#let me know if there’s any trigger warnings I missed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

saintrosalyn · 1 month ago

Text

JAILBIRD

Ghost becomes pen pals with an inmate before deciding that he wants to adopt his little jailbird.

Word count: 4.1k

Tw: inmate reader, reader is kept as vauge as possible but is implied to be younger than Ghost, violence, stalking, ghost is a perv, p in v, oral (f! Receiving), creampie, spanking (once), orgasm denial if you squint, unprotected sex, NOT edited we die like men.

Edited to Add: Part Two is posted :)

Notes: Baby’s first fanfic, please be gentle. Let me know if I missed any trigger warnings or if you want to see more! I have an idea for a second part but I don’t know if anyone wants it, right now it’s tucked away safely in my drafts. Enjoy! :)

P.S. I’m thinking about making an ao3 account and publishing an edited version of this on there. I’ll link it if I do! I’ve already spent too much time procrastinating finals but christmas break is around the corner so who knows.

The letter came with the top serrated, already opened, as all your letters came. You mostly ignored them. There were a couple of programs that allowed people to become pen pals with prisoners but you’d been there long enough to know what they often contained.

Many of the women milked poor losers on the outside. Money given and sent. Promises of butterfly kisses and blowjobs whispered over the phone. Exchanges. Some were even able to sweet talk their honeys into giving bribes. Money passed into hands of guards, currency that was then exchanged for cigarettes, which were much more valuable on the inside than the bills used on the outside.

You don’t know why you read this letter. It certainly wasn’t the penmanship, a scrawled handwriting that lay between cursive and print. Maybe it was the blue pen, you’d recognize a Bic anywhere, or maybe it was the fact that it smelled a bit like top-shelf liquor.

It was rather blunt. But not in an obscene way. Simple and straight to the point as if constrained by an unknown word count. It wasn’t memorable, but what else was there to do? Pace your cell back and forth and wait for zoochosis to settle further in your bones. Close your eyes and remember what freedom tasted like before it dissolved in your mouth.

The pen they gave you was cheap, the paper even cheaper, but you were used to making things work. Your reply was shorter than his, than Simon’s, but it got the job done. If he wanted to write back he would. If he didn’t, well, the new prison guard was starting to get rather handsy with you. The time will pass no matter what.

___

His replies came in strange patterns. Some weeks you’d get eight in a week, other times you wouldn’t hear from him for a few months. It took a year for the first phone call of which lasted less than a minute and consisted mostly of him grunting on the other end and a schlick sound you pretended not to notice. It was his fourth phone call that he finally said a few words in a voice so low it made the phone buzz against your ear, tickling like a lover's breath. Eventually, you had some semblance of conversations, even if they were interrupted by a recorded voice warning you of the time you had left.

He told you he was a soldier and at first, you planned on cutting the whole penpal idea off. Even before you got arrested you hated bootlickers more than anything. But Simon grew on you, and your friends all suggested you get in his good graces to see if he could pull some strings. You would’ve felt guilty if he was anything other than glorified government property. Both of you were.

The first thing he gave you was a book, The Yellow Wallpaper, which was thicker than you remembered from the time you read it in school. It was only when you cracked open the spine did you find a pack of cigarettes inside, the pages carved out so your real present could be placed inside. You couldn’t help the smile that split your lips as you pressed one between your lips, not noticing the tiny S carved into it.

You thank him for the gift by whispering his name into the phone. A mantra, a prayer, it didn’t matter as long as you kept your voice breathy. He promises to get you more and you learn not to refuse him. At one point, you notice that little robotic voice doesn’t time you anymore. The guard who couldn’t keep his hands to himself was replaced with a woman, hair pulled back into a military-style bun. And you got an extra cookie with your meals.

It took a year for him to visit. You knew it was coming eventually, men are only fine with their imagination for so long before they crave something tangible. Hell, even you were curious about the man who wanted to sink his teeth into you. It almost felt like getting ready for a date. Butterflies dropped like lead in your stomach as you tried to tidy your appearance as much as you could. You smelled, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. The whole damn prison smelled like a county fair bathroom. The lack of air conditioning in the heat of summer just added a sweet BO tinge.

The first thing you noticed about Simon was his size. You had never met a man as big as he was. The next was the thick scar tissue that marred his face. Though, even without the scars you would be hesitant to ever call him handsome.

Intimidating.

That was what came to mind staring at the thick cords of muscle that covered his arms and the broadness of his shoulders wasn’t just genetics. And he just stared at you. You glanced at the phone that connected to his on the other side of the glass and back at him but decided against it.

You offered him a small smile and an awkward wave. It unnerved you. The focus and attention pinned you in place. Normally you kinned yourself to a tiger you saw at a zoo when you were a child. One that paced back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. A habit you understood all too well. But sitting in front of your pen pal you realized you were rather off.

Simon was the tiger and you were the bird that caught his attention.

It took far too long for the guard to come and collect you. For once you were grateful to retreat back to your cell, so much so that in your retreat you failed to notice the nod your warden gave Simon.

___

After that Simon met with you in person as often as was allowed. He never said anything and neither did you. Eventually, the novelty of him wore off. Humans were rather adaptable creatures, and you could only be scared of the man for so long before your body adjusted to him. Despite your silence, Simon didn’t appear displeased with you. In fact, it was almost the opposite of it. More gifts arrived.

A pillow, high-end shampoo, a toothbrush (that you had a strange suspicion was used before being given to you), nail polish, and more cigarettes. Some of the women were jealous of the attention given to you, others tried to get with you to share your bounty. Somehow you dodged most of the conflict. But you can only run so long while trapped with so many women.

When you showed up to your meeting sporting a bruised cheek and split lip the air quickly changed. Before you thought Simon looked like a predator.

You were wrong.

Fear coursed through your veins and you recognized the look in his eyes. Every woman in the damn place knows what a hunger for violence looked like. Slowly he reached out an arm, the sleeve of his hoodie riding up slightly showing off tattoos, before grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear. With a shaking hand, you did the same.

“Bird.” His voice was somehow deeper in real life than over the phone.

“You should see the other guy.”

His lips twitched.

There was something uncanny about his eyes. They weren’t brown, they were black. Obsidian. You realized that before, the first time you met him, he wasn’t trying to scare you. Though, you were pretty sure it wasn’t directed at you.

“Just a little spat is all Simon. Everything sorted itself out.”

All over a bottle of nail polish. Tempers run short in prison. You spend most of your days in a cell, and what little free time you get surrounded by the same insufferable bitches, it’s a mystery there isn’t more violence. For the most part, things were settled with words. The more physical an inmate gets the more time spent in your cell. There were some weeks where you spent twenty-three hours a day in that little room.

Simon let out a sigh as if dealing with you was the most insufferable part of his day.

“Did ye’ get medical attention a�� least?”

You nodded your head.

He gave a grunt.

That seemed to be his preferred method of communication with you. Caveman grunts and growls, the occasional moan over the phone he couldn’t hold back. You figured it had something to do with his job. He was quite tight-lipped about it, but you gathered he has co-workers (his squad? Platoon? What was the proper lingo?). Despite this, you were under the impression he spent the majority of his time alone. He always seemed more primal after those month-long stints of silence.

You always wondered how you would feel if he never contacted you again. Went out and didn’t come back. Would you assume he was dead? That he moved on to prettier things that aren’t locked away? Would it make a difference to you?

No. It wouldn’t.

Even now you got letters upon letters from other men. Though none were as giving as Simon was.

It was back to silence and staring contests that you were used to. The both of you slipping into a familiarity. He never put the phone back. Even when your warden came and escorted you back. You didn’t glance back at him.

Tucked away in your cell you didn’t get to watch Simon slowly rise out of his seat, chair creaking from the shifting of his weight. You didn’t see Simon lurk in the back as the inmates met with their loved ones on the out. Didn’t see him take notice of a particular girls with nails painted the same shade as his gift to you. The same shade as the tip of his cock.

___

The girl was transferred. For a singular moment, you thought Simon had something to do with it. Then laughed at the idea. Simon may be in the military, but you highly doubted he had anything to do with the bitch who got transferred. At least you got your nail polish back. It was a strange shade, and the idea of a man as big as Simon standing in an isle trying to pick out a shade made you chuckle, it was the thought that counted.

Time marched on. Penpals came and went but Simon stayed the consistent part in your life.

Eventually, the possibility of parole was on the horizon.

Freedom.

So close you could practically taste it.

Unfortunately, that meant a laundry list of to-do items. Court hearings, lawyers bankrolled by Simon, arranging for transportation and housing. Simon handled most of it. By now, the lingering guilt of using your soldier fiance had long left you. He seemed like the kind of man who needed to learn lessons the hard way, and entering a relationship with a felon was a lesson most didn’t need to learn. Still, he had been putting in quite a hard amount of work. He deserved a treat.

And after years of forced celibacy, you needed it bad.

The two of you would enjoy each other for a week or two. Simon would realize he made a mistake moving you in. He would kick you out. You’d pawn the ring he’d give you and use the money as a cushion as you landed, getting back on your feet. The two of you would go your separate ways and never see each other again.

Being in prison taught you a lot of things. Despite everything, patience wasn’t one of those lessons. The day you were gaining your freedom passed was the slowest part of your life. The checking, double checking, retrieving your stuff, checking again, until finally,

Finally,

You were outside. You were outside in something other than a uniform that stunk of sweat, there were no handcuffs. Anxiety crept everywhere. You wanted to get as far away from the prison as you could, if you breathed wrong a warden would drag you back. A pair of arms snatched you.

You looked up and couldn’t help but laugh, pressing your lips against his scarred ones.

“Fucking Christ your tall.”

He chuckled against your lips before taking them again, hands digging near painfully into your ass. The two of you somehow managed to walk back to his car peeling off one another before Simon peeled away, hand clutching the fat of your thighs as he drove.

“Never pictured you as a reckless driver.” You giggled.

The adrenaline and giddiness of being free hadn’t worn off yet. If anything it seemed to slowly be morphing into a different beast entirely. You pressed your lips against his bicep causing him to groan. You glanced up at him, watching as his jaw clenched weaving in and out of traffic in a way that was certainly not legal. You would’ve been worried about being pulled over if he wasn’t driving a military vehicle. They answered to a different police, or so he told you.

Eventually, he pulled into the yard of a house with an honest-to-God white picket fence. You smiled as you got out, curiosity creeping in about what his house was like. Simon opened the door for you, which would probably should’ve made you swoon at his gentleman-like behavior, but truthfully it was how he hauled you out of the card and dragged you inside that got your heart racing.

Impatient.

The door barely closed before his body was pressed against yours and his lips were pressed against your jugular. One of his rough hands slipped up your shirt, grunting when he found a clear path to your tits instead of meeting the edge of a bra. The other dipped into the waistband of your pants, running over your clothed cunt, no doubt feeling the wet spot against your underwear. Your hands slid over his arms, squeezing at the muscle, before slowly sliding them up and up, going to the back of his neck, a hand threading through his short hair the other cupping his face to kiss yours.

A large thumb found your clit, only the thin cotton stopped him from rubbing directly against it. He pressed down hard on it, causing your breath to catch in your throat, his thumb moving down your slit. The seam of your mouth parted in a moan and he used that to stick his tongue down your throat.

The kiss was obscenely wet, beastly as his spit passed from his mouth into yours. Before prison, you would’ve pulled away with a grimace. Too much tongue, too much teeth, too much. But your whole body was on fire, years of pent-up orgasms made you desperate for it all. For someone to press against you, to be inside you.

Simon was oh-so-convenient.

You tried to pull away, lungs burning enough to convince you that air was in fact a need, but the door stopped you. Pressed between it and Simon you had no escape. You whimpered against his mouth, again and again until he finally got the hint and pulled away, a string of spit connecting your mouths as if it too was reluctant to pull away from you.

“Bedroom?” You panted, though if he took you here against the door you would die happy.

Simon threw you over his shoulder and took his stairs two at a time before tossing you on his bed making you laugh. The caveman and his prize. Simon took the moment of being away from you to pull at the collar of his shirt. You watched in appreciation as it lifted higher and higher until it was discarded on his carpet.

His body was marred in scar tissue, muscle, and a layer of fat that made for a solid fine specimen of the male species. His pants were discarded next, and either he pulled his underwear down with them or he just wasn’t wearing any to begin with. You didn’t have much time to ponder that thought distracted by his hard cock.

Jesus Christ.

Big was an understatement, monster was the word that popped into your mind. It crossed the territory between delicious into scary. Large and thicker than you thought possible. You swallowed and for a second hoped he would forget about the blowjob you promised him after he gave you a pillow.

“Yer’ wearin’ too many clothes Birdie.”

Quickly, though not as quickly as Simon was, you wiggled out of your pants, shrugged off your shirt throwing it in the same pile as his clothes. He stepped closer to you, one large hand grabbing your ankle before retching you towards him.

He leaned down, mouthing at your bare tits, slobbering over them. The soft press of his tongue flicked over your nipple before he moved to the other and grazed his teeth over it. His hands were everywhere. He was everywhere. Impossibly big and pressed against you everywhere. Until all your senses were filled with him. As if Simon was the only thing that mattered in the world.

The artificial sun in your glass cage.

His mouth moved lower, nipping at your skin before he moved between your legs. He settled his body in between them, the calloused palm of his hands pressing your legs further and further apart until the stretch burned in the muscles where your legs met your pelvis. Quickly the pain faded into the background as he pressed a kiss against your bare clit, before taking it in his mouth and sucking. You felt the rough pad of his fingertips press against your hole rubbing against it but never quite dipping inside. Again and again, he moved it against you but never in you.

It was maddening.

You tilted your pelvis against his mouth, trying to coax his fingers into your welcoming body. He growled against your clit, removing his mouth causing you to whine. A sharp sting met your ass cheek and you yelped.

He spanked you.

“Behave.”

You never took the man to be hungry for anything other than missionary, but it seemed he had learned a few tricks over the years. He did have a few on you, you were sure of it. Your thoughts leaked out of your ears as he moved back up, slotting his hips in between your legs. Liquid lust ran through your veins at the sight of him rubbing his dick against your mound, a mess of your slick and his pre dragging along your pussy and up to your belly button. Your poor hole clenching around nothing at the image of how deep he was about to be in you.

You took a deep breath, mesmerized as he pressed the tip against your entrance, catching it before pressing himself inside. He went slowly, and you couldn’t help the moan that left you as he finally began to sink home. Throwing your head back you closed your eyes as he stretched your body out.

You weren’t a virgin before you were locked away, but years of celibacy made you feel born again. Hell, with the size Simon was even if you had fucked him before he would’ve made you feel virginal with the way he was splitting you open.

When you opened them again you caught his gaze, he stared at you watching your expression pinch as he gave small thrusts, working the last of him inside you. When his balls pressed against your ass you let out a shaky breath. You had passed your limit two inches ago but somehow Simon had managed to coax your sweet pussy to take the last of him inside. The pain of him had taken you away from the edge of an orgasm he was working you towards, but when his hand found your clit again you knew you weren’t going to last long.

If his shaky breaths were anything to go by Simon wasn’t going to last long either.

He kissed you again, this time it was softer. Sweeter. Made your stomach turn in a moment of guilt. It was replaced when he drew out of you, slowly letting you feel inch after inch leave your body, before slamming back in.

He moved again against you. And again. Building up a punishing rhythm. You couldn’t help the small ah ah ah’s that left your lips as he rutted in you. Your hips pushed against his, working with him as you both chased your highs.

His hand never left your clit, as if glued to it working in tight fast circles. His other hand traveled along your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Squeezing at your tits so hard you thought it might bruise, running up your bare skin, constantly moving and feeling. As if he couldn’t believe that you were real. That you were out of your cage and underneath him panting his name in his ear instead of against the end of a phone.

Your own hands wandered. Moving over his arms, God’s gift to you, his chest. But mostly they moved down his back, feeling his muscles move and contract under your hands. Before you left you would convince him to put a mirror over his bed, so you could watch his shoulders shift and move as he thrust inside you.

It was too much. The feel of Simon, the stimulation on your clit, the thick cock pistoning like a machine inside you, pressure built and built inside you. Your nails dug into his back, dragging down as he pushed you off that ledge.

Simon’s thrusts stuttered as he felt your walls fluttering around him, suckling at his cock, coaxing him. He came with a groan soon after you, painting your walls with thick globs of his cum.

You panted as he rested against you, letting his cock soften inside you as you ran your nails over the nape of his neck and caressed his short hair. It was oddly soft, comforting to run your hands over.

Simon began to untangle himself from you, slowly as if reluctant to part from your embrace. He moved to what you now realize was the on-suite connected to his bedroom. You could feel his cum start to drip out of your cunt and down your asshole, shifting at the uncomfortable feeling. You couldn’t find the energy yet to move, not even sure if your legs could support you right now. Simon came back to you, wash-cloth in hand, and began wiping up the mess he made.

“We’ll have to get a Plan B tomorrow.” You murmured as he crawled back into bed next to you.

Simon didn’t say anything, but he had always been a quiet man. He maneuvered the both of you until you rested under the covers, your hand running along his bare chest. Tracing his happy trail before moving back up, not ready to go again.

The adrenaline from before had worn off, leaving you suddenly exhausted. Sated and free you dozed off against him.

When you woke up again it was darker outside. Not yet the full black of night but rather the soft blue that came after the sun had only just dipped out of sight. Simon wasn’t in bed next to you. You rolled over with a sigh, sitting up and smoothing your hair. Thirsty you threw the covers off your body and padded across out of his room entering into a small hallway. There was a door directly across his room and with a shrug, you went into it.

It wasn’t snooping if you lived here now too. Even if you were only going to stay for a little bit.

The handle turned easily but the room was darker than you expected, no windows to let in any natural light. Your hands patted at the wall until you found the edge of a light switch, with a click the room was bathed in a soft glow.

Your breath hitched.

The room was bare except for a small desk and chair, the walls were covered in photos. Photos of you. Old photos, from before your prison stint. Mugshots. But what made your skin crawl were photos of you in your cell. You sprawled out on your uncomfortable cot. You sitting cross-legged across from your cellmate. Images of you in the cafeteria. Images of you in the yard.

You took a step back, then another, and another.

You flicked the light back off and slowly closed the door. You took a shuddering breath and yelped when you felt a chest pressed against yours.

Simon’s hands dug into your hips, pulling you tight against him.

“You look like you’ve seen a Ghost, Birdie.”

Poor little bird, trading one cage for another.

