baby blanket with a YouTube video on. He set it on the bed.

“Thanks Sam.”

“Uh… it’s me.”

“Fuck.” You whispered. “Go away.” He left your room without shutting the door so you yell out, “Dean shut the door please!” You hear the click of the door and return to your state. Sam brings you lunch and talks a bit, mostly telling stories. Dean would bring you dinner not saying anything but he would sit at the end of the bed.

Finally a full seven days had passed and you decided you were done. Done being sad and alone. You needed to find yourself again so you got up, put real clothes on, did your hair, and makeup then wrote a letter explaining you’d be back later tonight with food. It was early in the morning luckily Sam wasn’t awake so you had time to look around to find a card and keys to some random car.

You started at the beach making a list of everything you were going to do to get back on track. .

ID

Doctor for Meds

Nails

Vape and Weed

Shopping

Food

Okay a lot to get done in a couple hours but it's manageable. You start by finding a Secretary of State, you didn't need a driver's license just an ID so that was surprisingly easy. They issued you a new social security number as well. Normally in your world this would be a huge ordeal but you were in and out within twenty minutes. Next you found a doctor's office that take walk-ins. You got your medications and a general checkup. Luckily everything was good. You then went to a nail salon and got your nails done, your previous acrylics were grown out and a fresh set was a good way to get you feeling better. You were a well manicured girl, not super girly girl, but you had a routine that allowed you to be low maintenance in general. After nails you went to a smoke shop to get your weed. They never show it in supernatural so you grabbed a couple different things. A pen, pre rolls, edibles, a bowl, and bud. You didn't know how much alone time you would have or what method you'd be able to use. You didn't drink much and you actually only smoked on weekends but given the situation you were in it didn't really matter anymore. Next you went to a gas station to get a couple vapes, you didn’t know when you'd leave the bunker next so better be prepared. A couple things were the same in this universe and yours. There was a McDonalds on every corner, there were multiple Starbucks, and target. At least you had somewhere familiar to shop. As you pulled into the target parking lot you noticed a couple other shops. A tattoo shop, fro-yo, and some version of this universe's chipotle. You decided after this you'll go get an anti-possession tattoo as you were clearly stuck here. You went into the target and honestly went crazy. You picked up new sheets and a nice comforter, new pillows, towels, and a whole bunch of decor including a new floor length mirror. You then went and picked out new clothes ranging from workout clothes to professional items. You even got new underwear and bras. Then you make your way to the skincare and makeup isles. At this point your cart was overflowing but you still went and picked up all of your favorite products. By the time you left you had two full carts. After loading them into the car you decided on getting this ghetto chipotle for you and the boys. You got Sam a salad, you a bowl, and Dean a burrito. You couldn't call and ask them what they liked so you took guesses and put some items on the side. You got chips and queso, and then drinks. Finally around six pm you were on your way back to the bunker, you don't know how you remembered where it was but you did. You drove into the garage and grabbed as much as you could carry and walked toward the library. When you walked in the boys were just staring at you. Slightly pissed, annoyed, confused, and relieved. You set down the bags handing them the bad of food and drinks. Then started to walk away when Dean asked, “Where are you going?”

“There's more in the car.” you pointed behind you.

“More?” Sam asked. You just nodded and walked back returning with two more bags and a big ass mirror. You walked past them saying you'd be back and dropped the bags off in your room before returning to the library for dinner.

“Dude where were you?” Sam was the first to ask.

“Doing some soul searching.”

“At target?” Dean mumbles with a mouth full of food.

“Yeah, the beach, the nail salon, a tattoo shop, target.” You purposely leave the smoke shop out.

“Well I’m glad you're back.” Sam smiles before taking a bite of his food. You look at Dean with your eyebrows raised. He pauses, swallowing, “I'm glad youre not dead.”

“Dean!’ scolds Sam. you touch his arm telling him it's okay.

“Well that's an improvement I guess. You're welcome for the food Dean.”

“Yeah this is great!” Dean says between mouthfuls of his burrito, “I’ve never had this.”

“You’re welcome. I took a guess. They kinda have something for everyone. I just took guesses on what you guys would like.”

“Well you did great y/n, clearly Dean thinks so too.” This gets Dean's attention and he sits up stiffening, making himself look hard, and not pleased.

“Yeah, yeah, it's good.” He says

“Two seconds ago you said it was great!” You say calling his bluff. Sam and laugh as you leave Dean dumbfounded on what to say.

“So y/n did you have a good day then?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I, uh, needed to find myself again and figure out how I wanted to go about things. Since I’m stuck here I might as well get comfortable. And on trying to figure out what to tell you guys, I'm still working on that. But I am feeling better.”

“Well that's good. I-”

“- So you're still useless.” cuts in Dean. Sam slaps the back of Dean's head, Dean gives him a look, “What? It's true!”

“Ugh, yes for now I am useless Dean. But I was hoping that you boys could train me so I'm not so useless. I'm a quick learner.”

“No, no way.”

“Dean,” Sam warns, “I’d be happy to train with you.”

“Dude she's a hundred pounds soaking wet, she's probably never seen the inside of a gym.”

“Okay.” You laugh, stand up and take off your shirt and flex for him, “I have been weightlifting for four years. I have what we call a sleeper build. And you’ll never know how much I weigh jackass.” You throw your shirt back on. Sam and Dean’s mouths are hanging open.

“Close your mouths boys.” They snap shut.

“Okay I'll take it back.” Dean says now, eyeing you up and down, “We can see what youve got tomorrow at seven am.”

“Make it nine, I won't wake up that early.”

“Deal.” Sam says before Dean can get a word out.

You grab the other bags and head to your room before getting lasered, putting on music and decorating your new room.

Boys POV

“Seriously I did not expect her to be jacked like that.” Dean says.

“Me either, but she showed you up.” They laugh, “You know she's technically twenty-two in this world, but twenty-nine in her world?”

“What?” He almost chokes on the beer. Twenty-Two, how?

“Yeah it's 2024 in her world. I don't know how she retained all her muscle though because some of her tattoos are missing that she got when she was older, and she said her face looked younger. Maybe Amara had something to do with that?”

“I mean maybe, it would make sense. Every aspect of her changes except what matters in this world?”

“Yeah I mean it takes a long time to build muscle like that.” They sit back in silence for a bit before hearing the music coming from down the hall.

“I’m glad she's feeling better.” Sam says.

“Yeah she actually had me worried for a second.”

“You were worried?”

“For a second!” He defends, “I just, I know I said some things, I still don't want her here, but, I think I could've been nicer.”

“You think Dean? I mean did you even think that what you said probably made her stay in her room for a week?”

“Sam, we already went over this. I'm sorry.”

“Did you say that to her?” Dean looks towards the hall. He sighs, getting up and heading to your room. As he gets closer he hears you singing along to Unwritten. He stands outside the door for a while, listening to you sing, debating what to say. After two more songs he knocks.

Your POV

Shit. I can't talk to them. I'm high. Shit. Okay. Breathe. Just don't say anything.

Another knock, “Y/n?”

Fuck! It's Dean! I can't talk to him.

“Y/n? Please open the door?”

Okay, okay, y/n, you can do this, I can do this. You open the door giving Dean a smile. Dean looks at you funny. Fuck are my eyes red? Maybe he thinks I’ve been crying. Crying to Rich Girl By Hall and Oates? I don't think so. Fuck we’ve been standing here staring at eachother for like a minute.

“Dean?” Is all you get out. You fully open the door revealing the boxes and the half set up room you have. He takes a look around for a second.

“Looks like you’re getting comfy?”

“Is that a problem?”

“ No. Just saying.” Dude I cannot do this right now.

“So?”

He sighs sitting on your bed. He makes a face before lifting his ass up and reaching under the blanket pulling out your baby blanket. All the color drains from your face.

“No!” You jump towards him trying to get it out of his hands. He falls back on the bed and now you're straddling him reaching for your blanket. He is holding it out of your reach so you elbow him in the stomach distracting him enough to get it out of his hands. You grab it and hold it to your chest.