___

Part Two

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon x reader #ghost x you #ghost #simon ghost riley #reader is delulu in this

6K notes · View notes

reignpage · 3 days ago

Text

Bear Necessities

Synopsis: what life is like married to brown bear hybrid!Nanami Warnings: 18+ mdni, smutty, fluffy, cursing, established relationship, marriage, cunnilingus, blowjob, unprotected sex, baby fever, lactation kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise, dom!nanami, backshot, mention of fleshlight, sub!reader, possessiveness, threat of violence or harm, creampie, knotting, not proofread Word Count: 3.5k

Being married to Bear hybrid!Nanami means having to tip toe your entire relationship because he’s so tall. He does make the effort to hunch down for you, growling softly against your neck about how small and fragile his beautiful wife is. But he’s not always so nice. No, your Kento likes to tease, much to your chagrin.

“Sweetheart, I’ll be late for my morning class,” he remarks, peering at you over his glasses as you hold onto his shoulders for purchase, jumping to reach his face. “And you know I can’t possibly start my day without my morning kiss. You wouldn’t leave me waiting, would you?”

His words are sweet, always so sweet, but the way he’s pawing at your hips and dipping lower to squeeze your ass are nothing but. Lifting you up in one arm, he brings you face to face with his gentle grin, his pearly whites glinting in the morning sun.

“Hi, darling,” he whispers.

Savouring his soft lips and feeling the soft bristles of his beard, you mutter, “I’ll miss you, Kenny.”

“I’ll miss you too, my darling love. But soon we’ll be away for hibernation, yes? And then you’ll have me all to yourself for months.”

“Dada!”

Kento laughs, a big smile taking over his face until his eyes are crinkling in the corner. With you still held up by one arm, he opens the other for your two cubs to jump onto him. Kenji, the eldest, climbs up his huge back, biting onto his father’s thick neck and growling in challenge. Whereas, Mio sits politely in his other arm, chubby hand petting his beard with wide eyes.

“One of these days, we’ll all be too big to be carried like this, Kento,” you say with a sigh.

The glimmer in his warm eyes melts your heart. “That day will never come, my love.”

“Yeah! Dada’s strong,” Kenji argues, to which his little sister agrees, nodding furiously.

“Alright, alright. Dada’s got to go to work, so let’s not hold him up any longer, okay?”

Shifting his tie into to place, you bid him farewell, the warmth of his body still imprinted on yours. He leaves you one last kiss against your forehead, eyes roving over his family, with his eldest puffing his chest out to say he’ll take over the big bear duties now.

Satisfied, Kento is off to work and you jump on your kids, peppering kisses and attacking them with giggles.

“Let’s go bake some cookies!”

Bear hybrid!Nanami isn’t always so mild-mannered. Though he isn’t quick to be riled up, there are, unfortunately, certain things that seem to trigger those prominent animalistic instincts. For example, he’s not particularly fond of the your neighbour.

The single male is a husky who knocks on the door often, requesting sugar or dropping by gifts for the cubs. He’s completely harmless, if a little too bright and cheerful. In fact, you can tell he’s a good person, but that doesn’t matter for your husband. All males are a threat.

One evening, your neighbour knocks whilst Kento’s in the kitchen. Discussing the recent neighbourhood bake sale, you must have been gone far longer than your husband would have liked because he eventually appears behind you, impossibly taller and broader.

He casts a shadow on you and on the husky who only grins cheekily. Winding a paw around your waist, he snaps his jaws together, flashing his canines. The message is clear: leave his territory now. Your neighbour retreats back, giving you one last wink before the door slams shut.

Bear hybrid!Nanami buries his face in your neck, inhaling deeply in rapid succession, chest heaving as you’re pinned to the door. His hold on you is calculatedly light enough to not hurt but they do threaten to leave indentations should you attempt to push him away as he’s recollecting himself.

This doesn’t very often; something about that husky sets him off. You can’t say you hate when he’s like this. How could you when he’s shoving a leg between yours and caging you in his arms?

He’s shuffling his entire body against yours, rubbing his scent as thoroughly as he can. His thigh presses roughly against your moistening core. Gravelly, he groans, “Who are you married to?”

“You.”

A paw urges your hips up and down on his leg, seeking that tantalising honey from your insides. Kento stops inhaling, only to lick up the length of your neck, marking you so that there would be no confusion as to whom you belong to. His sharp teeth scrape the skin in warning — it isn’t enough for the others to know you’re his mate, you must know that too.

“Again.”

“I’m your wife. I’m yours, Ken.”

You cum just like that, shuddering against his burly chest, buried in his pecs. He rubs soothing circles in your back in apology for his aggressive behaviour. Without much regret in his voice, he admits, “I’m terribly sorry, darling. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do,” you mumble against his repenting lips, fingers pressing the wet streak that’s formed over his trousers. “I made a mess, sorry, Kenny.”

Glasses foggy and cheeks flushed, he shakes his head. “Nothing to apologise for, my love. You were, and are, nothing short of perfect. Always. Now, come. Let’s eat. The kids must be starving.”

Bear hybrid!Nanami goes through hyperphagia during the autumnal months, when the weather begins to become colder. He eats almost double his usual, consuming more berries and salmon — your grocery budget goes through the roof trying to keep his hunger satiated.

This does mean, however, that your husband stores more fat. But it isn’t an awful experience. Rather, it’s actually the sexiest thing ever. Seeing him grow rounder in his arms, his face, his stomach and his thighs is incredible. You notice the added weight when he lays on your chest at night, laying a possessive hand on your tummy.

He almost crushes you when he does that. At first, he simply takes extra care around you, making sure he moves slowly and carefully, but as the winter approaches and he grows even bigger, sleeping on you is no longer an option and you must lie on his chest, the hairs there tickling your nose.

You can’t keep your hands off Bear hybrid!Nanami in those months. Even as he’s sorting through papers in his office, you just can’t help but crawl under his desk and fish out his thick cock. It’s long, thicker at the base where those fuzzy blond hairs are than the curve. He’s even bigger as he’s bulking. There, in his base, is a little knot-like curve that makes your mouth water.

“Feeling needy, darling?”

You hum, teasing your lips against his tip. “For you? Always.”

He lands a heavy paw on your head, guiding your head lower. Taking him in, in any holes, is never easy. You have to mentally prepare yourself by re-familiaring yourself with his scent, his texture, and his taste by licking from base to tip, circling the head and peering up at him as his breathing becomes heavy. Only once does he begin releasing pained groans do you stretch your lips to engulf him.

“Sweetheart, go -ha- slowly,” he advices. “I’ll cum too fast if you’re rough with me.”

His thighs are so thick you palm them, eyes rolling back at the pudge there, still solid and firm from his strength, and the knowledge that he could crush you with them makes you so wet, you moan around his cock.

The growls coming from his chest vibrate the wooden desk you’re under, heady air puffing from his mouth as he curls his lips back, big arms tensing whilst he grips the wood with a deathly force, knuckles white. You hear it creak above you. You suck harder.

“Almost there, honey. Keep -ngh- going.”

When he spurts in your mouth, painting your throat with his seed, he thumbs at your bottom lip, smearing the wetness of both his cum and your drool all over your chin before he pulls it down to inspect your mouth. “Swallow it all, my love. That’s right. Such a good girl.”

During hibernation, the entire family is sluggish. The children sleep all day. Kento practically never leaves the bed. Though he’s eaten enough in the season before to only need to eat once in a while, the same can’t be said for you. No, you still need to eat three meals a day.

You know that. And your husband knows that, too.

So, why does he refuse to let go of you in the mornings, afternoons, and evenings?

Held by his brawny arms, one around your chest, groping your tit, and the other circling your neck, you literally cannot move. Especially not with the hefty thigh he’s thrown over both of your legs. The snow he senses outside urges his instincts to keep all sources of warmth with him, even if the hottest thing in your room is himself, with all the heat emanating from his huge body.

“Ken, I’m hungry,” you whine.

He huffs, no rebuttal escaping him.

His glasses have been safely tucked away in a drawer, and he’s wrapped tightly in a bulky sweater, hair all mussed up. He looks even paler during the winter, the only colour on his skin being the flush across his cheeks. Kento is the epitome of comfor during hibernation — it’s his favourite time of the year. He gets paid leave and so do you, the government understanding the importance of hybrids having support systems during such a vulnerable time.

With his cubs all safe and sound at home, just in the next room, and his wife by his side at every given moment, there’s nothing else he could possibly ask for. Except maybe for you to stop squirming to get away.

“I’m literally starving, Kento,” you grumble.

Bear hybrid!Nanami relents at the very last second, pulling those heavy limbs back enough for you to slide out from under them. You rush to the bathroom for your much needed reprieve and then head straight to the kitchen. Your husband had kept you captive until it was past lunchtime.

He is so ridiculously selfish during these winter months.

Careful to make as little noise as possible, you make a quick breakfast. Waiting for the bread to pop up from the toaster, all golden brown and warm, you tap your foot against the floor. It’s an odd feeling to rarely cook in the winter season — all year round, there’s practically never enough food for your husband and your children. Now, you pretty much only cook for yourself.

You may not have the bear instincts they do, but you are a mother. You have to constantly fight the urge to shake your babies awake and shove hearty stews and delicious pies down their throats. Whenever you sneak into their rooms, all you ever get are grumbles of complaint about how loud you’re being. And if you leave the bed too often to check up on them, making sure they’re still breathing, your husband becomes adorably irritated and carries them over to your bedroom, everyone piling on top.

“You left me waiting so long, sweetheart,” Kento grumbles into your neck, startling you.

Somehow, he had managed to creep up behind, bare feet padding quietly until he reached the kitchen where he promptly rested his weight onto you. Almost toppling over by the sudden weight, you yelp.

“Ken! Go back to bed.”

Skimming his nose against your neck, he hums, “Can’t sleep without my wife.”

He patiently waits with you, hugging you from behind as he practically dozes off on top of your head, steady breathing causing his chest to rise and fall, coaxing you back to sleepiness too. He reaches over, plating the toasts for you as soon as they emerge, wary they’re too hot for your sensitive human hands.

Taking your last bite, your world turns topsy turvy when you’re thrown over his shoulder, a large hand palming your thigh all the way up to your ass. Upon reaching your bedroom, he climbs in with you still clinging to his torso. You lay on top of him. He doesn’t complain about the weight, rather he groans from the feeling of you, all of you, keeping him warm and grounded.

“If you were a bear, honey,” he mumbles sleepily, hand rubbing your back, “those toasts would be enough to keep you in bed with me for weeks. How lovely would that be?”

Playfully, you retort, “You should marry one, then.”

“There’s no one else for me but you. Human or hybrid, you’re perfect. Just perfect,” he muses.

Grabbing your left hand, he rests it on his which lies on the pillow above his head. Your rings clink together as he clutches every part of you tightly, like you might disappear when he wakes up, like this marriage with you has been all one big dream.

What a sweet slumber and a bitter waking it would be.

“See you on the other side, Kenny,” you say absentmindedly.

Kissing the top of your head, he affirms, “Always.”

Once winter passes, Bear hybrid!Nanami returns to work and your kids go back to school, catching up with their friends like they haven’t been asleep almost the entire time.

The snow’s all gone and the frost in the air disappears, signalling a brand new start. Your cubs will grow bigger, whilst your husband shifts back to his normal size, still enormous and intimidating, but much more hardened. In the spring, that brings its own set of problems.

“The cubs are at their friends’, sweetheart.” Kento hugs you from behind as you stir a pot in the kitchen. You already know where this is going. You’ve lived through enough springs with the man to know that the bulge he’s grinding against your ass isn’t a simple expression of his love for you.

Sighing, you ask, “Isn’t two plenty, Ken?”

He growls, teeth scraping your neck as he squeezes every inch of flesh his paws can reach. “I’m a greedy man. I want more of you. I want one that has your eyes and your wit. And another with your hair and your humour.”

When he cups your pussy through your dress, there’s nothing you can say in argument before he places you atop the counter, hob off and food left to grow cold. He’s got something more delicious in mind.

He grips your thighs, legs spread to accommodate his wide berth. Leaving a big bite on your skin, a red mark begins to grow and the growl vibrating in his chest tells you everything you need to know. Kento isn’t stopping until your stomach balloons with his cubs once more.

“Smells so good, sweetheart.” He presses his nose against your clothed core, burying the tip on your clit. His mouth waters with the tantalising scent filling his senses. “Always smell so good. I can never focus when you’re around.”

Your panties are ripped apart in his claws, torn to shred but before you can even process the destruction, he’s already diving in, your wetness coating his beard. Kento laps up all the juice you produce, suckling that tight little bud, rolling it with his tongue to hear your moans.

You pull at his hair, so thick and luscious, and jut your hips up. The pleasure quickly grows overwhelming and you’re squirming away, clawing to find escape from the mind-numbing euphoria.

Bear hybrid!Nanami growls, throwing a heavy arm over your stomach and he gnaws on your thigh in warning. “Do not move. Do not run. I couldn’t bear it. Not right now, sweetheart. You will give me what I want and you will thank me, yes?”

Panting, you nod your head. “Yes, yes. I’m sorry, Kenny.”

Eyes narrowing, he licks up the bruise he’s planted on your thigh in apology before he dives right back in with greater vigour. He wriggles his tongue inside, his nose teasing your clit, and you cum, creaming right into his mouth. Your husband makes low noises of approval, grip on your body turning punishing.

Bones a mush, he spins you around, wrangling you into position. Kento doesn’t give you a second to even recollect yourself. Your back to his chest, he pulls down the neckline of your dress, cupping your tits with calloused paws.

“These will fill up with milk for our cubs and they’ll feed our babies,” he reminds you, pinching your nipples and you can almost imagine the sensitivity you’ll develop. “You get aches here, don’t you, darling? It’ll be alright. Your husband will take care of you, hmm? He’ll suck out all the milk so you don’t clog up.”

In one hard thrust, he shoves his length inside you. You gasp, eyes wide and jaw dropping. You feel so full. His long and thick cock is pressing against all the sensitive spots in your pussy, kissing your cervix. Your juices coat him, leaving shiny dew drops on the blond hairs at his base.

“Feel me here, my love?” He’s got a paw pressing hard on the imprint of his bulge. When he presses harder, you clench down, jolts of electricity tickling your spine. “Ngh, that’s right. That’s where our cubs will be. You’ll grow -god you’re so beautiful- round until you can’t see your toes anymore. Oh, and then you’ll need me to put your socks on and -so tight ha- tie your laces, right?”

“Yes, Ken!”

He’s pummelling deep inside of you, head rubbing against that spot that makes you cream even more. The force in which he’s thrusting is leaving you a shaking mess, having to cling onto the counter to steady yourself.

“I’ll protect you -ha goodness- and our family. Always. N-no one will harm you. You’ll always be safe with me,” he chants and you’re not even sure he’s talking to you. Kento can only plunge his cock inside, that bulge at the base inching its way in with no regard for how your pussy’s having to stretch impossibly to fit all of him.

You cling onto that one hand keeping your hips still. “Ken! I can’t. It’s too much!”

He bites your neck, digging into your skin. Those meaty arms wrap completely around you, and he’s lifting you up and dragging you down on his cock. Your head is lolled against his shoulder, limbs limp as he uses you like a glorified fleshlight.

“Nonsense. You’ll take it all in. You’ve done it before and you’ll do it again. For your Kento, yes? For your beloved husband? For your Kenny?”

You scream as your orgasm washes over you like a tsunami, snatching you under until you’re left panting for breath, vision blurring from the tears cascading down your cheeks. He licks one that trails down your jaw and the salty taste, coupled with the almost painful squeezing of your sloppy cunt, pushes him over the edge.

Spurts of white paint your quivering walls, your clit throbbing as he shudders against you with a prolonged growl.

“So good. Always so good for me.” He makes a satisfied noise, grinding his hips deeper inside to plug up your pussy, keeping all of his seed inside. “What would you like, honey?”

You already know what he means and you don’t hesitate to answer, slurring, “Another boy and girl. So that we’ll have even numbers.”

His laughter rumbles and he kisses your neck, lips sliding through the sheen of sweat. He’s still holding you up with ease. “That would be nice. If we only get one boy, we can try for a girl soon after, and vice versa. What do you say, my love?”

You’re almost asleep, thoroughly exhausted even as your pussy still spasms around his thick cock, sensitive from the warmth of his flesh and his seed. Mind elsewhere, you can only reply, “Whatever you want, Ken.”

“Don’t say things like that, sweetheart. Because you know if I had it my way, you’ll always be pregnant and our house would be filled with mini yous all the time.”

The image causes him to throb inside you, cock not softening but rather getting bigger somehow. And when he begins rocking his hips once more, you know he likes the idea a little too much.

You go for rounds after rounds until you’re leaving a trail of cum as he carries you over to the bathroom, where he takes you again and again, eating up the overflowing mixture of your combined essence.

Bear hybrid!Nanami never needs to try hard to convince you for anything. All he needs to do is flash you that soft smile and flex those huge muscles and you’re creating a sloppy mess in your panties. And he knows when he’s charm has taken the effect he intended. His sense of smell is so powerful he can tell when you’re growing needy from even across the house, where he chases you and pins you to the ground.

The next hibernation is spent taking care of newborns. A boy and a girl. And oh, how proud is your husband to have given you exactly what you wanted. His heart couldn’t be any more full. Except for a couple months later when he’s pawing at your breasts again.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk oneshot #nanami kento #nanami x you #nanami x reader #jjk x you #nanami smut #Jjk hybrid au #hybrid au #Nanami hybrid #Nanami fic #Nanami oneshot

2K notes · View notes

loves0phelia · 2 months ago

Note

hello! hope you’re okay after the ending, honestly I don’t think any of us are.

I wanted to request a rafe x pogue reader where it’s that boat storm scene and instead of Sarah falling it’s reader and she’s just drowning and Rafe jumps in after her. He doesn’t know why he did it but he just has a soft spot for her and it’s just really angsty but also cute.

thanks! I love your account btw!

In The Sea

Summery: the anon

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: grammar mistakes

A\N: thank you to everyone who has been requesting it makes me very happy xxx

You stand at the edge of the deck, clutching the railing as the boat rocks, waves rolling against the hull. The salty breeze whips your hair around your face, and the peaceful ocean sounds made you think about the current situation.

You didn't expect Rafe to save you and your friends from being arrested, much less expect him to find a boat big and resistant enough to drive you all to Morocco Africa to find the blue crown. It was truly a surprise considering you and Rafe's history.

“So what? Are we just on our way to Africa now?” Kiara asked the group as if she couldn't believe that Rafe Cameron was willingly helping them.

“Quick little weekend trip?” She added to her previous sentence.

“What about Rafe? We know what he did to the cross and now we want to go after the crown with him?” You and the rest of the pogue's lips go into a thin line at the memory.

“Sarah, you're his family, how do deal with him” John B said, finding no other options.

“I don't- I don't know, I think maybe y/n might have a chance of convincing him to behave but..” she shrugged and you felt the stares of your friends burn holes through you. Your past relationship with him was a secret to nobody.

“We- we just have to talk to him, or at least try” You proposed earning a frown from JJ.

“Talk to Rafe? When has he ever just communicated with us?”

“Talking to him is the only option we have, but you're definitely not talking with him,” John B said and as expected everyone nodded and hummed, agreeing. JJ was in no place to talk with Rafe.

“Why not? What did I do?” He asked, getting almost frustrated.

“We all know you and him are far from being civil, the last thing we need is you triggering him and causing trouble” His girlfriend, Kiara, tried to explain the easiest way but he still got defensive. After a couple of bickering from JJ and John b You finally decide to go speak with him, who was driving the boat not too far away from the deck.

“Hey,” You knock on the metal and rusted door before entering and walking up to him. His eyes catch yours and there's a tension between the two of you. But Rafe only tilts his head to acknowledge you.

You swallow, feeling the weight of his stare. "We just want to talk," you say, steadying your voice as the rest of your friends beside JJ follow behind you.

“All right let's talk” Rafe chuckles, and it’s low, almost a whisper.

Your mind goes almost blank as you take him in, you haven't been this close since you were forced in the same room by Sighs men last year. You had almost forgotten how much you missed him.

“You guys be cool I'll be cool” His voice snapped you out of your daydream, realizing you had missed a bit of the conversation.

“So now you want peace?” Pope leaned back and scoffed, not believing a word that came out of his mouth.

“I just saved all your asses, how about a thank you?” He glanced at all of you one by one, but he only earned silence,

“Listen I don't want any part of your little fairytale treasure hunt bullshit, I'm just looking for Groff” He’s breathing heavily, holding himself back from adding more snark,

“Hey, Rafe!” Before anyone can react, JJ’s fist flies through the air, cracking against Rafe’s jaw with a force that echoes.

Rafe’s head snaps back, his expression stunned for a split second before he crumples, hitting the hard metal floor. For a moment, everyone is frantic, staring at the lifeless form sprawled across the floor, his eyes closed, completely knocked out.

“holy shit”

“Jesus JJ what's your problem”

“Whoo that felt good” Tired of JJ's crazy actions the girls walk away shaking their heads in disbelief until you are the only one staying behind.

JJ stands over him, breathing heavily, the adrenaline still pulsing through him as he looks down at Rafe. His fist is red, already bruising, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“What is wrong with you?” You look at him, feeling a rush of shock mixed with panic. You fall to your knees next to Rafe and quickly look over his injuries, softly rubbing your thumb on his jaw. “If he didn't do it I was going to do it” Pope added only worsening the situation. You shook your head and furrowed your eyebrows at his sentence.

After the pogues agreed it was probably not a good idea to let Rafe free in case he woke up and decided to shoot you all with his “peacemaker” you tied him up in a small cabin. His head hung low, his wrists were bound to a stainless steel pole and his legs were uncomfortably folded beneath him. Your heart clenched at the sight of him but still decided to leave him there until he woke up.

You open the door to the cabin slowly with a tray of warmed-up canned spaghetti in hand, it wasn't the best but it was all the boat had.

“I brought you food..” You whispered before bending down to place the tray in front of him.

“great” he sighed.

“I found aspirin in the medicine cabinet, I figured you'd have a headache, maybe even a concussion”

“Right… are you gonna throw it in my mouth like a seal or something” He scoffed again clearly angered,

“They don't trust you Rafe… but if you do the right thing maybe they will open up a little bit”

“I am doing the right thing! I helped you” He tried pulling against the restraints but failed.

“I know okay? I know but unfortunately, I don't have a choice but to let you in here until we get there, I'm sorry” you whispered and pushed the tray closer to him. “Please eat,” You said and left closing the large door behind you.

For a moment you stayed behind the door listening closely. “Y/N come back!” he grunts and kicks his feet on the ground. “Fucking untie me please!!” he screamed and you jumped when you heard the tray you had just put down on the floor fly into the wall.

Pope leaning over the side, is the first to spot the flicker of movement beneath the water. "Guys! I see one!" exclaims, his voice a mixture of excitement and focus. He scrambles for the fishing rod, almost knocking over the tackle box in his rush.

John B is right beside him, laughing. “We've got our dinner!" he laughs.

“Guys, this one’s huge!” Kie giggles with the boys knowing we were all set for dinner time tonight.

You all spent the rest of the day cooking the fish you caught and preparing side dishes with some good music in the background.

Until it was time for Rafa's second meal.

You open the door carefully and his eyes catch yours, this time you don't speak, simply set the tray of seasoned salmon down in front of him.

Has you were about to close the door you hear him.

“Wait, y/n. Can you please- can you give me the fork” his tone is much softer than before so you can't deny him.

You get down and pick up the utensil his bound hands couldn’t reach.

“Thank you” He murmured, and you barely heard him as you closed the door behind you once again.

The sky darkens ominously as thunder rumbles in the distance, low and threatening. Waves crash harder against the hull of the boat, tossing it with a force that leaves you gripping onto anything within reach. The storm monitor flashes red to show the storm coming ahead of you.

“That's not good,” John B says.

“We're gonna have to try to blast through it,” Pope says, not finding any better options.

“Why can't we go south?” Kie asks genuinely.

“The current is gonna be against us we don't have a choice” John B agreed even after trying to find safer options, the boat's roar has Pope push the lever controlling the engine to the max.

The waves make the boat shift side to side making it difficult to stay up and steady.

Another massive wave crashes over the side, drenching them all, and you lose your footing, sliding across the deck until Kie grabs your arm, pulling you back.

“Hold on to something” Kie yells at you pope and Sarah and you all grip onto the nearest thing.

“Hey!” a distant voice echoes through the walls.

“Cut me loose! Y/N! Somebody!” Rafe screamed and banged his fists on the wall.

“Get me out of here!” Everyone listens but doesn't move a finger.

“We have to let him out” You scramble to your feet but jerk back when Cleo grabs your wrist.

“No!” she says trying to stop you but you pulled back.

“He's gonna drown” You pull open rapidly the drawers trying to find something sharp, able to cut the thick ropes wrapped around Rafe's hands.

The storm is relentless, its fury tossing you around like a rag doll as you try to reach him.

You cling to the railing, struggling to stay upright as the boat lurches violently, nearly sending you sprawling across the floor. Your legs buckle under you. You come crashing through the door and walk onto the water-soaked floor knife in hand.

“Cut me loose” he begs.

Crouching in front of him you began frantically cutting the rope. Your muscles burn with how much pressure you're using.

“Shit,” You say when a sudden jerk of the boat makes your face come inches apart from his, lips almost touching. You don't have time to think as you regain your balance and continue cutting the bounds.

“There! Come on” you yelled and quickly grasped his hands to pull him up from the floor.

You both run to shelter but the boat jerks side to side even more violently,

“Something is wrong I have to go see!”

“No!” Rafe tried holding on to you but you were already rushing away onto the deck where waves came crashing, a massive wave rose out of the dark, towering over the boat like a shadow.

You barely had time to think before it crashed down, an icy, unforgiving wall of water that slammed into you with the force of a sledgehammer. The impact was too strong and you were thrown backward, landing hard on the deck. Pain explodes through your shoulder, the wind knocks from your lungs. Dazed and gasping, you try to get up, but the boat tips again, and before you can stand, another wave strikes.

This one is worse, merciless, catching you just as you struggle to rise. Your fingers graze the edge of the railing, but the slick metal slips through your grasp. In an instant, the world spins as you are thrown away from the boat, the cold, raging ocean swallowing you whole.

The water is a shock, freezing and chaotic, disorienting you as you plunge beneath the surface. You thrash, fighting to reach the surface, lungs burning, but the waves toss you back and forth, each effort to rise met with another rush of icy water.

Back on the boat, Rafe catches a glimpse of you disappearing over the side, and his heart stops. “Y/N!” he screams, panic cutting through the storm. Without a second thought, he scrambles to the railing, nearly slipping himself as he peers out into the dark, searching for any sign of you.

“Where is she!” Sarah came rushing to her brother

“She fell overboard” he yells already reaching for a rope with the floating boyee. He’s soaked, exhausted, and barely steady, but there’s no hesitation as he jumps in after you.

“Rafe no!” She screams after her brother.

A wave slams into Rafe. “Y/N!!” he yells in the water as he sees you trying to stay above the water far away.

With the last of your strength, You swim faster and harder towards Rafe and reach out when you're near, fingers brushing his arm, grasping it tight. Rafe holds you with everything he has.

“I got you” But you don't hear him in the storm.

You both hold on to each other your arms around his neck and his around your waist as the boat floats away and the night turns into a void.

“Hey, open your eyes, look at me” You feel gentle hands grasping on your face as you finally sit up coughing out the water that filled your lungs.

“That's it” The hands rub your back in a comforting way.

The sand is hot beneath you, warming up your skin, and with exhaustion, you fall onto Rafe's chest.

“Hey you okay?” panicked, he grabs onto your shoulder and pushes you a little bit to take a good look at your face.

“You jumped after me,” you whispered.

“Of course I did” You look up at him, heart pounding, feeling a rush of gratitude, fear, and something deeper—something that’s been smouldering beneath the surface, unspoken, for far too long. Your eyes shine with tears, not sad and not happy either but grateful.

His hand reaches up, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin. His touch is warm, and grounding, and you feel your heart racing even faster under his gaze, intense and unreadable, like he’s seeing you for the first time.

Without another thought, you lean in, closing the space between the two of you as you press your lips to his, a spark igniting into a wildfire the moment you connect. Rafe’s surprise melts away instantly, and he kisses back, fierce and unrestrained, his hands finding your waist.

The kiss is charged, fueled by adrenaline, and a longing that neither of you can deny any longer. Your hands find his shoulders, clinging to him, grounding you in his warmth, his strength, the feel of his heartbeat thundering beneath your touch.

Rafe’s fingers trail up your back, sending shivers along your spine, and his lips move against yours with an urgency that speaks of everything left unspoken.

When you finally pull apart, breathless, Rafe’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes searching yours as he lets out a shaky laugh, almost in disbelief.

“You saved my life” you smile, brushing a thumb over his cheek, still feeling the warmth of his kiss lingering on your lips. “I love you, I've always loved you” you whisper, and before you know it, you're kissing again, the ocean waves crashing nearby, the world forgotten as you lose yourselves in each other.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered.

Send request xxx

#rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron #rafe obx

2K notes · View notes

missrosegold · 1 year ago

Text

and if my body should fade i'll trust you with my soul part II

Part I can be found here

Synopsis: You’ve always been able to see the man with white hair and charred skin around your village, even though it seemed that nobody else could.

Or, you ended up making a deal with death, and now he’s come to collect.

Word count: 30k

Paring: Dabi x Reader (fem reader)

Warnings: Mentions of death, strong language, smut, so Minors or ageless blogs DNI. This is rated 18+ Additional tags listed below. This does take place in a somewhat medieval inspired AU so there are some misogynistic tones in some parts of the story.

Playlist: Sparky Deathcap – September (we got fire) instrumental version, slowed.

Thank you once again to the lovely @candycandy00 for editing this for me, and another massive thank you to miss @kimkaelyn for making the banner for me! (I love it so much!)

You sigh to yourself as you check medical supplies in your village’s apothecary, making a mental note to tell the healer you’re training under that you’re running low on Feverfew and Echinacea.

Fall has arrived in full swing. The dense forest that surrounds your town has changed its leaves from vibrant green to beautiful shades of red and yellow. It’s beautiful, but you’ve never been much of a fall person. You know what comes next. The autumn months mean winter is close behind, and you’ve never liked the cold. For some reason, you can’t shake the feeling that this upcoming winter is going to be a particularly bad one.

You shake your head and return to your task at hand, but you can’t stop your mind from wandering as you continue to take stock of the medical inventory.

After the mysterious disappearance of your betrothed, your parents didn’t try to engage you to anyone else, and you can’t help but feel relieved. Marrying one of the men from your village was never in the cards for you, a fact that you made very clear to them after your formal betrothal’s disappearance. You weren’t interested in marriage or raising a family of your own. Not right now, possibly not ever.

In the end, you decided to train under your village’s healer – a kind old woman named Chiyo, who’s been the town healer for longer than you’ve been alive – as a means of getting out from under your parents.

Despite word of your betrothal’s mysterious disappearance quickly spreading throughout your village, there had been some other potential suitors that had come to you after you had started training at the apothecary. While none of them were rude or malicious, you always turned them down with a gentle smile before sending them on their way.

Besides, none of them held your heart the way a certain pyromancer did.

You haven’t seen Touya for a few months now, not since the disappearance of your betrothed. You’re not completely sure what happened after Touya found him – you’re not sure if you want to know, even though you have a pretty good idea of what happened if the fresh burns he had come back with had anything to say about it. You know better than to ask though, knowing full well that Touya will never tell you the full truth, even if you already know without him having to say it.

You sometimes wonder if there’s anything left of the blacksmith’s son.

You know that you should feel shocked, horrified even, that your pyromancer was capable of doing such an atrocious thing. But all you feel when you think about it, is a strange sense of relief.

You wonder if that makes you a bad person.

Inwardly, you know it probably should, especially when the blacksmith came looking for his son not long after his disappearance. When he had asked you if you knew anything about why his son had seemingly taken off without so much as a word to anyone, you had said no, of course, because what else could you have said to him? It’s not like anyone aside from you could see Touya to begin with, and there no way to explain to the blacksmith the fate that had most likely befallen his son.

Regardless, all you knew was that you’d never see him again. Touya had made sure of that.

There are still search parties that go out every once in a while, looking for him and a part of you wants to tell them that it’s a waste of time, that he’s nowhere to be found, but you won’t. It’s yours and Touya’s dirty secret to share now, and it will stay that way until you take your dying breath.

You suppress a sigh as you take a break from checking inventory, and your thoughts wander back to Touya of their own accord. He had warned you that he wouldn’t be back for some time after he had brought you home – he had serious business to take care of in the eastern part of the country, and he wasn’t sure when he’d be back. You hope he’s doing well, wherever he is.

Your heart clenches when you think of him. You’re not sure what you are anymore. You told him that you loved him, and even though he didn’t say it back to you, you’re certain that he loves you too.

“You know why.” Those words have echoed in your head since he said them to you. You’ve known that the two of you have been bordering on the cusp of something for a while now, and that solidifies it.

You promise yourself that the next time he comes to see you, you’ll ask him what you are to him. What this is.

Eventually, Chiyo dismisses you in the midafternoon, and you find yourself taking the lonely path up towards Dabi’s temple. You’ve started going there a lot more in Touya’s absence. Ever since you kissed the white-haired pyromancer in Dabi’s temple, you had started making a habit of coming back to the derelict temple, in an effort to clean it up a little.

For some reason, Touya seems to have a fondness for the place, and you’re starting to understand why. Despite its outward appearance and dust covered insides, you’ve never once felt unwelcome in the temple itself. It’s calm and quiet, and the more you visit the abandoned shrine, you realize it’s really a shame that it was abandoned by the priests, because it was probably quite beautiful back in the day.

With that thought, you had decided to take it upon yourself to try and restore the temple back to its original glory.

When you had brought up what you wanted to clean Dabi’s shrine to the priests at Hawks’s temple, you had been met with disbelieving looks, as the temple itself had sat vacant for well over a century. But once you had assured them that you weren’t there to cause trouble, and that you only wanted to clean it up a little, they had relented, and even gave you cleaning supplies, telling you that if you needed help, all you needed to do was come and get them.

You had laughed to yourself as you took the cleaning supplies back with you to the temple. The only reason why you had gone to them in the first place was to tell them what you planned to do, regardless of whether they liked it or not. Hawks’s temple was the closest to Dabi’s, and you’d end up walking past it to get to the secluded shrine more often than not. The last thing you needed was them assuming that you were doing something strange, when it was the exact opposite.

You soon found yourself in front of the large double doors once more, but unlike the first time you had entered the temple, you didn’t hesitate to let yourself in this time, shutting them softly behind you. You set your shawl down by the entrance and take off your shoes to avoid tracking any dirt in from the outside. You breathe in deeply as the faint smell of incense hits your nose, looking around the large room with a content smile on your face.

It’s not perfect, but its far better than what it was previously. You’ve washed and cleaned the floors and walls, sweeping out almost a century’s worth of dust and other debris. You’ve scraped the ancient remains of melted candle wax off the alter in front of Dabi’s statue, and replaced the melted down prayer candles with new ones. You brought in some pillows and plush rugs from home that your mother was about to throw out, not wanting them to go to waste, and also wanting to make the temple more homey, in case anyone aside from yourself wanted to visit. You keep incense burning constantly to get rid of the musty smell that has always lingered around the temple, and it finally seems to be working. Lastly, with the help of two priests from Hawks’s temple, you were finally able to fix that damn hole in the ceiling above the statue of the Cremation God.

Now you’re at the temple to do one last thing: clean the giant marble statue of the Death God himself. You didn’t see much of a point cleaning it before the hole got fixed, but thankfully, the sculpture doesn’t seem to be very dirty. Still, you want to go over it, and wash down what you can reach – it’s only polite after all.

Besides, after what you learned about him from Touya, you figure that it’s not a bad idea to stay in the illusive god’s good graces--

“Hello Princess.”

You jump at the sound of a familiar smoky rasp, and whirl around, only to see Touya standing a few feet behind you, a smirk plastered across his dis-coloured lips.

“Touya! When did you get here? I thought you said you didn’t know when you were going to be back! Did you finish with whatever you were doing in the East early?” you gasp delightedly, as the tall man strides towards you. He shakes his head.

“No, the situation there is a bit more… serious then I originally thought. I’m probably going to be there for a while yet, but I had some time, and I wanted to see you.” He stops directly in front of you, and his smirk becomes softer. “How have you been? I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve been… keeping busy.” You tell him, lacing your hands together in front of you. “I’ve started working at the village apothecary. Chiyo runs a tight ship, but I’m learning a lot from her and she’s good to me.”

“What did your parents think about that?”

“Well… they weren’t pleased, but that’s more to do with me telling them that I won’t be courting anyone anytime soon. I told them I wasn’t interested, nor will I ever be. My mother isn’t happy, but at least she hasn’t forced me into any other engagements… not after what happened before you left.” You tell him honestly, and Touya only nods, his expression not giving anything away.