“Jesus Dean, you can't go grabbing a girl's baby blanket without her permission.”

“Baby blanket?” He laughs, panting a bit from the struggle.

“Yes Dean, if you must know, it's the only thing I have from my childhood and I love it more than anything. I will murder you if you ever touch it again.”

“I'd like to see you try.”

“Dont fuck around and find out.” you warn him, “Why are you here?”

“Um.. I’m here to apologize.”

“Go on,” You cross your arms while still holding your blanket.

“Can you at least put the blanket down? I can't take you seriously.”

“Nope.”

“Fine.” He sighs, “I'm sorry for what I said. I was harsh.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I mean it's not okay. I just think that was a shitty apology.”

He scoffs, “well apologies aren't my thing.”

“Yeah I know, that's not an excuse. So try again or get out.” Suddenly you were feeling very sober.

“Fine. I'm sorry I was mean and made you lock yourself in your room for a week.”

“I mean that's not why I locked myself away but go on.”

“Go on?”

“Yeah Dean go on you still got more to apologize for.”

“Like?”

“Here try this, ‘Im sorry y/n for having my head shoved so far up my ass that I couldn't be nice to you for even a second. I'm sorry y/n that I called you useless, said I didn't want you here, that I didn't care about you even on a human level, and I'm sorry that im only apologizing after you showed me that you had potential and after Sam definitely told me to apologize.’ There Dean try that.”

“I mean.. You said it all.”

“Yeah now you say it. Just apologizing for being a jerk doesn't mean anything. You need to be specific.”

“Okay.” He sighs and goes on to actually apologize for everything you mentioned. Even thanked you for dinner.

“Much better. You are forgiven.”

“Really?”

“Yeah that's how this works. You apologize, I forgive you, then you don't do it again.”

“So we're cool?”

“Yes Dean, we are cool.” He gives a slight smile as he stands up and walks towards the door. You go to shut the door and he turns around, “one more thing,” He holds up his hand and you just look at him, “Are you high?”

“Uh- No definitely not.” He squints at you. You slowly shut the door and whisper, “not anymore.”

“I heard that!” He yells.

You went to bed that night feeling hopeful about the future for once. Dean was clearly still apprehensive about you but he was trying.

Part 2⬇️

[thornsnvultures]

Already There

Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x plus size!fem!reader

cw: slight angst, 950 words

a/n: a short follow up to my fic Ooey Gooey after Bucky leaves with Sam. I've had this 2/3rds written for like 5 or 6 months now 🙃 finished up the rest of it for @the-slumberparty 's week two prompt: Write a drabble/one shot as a continuation to one of your previous works. Based on the song "I'm Already There" by Lonestar. divider by @/firefly-graphics

Bucky can't sleep. Anxiety seeping through his bones. His body isn't used to being on the road for this long anymore.

Sitting at the edge of the too soft, too small bed in just his boxers. Even though the room is cool he's covered in sweat from a night of tossing and turning.

Bucky runs his hands through his hair and thinks of you. How your warm smile can wipe away all his worries. It's why he starts every day with you at the general store. And why he feels your absence so strongly now.

He wants to see you.

It's been days but it feels like years. His phone is a brick, built for making emergency calls out in the middle of nowhere, not video calls like Sam's fancy new iPhone. It still has an antenna for fuck's sake. Until you, Bucky didn't have a reason for a real cell phone. He knows Sam wouldn't mind Bucky using his but Bucky's not waking him up so he can tease him about giving his sort of girlfriend a call at one am.

So Bucky sits there, contemplating. He scratches his stubbled jaw, worrying at his lower lip. Would you even pick up this late at night? You said you'd answer no matter what, but this is different from his usual 9am calls when you're already up and most likely at work.

"Fuck."

Sam stirs behind him on the other bed but doesn't wake. Bucky throws on a pair of sweats and heads for the door to the balcony, grabbing the brick on his way out.

The cool night air wraps around Bucky his sweat slick skin feeling tight as he closes the sliding glass door. There's not much of a view, just the parking lot of this old motel and the fog dense trees beyond.

But the moon, she's nearly full and so, so bright.

Bucky takes a deep breath and dials your number, pushing away thoughts of whether or not he deserves to hear your voice right now. It doesn't matter, he can be selfish for a moment.

The phone rings twice and in those short seconds Bucky's heart rate skyrockets almost painfully until, finally, you answer.

"Bucky?"

The breathy way you whisper his name makes his stomach tighten. It's a moment too long before he responds.

"Hey."

"Everything okay?"

Bucky can hear your sheets rustling, the switch to your lamp clicking on as you presumably sit up in bed.

"Yeah...yeah I'm sorry for waking you. Just couldn't sleep."

He hesitates, the frayed drawstring hanging from his sweats unraveling even more as Bucky plays with it while he takes a deep, shaking breath.

"I -- uh, I wanted to hear your voice."

"Oh."

You sound surprised. Bucky hesitates.

"I'm sorry, it's late I'll let you get back to sleep."

"No! No, it's okay. I'm glad you called."

"Yeah?"

"Of course, Bucky," your giggle makes Bucky smile, feel that warmth spread through his chest again like it did the last time he saw you. Filling him to burst with that one sound.

"God I miss you, sugar. Sam's keeping me up all night with his snoring."

"Oh, no. Is it that bad?," you gasp in mock horror.

Bucky smirks as one of Sam's snores rattles through the glass door behind him.

"The worst, sugar. He could wake the dead."

"Should'a sent you off with ear plugs, huh?"

"Mm, you'll have to remind me next time."

Bucky pauses at the prospect of a "next time", of leaving you again when he's just got started loving you like he's wanted to for what feels like forever.

"I miss you, sugar."

"I miss you too, Buck," he can hear your sweet smile. It makes his heart ache.

Bucky's throat feels tight. He didn't know how much he needed to see your beautiful face every day until he left.

"Is it silly to feel this way? Like I can't breathe without you here."

"It's not silly," you sniffle on the other end of the line and Bucky almost regrets saying anything.

"I can't wait to feel you again. Take you in my arms and not let you go."

You laugh into the receiver and Bucky can't stop from smiling.

"Sam will have to pry me off you with a crowbar to get you off me and back to the Mill."

"He's welcome to try," Bucky practically snarls.

"I love you, Bucky."

He swallows the lump in his throat, taken aback by your sudden admission.

"I know you're having a hard time, but I'm right there with you, sleeping under the same moonlight and wishing you were right here with me. It's not silly. You're not asking for too much. And I miss you way more than you miss me."

Bucky scoffs at your teasing and wipes at his eyes. "No way, sugar.

"Prove it to me when you get back, then. Show me how much you missed me when you see me again and we'll decide then."

"I love you, sugar."

"I know. Make it back home safe so I can have you all to myself."

Bucky adjusts his sleep pants, imagining all the ways he can have you just how he wants to.

"Get some sleep, Buck. I need to know you'll be safe out there on the road."

"I will. I promise."

"Good. Good night, handsome.

"Goodnight, sugar."

Bucky hangs up, giving the antenna a satisfying click shut. He takes one last look at the moon before heading back inside and crawling under the covers. For the first time since before his accident, Bucky falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. And he dreams of you, bathed in moonlight.

[kelin-is-writing]

ONE LAST THING I SWEAR TO GOD- I HAVW SHIT TO DO TODAY BUT I HAVE YOUR BLOG NOTIFS ON AND I CANT HELP MYSELF

he regularly gets nightmares you left him or disappeared and he wakes up crying more than half the time 🧍he's sent himself into a half-asleep panic attack more than once.