“Glad they’ve finally taken the hint. What else have you gotten up to, pretty girl?”

“Take a look around, you tell me.” You tell him with a tiny smile. You watch his brows furrow together in confusion, and he looks around the room, only for his eyes to widen, like he’s seeing the temple for the first time.

You watch as he investigates the plush rugs and pillows you have scattered around the base of the alter, how he takes in the sight of fresh prayer candles lit at the bottom of the statue – how clean and bright and warm you’ve managed to make it, since you were both here last. He seems overwhelmed, like he’s at a loss for words.

“I did it for you.” You admit softly, feeling your face heat up with your admission.

“You did this… for me?” he asks slowly, not looking at you, as he takes in everything that you’ve done. You smile softly at him even though he can’t see it.

“You seem to be pretty fond of this place, and you know so much about its history, I thought that maybe I could fix it up a little so I could have something to show you when you came back.” That gets his attention, and he fixes his azure eyes on you, locking you in place.

“You did this for me.”

“I… yes… Do you not like it?” you sputter, suddenly worried that you’ve done something wrong.

“No, Gods no. You did this for me.” He says breathlessly. “This is more than I could have ever hoped for.” He closes the remaining space between you, and his obscenely warm hands find your waist, while yours automatically come rest on his chest. “God’s you did this for me.”

“Yes.” You whisper. “Touya? I don’t understand--?”

The words die on your lips as Touya surges forwards and presses his rough lips to yours. You feel the grip he has on your waist turn bruising, as he kisses you hard and deep, bordering on desperate.

“I love you.” He tells you, pulling away momentarily to bring one hand up from your waist to cup the back of your neck. “I love you. You were the first person to see me in so long – I knew you were different, I knew you were for me, and then you did this-“

He smashes his lips back onto yours, and you wrap your hands around his neck. Normally, you’d be mindful of his burns, but you’re so engrossed in his feverish kisses that you squeeze him tightly, and feel him moan into your mouth in response. He pulls back slightly for air, and pants heavily against you.

“Let me have you.” He growls against your lips. “Right here, right now. Gods help me I can’t wait any longer. I need to have you. I need you.”

“Okay, I—okay—yes.” You hear yourself gasping, and suddenly you’re swept off your feet. You feel your back hit something soft. Turning your head slightly to the side, you realize that Touya has placed you down onto a small pile of pillows. The realization of what you’re about to do hits you full force, but you don’t feel scared. You want this, you want him. You’ve wanted him for a long time.

Touya looms over you, caging you in, and runs the back of a heavily scared hand over your cheek. You shiver from the sensation of his feverishly hot skin and the cooler tones of the staples in his hand running over your skin. He gives you a wicked smile, as he sits back on his haunches, and starts to push your skirts up, revealing your bare legs.

You lurch up and grab his hands, forcing him to pause. He chuckles low in his throat at your actions, and pries your hands off of his own, placing a kiss on the back of one as his azure blue eyes meets your flushed face. “Relax my love. Let me take care of you.”

“It’s just- I mean, I’ve never done this before. I’m-“

“I know.” Touya damn near purrs, and you feel heat pool in your belly. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll be so gentle with you, I promise.”

You nod shakily and lower yourself back down onto the pillows, as Touya hikes your skirts up, revealing your legs and bottoms. He groans deeply as he kneads the plush of your thighs. “Fuck Princess, you’re perfect. Just like I knew you would be.”

“You’ve thought about me?” For some reason, his words of endearment strike a chord with you.

“Of course.” Touya murmurs, coming up to kiss you briefly, before taking your hand in one of his own. “Whenever I’m away, or I’m in the middle of a mission – alone and lonely – I think of you.”

He brings your hand down to his crotch, and sure enough, you feel a bulge underneath his pants. “See what you do to me?” he growls as he releases your hand so that he can work on shimmying your panties down your legs. You go to move your hand away, but he fixes you with a stern look. “Keep it there. Don’t move until I tell you to.”

You nod as he hooks his fingers into the band of your panties and leans back slightly to pull them down your legs, almost ripping them off in his haste. As soon as the offending material is gone, Touya gently wraps his hands around you knees and pulls them up so your feet are planted on the ground, before nestling his way back in between them, not taking his eyes off of the junction in between your legs.

“Gods.” He whispers. “Fuck.”

You feel him throb in the thick canvases of his pants as he runs a finger through your folds, causing you to shudder and clench around nothing. “God love, you’re fucking soaked.” Touya hisses, as he pushes your hand away from his hardness and rips his cloak over his head, revealing his bare chest to you.

In all the years that you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him this exposed. His chest is a patchwork of scars and staples just like his arms and face. Most of the skin is dead and badly burnt, but you do see some spots where there are still glimpses of healthy skin amongst the mess of purpled burns. Just like you suspected, his body is lean but ripped with corded muscles that bunch and flex with his every move. He looks like he was built by a god – a god with a twisted sense of humor – but you could care less. You think he’s perfect.

“You’re beautiful.” You tell him honestly – not wanting him to think you were focusing only on his burns – and he looks almost bashful at your words, letting a small chuckle escape him as he gently picks up one of your hands to press a quick kiss on the back of your knuckles.

“Look who’s talking.” He fires back at you, as he uses his thumbs to spread your lower lips apart. It should be embarrassing how wet you are from a little teasing, but Touya looks absolutely enthralled.

“Is all this for me?” he muses to himself softly. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, he bends down and swipes his tongue through your folds, causing you to moan loudly and try to slam your legs closed on impulse, but Touya is faster – forcing them to stay open with a hand on each inner thigh as he continues to lap at your pussy.

You whimper involuntarily from the ministrations, and Touya squeezes your thighs as he comes back up. “I know, I know love. I can’t wait any longer either. Goddamn-“ he almost snarls; his hands immediately going to his belt, as he unfastens it and tosses it to the side somewhere.

“I can’t believe someone as beautiful as you is letting someone like me do this to them.” he mutters as he pushes his pants down to just past mid-thigh, allowing his dick to spring free – and through you’ve never seen a man’s cock until now – you’re certain that it’s the prettiest one that you’ll ever see.

It’s long and thick and curves slightly upwards. It’s as pale as the undamaged parts of his skin and you think it looks quite lovely. You’re a little nervous about the size of it, but Touya doesn’t allow you to look at it for long, before he’s lining himself up to your entrance.

You swallow thickly as you feel how big and hot the head is pressed up against your tight entrance, and Touya must sense your hesitation, because he drapes himself over you, supporting himself on his hands, as he takes both your hands in one of his own, and gently pins them above your head, stooping down to kiss you once more.

“Breathe.” He murmurs, his breath ghosting over your lips hotly. “I’ll make you feel so good. Just lie back and breathe for me, my love.”

And with that, he slowly pushes himself in.

The stretch is delicious and you know that he’s ruined you for any other potential man. But there’s never been anyone else, has there? From the moment you officially met, it’s always been him. It will only ever be him.

Touya is cursing above you, but you can’t hear him – too lost in your own pleasure. It isn’t long before he’s picking up a steady rhythm, his hips hitting against yours with a wet smack. You’re so wet from his earlier teasing that he glides in and out with little resistance, and you feel your legs starting to shake from the waves of pleasure he’s inflicting upon you.

“Gods, how are you so tight?” Touya groans as he leans down to capture your lips with his. You kiss him back eagerly, wishing that your hands were free so you could wrap them around his neck, but he only tightens his grip on them when he feels you start to resist against his hold. He pulls back after a moment to take in your pretty face and glassy eyes, his hips not slowing down, as they continue to rut into yours.

“You’re mine.” He snarls hotly, swooping down to suck a mark onto the junction of your neck and shoulder, causing you to cry out and clench around him.

“You’re mine- fuck it, you’re mine, no one else’s.” He sucks another mark onto the other side of your neck, and you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head, as something in your lower stomach snaps – the wet sounds of your union becoming louder as you cum around his cock. Touya’s hips falter for a fraction of a second as he registers what happened, before he the last shred of restraint he had snaps, and starts pounding into you relentlessly, ignoring your sobs as he stimulates your already oversensitive insides.

“When you told me… that they had engaged you to that bastard-” He hisses lowly in your ear, as you continue to sob. “-I almost burnt your damn village to the ground. How dare they try to take what’s mine?”

A dark look enters his blue irises. “I wanted to fuck you right here in this temple afterwards – send a message to your parents and anyone else who thought they could have you, that you were spoken for.”

“Touya- I’m-“ you barely manage to choke out in between sobs. Your body feels like it’s on fire from his words. You feel the tell-tale signs of another orgasm quickly approaching, and you didn’t think it was possible for you to feel so good with the way he’s now mercilessly drilling into your insides. You had talked with your married friends about sex before, that was a given, but even they didn’t describe it as feeling this good.

“Tell me who you belong to.” He pulls away, his eyes never leaving yours. “Tell me who you belong to, and I’ll give you everything.”

“You!” You manage to scream out, voice cracking as he hits a particularly sensitive spot in you. “It’s you! I’ve always belonged to you—you alone! I’ve only ever loved—Oh GODS!” you wail as you cum around his length again. The glint in Touya’s eyes become frantic and his hips stutter as you spasm violently around him. He finally let’s go of your wrists, in favour of grabbing your hips with both hands to pull you down onto him and meet his powerful thrusts.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He breathes. “Fuck love; I’m going to fill you full of me. Let the whole world – the gods – all of them, know you belong to me-“

You keen at his words, and he manages to grind out a breathy, “Shit-“ as he spills himself inside you, swooping down to capture your lips with his rough ones again, as he fucks his cum into you. You’re so blissed out, all you can do is wrap your arms tightly around his leathery neck, until his hips still; still buried deep inside of you.

Eventually you break the kiss, but Touya makes no move to get off of you. He moves his hands up from your hips, so he can take some of his weight off you, and rests his head on your collarbone, as he struggles to calm his palpating heart. You wriggle your hips and Touya grimaces, mouthing over one of the marks he sucked onto your neck.

“Wait.” He mumbles. “Give it a minute. It’s sensitive.” His comment pulls a laugh from you, and you feel him grin against your skin.

You stay joined like that until you feel his dick soften inside you, and Touya gently pulls out of you. You whimper at empty feeling, and close your legs as you feel a rush of fluid that you already know is a combination of both of your releases, leak out from in-between your legs. Touya smiles at your reaction, the staples in his face pulling slightly as he strokes the leg closest to him gently.

He rolls onto his back on the pillows beside you, and pulls you onto your side, so your head is on his chest. You listen to the rapid beating of his heart, and watch as his chest rises and falls with each breath he takes. It almost lulls you to sleep, but Touya suddenly speaks up after a moment, catching your attention.

“I am the only one allowed to see you like this.” He rumbles low in his throat, running a warm hand down your side, feeling the muscles jump underneath his touch. “No man, no one. You belong to me. I’ll take such good care of you.”

“But you’re going to leave me again.” You whisper, hating how you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “You said so yourself: you have unfished business in the East still. Who knows when you’re coming back…Besides… No one can see you aside from me. How can I possibly explain this to anyone?”

“It’ll be different this time, I swear it.” Touya shushes you, smoothing a hand over your hair. “I’m going to be in the East for a while yet, but when I come back, I’m going to stay here with you, for a long time. No more disappearing acts for a while.”

You lift your head off his chest to stare at him in shock, to gage if he’s saying it to make you feel better, but you see nothing but honesty in his eyes. He touches your cheek. “I promise little one. I’ll make it work. I will stay with you. For as long as I can.”

You don’t mean to, but you can’t stop the tears that well up in your eyes and spill past your cheeks at his promise, as you place your head down on his scared chest and cry. You don’t know how long you stay like that, but Touya makes no effort to get up – simply holding you close and murmuring sweet nothings into your hair as you weep.

It’s getting harder and harder to say goodbye to him every time he leaves. You feel like your heart is breaking inside of your ribcage, whenever he has to go. This time is no different, but it will certainly leave you feeling hollower than the other times that came before.

Eventually, once your tears have dried, you separate to get dressed and fix yourselves up. You’re straightening out your skirts as Touya tosses his dark traveling cloak back over his torso, obscuring his muscular chest from view. He must see you blushing, because he tosses you a grin over his shoulder at you, moving to grab your shoes and shawl for you from the front of the temple.

He kisses you as you wrap your shawl around yourself, and rests his forehead against yours. “Thank you.” He tells you, gesturing around the temple. “For doing this. It means more to me than you know.” You nod in response, and he intertwines your hands together as he leads you to the temple entrance and you exit together.

He kisses you deeply once more outside the temple. He has a pained expression on his face when he pulls away, and he looks like he wants to tell you something important, but something is holding him back. He’s quiet for a moment before he squeezes your hand.

“I need you to promise me something while I’m gone.” He tells you seriously, and you nod, signaling for him to continue. He sucks in a sharp intake of breath.

“Promise me that you’ll take care of your health while I’m away. If someone comes to the apothecary with a strange sickness, or any signs of odd infections outside of a normal fever – I want you to go home and stay there.”

You furrow your brows, not understanding what he’s saying, but one look at his face tells you that he’s deadly serious and it’s not open for discussion.

You agree that you’ll be careful, and you’ll keep your eyes open for anything strange, and that seems to put him at ease. He kisses you once more before letting go of your hand, and slowly backs away from you. Once he’s a good distance away from you, he smiles sadly at you, before a raging torrent of blue flames engulf him once more, and he’s gone.

Life in the village goes on as normal for the next two months. The brightly coloured leaves that once decorated the trees surrounding your village have started to fall off the branches with large gusts of wind as winter draws closer.

You throw yourself into work at the apothecary, grateful for how busy it keeps you. You haven’t heard anything from Touya for a while now, and you can’t help but wonder what’s going on in the East that has him so tied up. You haven’t heard any news from the Eastern part of the county in a long time, so if something big is going on, your town will probably be one of the last places to know. You don’t see much sense in worrying about it though, so you divide your time between visiting Dabi’s temple, and Chiyo’s teachings.

You’ve almost forgotten about Touya’s cryptic warning – until the stranger shows up in town one day. (Or rather, stumbled in – since he didn’t even make it three feet from the town’s entrance before collapsing in the streets, leading to several concerned townspeople finding him and bringing him to the apothecary for treatment)

He’s malnourished and sicker than you’ve ever seen anyone in your life. You and Chiyo spend days caring for him, with no results.

He dies one week after arriving in town, and is buried just outside of the village borders. An unfortunate tragedy, but you can’t save everyone. A harsh lesson that your mentor has drilled into you. You never even figured out what was afflicting him, though Chiyo think’s it may have been an advanced case of pneumonia.

At first, it was just him.

Then, another man got sick with symptoms eerily similar to what the stranger had.

Then it was two.

Then three.

Then twelve people in one day.

The number of infected only skyrocket from there.

Before you know it: there is an entire epidemic in your small town. Chiyo eventually figures out what it is, but by that point, eight people are dead and the number of people sick is quickly spiraling out of control.

Plague. The black plague of decay. Death.

Your parents beg you to come home, as they don’t want you around such a deadly sickness, and truthfully, you don’t want to be anywhere near it either – but you can’t leave Chiyo by herself. She’s the town’s only healer and she’s old. You know if something happens to her, the whole town is screwed, so you grit your teeth, mask up, and stay by her side.

For a while, things are going about as well as they can be. People are still dying at an alarming rate, but you and Chiyo somehow manage to stay healthy, and you keep trying to treat those who aren’t as sick the best you can with what you’ve got.

Then one day, you feel light-headed and nauseous out of the blue and you look down, only to notice an alarmingly dark black spot on your arm that you know wasn’t there the day before.

Everything goes downhill from there.

-----

Winter has arrived in your village full force, but you can’t see it. You haven’t seen anything outside of the four walls that make up your room for a while now.

You had caught the plague. The second you had shown Chiyo the black mark on your arm, she had immediately sent you away with some herbs crushed into a tablet for you to take to slow down the spread of the sickness.

Slow down being the key words. There was no cure for the decay plague. Once you had it, it was a death sentence. It was only a matter of time before it took your life.

Your parents had grabbed you and locked you in your room the moment they had seen you stumbling back from the apothecary. You hadn’t seen them face-to-face since. You only saw brief glimpses of them when they opened your door to slide food into your room on a tray, or when they came back to collect your dishes, though these days, you didn’t have much of an appetite.

They didn’t even have to let you back into the house once they saw the mark on your arm. But they still did without any hesitation. Despite knowing how ill you were going to become, they still insisted on taking care of you. You may not have agreed with their choices when it came to your personal life, but it was comforting to know that at the end of the day, your parents still loved you. Even if you went against everything they wanted for you.

A violent fit of coughing racks your frail body, and you automatically lift your arms to cover your mouth. When you pull your arm away, you cringe at the sight of red splattered across your forearm, before dropping it back down beside you on your bed with a muffled thud.

You can’t even look at your arms right now. Your skin, which used to be sun-kissed and clear, is now pale and speckled with ominous looking splotches of black, as the sickness makes its way through your body. You don’t even want to know what the rest of you looks like. You haven’t looked at yourself in a mirror since you were confined to your room. You’re not sure you’ll be able to handle what you see.

The room starts to spin around you and everything hurts. You close your eyes in a weak attempt to stop the jarring movement, but it does little to help you. Opening your eyes doesn’t make things better – your vison has become burry lately, and you can’t focus on anything anymore. Normally this would upset you, but you don’t have any strength left in you to care.

You know that you don’t have much time left. You don’t want to say it out loud, but you know your time is drawing closer. Based on the few times you’ve heard your mother – and on occasion, your normally stoic father – sob outside your door as they collect your untouched dishes, they know it too. You’ve held out longer than most people have, but you know that soon you’ll be making your way to the Underworld, it’s inevitable.

You only pray that all the visits you’ve made to Dabi’s temple over the last few months have paid off, and the Cremation God will be kind to you once he comes to collect you.

Dabi. His temple. Touya.

You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the thought of your white-haired lover, as a single tear falls from your eye, and crashes onto your pillow, humble and silent.

You’re never going to see him again. You don’t want to acknowledge it, but it’s true. As far as you know, he’s still in the East while you’re here, dying in your room. As tempted as you’ve been to use his name to call him to you one last time, you won’t.

Powers or not, you don’t want him to potentially end up with the plague too. Not to mention, you don’t want him to see you like this. You don’t want him to remember you sick and frail as you are now. You’d rather have him remember you fondly: full of life and happy. There’s no need to put him through that kind of anguish.

Still, it doesn’t stop you from wishing you could see him one last time-

Suddenly, your room feels unnaturally warm. It’s been very cold lately, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re dying that it makes your room feel colder than it should, but now your room is borderline sweltering.

You swear that you see a faint blue glow out of your blurry peripherals, followed by the tell-tale smell of something burning, before the glow dissipates into nothing. The intense heat remains and even though you can’t see very well, you know that someone is in the corner of your room.

“Who is it?” you manage to rasp out and you hear the stranger’s breath falter, as if they weren’t expecting you to be awake. The stranger takes three slow, purposeful strides until they are at your bedside, hovering over you. You blink hard, trying to see who the intruder is, but your vision must be getting worse, because all you can make out is a tall, white being above you.

You have no idea who, or what you’re looking at and are about to panic, until the figure bends slightly, and two familiar, warm, rough hands cradle your cheeks like you’re the most delicate thing in the world.

Choked sobs rack your body despite how much the movement hurts you, because you know who’s by your side, even if you can’t make out his finer features. Your suspicions are confirmed the second you hear his low, gravelly voice.

“Beloved… what has happened to you?”

“Touya… is that you?” you whisper, and you feel his fingers tense under you. His thumbs swipe at your cheeks, even though you can’t seem to make any more tears to shed.

“I’m here beloved. I’m here now.” he rumbles quietly. He falls silent for a moment, then you hear him ask “ Why didn’t you call me to you?”

He sounds… sad… heartbroken even.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this…” you trail off, not knowing what else to say. Touya doesn’t seem to know either, but from the way he sighs, you think he’s holding back tears as well.

“Did I not tell you to be careful?” There is no anger behind his words. Just defeat. You don’t think it’s directed at you though.

“I know.” You tell him, wishing desperately that you could lift your arms up enough to touch his face like he is doing yours. “It just happened so suddenly. There was a strange man who got sick, and then the next thing we knew, almost the whole town was plague-ridden. I couldn’t leave Chiyo by herself.”

“I know.” Touya sighs. “Are you… are you comfortable?”

“I can’t see very well anymore… I think I’m dying very soon.” You admit softly. You manage to reach up to cover one of his hands with your cold one. “You shouldn’t be here… as much as I love seeing you one last time, you might catch the plague as well – I don’t want that for you.”

“The plague doesn’t affect me. Don’t worry yourself about it.” Touya murmurs gently, and you swear you faintly see something red and thick, roll down his face. He leans down to press a light kiss to your forehead, and you’re not sure why, but suddenly your vision clears, and you’re able to see the best you have in weeks. You look up at him in wonder, only for your breath to catch in your throat.

Instead of his normal dark clothes that you’re used to seeing him in; Touya is dressed in a flowing, white burial shroud that exposes his chest. It makes him look eirthral, like a ghost that had come back from the grave. What really concerns you though, is the right side of his face – the side closest to you. The burnt flesh on his lower jaw by his mouth is gone, and you swear that you see the bone underneath starting to appear.

“Touya—Touya what happened to you? What have you done to yourself?”

“Don’t worry about me. It looks worse than it is.” Touya grumbles, dismissing your concerns. “The person that you should be worrying about, is you.”

“I think it’s a little late for that, love.” You tell him softly. “I’ve been sick for a while now… I’ve held out longer than a lot of other people have, but I think my luck is running out fast.”

This time you know you’re not seeing things. You watch in shock as a large droplet of blood oozes out from underneath the burnt skin under his eye and slowly rolls down his face, leaving a shiny red trail behind it as it makes its way down his ruined skin. You try to bring a hand up to wipe it away, but Touya beats you to it, releasing your cheeks long enough to turn away from you and compose himself.

“That crusty bastard. He promised me that he would keep it away from here… guess it got past him too-“ you hear Touya mutter under his breath. “It doesn’t matter now, gods… fuck.” He turns to face you again, and you see a red streak running along the side of his face, where he tried to wipe the blood tear away. His hands return to yours, and he wraps them up tightly.

“I tried… I tried so fucking hard to keep it contained. I thought, if I could contain it to the East, then it wouldn’t spread and it wouldn’t come here, to you. Even though I’ve seen it happen, so many times over the years. I thought I could change it.”

“Touya what are you talking about, you’re not making any sense.” You beg him, but he doesn’t seem to hear you, too wrapped up in his own head, as he squeezes your hands in his own.

“It’s not fair. You’re so full of life. I don’t want you to die like this.”

Something in his gaze shifts and the sadness from earlier is gone. Instead, a determined look has appeared in its place. He cradles the back of your head and neck with one of his hands as he gently lifts your head up to him, flinching at your pained whimpers.

“Do you trust me?” he asks you urgently.

“Of course.” You whisper, your vison is starting to darken again, but you try and keep your focus on Touya’s bright blue eyes.

“I can stop this.” He murmurs. “I can stop this and save you and what’s left of your town. But you need to make a deal with me. Do you accept?”

“A deal…? Stop this… I don’t…” you whisper, and Touya squeezes your hand, desperate to keep your attention on him.

“The full extent of my abilities come with a price. I can save you, but at a cost.”

“What’s the price?” you find yourself asking. You’re not sure how he intends to save anyone from something as severe as the plague with no cure; much less yourself, considering that you’re almost certainly on death’s doorstep, but you’re curious. Even if you’re beyond saving, maybe your town still has a chance.

“You.”

“Me.” You echo, still fighting to keep your gaze on him. “Why?”

“I told you already, you’re mine, you’ve always been mine. But this will bind us to each other indefinitely. Your life will become mine in exchange for me removing the sickness from you and your village. Do we have a deal?”

“Am I really worth that much?” you tease hoarsely, as you feel your eyes start to close against your will.

“You mean more to me than anything in this pathetic life.” You hear Touya grind out. “Let me do this for you. Please.”

He squeezes your hand, and his next words sound almost desperate. “I’ve never begged anyone for anything in my lifetime and I’ve lived a long time. Please let me do this for you.”

You know that under different circumstances, you wouldn’t agree to anything like this. Touya’s words are carrying an underlying weight to them, and you know there’s something that he’s not telling you. Normally, before agreeing to anything, you’d make sure everything was out in the open and that there weren’t any catches to your deal… but really, how much time did you have to ask about the finer details?

You were out of time. You knew it, and he knew it too.

Really, how bad would it be being his? Wasn’t that what you always wanted anyways?

“I accept.” You whisper, as your world fades to black, not even sure if Touya heard you or not.

He did.

The next few moments are a whirlwind. You feel Touya stand up above you and his hands go to your left forearm – to the spot where you first noticed the sickness. It’s arguably the worst spot on your body. The darkness has spread underneath your skin and takes up almost your full forearm now.

You feel his warm hands press into the skin of your forearm, and for a moment, nothing happens. Then his hands start to heat up, hotter and hotter, and you can smell something burning. You don’t know whether it’s your flesh or his, but you don’t have the energy to scream out, even though the pain is excruciating.

There’s a bright blue flash and you feel something being seared into your arm – in the same spot where your original plague mark was. Heat spreads through your body like a wildfire, and you feel like you’re being burned from the inside out. Suddenly, as quickly as the pain started it’s gone.

You’re shaking, gasping for air as you try to control your rapidly palpating heart, but you can’t open your eyes. Exhaustion hits you full force, and you feel what little strength you had left in you bleed out. Touya is still there, and you feel him slowly ease you back down onto your pillow, placing your arm down at your side once more.

“Rest now beloved. I’ll see you soon.”

No sooner than he says those words, you feel yourself slip off into slumber, and you allow the darkness to take you.

You wake to the sun streaming across your face

It’s the first time you’ve seen any hint of the sun in months, and at first, you think that you’ve died, but the tell-tale signs of stiffness in your muscles tell you that you’re still very much alive, if not very dehydrated.

The thought draws you up short.

You’re alive. You’re alive when you probably shouldn’t be. That means… Touya… he’d done it.

A burning feeling races through your left forearm and draws you up short. You slowly bring your arm up to look at what’s causing the pain, only for your eyes to widen impossibly.

The dark stain under your skin caused by the plague is gone, as are all of the other signs of sickness that had marked your body. What is on your arm, is nothing short of confusing.

A strange symbol is on your arm, in the spot you remember Touya gripping the hardest. A long, straight line runs horizontally done your forearm with three smaller lines running through it. Another long, straight line along the top of the first line completes the marking, and you stare at it in shock.

It covers the spot where you had your original plague mark, almost as if you’d never had it at all.

You reach out and gingerly touch the mark, only for your door to open suddenly – causing you to yank your nightgown sleeve down in a hurry. You glance over to see both of your parents standing in your doorway. It seems to take them a moment to process that you’re awake, and seemingly plague free, before they rushed to your bedside and have pull you into a tight hug.

“You’re awake! Thank gods you’re awake! We thought that we lost you for sure!” your mother sobs, as she clutches you to herself. You’re shocked, and you ask her what she means, only for her to hold you tighter.

“You’ve been asleep for three days. You wouldn’t wake up! Nothing we did worked.” Your mother cries, and you feel your heart drop.

Three days? What did that mean for everyone else?

“We’ve heard from Chiyo that all of the patients at the apothecary have also recovered. She’s not sure how, but the plague seems to have disappeared.” Your father states gruffly, as he strokes your hair. “It’s some sort of miracle.”

Yes, and his name is Touya. You think to yourself. Just what was he, to be able to have the power to dispel a sickness as deadly as the decay plague from an entire town?

“We do have a visitor downstairs, if you feel up to meeting with him.” Your mother informs you as she passes you a cup of water. “Some of the priests are visiting homes on Chiyo’s orders, to check in on families and see if anyone is still sick. The head priest from the Endeavor temple is here. I’m sure he’d love to check in on you now that you’re awake.”

You don’t particularly want anyone to see you right now, knowing that you must look awful and you would much rather go find Touya, provided that he was still in town somewhere – but you nod anyways. Your mother tells you to take your time getting ready, as she and your father leave your room, saying that she would tell the priest to wait downstairs.

The process to get ready is painfully slow. Your muscles are weak from a lack of use, but you’re able to wash yourself if you move carefully. You slip on a clean dress, making sure that the mark on your forearm is fully covered, and run a brush through your wet locks before deciding that was enough, and gingerly make your way downstairs.

You slowly make your way into the living room where you see the priest from Endeavor’s temple sitting in one of the armchairs, waiting for you. He’s a large man, dressed in Endeavor’s traditional colours: dark blues and fiery oranges and reds. Your parents leave when you enter to give you some privacy and the priest points to the chair across from him.

“Have a seat girl.” He tells you, and you sit without a word. You fidget uncomfortably as he looks you over carefully, before finally speaking. “Chiyo specifically asked me to come check on you and see how you’re doing. She wanted to thank you for all your help at the beginning of this mess. She wanted to come herself, but she has a few things to take care of at the apothecary. She sends her regards.”

“Oh, it was my honor. I couldn’t leave her there all alone.” You tell him, lifting your arm to wave off his praise without thinking about it. You realize your mistake too late, as the sleeve covering your forearm slowly rolls down to your elbow, revealing the mark etched into your skin.

The priest stops dead the second he glances at your forearm, ad his eyes widen impossibly. He points shakily to the mark etched into your arm. “Where did you get that from girl? Who did that to your arm?”

You hesitate. How can you possibly explain Touya to him? No one aside from you could see him. They’d call you mad if you tried to be honest, and would cast you out from your home. What would you do then?

‘I… I don’t know if you’d believe me if I told you.” You mutter, clutching your arm close to you. “Why, what’s so special about this mark?”

“That is Dabi’s seal.” The priest hisses as he snaps his fingers at you, and you feel your heart drop into your stomach. “I haven’t seen a mark like that for decades now, but he is closely connected to my lord Endeavor and I’d recognize it anywhere. It has been rumored that he puts that mark onto people who enter into deals with him. I’m wondering how you ended up with it on your arm.”

Your world crumbles around you at his words, and the illusion that you had unknowingly walked into, shattered.

Dabi, Touya, Dabi, Touya, Dabi, Touya, Dabi, Touya-

Touya is Dabi.

How could you not have seen it sooner? Looking back on it, the signs were obvious: how he knew so much about Dabi – or rather, himself. How he could seamlessly travel across large areas with very little effort. How he had powers that far surpassed any mage or race you’d heard of. How he never seemed to age… How his body had lasted so long despite the burns that were very clearly getting worse as time passed by-

The thought draws you up short. A hazy memory of Touya standing over your deathbed. A chunk of his flesh missing from the side of his mouth… looking more worn down than you could ever remember seeing him… Suddenly, you have to find him.

And you think you know exactly where he is.

“I-I have to go.” You mutter, shakily rising to your feet. The priest tries to get you to sit back down, but you shove him off. You barely have time to throw a light shawl around your shoulders and put your shoes on, before you’re running out the door in the direction of Dabi’s temple, ignoring the surprised shouts of your parents.

You are reminded how weak your body currently is, as you have to stop and catch your breath several times on the way to the temple, ignoring the looks that a few curious townspeople are giving you, as you eventually make your way to the temple.

This time, you don’t need to reach for the doors, since they seem to open on their own for you. You step through the entrance and they close behind you softly, shutting you away from the sunshine outside. You notice the temple is seemingly empty, but the prayer candles are lit at the base of Dabi’s statue, and the flames are blue.

He’s here, somewhere, you know it, you feel it, but for some reason, he hasn’t shown himself to you yet. It makes you worry and prompts you to call out his name softly.

“I’m here, beloved.”

The familiar rasp of his voice echoes from behind the larger-than-life sculpture. You smile in spite of yourself, and move closer to the sound of his voice, where you can just make out a shadowy figure partly concealed behind the base of the stature.

“Don’t come any closer.” The harsh growl makes you pause.

“Why?” you ask the shadow and you see two familiar blue eyes staring back at you from the gloom.

“You’re not going to like what you see.”

You hesitate for a fraction of a second before you shake your head. “I don’t care. You know I don’t care about what you look like.” You swallow before adding on. “I think you and I need to talk about some things… about you.”

“So, you figured it out?” the figure rumbles, and you nod.

“There are some things I need to know. Things that I need to understand. But please, I just want to see you. Come out.” You extend your hand towards the shadow, and hear him sigh deeply, before shuffling closer to you.

A burnt hand takes hold of yours, dwarfing it, and the man—no, the deity, pulls himself into the light provided by the candles. He watches as your face changes from confusion, to shock realization, then to—

He doesn’t think he can do it; he can’t watch as you reject him. He knows that he doesn’t look pretty. He looks like a walking corpse and he knows this. He looks more dead than alive and honestly, he is. He knew he shouldn’t hang around the temple, knowing that you’d eventually come looking for him once you had recovered enough, but he’d wanted to see you one last time before he made the inevitable trip back home to the underworld – even if it meant you seeing him like this—

“Oh, Touya. Did… did you do this to yourself to cure me?” you whisper so softly; he wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly. He risks glancing back at you, only to see that your face hasn’t twisted in disgust upon his reveal. You’re holding his hand so tightly, like you’re afraid that he’ll crumble to ash if you don’t, and maybe he would, he’s not sure anymore.

Your eyes meet his, and he sees unshed tears in them. There is no repulsion or fear in your eyes like he thought there might be, there is only concern and worry for him, and he feels his once dead heart thunder in his burnt chest.

He wishes he could feel the texture of your soft hands on him again, but the burns are deep and have spread everywhere now. All he can feel is pressure on his hand where you’re holding it in your own. Suddenly, he feels more vulnerable than he has in a long time.

You stare back at him, trying your best not to shed the tears you feel forming – knowing that they won’t help anything. What remained of Touya’s once beautiful, pale skin is gone. His entire body is covered in deep russet scaring. The mess of staples that he hadn’t bothered to remove or replace, were scattered across his body where they had once held the damaged and healthy skin together. Parts of his body – where you assume the skin had been thinnest on him – are burned almost completely down to the bone. The skin by one side of his mouth is almost gone, and the flesh near his wrist on his other hand – the one that he didn’t give you – has been burnt down to where you can see the tendons flexing when he moves.

He's still wearing the white robes from before. He looks like a wraith, a sight that would terrify even the bravest of people, but it stirs no such feelings in you.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, not knowing what else to say. He shakes his head.

“I can’t feel anything anymore.”

“Oh.” You croak, not sure if his answer made you feel any better. It doesn’t, but you try not to let it show on your face.

The deity gently removes his hand from yours and moves several paces back from you, as if he’s trying not to upset you. You feel a lump rise in your throat, but push it down. “Did you do that to yourself to cure me from the plague?” you ask him again and he only nods once.

“You and what’s left of your town. I told you; I make good on my promises. It’s the blowback that gets me. Shigaraki won’t like what I’ve done, but he can’t do anything about it.”

You frown at the mention of the other name. You swear that you’ve heard it before somewhere, but you can’t place where from. Maybe if you remember, you’ll ask him about it later, but right now, you have other things you need him to clarify.

“Can I ask you something, my lord?” Dabi snorts at your formalities, and waves you off.

“Please. None of that from you, Princess. If I wanted you to call me by my titles, I would’ve made you do it when we first met.”

You can’t help the small smile that pulls at your lips. You’d been slightly worried that knowing his identity would change the dynamic of your relationship with him. Thankfully, that didn’t seem to be the case.

“How come I could see you when no one else could?” you question him. Dabi pauses for a moment, seemingly trying to figure out how to explain himself.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” He responds after a moment. “We walk amongst mortals all the time; we’re just hidden in plain sight. Some humans are different than others, and are able to see us for what we really are, but most mortals can’t see through our disguises. I choose to be invisible, it’s much easier to do my job that way. Normally, the only time humans can see me is when I come to collect their soul, or when I let them see me purposefully. But you,” he fixes you with his intense stare that you’ve grown used to.

“you were an abnormity. I’ve only ever met one or two other mortals in my time alive that were able to see me, even when I was invisible to everyone else.”

“What did you do to them?” you don’t know what prompts you to ask. Dabi looks away from you.

“I killed them.”

“Why though?” You’re not sure if you want to know his reasoning, but this may be the only time you get to ask him.

“Because no one is supposed to see me – it’s taboo. The only time I’m supposed to be visible to mortals is when I come to take you to the Underworld with me. I can’t let people wander around telling others that Death himself is coming. Do you know how much chaos that would cause on the surface?” Dabi snickers to himself.

“But I could see you, and you didn’t kill me.” You press. Dabi lets a small smile pull at what remains of the muscles in his cheeks.

“No, I didn’t.” he agrees quietly.

“Were you going to?” you ask, remembering how tense he was the first time you met face to face.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you?” You’re not mad about the revelation. You’re just curious. What made you so different from the others that came before you?