:)

I'm making myself sad and you're coming down with me -🎃

I— THIS IS SO FUCKING— I’M SO— YOU— WHAT DO I— LISTEN—

I’M CRYING OKAY?????? I’M. FUCKING. CRYING.

poor baby he looks like someone cold, distand and who’s better off alone to others, but he’s actually someone who chooses wisely who he keeps close to himself which is why most of the time dabi keeps everyone at an arm length distance. yet when you come around his defenses are all down and he just wants to be with you so much. that’s why he gets super clingy, chasing you around and holding onto you for dear life.

dabi doesn’t have that great of a self-esteem (thanks to that piece of garbage), he didn’t even think he could make you stick around him for this long.

he lives in constant fear of failing you, too.

but that somehow made dabi hold onto you tighter and his love for you only grew more as day went by, which mixed with his fear of you leaving him brought us to our poor boy starting to have nightmares where you leave him and disappear into thin air, leaving by himself in a dark space where there isn’t your warmth to comfort him.

this has him let out a sob not only inside his dream but in real life, laid beside you, too. his breath starts to get heavy and sobs start to erupt more frantically alarming you, who are now sat up looking at dabi worried, while his body is spasming as he calls out your name, begging you to not leave him because he can’t live without you.

after you put gently your hand over his forehead moving some strand of hair, that had sticked to his skin from the sweat, dabi wakes up with an hoarse raspy gasp making his eyes flicker around the room in panic before they settle on you and just like that relief washes over him at once.

you were there with him. you didn’t left. and that was the only thing that mattered to him.

he swallowed thickly covering the upper part of his face with his palm, trying to collect himself, apologising for waking you up and saying that you could go back to sleep now.

you pressed your lips in a thin line while lowering your upper body onto his encircling his neck with your arms, telling him that there’s no way you could go back to sleep peacefully when he’s suffering and while feeling tears come to your eyes you add that there’s also no way on earth that you would even just think of leaving him, biting back a sob as you bury your face onto his neck.

dabi stood there for a second with wide eyes before hugging your waist tightly, muttering about how of course you ain’t leaving him that’s because he ain’t gonna let you go.

[makethemhoesmad]

all for me

hannah hidalgo x reader

i’m so sorry

—

the second the door slams to my apartment, i know im in for it. hannah and i drove to the bar separately, so she was driving right behind me. she backed me to my room, slamming the door behind us and shoving me to the bed.

“you had no fucking right to let him talk to you like that” hannah said, ripping my jacket open and tearing off my shirt. “it’s not your place to tell me tant! he was hot, and was being nice. so shut the fuck up with your whining anmmmpphhh” i’m cut off by hannah climbing on top of me and shoving her tongue in my mouth. she pulls my sweats down my legs, one of her hands whispering between my thighs. “listen here slut, i don’t care how loud you are, i don’t care how much you beg. you aren’t cumming until i let you, and if you do it before, i won’t touch you for a week.” 

i whine at that, biting at her neck. she hooks her fingers around my panties and pulls them off, then brings her fingers back up to her mouth and sucks. i look at her with wide eyes, reaching up to pull off her shirt. she helps me, taking off her pants as well. “look at you, so desperate to see me naked, a pretty little whore all for me.” she takes her fingers away from her face and press them lightly into my core. she ghosts over my clit with her thumbs, and mouths at my tits. i squirm under her, trying to push her fingers further into me. she ignores me, almost seeming bored. i whine softly, trying to get her to look up at me.

 “you see, i’m just training you. if you had gone home with that man from the bar, he would have fucked you like i am right now, barely helping you get off. he wouldn’t be able to tell your moans were fake. he’s never heard your real ones before. he doesn’t know that you scream when you cum. he doesn’t know that you need someone to rub your back and mess with your hair once they fuck you. i know that. only me baby, only me.” 

as she spoke, she had picked up her pace, leaving me shaking and sweating. i feel pressure building up, my hands grabbing at the straps of her bra. “don’t cum.” i slam my head back into the pillow in frustration. she hasn’t stopped her pace, but she’s moving her mouth from my tits to my clit, replacing her thumb with her tongue. she laps at it skillfully, knowing just how to draw desperate moans from my lips.

“mmhh you taste so good for me, so desperate.” her groans vibrate my pussy, making me cry out in ecstasy. “what did i tell you? don’t fucking cum. not yet.” she carefully adds in a third finger into me, pulling a gasp from my throat. 

“fuck fuck fuck hannah please please please let me cum i’ve been so good for you, i promise i’ll be good, ill be your pretty whore, juuuuuuuuhhh” i moan out, when she removes her fingers and replaces them with her tongue. 

“you can cum now,” she says, her words muffled. i pull a pillow to my face and scream as my orgasm washes over me.  she eats me out until i come down from my high, then promptly pulls herself up and starts grinding on my thigh. i lift my weak hands and place them onto her hips, trying to help her move. she gasps when she cums, then stands up and walks to the bathroom, coming back naked, carrying a washcloth. she wipes herself and me down, then crawls under the covers. i’m lying on my stomach now, legs spread throughout the whole bed. she places her head on my shoulder, drifting her nails over my back. i feel her breathing even out, then i don’t feel anything.

i wake up warm and content, streaks of light washing over my face. i inhale, catching the scent of coconut and vanilla in the air. a heavy arm is resting over my back, and when i shift, it tightens. the clock on the wall says it’s eight thirty, which means i am perfectly allowed to fall back asleep in hannah’s arms.

[aceofsages]

Hurt/comfort Enid has a nightmare that Wednesday has to wake her from and the comfort that follows

thanks for the prompt anon! <3

cw: gore (?), angst

(find on ao3)

------

Enid lasts four days without sleep.

They’re four exhausting days, filled with classes and extracurriculars and preparing for the Poe Cup again, and every single time Enid returns to the dorm all she wants is to plop on the bed and sleep for days. But everytime she closes her eyes for more than a second she sees blood and claws and big, terrible eyes; she goes off to the balcony and lets Wednesday’s typewriter lull her into a haze. 

(Winter break had been exhausting. Exhausting and horrible and filled with sleepless nights and passing out on the couch and waking up to Mom’s tirade.)

(“Girl, what the hell happened to you?” Yoko asks the third morning, and then wiggles her eyebrows. “Is Ms Goth Psychopath keeping you up?” 

“Yoko! It’s—we’re not like that!”

“Yet,” Yoko mutters, rolling her eyes.) 

But sleep is sleep is sleep; on the fourth day Enid thinks, just a few seconds, and makes the mistake of actually lying down on her bed. It’s just so comfy and god, was this blanket always so soft—

She drifts off.  

Blood. 

It’s always blood and it’s always Wednesday’s. She’s lying in it, covered in it, hair matted and sticking to her gaunt, perfect face; Tyler’s claws have torn her chest into ribbons of skin that barely connect. She’s always late, Enid’s always fucking late—or she never registers Wednesday as safe and she’s the one who kills the love of her life—she howls and howls and howls, attacks the Hyde with his inhuman, cartoon eyes, and Thornhill— 

Enid gasps awake. 

Thank God. It was just a dream. She’s shaking though, covered in disgusting sweat. Automatically her eyes fall to Wednesday’s side of the room. She isn’t there, and Enid sighs. Gets up to take a shower and immediately slips on something wet. She falls down and hits her tailbone hard. Fucking ow. Enid looks around to see what the hell she slipped on. The moon glints on the floor and Enid brings a hand to her face to push away her hair and—it’s bloody. Her hand is bloody. 

She blinks hard. Looks around. Wednesday’s neck looks unnaturally bent in front of her, Thing lies stabbed next to her. Her eyes are lifeless, her hand outstretched towards Enid. 

Enid screams-

“ENID!”

Enid wakes violently and almost claws Wednesday across her face. Only Wednesday’s inhuman reflexes save her. 

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry, did I get you—”

Wednesday blinks, and the action is so startling that Enid immediately shuts up. Wednesday’s hands are tight on Enid’s arms and the touch feels grounding and cold against her feverish skin. Enid almost wants to lean into her touch; since their hug, Wednesday’s been tolerant of Enid’s touches, but this is the first time she’s initiated it and shit, Enid almost wants to forget all about the reason Wednesday’s leaning over her like this.

“Enid,” Wednesday says, sounding flat and annoyed. “You were screaming.”

Enid swallows, viscerally aware that nightmares mean something different to the girl in front of her than it does her. “A bad dream, that’s all,” she says.

Wednesday hums. “Are they why you’ve been avoiding sleep?”

“I didn’t think you noticed.”