“I was going to… But something told me not to.” Dabi trails off, seemingly not having the words to describe why he did what he did. “I couldn’t tell you why I hesitated back then… but I’m glad I did.” The hint of a smile ghosts across his face. “You’re so beautiful. I couldn’t predict everything else that came afterwards. But I’m certainly not complaining.”

Your face flushes a brilliant shade of crimson when you realize he’s talking about when you fucked in this temple… his temple.

You can’t bear to bring yourself to meet the smug look in his eyes, so you try to compose yourself best you can, but it’s hard when you feel his oceanic eyes boring into your being.

“I… I just have one final question to ask you.” You stammer out, trying to fight down the colour in your cheeks that you know he can see. The burnt deity nods, signaling for you to continue. You suck in a breath, suddenly nervous for some reason.

“What… what exactly does this mark that you’ve given me mean? To you, that is.” You ask, touching the mark on your arm with your other hand, and you swear that you hear Touya- no, Dabi, bite back a moan.

“It marks you as mine. To humans and other gods alike, it means you are mine and under my protection.” He growls, a possessive edge in his raspy voice.

“Is that all?” you probe softly. Dabi bites back a laugh, and fixes you with a warm expression, blue eyes glowing like a cat in the dimly lit temple.

“What do you think?”

He answers your question with another question, but it’s weighted. The mark definitely has another meaning to it, you’re sure of it, but you want to hear it from him.

“I think it means something more… but I want to be sure. I don’t remember the finer details of our conversation, since I was… well… dying.” You shrug, trying and failing to look nonchalant. You don’t particularly want to be reminded of that time.

Dabi must see it in your expression, because he immediately drops the teasing act and takes a hesitant step towards you, slowly, as if he’s trying not to scare you.

He points at your arm and you lift it up so he can see the symbol burned into your skin. “That is my personal mark. It means that you’re not only under my protection… but it also marks you as my consort.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his, and you can tell that he’s not joking. He’s deadly serious.

“Your consort? You mean, like… like a bride?” you breathe, hardly daring to believe it. Dabi cracks a smile.

“So that’s what you humans are calling it these days. Yes, you are. Unlike some of my kin, I don’t take multiple wives. It’s just you.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but when they do, you have to fight yourself to stay upright.

“Oh gods. I’m the bride of a god.” You mutter, swaying slightly in place. “You’re a god. You’re an actual god.”

The burned deity only chuckles. “I can’t believe that you never figured it out. It’s not like I was trying to hide it from you at the end there.”

“I mean… It’s obvious you weren’t human, but I didn’t think you were a God.” You mutter. “You just… you acted so… casual. Not like what I’d expect a God to act-- not that I’m complaining of course!” you add on as you hear Dabi let out an amused snort.

You point up at the statue of Dabi- or rather, him. “Besides, it’s not like I knew what you looked like. You’re always depicted with a hood over your face.” You frowned. “Why is that exactly? You’re not wearing a hood. You’ve never worn one when you’re with me. The only time I ever saw you with one was when you were traveling. Not as you are now. You never let any of your disciples see you?”

“They depict me like that because it’s easier that way.” Dabi explains smoothly. “My face changes depending on what part of my… cycle I’m in. Sometimes I look like how I did when we first met – other times I look like… well, this.” He gestures to himself after a brief pause. It makes your heart ache.

“My kind are supposed to be divine beings. Perfect. I am not. I don’t need to be depicted looking like a walking corpse to the few people who still worship me and visit my temples.”

His gaze flicks back up to you. “You were never supposed to see me like this.”

You know that you shouldn’t psychoanalyze him, but you can’t help but find him endlessly fascinating. He may be a god – a divine, primordial being – but his emotions were so very human.

He may go by many different names, but Dabi was Touya. Your Touya, the man you fell in love with over the years you spent getting to know him. The man who would willingly burn down your village to keep you by his side, only to save it in its time of need, for you.

What he looked like was irrelevant.

“What you look like doesn’t bother me.” You tell him softly, taking a hesitant step closer to him. “It never has. You know that.” Touya’s muscles flinch, like he’s fighting against moving away from you, but he stays rooted to the spot as you slowly advance, until you’re close enough to place a hand on the exposed part of his chest – right above his heart.

“I will love you no matter what form you take, because no matter what: you’re still Touya. You’re still the man I love. God or not, you always will be.”

You lean forward and press your lips to what is left of the flesh around his mouth, and you feel him release a shuddering breath, as his arms come up to wrap themselves tightly around you. You pull away slightly to tuck your head against his chest, returning his embrace, ignoring the burnt smell that always clings to him; and you feel him rest his chin on your head.

You don’t know how long you stay like that for, but eventually Touya reluctantly removes his chin from his spot on your head, and lowers it so he can speak directly into your ear.

“I have to go.”

You try and pull away so you can look him in the eyes, but his arms keep you tightly pressed up against him, like he’s afraid that if he lets you go, you’ll turn to smoke and disappear.

“But… you said that we’re bound to each other now? You promised me that you wouldn’t leave again-“

“I know, but this will be the last time I leave without you, I promise.” He rasps in your ear. “This cycle is at the end. I’m dying.”

You feel your heart clench painfully at his words, and suddenly, you’re taken back to the spring, where he took you to his temple for the first time, and where he unknowingly to you, explained his history. Where he also revealed that gods themselves could die, however difficult it was.

“You’re… you’re dying? How, why? I thought you said it was almost impossible for you to die?”

You feel Touya shake his head and squeeze you again. “It’s different in my case. I die a lot. But the difference is: I come back. It just takes a while.”

“I don’t understand, please Touya, what do you mean?” you feel frantic, and cling to his robes like small child. “I-I can’t lose you!”

“You won’t.” Touya promises you firmly, pulling back to fix you with an unwavering look. “It’s difficult to explain, but I’m more like a force of nature then a ‘traditional’ god. My power is great, but it destroys my body and I ‘die’. However,” his eyes narrow dangerously as he thumbs over the mark on your arm, “I’m a god of the Underworld, and we play by different rules than those that reside upstairs.” He points a finger mockingly up to the roof of the temple.

“I have what you humans call a ‘cycle’. Whenever I ‘die’ I return home, so that I can rest and regenerate my body. Eventually I come back to how I was before I got all of my scaring, and start again. The cycle repeats itself over and over again on an endless loop.” He sends you a crooked grin.

“That’s the other half of my secret: Cremation and Reincarnation tend to go hand in hand. But nobody needs to know that except for you.”

“How many times have you done this?” you breathe, but Touya only shakes his head, shooting you a forced smile.

“More times than I can count. I’m not the oldest God in the pantheon Sweetheart, not by a long shot, but compared to you, I’m ancient.”

“Oh.” You murmur. trying to fight down the blush at the stark differences in your ages, and Touya’s smile becomes more relaxed. You fist your hands at the front of his robe and try your best to return his smile. “So, you’re going to come back… for me?”

“Yes. I’ll eventually return to my original form. But it’s going to take me a while to regenerate.”

“Oh gods, you mean I’m going to be an old woman by the time you come back to get me.” You joke, trying your best to lighten the somber mood, and Touya barks out a laugh.

“No, no. It won’t take that long, I promise… but, that being said, it won’t be anytime soon either. I’m sorry.”

You nod, and try to relax your grip on his robes. You smooth your hands over the soft fabric, and inwardly you hum in delight, as you feel Touya’s abnormally warm hands run down your waist. He brings one hand up to your chin and gently tilts your face up to meet his.

“I will be back for you. Make no mistake about that.”

You feel his other hand glide up to your left forearm, the one that now bares his mark, and press on it possessively. “This binds us together. I’ll make good on my promise, and when I come back for you: I’m going to take you around the world with me, just like I promised you I would. I’ll give you everything.”

You feel your eyes water with his declaration. The sincerity in his eyes tells you that he’s not bluffing. He will be back for you the next time he comes to your humble village, and he will show you the world if you so choose it.

“…How will I know?” You finally manage to ask him quietly.

“How will you know what?”

“How will I know that you’re coming back to get me?”

Touya lets a deep laugh rumble out of his throat, and pushes his face close to your ear so he can whisper directly into it:

“Oh, don’t worry… you’ll just know.”

-----

Three years have passed since that day.

Spring has come again, symbolizing rebirth and renewal, and yet seemingly nothing has changed in your little village. You still work at the apothecary with Chiyo, but now you spend most of your time at Dabi’s temple, keeping it clean, and trying to educate those who visit it, more about the reclusive Cremation God.

More people have started to visit the temple in the three years since you last saw Touya, and you’d like to think that he’d be pleased if he could see it. You’re headed to the temple now to do your daily cleaning, and make sure that everything is orderly, before you head back home for the night.

You smile as you watch a group of small children run past you, as you think back to the day that Touya had left you one final time.

Word had spread like wildfire after you had returned from the temple that day – about how you had made a deal with the elusive Cremation God himself to cure the town of its plague, and how you now bore his mark on your own skin, binding you to him.

You thought that you’d be ostracized, a pariah in your town – but surprisingly, the majority of people seemed to accept it with very little backlash. You suppose that’s the closest to thanks that you’ll get for playing a part in saving your town from destruction, but you’ll take it.

More people do tend to keep their distance from you now, largely in part due to your lover’s fearsome reputation, but you don’t hold it against them.

They’ve started calling you Shaoha – Death Woman. Normally, it’s a derogatory name for a demon or witch, but you know they don’t mean it in that way, and you can’t help but find it fitting given the circumstances and your ties to the Death God himself.

You smile sadly in spite of yourself as you make your way through the forest trail towards Dabi’s temple, leaving the village behind you.

You dress mostly in black or deep blues these days, mourning the fact that you haven’t seen your god in years now. He promised you that he would eventually be back for you once he had healed, before you were old and gray, but you wished that he would have given you a rough estimation of how long that would take, because with each day that passes, you miss him more and more.

Your friends have started families of their own, and while you never had the urge to have children of your own, seeing them happy with their husbands makes you wish that Touya was here with you. Your friends give you sympathetic smiles, and try and comfort you best they can. While you’re grateful that they try, it’s not the same.

It’s strange: you’re surrounded by people who care for you, and yet; you feel more alone now then you ever did before.

You reach Dabi’s temple and push the doors open, finding a few people milling about, paying their respects inside, and the sight pleases you greatly. Ever since it was revealed that he had been behind the disappearance of the plague, the townspeople had started coming to the temple more frequently to pay homage to him. You’re glad that you had cleaned up the temple beforehand, even if it was just for you and him initially.

Several of the people take notice of you, and they quickly file out to allow you to do your daily inspection. After deeming everything to be orderly, you make your way back to your home, just as the sun is starting to disappear behind the tree-line.

You reach your house just as dusk has fallen, and you talk with your parents over dinner for a while before heading to bed. As grateful as you are for their company and their efforts to keep you occupied, the constant ache in your chest never fully dissipates, even when you aren’t alone.

As you lay in bed, waiting for sleep to take you, you send out a silent goodnight to Touya, hoping that he can hear you, wherever he may be. Just as you have done every night for the last three years.

You hope that wherever he is, he knows how much you miss him.

You don’t remember falling asleep. You open your eyes again and your room is pitch black, letting you know that it’s the dead of night. For a moment, you lay there confused, wondering why you’ve woken up at a seemingly random time, only to realize that you feel different.

You don’t feel physically sick, and the sensation that is coursing through your body like liquid fire in your veins doesn’t feel ominous or wrong, but you suddenly have the intense urge to get up and leave. Like you have to go somewhere urgently.

Your forearm – the one that bears Touya’s mark – feels hot. You trace it absentmindedly, quietly musing that the last time it burned like that was when he gave it to you--

Something clicks in your sleep addled mind, and you slowly sit up and push the covers off of you as you stand. You get dressed in long, dark skirts, and throw a traveling cloak around your shoulders for good measure – knowing deep down that you won’t be coming back.

As you walk through the hallways of your dark home like a ghost, you crack open the door to your parents room to gaze fondly at their sleeping figures. You send them a silent I love you, before closing their door, thanking them for everything. You pad silently through your house until you reach the front door, and pull it open soundlessly, stepping out of it for the final time, before shutting it firmly behind you.

You don’t look back.

You feel like a wraith as you walk through the deserted streets of your town, taking in each and every shop as you pass. The bright, pale moonlight is your only source of light as you walk, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of Dabi’s temple.

The burning in your forearm has lessened considerably and you know this is exactly where you’re supposed to be. You step inside, and slowly make your way to the foot of the hooded god’s statue. You smile slightly and take a seat facing the entrance doors that you didn’t bother closing, allowing moonlight to spill into the dark temple. You sit and you wait. You vow that you’ll wait all night if you have to.

You don’t have to wait for long.

There’s a tell-tale flash of blue outside the temple and a blast of searing heat follows, before everything stills again. The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps approaching the temple makes your heartbeat quicken, and the tall silhouette of a man spills across the floor to where you’re sitting at the altar.

A familiar man dressed in white funeral shrouds enters the temple, and makes his way towards you. You can’t help but smile lovingly as you take him in. Even though he looks incredibly different from the last time you saw him, you’d recognize Touya anywhere.

Gone are the dark scars and staples that wreaked havoc on his skin. The man, the god, that stands before you, has skin as pale as snow, almost blending into the white of his shroud. He looks like he’s bathed in moonlight, with eyes as bright and blue and beautiful as the flames he wields. Upon closer inspection. you still see faint seams in his skin where his burns were previously. A remanent of his past life, and one that you find incredibly endearing.

He is not perfect, but neither are you. You selfishly think that maybe you were made for each other.

He stands before you, seemingly at a loss for words, but his deep turquoise eyes tell you everything you need to know. You, however, have quite a few things you want to say to him. So, you start with the obvious.

“I’ve missed you.” You tell him quietly, and he smiles, cerulean eyes looking sad.

“I know. But I’m here now, so that’s got to count for something right?”

“It means everything.” You confirm breathlessly as he cups your cheek, running his thumb across your soft skin. You shamelessly lean into his touch and watch as he smiles at you.

“Ready to go?”

You nod. “I’ve been ready for a long time. You kept me waiting long enough.”

He laughs, the sound deep and rich in your ears.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you. There are so many things I want to show you.” His free hand sneaks down and intertwines with yours. “I make good on my promises, you know.”

You give his hand a squeeze. “I do.”

His heart – the organ in his chest, that he was sure had stopped working after his fall from grace – thunders into irregularity in his chest. Now he’s sure that it beats for you, and you alone.

You, the first person in a long, long time, who’s made him feel something aside from hatred and scorn. The first person to see past the scars, the first one to see him at his worst and still show him unconditional love where others couldn’t, or wouldn’t.

He loves you, and he always will.

He lifts the hand that’s still laced with his, to his mouth and presses a kiss to the back of your knuckles, sending you a smile that makes you melt.

“Let’s go home.”

FIN

#dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader smut #tw: death #mha dabi #mha #bnha #rose reblogs #please let me know if i missed any tags!#please let me know if i missed any trigger warnings!

44 notes · View notes

nereidprinc3ss · 10 months ago

Text

do you believe me now? | 2

in which fem!reader is feeling insecure about how inexperienced she is around spencer's friends and seeks his expertise to amend the problem

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, oral f receiving, (MUNCH!SPENCE RETURNS), fingering, (very) insecure reader, softdom!spencer, sub reader, nipple stuff, kinda sorta implied age gap, god i'm probably forgetting things pls lmk if i missed something important a/n: i've been laboring at this bad boy every day for so long i had to immediately post once it was completed lol. there will be a part three ... maybe i already started it ..... anyway i love u guys and i hope this is a satisfactory part two!! PLS lmk if you liked it!! hearing from u makes my day :')

When Spencer dropped you off at Penelope’s apartment for your first girl’s night—the hostess had promised you, JJ, and Emily lots of gossip sans 'icky men'—you had been ecstatic. You wouldn’t stop rambling to him about how excited you were.

When he picks you up two and a half hours later, he can hardly get a word out of you.

It’s not his fault, of course—well, not really, anyway. It’s just that all the girls had wanted to talk about was sex. A topic on which you held very little expertise and had essentially nothing to contribute. Out of the four, you were the only non-FBI agent, the youngest, and undoubtedly the least experienced. It was like high school all over again, except you actually desperately wanted to impress Spencer’s friends. All in all, you weaseled your way out of sharing without giving away that you were still very much a virgin. Sure, you could have said ‘we did hand stuff two weeks ago’, but you had a feeling these women wouldn’t consider that very impressive.

But you can’t easily relay that information to Spencer—even when he immediately picks up on your sullen mood. He asks you what’s wrong as you make your way down the echoey staircase, but you hold back, muttering something along the lines of we’ll talk about it later.

Later doesn’t come on the sidewalk outside. It doesn’t come in the car, or at any point during the twenty minute drive, but you feel it rapidly approaching as you climb the stairs to Spencer’s apartment. He unlocks the door and holds it open for you, doesn’t speak as you kick off your shoes and wander aimlessly into the living room.

“Did you eat?” He finally asks, hanging his keys on a hook by the door and glancing over to where you linger in the center of the room like a ghost.

“Not hungry.”

You both know that wasn’t the question, but he lets it go.

“Alright... well, I was thinking—“

“Why haven’t we had sex?”

The question flies from your mouth before you can stop it. It tastes like metal and you wish you could take it back as you stand there, cheeks hot and awaiting a reply. It seems you’ve thoroughly astonished Spencer as he gapes at you like a fish out of water for several silent moments, eventually opting to shove his hands in his pockets and shake his head at the wall as he processes the question.

“I… I don’t know. We just haven’t. Does that bother you?”

Suddenly your whole body feels intolerably warm. Your fingers twitch against your thighs. Of course it bothers you.

“Do you just not want to? You aren’t attracted to me like that?”

God, you despise how fragile your voice sounds—how much you obviously care, how insecure you clearly are. Spencer picks up on it, despite your most fervent wishing that he wouldn’t, and approaches, stopping a few feet away. You stare at the span of oriental design on the floor between your feet.

“That’s not at all what I said, angel. I wish you wouldn’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, then… say something else,” you plead quietly, childishly, still unable to meet his eyes. Prove me wrong.

He sighs, which does not bode well for you. You wonder if you accidentally triggered the early demise of your relationship and christ do you wish you could rewind. When he steps closer, when his hands find your arms, you’re not sure where to look. But the low, sweet tone of his voice entices you to finally meet his gaze, charmed like a snake as his eyes dart between yours.

“You know that’s not how I feel.”

You shake your head earnestly, looking up at him with wide eyes as he slowly rubs your arms.

“No. No, I don’t know that.”

Spencer frowns, glancing at your lips as he speaks. It’s impossible to not do the same when he’s standing so close.