“I notice everything about you,” she says casually as if that sentence doesn’t make Enid almost swoon. “Now come on, I think Thing’s finished running that bath for you.”

Wednesday slides her hand down Enid’s arm, leaving goosebumps in her wake, and takes her hand as if she knows how much Enid will collapse if she doesn’t get some skin to skin contact. They walk there with their hands linked.

They stay quiet for a while; Wednesday turns away when Enid undresses and only turns back to her when Enid’s sinking into the bubbles. The smell of lavender hangs heavy in the air—probably Thing’s doing. The only sound Enid hears is the faraway sound of wildlife; that and Wednesday’s slow heartbeat, but that’s always in her periphery. She moves her hands along the bubbles, gathers them up and god, everything about this seems so surreal—did she trip out of a nightmare straight into a dream?  

“Have you ever had one? A nightmare?”

Enid winces; what the hell kind of question is that? Nightmares are for Wednesday what dreams are for Enid. She sneaks a peek at the goth. “I mean, not the kind you enjoy—”

“Once,” Wednesday says, cutting her off, like the answer is dragged out of her. She’s frowning a little at the tiles of their bathroom, her hands tight on the edge of their claw-footed bathtub. Her lips are pursed, and then she looks up at Enid, eyes as dark as the night-sky, unfathomable—and fuck, why does everything Wednesday do be so fucking intense? “After Nero. I taught myself how to lucid dream after that, on the rare occasions I decide to sleep.”

“Of course you did,” Enid says, fondness bubbling out of her for this girl in front of her. She wants to take Wednesday’s hands and press her lips to them, wants to pull her into herself, wants Wednesday to fucking break her and remake her into whatever she wants; Enid wants to let this girl do anything with her, as long as she gets to have her back. Enid wants, and she’s never been good with wanting. She always wants too much or not enough—been too much to ever be wanted, or been the wrong thing altogether. Even now, even after wolfing out, her problems haven’t magically disappeared, though she wishes they had.

But Wednesday’s a constant. She’s always fucking constant, immovable. Thornhill and Crackstone and even Tyler weren’t enough to crack her. She’s just as disdainful with the world, just as cold, just as insane—but she’s also now someone who’s here, comforting Enid in her own way when Enid knows, knows, she’d rather gouge her eyes out.    

It has to mean something. It has to fucking mean something.

(Enid will break if it doesn’t.)

“I’ll leave you to it,” Wednesday says after a few moments of Enid’s inner monologue of angst. “Viper’s in a crucial moment.”

Enid nods, swallowing her disappointment. 

(After Wednesday leaves, the nightmare creeps up on her. Enid cries in that tub, muffles her sobs; scrubs her hands hard, obsessive, even though there’s nothing to scrub away.)

After minutes, hours, days, once the water gets too cold to ignore, Enid gets up. At some point, Thing must’ve left her favorite comfort clothes near the sink. She pulls them on and pads out into the room, lethargic and loose. Wednesday sits typing, but stops as soon as Enid deliberately steps on creaking wood. It sends a thrill up her spine, knowing that Wednesday knows that Enid only steps there when she wants her attention. 

“Will you—” Enid clears her throat—“play the cello? Please?”

Her roomie turns and eyes Enid; she’d avoided the mirror, so Enid has no idea what Wednesday sees on her face, but she ultimately nods.

Enid settles down in her bed, arranging it to her liking, while Wednesday gets her cello out. But instead of going to the balcony, or even using their spare chair, Wednesday sits on the edge of Enid’s bed and looks at her. Her eyes are softer than Enid’s ever seen them.

(It has to mean something, she thinks desperate. Please god, let it mean something.)

“Any requests?”

Enid shakes her head. She scoots closer to Wednesday, curves around her but doesn’t touch her. Wednesday eyes her and says stiffly,  “You can put your arm around me, Enid.”

Enid gapes. 

Wednesday turns back to the cello, but Enid sees the tick of her mouth, and feels warm all over. She puts her arm around Wednesday and buries her head in her hip. She takes in a shuddering breath.

Soft cello tunes float around them, no song Enid can identify but feels in her bones.

They stay like that for a long while.

Wednesday’s hands bleed all over the cello, just like the blood in Enid’s nightmares, but Enid’s long asleep before then.

(It means something. It always meant something.)

[winniemaywebber]

oh bestie those domestic prompts are so sweet!!! Could I request 19 for Jean & Harry and 11 for Olive & Dougie?

hi pookie!!!! sorry for taking so long <3

under the cut to save space. from this prompt list (inbox is still open for these!)

19. I feel so safe and warm in our cozy little nest - Jean x Harry

“I need that heading, Crosby. NOW!”

“Yes, sir, yes, sir,” he shrieks, fumbling with the maps in front of him. “Aaah, fuck!”

“Croz!” Dougie yells. “Come on, man! Figure it out, we're going down fast.”

“I'm trying, Douglass!”

“CROSBY!” It's Kidd this time, his voice coming across as sharp as his features. Crosby jumps; a yelp would have escaped his mouth if he hadn't controlled it.

“256. TWO-FIVE-SIX.”

All Harry can think of is Jean receiving that damn letter. Who would write it? Bubbles? Harding? For a moment, whatever they had to say about him didn't matter. He imagines his wife's sweet face crumpling as her heart breaks, reading the notice of death. He feels his heart drop, the fort hitting an air pocket, Blakely and Kidd keeping the fort level with all their might. Then, a voice.

“Prepare for crash landing. Get in position!”

Harry Crosby ungracefully sits himself on the hard floor, his coccyx taking a hit, the rush of pain making him sick to his stomach. James Douglass sits behind him, tugging him back towards his chest. He hears the small clank of metal, ragged, anxious breathing as Douglass pulls the tags out of his shirt and kisses the one that bears his girl's name. As they tear and scrape through foliage, there is only one thing on Harry's mind. His eyes squeezed shut, tears spilling out, he begins to yell like a lost little boy, his throat tearing.

“JEAN! JEAN! JEAN–”

“Bing! Wake up, my love, shhh. You're at home. You're in our bed, darling.”

A sheen of cold sweat has covered his entire body. His wife's beautiful brown eyes full of concern as she hovers above him, wiping away the hair that has stuck to his head.

“Again?” he groans, taking her hand and kissing it.

“Yes, darling, again. You were calling for me.”

“Damn Bremen,” he sniffs, flipping his pillow as Jean softly wipes at his brow with a cool wash cloth.

“There, Binger. Deep breaths now.”

“Thank you, my little wife. Thank you.”

She smiles softly, her cheeks glowing in the dim light of the room. “Remember what our friend Olive taught us,” she sighs, pulling back the bedsheets to join her husband again. “Count to ten.” She sees him mentally count, breathing much less ragged than a moment before. “Better?”

“Much,” he murmurs, eyes heavy again. He feels Jean pull more blanket around his body, tucking him in and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, darling.”

“You're welcome. Remember, you are home. And I am right here beside you.”

“I know. I feel so safe and warm in our cozy little nest.”

“Good. Sleep now, my love.”

He lifts his head from the pillow, beginning to nuzzle himself into Jean’s neck. He breathes her in, arms wrapping around her as he feels himself drift off, absolutely cocooned in love.

11. Every morning I fall in love with you all over again - Olive x Dougie

A feeble cry echoes from across the bedroom, shocking Olive out of her unconsciousness. A gasp leaves her, heart pounding from the sudden transition of deep sleep to awake. Beside her, her husband wakes with a shocked snort, head rising from the pillow quickly.

“I've got her,” he sniffs, rubbing his eyes quickly.

“No, it's okay,” Olive replies, rubbing Dougie’s shoulder to soothe him back to sleep. “It's my turn anyway.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, voice muffled by the pillows.

“Yes,” she nods, kissing him on the cheek. “We'll see you when you come downstairs. I'll make coffee as the bottle heats up.”

“You're a dream, Mrs Douglass.”

She giggles, padding over to the small crib at the other end of the room. There, a small swaddled bundle cries mournfully, feeling awful sorry for herself and her gassy, hungry tummy.

“Hello, little chicken,” Olive speaks quietly, scooping the baby up. “Good morning. What a good sleep, hm? Papa swaddled you up good. Cozy girl, huh?” The baby's snuffles are muffled as she snuggles in Olive’s neck, the very same way her father does when he wants to be held. “Come on, little one,” she murmurs. “Let's get breakfast.”

With coffee brewed and baby Sophia’s first bottle of the day warmed to her exact preference, Olive sits in the cozy armchair with her daughter, using one finger to stroke at her face as she drinks heartily.

“Slow down, Sophia,” Olive urges, seeing Sophia's blue eyes - the same sapphire blue as her Papa's - begin to grow heavy.

“There,” Olive coos, feeling herself begin to doze too. “All done now.” She holds the baby to her chest, the warmth of tiredness enveloping her and catching her off guard, willing her eyes to try and stay open so she can properly kiss her husband goodbye before he leaves for work. The inner protestations are useless, Olive asleep with her chin resting on the baby's head.

She feels a blanket being draped around them both, and a soft hand raking through her loose curls. “Hey, mama,” James greets in a soft whisper, the hand now gently stroking his daughter’s deliciously chubby cheeks. “You look cozy.”

“We are,” she breathes. “Didn't even know I was still tired.” Patting the baby's back as she stirs at the sound of Dougie’s voice. The pair shush her gently, both of their hands colliding as they comfort their baby simultaneously. Olive looks up at him, lips pouted for her goodbye kiss when she sees his features begin to soften.

“What is it?” she asks, eyes narrowing comically before reaching up to kiss him.

“Just this. I love it. I see this and every morning I fall in love with you all over again.”

Noses touching, they smile, looking down at the small baby in Olive’s arms.

“I can't believe she's finally here. It's just surreal.”

“It really is. And it's perfect.”

[likecastle]

Cold sheets + ronance (please! xoxo)

I was going to write something sad for this, and then I remembered that I could just write smut LOL Thank you for this, dear @crushcandles! I hope you enjoy it! Thanks to everyone who's already sent me Stranger Things femslash prompts! I've already got a few more lined up, but please keep them coming! Explicit sex behind the cut. No serious warnings, although if the thought of someone putting their whole body weight on top of you isn't for you, maybe give this a miss. Also I guess it kind of vaguely counts as temperature play?

Robin wakes to find that the other side of the bed is still empty. When she slides her hand across the sheets, they’re cold under her fingers. If she listens carefully, she can hear the clatter of Nancy’s typing from the living room. So she’s still working, then, at—Robin squints at the luminous display of Nancy’s alarm clock—two-thirteen A.M.

Robin groans into her pillows and reaches blindly for the covers, which seem to have wandered off while she was asleep. The bedroom is surprisingly cold, the air raising goosebumps on the bare backs of Robin’s thighs. She rubs one socked foot against her ankle and whines. It’s not that it would be difficult to get up and pull the sheets off of the floor, it’s just that she’s loathe to give up what little warmth is left between her body and the mattress. Still half-asleep, she can’t stand the thought of getting all the way out of bed to retrieve the sheets, only to climb back in and find they’ve lost their last vestiges of heat. She’d much rather lie here and feel sorry for herself that Nancy’s not here to warm her up—just for a minute or two.

“OK?”

Robin cranes her neck to look over her shoulder, and can just barely make out Nancy standing in the dark doorway of the bedroom. She’s wearing Robin’s stretched-out old IU sweatshirt, which is oversized even on Robin, almost comical on Nancy.

“’S cold,” Robin mumbles, her sleep-muddled complaint coming out petulant.

Robin can practically hear Nancy’s amusement at her expense, but she just hunkers down against the mattress and says, “Someone should come warm me up.”

A moment later, the mattress sinks down beside her, and then Nancy is pressed against her back, so warm she’s almost a brand on Robin’s chilled skin.

“Like this?” Nancy murmurs into Robin’s hair.

“Mm-hmm.” The weight of Nancy’s whole body is delicious, pressing her hips against the mattress.

Nancy dips her head to nuzzle Robin’s neck and says, mock-saccharine, “Did you miss me?”

Robin whines again—pathetic in a different way, this time. “Uh-huh,” she says, and squirms a little for good measure.

Nancy laughs, and then slips one hand between, Robin’s body and the sheets, past her hip, finding the seam of her with unerring precision. “Is this what you want?” she breaths against Robin’s ear, her voice husky, not teasing anymore.

“Yeah,” Robin gasps, jumping under Nancy’s touch.

Nancy doesn’t hesitate after that, working Robin’s clit roughly in the tight space beneath her body. It’s unbelievable how fast Nancy can turn her on. Robin wasn’t even thinking about sex a minute ago, and now she’s aching for it, so eager for Nancy, and, fuck, it’s good, as she rocks her hips into Nancy’s touch, their combined weight bearing her down against the quick, sweet movement of Nancy’s fingers.

“Feeling warmer now?” Nancy asks, and all Robin can do is nod, sweating where Nancy’s breasts are pressed against her back, and slick between her clenched-together thighs. Her breath comes in shuddering gasps, flaring humid across the sheets. She feels wrapped up in Nancy, held, lit from the inside.

“I’ve been thinking about you all night,” Nancy breathes as she leans down to kiss Robin’s neck. “Kept telling myself that when I got to a stopping point, I’d come in here and wake you up so I could fuck you.”

Robin sobs, her cunt hot and tense under Nancy’s touch. Every inch of her skin tingles, and she feels sure if someone were watching, they’d see sparks crackling where she’s rubbing against the sheets.

“I can’t believe how good you looked, all sprawled out on the bed like that, waiting for me,” Nancy continues. “Almost makes me want to leave and come back, just so I can admire you some more.”

Robin fucks her hips back against Nancy’s hand, desperate for even more friction. “Nancy, please.”

“Please what?”

How can Nancy’s fingers move so quickly? Robin’s head is spinning, her hips trembling. “Please, please,” she gasps. She can’t remember what she was supposed to say.

Nancy’s breath is hot against her cheek. She’s hot, she’s so hot, she’s going to die of it, she’s sure. “Did you want to come?”

With a desperate shudder, that’s exactly what Robin does, a hot, slick clench against Nancy’s fingers, hips jerking helplessly. She feels Nancy buck on top of her, almost thrown off Robin’s back by the intensity of the tremor that shakes her.

“Oh, fuck,” Robin gasps, when she can breathe again. Nancy is still touching her, lazily now, with none of the wicked intent of a moment ago, just appreciating how luxuriously wet she is. “Fuck, Nance, you’re so good to me.”

Nancy kisses her hair, breathing in deep the scent of her sweat. “Not too heavy? Want me to get off of you?”

“Not yet,” Robin says, though her eyelids already drooping. “Just a little longer.”

[apurplenessie]

How would the 141 + Alejandro + Rodolfo + König React to a morning “help out”?

Part 1, Price and Rodolfo (fucked up order i know)

! GN reader! NSFW Content down below! MINORS DNI!

keep in mind i've never written for these characters before. Requests are more than welcome! 

Contents: graphic descriptions of oral m!receiving. Smoking, swearing. Lots of boners lmao. Yeah I know it can get repetitive but the prompt is limiting.  A little spanish.

Price: 

He’d be sound asleep. Returned late from a mission. Beard and hair otherwise usually kept neat a mess. 

He’d be warm like an oven, smelling warm and musky. The ghosting metallic smell seemed to linger even after countless showers. 

You would wake up in the morning, pale coral sunbeams coming through the blinds. Turned over to face him and see his handsome face in knots. Frustrated and tense even though he was safe now. 

In the movement you’d feel something against your thigh/stomach area. 

Oh

Didn't take you long to make the decision to help your man out. Besides, there was something magical in the early morning light. Rare, rare silence and warmth that was absent most days. 

He’d groan as soon as you moved out of the covers. A super soldier who’d notice anything even when he was sleeping, you chuckled to yourself. 

Pulling his underwear down his dick would practically jump in your face. He was rock solid. Pulling back to admire the view. Your lover in golden light. His ripped body, the smell of warm manly musk and sweat lingering in the air. 