“But I’ve told you. I don’t understand how you couldn’t know how far from the truth that is.”

You think back to two weeks ago—the first and only time he’d ever done anything more than kiss you. A different kind of flush replaces the shameful one in your cheeks as you try to make your case and not get distracted by the memories of his hands all over you.

“So why won’t you prove it?”

It’d been intended to come out cool, but instead you sound a little desperate, a little out of breath as you realize you and Spencer somehow ended up so close to each other you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Is that what you need from me? More proof?”

He speaks so lowly, his fingers press into the flesh of your arms portentously, and you think maybe you’ve poked the bear one too many times. But you won’t back down now—not when you think you might actually get what you want.

So you look up at him and nod, throat too dry to speak. His eyes are deceptively soft, but you don’t miss the big bad something lurking just beneath the surface of the placid hazel.

“And how do you think I should prove it?”

“I told you what I want,” you whisper, speaking above your pounding heart.

“Not tonight, honey. Choose something else.”

“Well—that’s not fair,” you stammer, “the whole point is for you to want to have sex with me.”

Spencer smiles a little, tucking hair behind your ear. “I do want that. I promise you I do. But there are other things I want us to do first.”

“Then I want to do that, too! I just—I don’t know what I’m doing, and you do, and I’m already out on a limb by asking for this much. I know this is what I want but I need you to take the lead here. I trust you, Spencer.” You top off the monologue with an imploring gaze—hoping it delivers even a fraction of the impact that his puppy-dog eyes always have on you.

He seems to study every square inch of your face as you wait in suspense for him to say something. At long last, his lips part—to no avail for several more seconds as he regards you.

When the words finally do come, they’re an immense relief of pressure.

“You’re going to promise me that you’ll communicate honestly. That means telling me if we need to slow down or stop, or if you don’t like something—”

“I promise,” you say, perhaps over-eagerly, offering him your extended little finger.

An incredulous smile narrows his eyes.

“Is this a pinky-promise?”

“It is.” You wiggle the finger in emphasis, and he shakes his head, smiling wider as you link pinkies.

“I left you with Garcia for far too long.”

You shush him, disentangling your hands to cup his jaw and press your lips to his. It’s sweet and smiley until it isn’t—until everything slows down like sticky molasses and his hand is ghosting over your cheek, your neck, the curve of your waist, finally substantiating itself on your hip—the other encouraging you to tilt your head back as he deepens the kiss and you feel yourself melting under the heat of his touch.

The pressure of his body against yours builds until you’re forced to take a step back, and then another, and another. Without question you allow yourself to be herded toward the bedroom, walked slowly backward as he keeps kissing you and blindly trusting he’ll make sure you don’t run in to anything. The bedroom door clicks shut behind him, and it is in all practicality a pointless gesture—but you find it incredibly comforting nonetheless.

It’s too warm beneath your sweater and his hands are cool as they slip under the hem, sliding against the curve of your hip. Spencer’s never seen you without a shirt, you realize, as he pulls away from the kiss by only centimeters.

“Off?” he mutters, thumbing at the knit fabric. And while you’re far from confident, you’ve certainly been making progress in this area. You help him tug it over your head without a word, noting a distinct and surprising lack of terror within yourself as you watch for his reaction to you. Hands glide slowly up your waist and you find yourself enchanted by the slight furrow of his brow, the parting of his lips. He traces down the lacy edge of your bra, skimming sensitive skin as he goes.

“Pretty,” he murmurs. “You’re… so pretty.”

It seems you’ve rendered him uncharacteristically prosaic. The reaction might be underwhelming if it were anyone else—but Spencer Reid is a man who probably knows every synonym for pretty in the English language. Looking at you, he can’t think of a single one. In an odd way, it’s the highest compliment he could pay you. Your cheeks heat and your stomach flips as he drags a knuckle up the center of the cup, and you can feel it through the layers of lace and fabric. He leans forward, ghosting his lips over yours and continuing to run his fingers over the sensitive spot. “Do you know how pretty you are?”

This is one argument you will not be winning—one he’ll keep bringing up at the most inopportune times until he gets his way.

“Spencer…”

“Don’t Spencer me. I’m asking you a question.”

The words don’t seem nearly as harsh as they really are when they’re delivered velvet-soft, with his lips and hands on you—when he’s so deftly popping the button on your jeans and dragging the zipper down with all the quickness of a slight-of-hand. It makes it hard to focus, even harder to speak.

“We have… we have differing views on this matter.”

Generous handfuls of your hips and ass are taken as he helps you tug down your jeans before you kick them off, now left just in your underwear.

“I thought I argued my point fairly well last time you were here. You didn’t learn anything from that?”

“Mm… maybe you just need to remind me.”

“Oh, I think I have to,” he agrees through a smile you can only hear. Gentle fingers skim up your back and tap the clasp of your bra. “How about this? Can we take this off?”

Any confidence from earlier crumbles and you loose a nervous hum—which is not the enthusiastic yes you’re sure Spencer will be seeking all evening. He pulls away, features etched with the beginnings of concern and a searching gaze. Asking would be unnecessary; the words simply come tumbling out of you.

“What if you don’t like how I look?”

Spencer doesn’t even blink.

“That’s not going to happen.”

How you wish you could have the same assuredness in yourself that he seems to.

“But what if… what if you’ve been with other girls who are more, like—I don’t know, just—better? Prettier?”

“Honey, you’re—” a sigh, a pause as he searches for the words—his eyes dart up and down your form, assessing, and when he looks back up at you, they’ve cleared and softened. He pulls you a little closer, rubbing circles into your back with his thumb. “I’m not thinking about anyone else right now. I’m not interested in anyone else right now. I already think you’re perfect, and I’m going to keep thinking that regardless of how you look. When I look at you, I’m not looking for things to critique. Do you understand me?”

As far as sentiments go, it’s a nice one. But the pressure of being seen still feels like an impossible burden. You whine, leaning your head against Spencer’s chest. He accepts your weight and runs his hand over your back as you look up at him.

“But what if I’m hideously deformed?”

His eyebrows raise.

“You’re not.”

“But what if I am?”

“Okay. It seems like you don’t feel ready yet, which is completely fine, we just won’t—”

“No!” you protest. “I am ready. I am. But… you have to promise to be nice to me no matter what. Or break up with me if you don’t like what you see so I don't have to wonder.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, kissing you, “and the only thing I’m willing to promise is that I’ll think you’re perfect. Me being nice will come as a natural byproduct of that which is very different than being nice by artifice. Take it or leave it.”

A moment of hesitance—but it’s short-lived. This is more important than your insecurities. Spencer is more important.

“Take it,” you mumble against his lips. His fingers trace up the smooth skin of your back, all the way to the fabric and metal hooks on your bra.

“Thank you.”

You wouldn’t have thought Spencer’s genius would manifest in being really good at undoing the clasp of a bra, but you can truly say you’re impressed by the ease with which he does it. It falls to the floor, leaving you completely shirtless for the first time in front of him.

“Well?” you murmur, arms crossed defensively underneath your chest, because you understand overtop would sort of ruin the whole thing. “What’s the verdict?”

“You,” Spencer manages after a moment—you literally watch him memorizing every square inch of your body— “are ridiculously beautiful.”

The way his voice gets quieter makes your stomach flip. It sounds genuine. Too genuine to be faked.

“So… no breakup?”

It seems that the more vulnerable you feel, the less likely you are to take a compliment. Spencer, who is always seeking patterns, probably recognizes this one, and doesn’t push you so hard this time. After a silent moment, he sighs and cradles your face in his hands.

“You’re gorgeous. I hate how incapable you are of seeing that. We’re going to talk about this.”

“Yeah, but not right now, right?” you murmur, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“Not right now,” he agrees.

His lips are so soft and gentle against your own it feels like love, it feels like being talked down from the ledge of your own insanity. Somehow the way he strokes your hip feels more nurturing than sexual. It’s like he has sex and chaste affection on tap, able to turn them on and off at will. You’re happy to drown in either. Ideally, both.

After a while, his hands begin roaming farther, become bolder in their excursions over your flesh. Up, down, over your waist and ribs. Clearly Spencer had been trying to ease you into it, but you still can’t hide your sharp inhalation when his thumbs graze the sensitive skin of your breasts. He pulls his lips from yours, hands splayed over your sides.

“Sit down.”

It’s much too gentle to be a command, but you frown.

“Without you?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles, lightly squeezing your waist. “Just sit. Utilize patience.”

You sit on the edge of the bed with an atypical reticence—you’re just a little too nervous for a snippy comeback. Spencer picks up on this, features softening sympathetically as he undoes his tie with nimble fingers. It lands somewhere on the bed and he leans over you, resting his weight on his fists and offering you a quick kiss. His voice is soft and designed to soothe as he speaks, mere inches away from your face, and so quiet it could only be heard at this range.

“Are you nervous?” Cloth from the duvet pinches between your fingers. For a moment you don’t reply, dropping your head to watch when Spencer runs his hand over your thigh. “It’s okay if you’re feeling anxious, baby. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

You expel a frustrated huff.

“I want to. Just because I’m nervous doesn’t mean I don’t want this. I can handle a little bit of anxiety.”

He hums, dropping to a crouch and inserting himself directly in your line of sight.

“I know you can. But you don’t always have to push yourself so hard.”

“I’m fine pushing myself a little. I pinky-promised I would tell you if I wanted to stop, remember?”

“Oh, how could I forget a pinky-promise?” he smiles.

How could you forget anything, you think, becoming flushed and silently insolent at his dulcet teasing.

“Please, do something.” It’s a whisper, brushing his lips as you lean down until you’re nose to nose. His hands are on the back of your legs.

“I’m working on it.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“You’re smart, angel. Tell me why I've got you naked on my bed and I’m kneeling in front of you. Where could I possibly be taking this?”

Oh, you have a pretty strong inkling—but you’re scared to voice it and be wrong. Instead of risking it you shake your head slowly, shyly. What you’re not expecting is for Spencer to duck his head down, slide his hands up the side of your thighs and press kisses to the delicate skin there. It feels good—better than you’d have thought.

“You don’t know?” he asks, looking up at you through burnished gold-rimmed pupils. “No guesses?”

“No guesses,” you agree breathlessly, hotter than you were when you had your clothes on and all the energy in your body condensed into one point between your legs. Spencer hums like he’s considering your answer, smoothing his thumbs over the soft skin of your thighs so gently it feels like burning.

“I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful. Lie back, sweetheart.”

You do as you’re told, scooting up on the mattress and falling back on your elbows. Spencer wastes no time in climbing over you, leaving you in much the same position as the last time you’d been in his bed. The sheets feel cool against your bare skin, but he is exceptionally warm and solid over you.

“I’m being honest.” Lie. “I don’t know what you’re going to do.”

Lips find the most sensitive spot of your neck, dancing over it torturously. The front of his shirt brushes your chest. Your thighs clamp together.

“I don't like being lied to. Just say it, baby. I know you know.”

“Spencer,” you whine, fists bunching the excess fabric around his waist. Warm breath condensates on the skin of your neck as he chuckles.

“You don’t like being teased, huh?”

“Please, Spence,” you whisper. You notice the pattern of his breathing pause momentarily before it all comes rushing out at once—and you catalogue that particular plea for later usage.

“I can’t say no when you ask me like that.”

You push your fingers into his soft hair.

“I know.”

It was a lucky guess.

He’s still for a moment, relishing the feeling of your hands in his hair, before darting up to kiss you.

“I’m going to use my mouth this time,” he murmurs against your lips. Though you knew that was what he intended, your heart stumbles in its perpetual march. “Is that okay?”

“What if I…”

You trail off. This is a very intimate situation which you’re not quite sure you have delicate enough language for. Or maybe you’re just stalling. Either way, Spencer is eternally patient with you.

“You need to stop worrying so much, pretty girl. I’d love to do this for you. But it’s your call.”

“Love is a pretty strong word.”

“Sometimes I think not strong enough.”

The way he’s looking down at you so tenderly, brushing hair from your face, makes you think maybe he’s not just talking about how much he would love to go down on you. Regardless, it fortifies your trust in him. Spencer is the kindest person you know. He’s so clearly an enthusiastic giver. Why not allow him to give you this?

“Okay,” you breathe. “You can—yeah.”

As usual, you’re impressively awkward, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, you think he not-so-secretly delights in being the one to fluster instead of the other way around. Rarely has he mentioned his past romantic and sexual exploits, but gathering bits and pieces, you assume he was a fairly late bloomer. He probably knows what it’s like to be nervous and so deeply unsure of yourself.

“Do you remember what you promised me?” he whispers, pressing butterfly-light kisses to your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips traverse down your neck, teeth skimming over the delicate skin while your breath catches.

“Mhm.”

“You’re not gonna break that promise, are you?”

His voice, soft and muffled by your skin, is the most exhilarating and disorienting high. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation, satisfied only where his lips soothe and his body presses against yours. It takes a moment for you to remember to reply.

“No.”

Reward comes in the form of his thumb brushing over the peak of your breast at the same time as he murmurs, “good girl.”

Your stomach flips at the endearment—you squeak and arch into him slightly. Spencer’s hand slides down your ribs as he chuckles, lips pressed just above your collarbone.

“You’ve never called me that before,” you shudder as he continues kissing over your neck.

“It’s not appropriate in most conversational contexts. But I can tell you’ve always been good.”

“Really? How?”

Spencer pauses, pushing himself up to regard you with searching eyes. The places he’d kissed feel cold without him.

“I just can. You’re thinking too much, baby. I need your focus on me.”

“It is on you,” you huff.

You watch his expression shift minutely. He loves games. Of course he’d love playing with you. That knowledge is why you’re only partially surprised when his thumb catches on your nipple again.

“Is it? You’re only thinking about how it feels when I touch you here?”

A stammering nod.

He toys with the sensitive flesh only a second more, amusement lighting his eyes, before dragging his hand down, down, down until it’s between your legs. Fingers trail over your clothed core, skimming the most sensitive part of you while your breath hitches.

“Tell me how it feels when I touch you here.”

“Really good,” you admit, a heavy exhale escaping parted lips as he pins you with his gaze.

“Really good, right. I can make it feel even better. Do you want me to make it feel better?”

Your thighs drop fully open and he adds just a bit more pressure until you’re pushing against his hand in search of more friction.

“Yes please.”

“Then no more questions. I need you to trust me.”

Your answer is a breathy, dreamy sigh—you’d do anything, say anything for him.

“Okay.”

Spencer kisses you, absorbing your noises of protest as his hand ceases between your legs and settles on your hip. But you’re trusting him. No whiny complaining. No unnecessary questions.

Things go much quicker once you’re not interrupting him every twenty seconds to say something. His lips reattach to your neck, retracing their path (albeit quicker) until he’s below your collarbone. You watch in rapt fascination, twisted brows and parted lips as he peppers kisses down over your breast before dragging his tongue over your nipple. A jolted little moan spills out because you hadn’t been prepared to hold one in. Waves of hair fall over Spencer’s face, obscuring him from your vision, but you don’t think to push it away—your body is too busy processing the sensation to be much use on any other front. He darts his tongue over the peaked flesh, eliciting more little open-mouthed exhalations of pleasure from you. Earlier you hadn’t really thought it necessary for your bra to come off—you had no idea this could actually feel so good. A moment later he begins toying with the other nipple and you gasp as a bolt of heat goes straight to your core.

You curse, further words catching in your throat as he suddenly switches, mouthing at your other breast and letting the cold air chill the other until you have goosebumps. It feels a little like hypnosis—you’re unable to move or speak as his tongue laves over you. Soon he’s replacing his mouth with a thumb again, sucking a mark onto your tit just above your nipple. You whimper a little at the pleasant brutality of it, hoping as he releases that it won’t soon fade. Spencer swipes over the stinging skin and presses a tender kiss to it, almost like an apology—but you sincerely doubt he’s actually sorry.

Then he resumes his descent, leaving soft kisses down between your breasts, over your ribcage and stomach—when he reaches your hips, he doesn’t pull off your underwear all at once. Rather, he slides the fabric down centimeter by centimeter, kissing the revealed skin like it’s precious.

This time you don’t need to be told to lift your hips. He helps you slip the final piece of clothing down and off of your legs, flinging it somewhere blindly before getting comfortable between your thighs once more. Your heart pounds with arousal and anxiety as his arms wrap around your thighs and his hands rub up and down the tops of them slowly.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, loosening his hold on one leg to thumb at your folds. They glisten in the dim light of his bedroom as he gently reveals your clit. A soft whine escapes you when he nudges at the aching bud, slipping over it a few times and alleviating a bit of the pressure that’s been building. “Shh, baby. I know. I’m gonna take care of it. You’re being so good for me.”

Fuck. The way he talks to you makes your brain turn to mush—you’re utterly incapable of forming an intelligent thought. Spencer has rendered you a complete idiot, and you’re not upset about it in the slightest.

He presses more gentle kisses to the creases between your thighs, just above your clit—everywhere except for where you need him most. Everything aches for him in the best way and at least you’re too turned on to be very insecure anymore. All you want is relief. But you’re trusting him.

Thankfully, he delivers.

The tip of his tongue grazes so lightly over your clit that if you weren’t this worked up you may not have felt it at all. In your current state, however, the stimulation echoes through every atom of your being. Every muscle is tense, frozen in place—you can’t even breathe for a second. He does it again, a little flatter, with a little more pressure, and you whimper. It’s a delicate thing, almost pained and definitely overwhelmed as he gently begins working his tongue against you. Your head cranes up to watch, your jaw drops. Approximations of curse words try to form, but come out only as, “f-fu—oh,” so whiny and soft it doesn’t even sound like you. He hums sympathetically, but you suspect it morphs into a chuckle as you continue to gasp and mewl.

There are times where you can hold back sounds of pleasure. When you’re by yourself, it’s typically not a problem. Two weeks ago when Spencer was knuckle deep in you for the first time, it had certainly been a challenge, and you’d pretty much given up. But this—this is something else entirely. It feels like religion. It feels like compulsion. Even if you had the slightest modicum of control over yourself, which you currently don’t, you wouldn’t want to keep quiet. You want him to know what he’s doing to you.

So you let every cry, every whine and whimper drag from your lungs, unbidden and unshaped. You’re new at this, after all—every broad lick feels so good that you have no fucking idea what do to with your hands or how to stop rolling your hips or how to censor your sounds.

“Spencer,” you keen in one of the moments you remember to breathe. He moans against you, taking you into his mouth and sucking lightly. Your hips buck. “Oh, my—fuck!”

The hand that’s still around your thigh rubs soothing lines up and down. The one that’s spreading you open pulls your folds apart a little bit further, granting him more access to your clit. He flicks his tongue and you almost come then and there, vision going gray for a split second.

“Wait, wait, Spence—“ you squeak, writhing and trying not to squeeze your thighs together for fear of hurting him. He pulls back and looks up at you, lips shining with your slick and eyes glazed with lust. Fuckfuckfuck he looks so fucking good. “Please, just… slow down, or I’m gonna… or it’s gonna be over.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he rubs circles into your inner thigh.

“It’s over when you say it’s over. You don’t have a refractory period. We don’t have to stop at one.”

“Oh—you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” you stammer.

“I know I don’t have to. But if you want me to, I want to. You taste so good, angel girl.”

Well, shit.

He looks absurdly sexy between your legs like this. You have no idea how you got so lucky, but you don’t plan on taking it for granted. Your fingers tangle in his hair.

“I don’t know if I can do more than one,” you admit shyly, slightly embarrassed by how little you know about yourself and in general compared to Spencer. Hazel eyes sparkle in the warm light.

“How about we start with one and see how it feels?”

Your voice is breathy when you respond, “okay,” already impatient for him to get back to it. Spencer seems just as eager, immediately kissing between your legs with a passion that makes your lips jealous.

The flat of his tongue presses circles against you and your hips buck, already ramping up to that point you’d been at before calling a time-out. Slowly his fingers find their way to your entrance and he teases you with them, dipping in to the first knuckle before withdrawing again. If you could form words, you’d beg him to just do it already, but all you can manage is an affronted whine as you tilt your hips down, hoping he catches the meaning.

Of course he does—pushing two fingers inside you at once. The intrusive stretch adds a sharp edge to the pleasure, makes it more interesting, as your brain short-circuits and you choke out a moan. It only takes a few slow pumps of his fingers in tandem with the pressure of his tongue until your hips are writhing and you’re and mewling desperately, more overwhelmed with pleasure than you’ve ever been. You push his hair back, able to see him for the first time, and fully appreciate the hollow of his cheeks, the way he looks up at you with perfect, glassy half-lidded eyes, the rhythm of his hand and tongue—he takes your clit between his lips once more, sucking lightly, and you’re done for. A pornographic sob escapes from deep within you as you come, but he doesn’t stop. The orgasm lasts longer than you knew one could—although, it’s only your second time, so you don’t exactly have a lot of data to go off of. Your entire body feels warm and floaty, and what he’s doing feels so good you want him even deeper—but you know he won’t give you that yet. Instead you focus on the slow burn of your orgasm, allowing him to carry on for a while until you begin slowly drifting back to earth and it becomes a bit too much. He recognizes the barely-there whine for what it is and pulls his fingers from you carefully, pressing one final kiss to your clit that makes your legs twitch and summons a weak little moan.

Spencer’s lips find other avenues, over the delicate skin of your thighs and hips and stomach as he slowly drags himself up again. By the time you’re face to face again you’re still breathing hard. You sort of feel like prey underneath his weight, studied so scrupulously, known far more intimately by him than anyone has ever known you before. But there is so much light and kindness in the way he looks at you that you almost can’t make sense of it.

Maybe it’s possible to be known and still wanted. The possibility spins like a coin on its edge in your mind. An idea you spent so much time trying to nurture and is only just now beginning to sprout. Maybe someone could see you at your most vulnerable, and still find you worthy of kindness. Appreciation. Affection.

Spencer certainly could, it seems, as he ducks down to kiss you. You dodge it, turning your head demurely. He nudges his head against yours, speaking so, so softly, utterly cloying as he teases, “what? You’re not gonna kiss me now? Is that how it is?”

“No!” you balk, equally as quiet and especially bashful. “Not when you… no.”

“Let me kiss you,” he pleads, so earnestly you turn your head back to face him. His big eyes are hazy, reflecting all the warmth and dizziness you feel. “Let me kiss you. Please.”

You whine.

“I don’t wanna… taste… myself.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat.

“Hm. We’ll need to work on that. Because one day, I’ll make you come just like that again, and then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re really going to want me to kiss you then, angel.”

Something flickers in your core.

Suddenly you’re not so squeamish. You really want him to kiss you now. But it seems he’s going to have his fun, first.

“Open.” Without even thinking about it, your lips part. He really ought to be careful with what he tells you to do—you’re all too compliant. Even as his fingers slip between your lips, you’re obediently hollowing your cheeks around them, watching him with big eyes as his own mouth falls slightly open. “Oh, baby,” he croons. “What are we gonna do with you?”

That flicker has returned to a full-fledged throbbing once you open your mouth again, slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen.

“Can you make me come again right now?” you whisper, grasping lightly at his shirt. He grins like he loves the idea—and you let him have his way, accepting his lips on yours with no complaint. After a few moments, (the taste is surprisingly unobtrusive), he pulls away.

“I would love to.”

part three

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut

3K notes · View notes

mmywanda · 3 months ago

Text

Pretty When You Sleep — W.M

——

Pairing: Dark!WandaMaximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Nights are lot more dangerous than you think.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, somnophilia, drugging, blood, murder, stalking, mentions of a knives, strap-on.

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: This is a dark fic, if you find any of the warnings triggering, please do not read. Happy Halloween! men & minors dni.

Beta read by @poulengp <3

——

It started off small.

All the shoes you left in a mess by the door now neatly stacked up, laces undone, just so they were easier to slip on. The lamp you'd accidently leave on before falling asleep, being off when you woke up in the morning. Clothes that were dumped on the floor, suddenly folded up in your drawer.

Then it got weirder.

Your purse being filled with fifty dollar bills on the mornings you worried you wouldn't have enough to afford your groceries. Some of your clothes, specifically underwear, going missing. Your phone being in the other room when you woke up. Waking up with different pyjama bottoms on.

As it got worse, you found yourself confiding in your friend. Well, a little more than a friend, but the two of you had never labelled it. The two of you sat in the corner of a local cafe, coffee warming up your hands. It was a cool autumn day, causing you to wrap up in a scarf and fluffy coat. This crimson coloured scarf had suddenly appeared in your closet, right when you needed it. It should have been wrong to wear something that had inexplicably appeared in your home, but it was cold, and what else were you to do?

"It's just getting weird. Even the leftovers in my fridge that were about to be mouldy are being thrown away. I see it in my garbage bag. And you know me, I don't even throw it out until it's literally gone blue."

Erin laughed, "You're quite careless. And disgusting." Yes, you were, but that wasn't the point!

"Shush. I'm actually worried here. I'm starting to think.. no.. no one can be breaking into my apartment every night, I'd wake up and hear them. God, I think I'm going mad." You mumbled, hand gripping tightly around the coffee mug. It reminded you of the time you'd left a cold cup of tea on the side, and had fallen asleep. When you woke up an hour later, the cup was hot, as if it had just been warmed up again.

"You've added another lock to your door, you don't even have a spare key for it. It's impossible for someone to break in. And you live on the top floor. Honey, you've been exhausted recently, it's not uncommon for people to get forgetful. You probably did those things while sleepy." Erin reassured you, placing a hand over yours.

You sighed deeply, downing the last drops of drink you had left, Erin doing the same. "Yeah, you're probably right. It's just.. strange."

—

As you entered your apartment late at night, instead of throwing your keys carelessly on a table, you decided to tuck them in the nightstand by your bed. Just to be safe, even if it was just for your own peace of mind. You jumped into the shower, cracking open the window so the steam could be let out. You lived on the top floor of your block, no one could look in, which was always a good thing because your bathroom got very steamy, recently the ceiling paper even curling at the side from the condensation. Making a mental note to look up the prices for someone to redecorate.

You really needed a shower today, you and Erin had gotten a little.. excited earlier, and it always made you cringe not showering before bed after an evening of sex. Under the warm water, you hummed a song you'd had stuck in your head all day. It was a song you didn't even recognise, in fact you weren't even sure you'd heard it before. All you knew was that it was in a different language, and it was comforting.

Once clean, you felt overwhelmingly tired, it had been a long day, so you decided to go straight to bed after having your usual cup of camomile tea, with two spoons of sugar. Then you got into bed. Before you could doze off though, you decided to read for a bit, opening up your latest novel of your favourite author. It can't have been too exciting though, because you fell asleep before the first chapter was over.

When dawn broke, the early sun breaking through cracks in your window, you stirred, blinking a few times. Something felt strange, like every morning for the past few months. You felt a stickiness between your thighs, and your pyjama bottoms were definitely not the ones you fell asleep in. You stared down at the light blue shorts, eyebrows furrowed. Were you a sleepwalker? No, your past roommates would have told you. Maybe you'd had a really good dream and just forgotten it? Fuck, this was weird.

Deciding there was nothing you could really do about the situation, you got up, opting to take another shower to get rid of the icky feeling.

It was when you were munching on your chocolate flavoured cereal that you heard your phone ping. Automatically, you put your spoon down, picking up the device you so heavily relied upon. It was a text from an unknown number, causing you to frown. Opening it, you saw there was a picture attached to the text. And when you examined it, your blood ran cold.

It was a picture of you, naked in bed. Your body spread out, intimate area completely exposed.

"What the fuck?" You whispered, reading what had come with it.

Unknown number: Three orgasms in one night, that's your record so far.

You didn't know what to think— someone had.. touched you while you were asleep? They broke in and did this to you? You shivered in fear, your shaky hands typing out a response before you could even think about what the police would say if you went to them; to not engage with a dangerous person.

You: Who the fuck is this?

There was no reply. Not when you left for work, not when you arrived home in the evening.

You were rigid with fear. A sensible person would have called the police, or at least called someone like Erin, asked to stay over, but you just couldn't. Every time you were about to dial a number, something inside you made you stop. You couldn't explain it.

So here you were, sat bolt upright on your couch. It was around eleven, and your eyes were growing heavy. Your camomile tea mug now empty, you blinked a few times, just aching to lay down and rest. No, you had to stay up! You had to see who had been breaking into your home. But.. you were so tired, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over you. Your eyes closed slowly, slumping down and falling into a deep sleep.

—

The next morning the first thing you did was check your phone, seeing if the stranger had replied, and they had. Two images attached to a message. And what you saw horrified you. The first picture, one of you in bed, with a.. strap-on, buried inside you. It made you feel sick, that someone had done this to you unwillingly. Though the expression on your face, clearly asleep but pleasure in your features. You could even see your own arousal dripping down the toy.

The second image quite literally made you throw up, You ran to the bathroom, heaving into the toilet bowl as the picture burned in your mind. It had been someone laying on a floor, covered in blood, a knife wedged in their chest.

You had to go to the police. There was no choice now. For some reason, you looked back at the picture, and your mouth dropped open. That someone was a familiar.

It was Erin.

You just knew, it was her jacket, her brown eyes wide open in fear, her blue dyed hair drenched in her own blood. It caused you to throw up again.

—

"I—I think my best friend has been murdered."

You whispered in a shaky voice to a police officer who had sat you down in a cold grey room. After seeing what you'd been sent, not even reading the message that had come with it, you rushed down to the local police station, practically screaming for someone to talk to.

"Why do you suspect this?" He asked in a gruff voice. He didn't seem to be all that serious about the situation, upsetting you even further.

"I've got pictures! And texts!" Your fingers fumbled around your pocket to retrieve your phone, opening your messages app.

It wasn't there.

"So?" The officer prompted, clearly unimpressed.

"It was.. it was right here.." You mumbled, opening every contact you had in case it had magically gotten messed up.

But no, the messages had vanished.

"Look, lady, I think you should go home and get some rest. You look tired. Our minds make things up when we're lacking sleep."

"But—"

"Listen, if something happens, come back in. But for now, you're making empty claims."

Hanging your head down dejectedly, you fought back tears. You knew Erin was dead. You just knew it.

—

Tonight you weren't going to fall asleep. Just to make sure, you downed two mugs of strong coffee instead of your tea. You hated it, but you couldn't risk falling asleep. The intruder— the murderer, was going to break in, you were sure.

The time ticked on. Eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, one o'clock..

Until your phone buzzed. Dread washed over you. There was no one else who would be making your phone light up at this time of night.

Unknown number: How am I meant to enjoy you when you don't have your tea? You look so pretty when you sleep.

This confused you. Why would they be concerned about what beverage you were drinking? You typed out a response quickly.

You: I'm not scared of you.

It was a stupid thing to say, you knew that really. But the only thing you could think of was to pretend you weren't scared. Maybe that would make them bored and leave you alone. All you could think about what Erin's lifeless body. The blood, god.. all that blood..

Unknown number: See you soon, sweetheart.

Your eyes widened in horror; what the fuck did that mean? This person was on their way? Sickness rose up in your throat, and you ran to your kitchen, grabbing the first sharp object you could find— a medium sized kitchen knife. You clutched it to your chest, running to your bedroom, locking the door and panting heavily. You considered pushing some furniture against the door, but you knew you needed to call the police. Then you realised you'd left your phone in the kitchen.

Fuck! Fuck!

You had put yourself in the worst position possible. But before you could panic over that, you felt a gust of cold air. You frowned, turning around to see the window wide open. You definitely hadn't left it like that before, but it was also impossible for anyone else to have opened it. You lived on the top floor for Christ's sake!

Not knowing what to do first; close the window, get your phone, block the door, or just curl up in a ball and hope it would all just go away. You opted for grabbing your phone. If you could call the police, they'd be on their way, hopefully before your stalker could arrive.

Cautiously unlocking the bedroom door, you stepped out into the hallway. The lights that had previously been on, were off, leaving the whole apartment pitch black apart from the moon shining through the windows and the bedroom light.

Your steps were slow, ears straining to hear anything, but there was silence. The only sound heard was the hammering of your heart in your chest.

Until the silence was broken.

"Seeing you awake is strange. But exciting nonetheless."

The voice came from right behind you. Spinning around in horror, you finally came face to face with the person who had been tormenting you.

"Tormenting? That's a bit harsh, sweetheart."

The woman was dressed in all black, a hood covering most of her face. Light from the bedroom accentuated her figure, but more importantly, the silhouette of a knife and a cloth in her hands.

"W—who are you?" It was an attempt at a shout, maybe to attract the attention of the apartment below you, but your voice could barely manage a squeak.

"I've told you before, baby. You're a forgetful thing when you're asleep, mhm?" She stepped forward, causing you to take a step back.

"You've been taking advantage of me! You've been breaking into my home! You killed.. Erin!" You whispered, backing up against the wall. You had no where to go. You were most likely to die, just like Erin.

"Sweet girl, I'm not going to kill you. I could never hurt you." The woman's voice was almost softer as she approached you, only two feet away now. Was she reading your mind?

"But you killed my friend." The images of Erin's body filled your mind, and how you were going to end up just like her.

"Your 'friend'? Please, she was begging for her own life, not for you to be safe." She let out a cold laugh. "It was so satisfying, the sound of my blade tearing through her flesh and tissue." It almost sounded like she'd gotten pleasure from it

Finally, you got some sense and energy into you as she expressed her fucked up feelings. You let out a shattering scream, "HELP! HELP!"

The woman sighed in disappointment. It took her less than a second to raise the cloth up to your face, covering your nose and mouth. The smell of chemicals was overwhelming. You fought against it, until you couldn't anymore. Body falling limp to the ground.

—

The noise that woke you up was the sound of a squeaking. Your eyes wouldn't open, wondering what was going on. You then felt something inside you, a pressure building up in your lower stomach. What—

Finally, your vision became clearer. You blinked a few times, looking around you. The scene became pretty clear.

The woman was in between your legs, a strap-on buried inside you, just like that photo. The squeaking was the bed as she thrusted into you.

You should have screamed, but the pressure in your abdomen was too intense. You let out a whine, trying to move your tired body, but it was useless. You didn't even want to stop it, it felt too.. good.

"You're awake." She stated, a slight pant in her voice. Her hood was down now, revealing her auburn wavy hair, pale skin and deep green eyes.

"Let me.." You trailed off, because you didn't know whether to say 'go' or 'come'.

She let out a chuckle, holding your hips firmly as she thrusted into you. The feeling was delicious. Something about the fact your body was sleepy, heavy, while being fucked by a woman so dangerous..

No! Why are you thinking like this? It almost felt like your thoughts weren't yours anymore. Were you going insane?

The woman grunted, wet noises filling the room, making it very apparent that your body did not hate this at all. "You can come for me, it'll be your third."

Your third? You couldn't even bring yourself to ask about it, your body just trembled, a pending orgasm taking over, making you whimper in delight.

"Fuck!"

Tears filled your eyes from the sheer pleasure, and the fact that you should have hated this. You were filled with so much shame and guilt. This was the person who had killed your best friend, who'd stripped you of your dignity.

"Shh, darling, you don't have to feel guilty. You're allowed to feel pleasure. And your friend, well, she was just in the way."

Her twisted words made you feel sick again, but you didn't have time to dwell on that because the woman's hand suddenly reached down and started to circle your clit while simultaneously thrusting into you. A loud groan escaped your throat, eyes practically rolling to the back of your head.

"You're going to beat your record, four times will be an achievement." Her accented voice was hot and heavy, turning you on even more.

"I— mhm!" You tried to speak, but you didn't know what to say.

"Let go, detka, show me how good I make you feel." She gripped your waist with her spare hand, red manicured nails digging into your skin.

Without warning, you came hard, spilling all over the strap. The woman moaned, slowing down her thrusts and eventually pulling out, leaving you unbearably empty. She slipped the strap off and went to straddle you, leaning her head down to kiss your neck. You felt utter bliss, forgetting how incredibly fucked up and sick this was.

"Seeing as this is the first time we've met while you've been conscious, I'll introduce myself. I'm Wanda." She giggled, as if nothing had just happened, and had been happening for months. Your head spun, recognising that name somehow, as if it had been spoken in your dreams.

"Relax now, sweet thing. I'll be here when you wake up." Wanda said softly, lying beside you, wrapping the duvet around your naked body. Her arm laid loosely across your stomach, hearing her breathing slow down to something calmer than before.

You didn't say anything, too busy feeling a wave of satisfaction, as awful as that sounded. It was like your mind was used to this, and that it was something you'd always wanted.

The last thing you remembered was a soft lullaby, in a language you didn't recognise. You'd heard it before, in your dreams. And it brought you great comfort.

——

Tags: @rezwrites @hatdog96 @ion-news @esposadejoyhuerta @moimmmm @grimlygoblin @lizziesflower @yandereloverb312 @beggingonmykneesforher

——

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fanfic #elizabeth olsen #lgbtq #lesbian #wanda x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark fic #marvel smut #sapphic smut #wandavision #smut #dark fanfiction #mommy!wanda

1K notes · View notes