He’d gasp as soon as you put him in your mouth. Shaken awake by your moving tongue. He’d lift his head up, heavy eyelids lifting to see who was touching him. As soon as he registered what was happening he’d drop his head back into the pillow and chuckle. His big hand landed on the top of your head. 

“Shit darlin’, what a way to wake up a man” 

Would light a cigar if one was laying out. Pulling you with him, so he could sit up and enjoy the view. 

He’d melt in front of you. The tiredness and the trust he had in you made him groggy. Tired groans left his mouth, the cigar askew and his head tilted slightly downwards to the side. 

Depending on your dynamic he would have a tissue out for you. Even in this state, he was enough of a gentleman to not make you swallow if you didn't want to. 

He’d finish in more what sounded like a moan than what he’d like to admit and pull you back beside him. The cigar smoke dragging you into its strong-smelling embrace. He’d mumble something about paying you back but pretty soon after you’d hear the sound of him putting out his cigar. He’d pull you back close to him and fall fast asleep. 

When he got up properly, he’d be more cheery than usual. 

“What's got Price in such a cheer after a mission” Soap would side-eye ask Gaz who’d shrug. Price would smirk over to you, stirring his coffee.

Rodolfo:

You both had taken a nap on the couch after watching the big sports game. 

It had been a great time but perhaps with too much heavy food and a little too much booze. You had not ended up drunk, but the combo had taken you both out, hard. 

You woke up first, a couple of hours after. The game had taken place in another time zone so you were up early watching it, but now the soft glow of twilight danced around in Rodolfo’s house. 

You spent a lot of your time here admiring his place. Initially, when meeting Rodolfo you’d thought he would be too caught up in his job to care about decorations, but it was gorgeous. Filled with colors and trinkets, and a ton of photos of his family. There were also walls dedicated to photos of his co-workers. Alejandro made an appearance on most of them. It was easy to tease the man with the old photos of him. 

“Awe baby you look so cute here, look at those cheeks!” You held a photo of him and Alejandro from what must have been one of their first missions together. 

“Cariño, please, I was 30 in that photo…” 

Now you were here, in your lover's arms. He was warm, and his sleep-heavy head was resting half on top of yours. The couch wasn't huge but it fits both of you well enough so you could both sleep on the side. 

You’d scoot a bit back because you felt the uncomfortable feeling of the couch slowly dragging you off it. Feeling the pressure on your lower back you initially assumed Rodolfo had a big belt buckle on… but it didn't feel like metal.

The friction you created would make him release a little gasp and tighten his grip on you. Oh… so that's what that was. 

You smirked to yourself, you’d help tu tesoro, por supuesto. 

Slowly snailing out of his grip, you managed to not wake him up. But you smirked at his arching brows as they signalled he noticed. 

You unbuckled his tight cargo pants, the motion of unbuckling them had him groaning under your touch, and you drooling. 

His underwear would bulge out as soon as you went to drag his pants down to his thighs. Removing his underwear revealed his semi-hard cock. It was as if it had a mind of its own and you could see it hardening. Felt as if you blew some wind in its general direction it’d turn to iron. 

You took him into your hand and jerked him off, feeling him squirm under you. You couldn't help yourself to giggle a little bit as you got a better view of his bedhead. Impressive how his short hair managed to stand in all directions. 

You grew impatient in the silence and took as much as you could of him in your mouth. He was warm and you drooled feeling him twitch inside your mouth. You heard nothing but felt a finger caressing your cheek. Looking up you got eye contact with your very own soldier. You released him from your mouth but kept working with your hands. 

You laughed at his expression being closer to a deep in slumber cat rather than your lover. “What's up Rudolf? Other than you of course.” He groaned, less out of pleasure, more out of annoyance of the use of That nickname in this moment. “Sorry baby can't let you have all the fun” You enjoyed the sounds he made as you licked around his tip. 

“Of Course mi amor, What did I do to deserve this regalo, hm?” He croaked, his voice raspy after a good nap. 

You didn't answer with words but showed your appreciation with your hands and tongue. Caressing his thighs, stomach, and balls. He groaned, and breathed with gritted teeth. 

As he came, he swore in incomprehensible Spanish. Rolling his eyes back in satisfaction. He came all over your face, in long white spouts. He hid his face in his arm, too flustered as you licked up what didn't get on your face. 

Embarrassed and butt naked (literally) he handed you a clean napkin from the table that was filled with leftovers. Before you were done cleaning, he had dragged your hips up on the sofa and was taking your pants off. He was too much of a mess to say anything, but the message was clear, he wouldn't let himself be the only one enjoying himself tonight. 

[princess-glassred]

Henry And Eddie Body Swap: Chapter one

The very first thing Eddie notices when he wakes up in the impermeable stench of B.O., sweat, and 30 year old juicy fruit gum. The second thing he notices is that he's in the back seat of a car he's never seen before, one he hadn't even seen when he walked into the Derry Townhouse and peaked at the parking lot.

He yawned, sounding distinctly hoarse, and groggily rubbed his eyes with a balled up fist.

Rays of that classic beautiful summer sun shot through the window above Eddie's head, the same warm sun he'd biked through woods and backroads with Bill and Richie when they were much younger men.

"Shit" Eddie thought "Where the are they anyways? Where the hell am I?" he looked around the beat up car, but it seemed to have no identifying information. The most he could glean from it was that, whoever drove this car had horrible taste in vehicles.

It looked like the kind of cheap 1980's car some gangster would snort lines of coke in, definetly not the kind of car Eddie would ever be caught dead in.

He leaned up and stretched, his back aching something fierce, even worse than it usually did with him being 40 and all.

He blinked a few times, finally snapping out of his sleepy daze, but unfortunately for Eddie, waking up more didn't answer any of his questions.

In a desperate need for something to focus on, his eyes eventually drifted down to his legs which were covered by a large greenish blue hoodie as if it were a blanket.

"Huh, some one must have put it on me when I passed out." he thought for a moment and smiled "Probably Bev." He laughed, then frowned at the unknown stains on the front of it "Couldn't she have gotten something a little cleaner though?".

He attempted to raise the hoodie up and off his legs but shrieked when he realized there was absolutely nothing underneath.

Well not nothing, he was wearing underwear, tidy whiteys to be exact, but he was still pantsless in the back of some strangers car, which was a predicament he hadn't been in since college (you'd NEVER hear that from him though).

Eddie shook his head as his cheeks flushed red with embarassment, then clumsily felt around for the car door handle.

He crawled out awkwardly like he was either drunk or had very limited coordination skills, nearly stumbling and falling down on his knees onto an unfortunately placed patch of mud.

He scanned his surroundings but found nothing familiar, he appeared to be off a backroad somewhere, far away from town and no doubt far away from the townhouse. He sniffed the air again, but the stench of old gum and sweat didn't disappear now that he was out of the car, so that definetly wasn't the problem.

He looked around a little more until his eyes locked onto the cars cracked drivers side view mirror.

There he was again, that Bowers asshole, no doubt back for more after his first failed attempt on Eddie's life.

He shrieked once again and fell backwards, actually landing in the mud patch this time, much to his disgust and dismay.

Suddenly, Bowers fell backwards too, and it was then Eddie realized how bizzarely deep his voice sounded now.

He looked around for Henry but still saw nothing, the only time he saw Henry was when he picked himself back up and Henry's reflection was once more inside the sideview mirror.

Eddie panted, "Get the hell away from-" a hand clapped itself over Eddie's mouth with a sudden gasp.

His voice wasn't just deep, his voice was familiar, disturbingly familiar.

So familiar it belonged to some one else, and it was no coincidence that Henry's reflection also clapped his hand over his mouth in shock.

In Eddie's mind this could mean only one thing, and Eddie really fucking hoped that he was wrong.

He raised his hand, and Henry followed perfectly, he stuck his tongue out and Henry did the same, heck, he even flipped himself off, and guess what? Henry still did it.

This wasn't Henry's reflection, this was EDDIE'S reflection, but it was HENRY'S face.

But he couldn't be Henry. He just couldn't. That wasn't possible. That was crazy. It couldn't be. Could it? There was only one way to be certain.

He took a deep breath and felt around the back of his head, fingers tracing down to the tips of his hair, which was much longer, thicker, and dirtier than before.

He grabbed the end of it, feeling clumps of tangles in the gross unkempt rat nest attached to his head.

Eddie let out a sudden jagged and shakey breath, as the horrible reality of the situation settled in.

"Oh my god..." Eddie mumbled, only growing more uneasy at the sound of his brand new voice "I have a mullet.".

Suddenly Eddie screamed like he'd just been knifed in the back and skittered to his feet, utterly terrified.

His eyes kept darting between the car side mirror, the ground and the wind sheilds, but every where he looked just drove him into more of a panic.

"This- this can't be happening!" Eddie shouted, but his distinct new voice solidified his fate, the very same voice that had called Eddie and many others slurs and condescending names all through out his childhood.

That was the fucking voice that was coming out of his mouth now, and Eddie still couldn't wrap his head around it.

He began to pant and heave like he was on the brink of an anxiety attack, patting at his clothing for his inhaler as if he expected it to be in Henry's clothes.

When he couldn't find an inhaler to calm his nerves he did the only thing he could think to do with his hands, start mindlessly pulling at his hair.

It wasn't like he could make it any worse, so why not start tearing out clumps? He'd look as horrible and ridiculous as he felt.

"Okay! Okay! Just calm down Eddie! Don't get too frazzled! The number one thing that always causes things to get worse is when they panic so just keep calm! You're okay! You're just- You're dreaming- no! hallucinating! You're hallucinating! Yeah, yeah, yeah! I'm hallucinating sights and smells and sounds and- oh god- What the hell is happening?!" Eddie buried his face in his hands and paced around the back road, in the midst of the worst panic attack of his life, utterly terrified and still pantsless.

He walked back over to the car and quickly found a pair of sweat pants Henry had been wearing the night before on the floor then put them on, a horribly difficult task for some one panicked out of their mind and in a body they weren't too familiar with.

As he put them back on he rambled under his breath various things that were supposed to be reassuring but just made Eddie more painfully aware of how nuts he sounded.

"It's the fucking clown, it's messing with me." He heaved "Yeah that's it, nothing to worry about, it's just a delusion brought on by a psycho killer clown with cosmic powers- that's way more reassuring and much more plausible-".

At this point Eddie was getting pretty sick of himself, but his panicked rambles just kept spewing out of him like a bunch of word vomit, in fact, he was pretty amazed he hadn't vomited already given the circumstance.

Henry's body was so different from his, his thighs were thicker, his arms were bulkier, his stomache had a bit more flab, and over all his body was just not very well taken care of, as opposed to Eddie who'd been paranoid about a variety of illnesses and health risks all his life and tried to take care of himself the best he could.

Henry likely did not have such an oppertunity, living in an asylum for the past twenty seven years and all, hopped up on meds that likely caused his weight to fluctuate like crazy.

It was then, in that moment, a disgusting revelation hit Eddie like a truck, and he realized that that awful smell had been coming from his new body all along, and this realization was enough to make Eddie gag on the spot.

"Jesus fucking christ Henry, don't they let you bathe in Juniper Hills? What the fuck." He complained, disgusted and totally embarrassed.

He grabbed the hoodie that was on his lap when he woke up and put it on, figuring he'd REALLY prefer to show as little of his body as possible right now, then got out of the car once again.

"Okay, okay- this is- absolutely fucking nuts- but as long as I keep cool i'll be fine... right?" He mumbled to himself, the unease in his chest finally dissipating a little.

He shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets and walked for what seemed like forever into town, already forgetting the exact directions to the Derry townhouse, despite living in this stupid shithole town for years and even running past that building on multiple occaisions as the asshole owner of the body he was in chased him down with a knife.

He was just kinda winging it, hoping he might find a way to get past the overwhelming embarrassment he was feeling at the moment and work up the nerve to ask the first person he saw for directions.

Unfortunately for Eddie, the first people he saw didn't look particularly helpful, and in fact looked like the kinda people Henry might have hung out with had he been born in the 2000's instead of '74.

They were a couple teenage junkies, wearing shitty band t-shirts with even shittier bands on them that Eddie was a little too old to know about and passing joints around.

Feeling a little bit intimidated by the teens raw "I don't give a fuck" attitude, he nervously swallowed but pressed on.

"Uhm- Excuse me." Said Eddie, a little tense, drawing the annoyed attentions of the teenage smokers.

"The hell do you want?" Asked the leader, a very rude lookin teenage girl with blue hair, a beanie, and about 20 piercings on her face and body.

Eddie awkwardly put his hands together and smiled, painfully aware of how terrible he was at talking to children, heck, even as a kid he could hardly talk to other kids, that's probably why he and Myra never had some of their own, even though Myra wanted one really freakin bad.

"Hey uh- sorry to bother you're... important business- but can I ask you all question? It'll just take a second." He spat out, trying and failing to sound casual.

The girl groaned as her friends rolled their eyes "No you geezer, you can't bum a smoke.".

Her friends mumbled and groaned in agreement, embarrassing and offending him a tiny bit.

Eddie scoffed in disbelief "Believe me, that's not my thing. I'm just... having an issue and I need some uhm-... input?".

The girl raised an eyebrow, then looked at her friends and shrugged "Fine old man, ask away.".

Eddie cringed a bit at being referred to as "old man" but continued with his question anyways "Do you-" he paused, he wanted to ask if they knew how to get to the Derry Townhouse but something else was troubling him, although he had nearly accepted this horrible scenario surprisingly quickly, a part of him still wasn't so sure he wasn't experiencing some weird ass break down or mental episode.

So instead of asking for directions, Eddie asked "Do i look... sensible?", baffling the teens that stood before him.

"What?" Asked the leader, admittedly caught off gaurd and highly confused by the question.

Eddie nervously laughed "You know, like, average height, clean hair cut, looks like a risk analyst because he is one? Sensible.".

The teen girl looked at him incredulously and scoffed "You're such a liar, you're high as fuck right now." she laughed.

Eddie waved his hands around and shook his head "No no no- i'm not on drugs, i've never even smoked before. Trust me.".

One of the girls friends, an emo lookin boy sacrastically leaning against a dumpster, decided to finally chime in with his own opinion.

"Dude, you look like a washed up 80's rockstar that had to quit his band cause of his meth addiction." He joked, looking Eddie up and down with the most judgey ass expression he'd ever seen.

Another one of the girls friends also decided to speak up, and she was not any nicer in her assesment of Eddie and the new body he'd been forced into.

"Seriously man, who the fuck still wears a mullet? It's 2016, cut that shit off. You look like a pervert." she insulted, making Eddie exhale out his nose.

"I know right! Like how tacky can you be!?" Eddie grinned, then stopped when he realized how that comment didn't make any sense now that he was the one with the crappy hair do.

He forced out an awkward laugh "I mean... to my barber.... because this is my hair, not some one else's, and I could totally cut it off anytime I wanted to." he smiled.

The teens exchanged weirded out glances for a second then looked back at Eddie as if they were all thinking the same thing.

"Dude, you are so smacked." The goth boy said, looking especially annoyed.

Eddie nervously laughed again, tensing his shoulders and awkwardly twitching his fingers "Yeah, guess I am! well, I best be on my way now! Just one more thing though, you kids wouldn't happen to have directions to the derry townhouse would you?".

The teens remained perfectly quiet at that, their bored and annoyed expressions already giving Eddie the answer to his question before he even asked.

He chuckled, cringing a bit "No I don't suppose you would- guess i'll just be going then." He turned around and started walking away dejectedly, murmurs of the pot smoking teens asking "what the fuck was that guys problem" and "who was he?" fading behind him the farther he got from them.

He plopped down on a random bench and leaned over, resting his hands on his knees.

His heart was pounding like it wanted to make a grand escape, and Eddie felt the horrible urge to jump out of his skin, or rather, Henry's.

He hung his head low and took deep breaths, closing his eyes to try and calm himself.

This whole situation still felt unreal, like some cliche plot you'd see on a Tv show that ran for too many seasons, but evidently it was real and there was no way to deny it.

He looked down at his own hands front to back, whimpering at the sight of the callouses Henry had from years of doing strenous chores for his dad and getting into all kinds of trouble.

Just then, Eddie noticed something strange, somehow even stranger than the fact he was stuck as Henry Bowers right now.

There was a scar on Henry's right hand, exactly like the one on Eddie's right hand from when they had all defeated the clown the first time around and made their blood oath to come back.

So either that meant A. Henry got the exact same scar on his hand at some point or B. Eddie's body scars somehow transferred to Henry.

He felt around "his" face and after getting past Henry's stupid stubble, noticed a cut on his face, exactly where Henry had stabbed him in the cheek the night before.

He glanced around, checking to see if anyone might see what he was about to do, but thankfully almost nobody was out on the street this early, and anyone who normally would be was at work.

He took a deep yet very uneasy breath "God, this is gonna be so weird, but I gotta check-" he winced.

With shakey and already kinda grossed out hands, he rolled up the shirt he had woken up in over Henry's flabby beer belly to search for another scar to prove his theory.

Low and behold, there it was, the large scar he had gotten when he was fifteen and had to get his appendix removed cause it was infected.

"Great, well I'm just gonna give up and assume nothing today is gonna make sense." he complained, rolling his shirt back down as crowds of people began to come out of shops and head downtown.

He stood up with a grunt and groaned at the predicament he found himself in, with out much else to do at this point Eddie just started walking in a random direction in hopes he might find the town house on his own.

The people around him side stepped and avoided him like he had the plauge, and a few even gave him weirded out and concerned looks that wounded what small shreds of his ego he had left.

Maybe they thought Eddie wasn't paying attention to his surroundings so they could judge him as much as they wanted with out him noticing, but Eddie did notice, and it hurt him quite a bit.

He'd never been looked at with such disgust before, and it made Eddie just wanna turn around and yell out "Hey man! I didn't choose this body! Don't blame me!" but of course, that'd be crazy and wouldn't really do him any favors.

He walked on, pulling his hood up and stuffing his hands into the pockets with a grumble, "This is probably the most embarrassing moment of my life." Eddie thought "The only good part about this is nobody knows it's me." but that second thought didn't sit quite well with Eddie, and suddenly he stopped walking, a surge of panic striking him like lightning.

"Wait- that's not a good thing at all, that makes this so much worse. How the hell is anyone supposed to recognize me when I look like this, fuck, what the fuck is bill gonna think? Or Richie? God, if Richie finds out about this i'll never live it down. If he believes me at all, they'll probably just think i'm-" Eddie looked down at himself and begin to hyperventilate again.

He wasn't sure what was more terrifying, the idea of anyone seeing him like this and knowing who he was, or nobody knowing who he was at all, both sounded absolutely mortifying though.

In his panic Eddie began to stumble around till his back was against the Derry electronics shop window.

He heaved, feeling his own throat start to choke him with every new Bowers sounding grunt and sigh, like a knife twisting deeper into your chest.

He raised his hands to his ears and pressed hard on them, wanting so desperately to be anywhere but here.

Luckily, a kind woman pushing her infant down the street in stroller stopped to take notice of the panicing fourty year old and tried to help.

"Sir, are you alright?" She asked, sympathetically putting a hand on Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie forced out a panicked laugh, but her touch did seem to sooth him a little.

"I'm- okay- i'm okay- I just need-" he turned his head to look at her and suddenly she screamed, covering her face with her hands and staggering back a little, much like Eddie had done a moment ago.

He blinked in confusion, a little stunned by her horrified reaction.

I mean yeah, Henry wasn't the most attrative guy, but it wasn't like he was a mirror cracker or anything, so this was a bit of an over reaction.

Then, more people began to stop and react in similar ways, their faces turning from run of the mill judgemental looks into terrified and downright fearful stares.

He turned his head in every direction to see what had happened to make everyone so scared all of a sudden, but there was no mistake to be made, everyone was looking at him and he just couldn't fathom why.

That was until Eddie looked behind him and got a glance at the shop windows display tvs, which all were blasting the exact same news coverage all at once.

Footage of men walking through a large hospital of some kind and carrying two bodies out on a stretcher played on loop, with large text scrolling on the bottom declaring "Deranged lunatic escapes mental hospital and kills two men, suspect still at large.".

Then, the screens flashed blinding white as a piece of paper with a police sketch was thrown up on the screen, a police sketch that was so realistic Eddie might as well have been looking in another mirror.

The scrolling text at the bottom turned into a large flashing warning, declaring that if any were to come in contact with this man you should do your best to run, hide, and contact the police immediately.

Eddie spun right around to look at the crowd again, who were now all backing slowly away from him in horror, even the woman who had put a kind hand on his shoulder was backing away with her baby like Eddie might run up and stab her right now.

He swallowed, the dread from before the woman asked if he was okay swinging back with a fiery vengance.

"Uhm- uh- uhhh-" Eddie stammered like he was attempting to make enough noises they might string together into a semi coherent sentence to get him out of this mess.

It didn't matter what he said right now though, nothing could undo the fucked up situation Henry had forced Eddie into, he'd honestly be better off just crying in a ball on the floor at this point.

Now the crowd was parting, parting to make way for some one specific to come and deal with their little "problem".

A police officer with aviator sunglasses and a patchy beard stepped forward, looking so reminiscent of Henrys dad Eddie might have laughed at the irony had he not been in such a terrifying situation.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" said the officer, putting his thumbs in his pockets and smacking his lips as he chewed on what was either dip or gum.

"Another nut job thinkin he can escape Maine justice?" He continued, and at this point Eddie was wishing he could spontaneously go blind and deaf so he didn't have to see or look at his new reality anymore.

The cop squinted and reached for his gun, seeming almost excited at the prospect he might get to shoot a maniac today, "Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way son." he grinned.

"I- uh- uhm-" Eddie stammered some more, and then, upon the realization he had basically no other option left, booked it the hell out of there.

He ran faster than he had ever ran in his life in that moment, the adrenaline and his pure fight or flight instinct made his urge to get out so strong it overpowered Henry's weak ass legs and Eddie's lack of atheletic expertise.

The crowd scrambled away from him as he ran, partly because they were afraid he was running towards THEM and partly because the cop started firing off shots willy nilly at Eddie's escape.

Everyone was in hysterics, but for Eddie that actually was quite helpful, as the cop and any other cop could hardly find him amongst the hoarde of terrified townspeople, especially not with him zig zagging through couples and families like there was no tomorrow.

He just kept on running and running, never once looking back to check on who was behind him or how far away he'd gotten, he just bolted until the adrenaline finally stopped pumping and his legs gave out.

He collapsed down on some gravel with a loud crunch and a wheeze, thankfully far away from any people who could stop and scream at him some more.

Eddie was lost now, in more ways than one, and it was all so awful he considered just laying there all day until he died of dehydration.

At least now that he was looking at the cold blue sky he could get his brain in order, with no cops shooting at him or passerbys to judge.

He could just think, and let his mind roll on with the clouds, although he still had no actual ideas on what to do about this.

He thought for a little, drawing blanks until his mind landed back on thoughts of his friends and what they could possibly be doing now.

And that's when Eddie realized something even worse than the fact he looked like Henry and nobody could recognize him, something much more serious and a hell of a lot more dangerous.

"If i'm in Henry's body and nobody knows it's me then- that means Henry-" Eddie stopped, not wanting to finish his own awful thought.

"Oh god-" Eddie wheezed out, "No- don't be ridiculous- that's impossible. That's not happening." he muttered to himself.

"Besides, even if it was, they'd know it wasn't me. They'd know he was acting different. Bill would know, Richie would definetly know. Right?" but no matter how much he tried to reassure himself, he couldn't believe it.

"Maybe- maybe we'll get lucky and the clown will kill him thinking it's me." he joked, but it wasn't really a joke, it was a sincere hope, because the only thing worse than never getting his body back, would be never getting his body back because Henry's fuckin living in it.